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Aria
I pop my head in and wave Riley over. “Owen punched Storm Reeves—"
“The mayor’s son?” she gasps.
“Yep. I have to—"
“Go!” she points toward the other building.
Without another word, I book it for the playground on their side of the campus. Billingsley is a large private school nestled in the heart of Somerset Harbor, so there are plenty of large trees and an old world feel to the place. I take in the sights as fast as I can on my way there, because this is likely the last time I’ll be seeing them. The sports fields are extensive—multiple professional athletes have gotten their start at Billingsley, so they kept our facilities pristine. Even our playground equipment looks untouched, despite the children playing on it.
This is all so bizarre. Storm and Owen were friends, so I cannot imagine what possessed him to punch the mayor’s son. I know kids fight sometimes—it’s just a part of growing up. But that doesn’t mean the parents will ever forgive or forget. Whatever the cause, there is no possible way I’m keeping my job after this. At least Billingsley looks good on a CV.
Trudging through the soccer field, I search the playground for sight of him, only to find him sitting on the picnic tables with Becca. Neva has Storm on a bench near the slides. There’s an ice pack on his little face.
Oh, hell.
I make a beeline for Owen and sit next to him. He doesn’t even look at me. He just stares at the table. So, I ask Becca, “What happened?”
“I think it’s best that Owen tells you.”
“Owen, baby, what happened?”
He sighs and scratches the plastic table. “Storm was mean.” Then he mashes his lips together. He’s not talking.
It’s astonishing that he dared called Storm mean. For him, that’s the worst thing someone can be, the five-year-old equivalent of calling him a giant asshole. I frown up at Becca.
She tips her head down to him. “Owen, remember what I said? We use our words.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
I’m done waiting for this. “Does this have anything to do with why you were crabby this morning?”
“Yeah.” His little sniffle makes me want to burn the school to the ground.
“I let you skip out on talking about it this morning, but you hit someone—"
“And then he pushed him down the tall slide that Storm doesn’t feel safe on,” Becca adds.
“Alright, Owen. I’ve had enough of this. Tell me what is going on.”
Tears spill down his cheeks. “I told Storm the big slide isn’t scary, and I’d go on it with him if he wanted me to help.”
That’s the last thing I expect to hear. “So, you punched him…to make itlessscary?”
He shakes his head. “I got him up to the top, and he stopped and he wouldn’t slide down. I said we could go together, and he said he wanted to go with his dad because his dad is brave.”
“Okay…?”
“And I said his dad isn’t here right now, but he could pretend I was his dad and I’d be brave for him.”
Oof, my heart.I gulp to keep from crying for the sweetness of that, and it only confuses me more. “Go on.”
“He said I didn’t know how to be brave because I don’t have a dad.”
A thousand words stick in my chest and none of them are appropriate for a school playground. Guilt threatens to make me irate at a child, and I fight to keep my face firm and authorial, but I want to scream as he continues.
“And I said I have a dad, but he’s an explorer like Dora, and he’s not here. Storm said, dads only count if they’re here, and I must have been bad to make my dad leave. He said my dad doesn’t love me…” His sobs crush me, and I take him in my arms while I fight tears of my own. I want to strangle Storm for saying that.
