Contents (85)
- Contents
- Part I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Part II
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Part III
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
I turn back to him. “Is this true?” I don’t want to confront him because there is so much pain in his face. I want to hold him, assure him. But I need to know. “Max,” I say, “did you do this?”
He drops his gaze to the floor. “I wanted her to stop teasing me.” His voice is barely a whisper. “She said…she said the only reason parents kill themselves is to get away from their kids.”
“Good god,” I say, turning back to Halliday. “And how is that behavior excusable? Do you know what he’s been through? Why is he the one being punished here? What a horrible and cruel thing for any child to say to another.”
Max tugs on my arm, wanting me to lower to his face. I do and he cups a hand around my ear and whispers so faintly I struggle to process the words.
“I didn’t hurt her,” he says. “But I wanted to.”
I pull my face back and look at his, but he shifts his gaze to the floor.
Halliday didn’t hear him, thank god. “I understand your concern, Ms. Yates. And I do appreciate the…circumstances of your recent move here to Bury. It must be exceptionally difficult. We have spoken with the other student, but we can’t confirm she said those things.”
I try to shake off what Max has just whispered to me and focus back on Halliday. “What do you mean ‘confirm’? Of course she’s not going to admit to it. Why would she? They’re sixth graders.”
She takes a step forward and places a hand on my shoulder. It’s forced, like a tip out of a sensitivity-training seminar she was loath to take. “New schools are tough, I get that. I’m sure Max will fit in just fine. We’re happy to have him back tomorrow. Clean slate.”
This woman, she’s just doing her job. And of course I’d want any kid who threatened my son disciplined as well. But I struggle to keep this rational mindset. What I actually feel is fury. Fury at every little circumstance that led to this moment, at every decision made by myself and others that ended with Max hauled into this room.
My irrational mindset tell me how delicious it would be to grab Halliday’s hand and pull her wrist back until it broke.
But I do nothing.
I say nothing.
She drops her hand from my shoulder and I take a deep breath, escaping inside myself for the few seconds it takes to regain my mental footing.
“Fine,” I concede. “We’ll try again tomorrow. Come on, Max.”
Halliday presses her lips together in a satisfied smile. I don’t say anything else as I lead Max by the hand.
As we leave, I can’t wash away the seething rage. Max’s comment comes back to my mind, but this time, it’s as relatable as it is concerning.
I wanted to hurt her.
Fifteen
September 29
I have one hour. One free hour of time to get writing done, and I’ve made the unspeakable mistake of leaving my phone on. A writer’s worst enemy is distraction, and nothing serves that role better than the gleaming screen of my iPhone.