But he’s ten years old, so instead, he is standing close to me, his fingers clinging to my shirt sleeve, still reluctant to join the crowd of kids who will be in his fifth-grade class. His teacher, Mrs. Conway, shoots me a sympathetic look. She seems nice enough—a seasoned teacher in her forties who looks like she’s skilled at keeping the class in line. She wasn’t around when I was a student at the school, but I suspect she must have started soon after.

“He’ll be fine, Ms. Sullivan,” she assures me. “I promise I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

“Thank you,” I say.

It doesn’t escape me that she called me Ms. Sullivan rather than Mrs. Sullivan. Does she know I’m a single parent? Does she know Josh doesn’t have a father in the picture? Does she know the whole sordid story? People do talk in towns like this, even though my parents did everything they could to conceal my pregnancy.

And if she knows, then maybe all the other parents know. And then the kids will know. And then the name-calling will start all over again.

No, I’m being paranoid. Josh will be fine.

The excited buzz of children is interrupted by the shrill sound of a bell ringing through the air. The first day of school has officially begun. It takes all my self-restraint to keep from crushing Josh in an embarrassing bear hug. He’s a bit small for his age, just up to the level of my shoulder, and he still sometimes seems painfully young. Too young to face something scary like a classroom of strangers who all know each other from the last five years of school.

“Good luck,” I whisper in his ear. “Remember—everyone likes the cool new kid.”

Josh’s chin trembles slightly—he’s trying not to cry. When he was two, he used to unabashedly bawl his eyes out, but it’s even more painful to watch him as a big kid, struggling to hold back those tears. I plant a kiss on the top of his head and give his back a gentle push. He walks off to follow his classmates into the school like he’s being led to his execution.

He’s going to be fine. The other children will love him, even if he was born out of wedlock. It was absolutely the right decision to move here.

Keep telling yourself that, Brooke.

I watch until Josh’s green backpack is no longer visible. I would love to plant myself outside his classroom so I could be available if he needs me during the day. But I couldn’t do that when he was in kindergarten, and it certainly is not acceptable now. I’m just going to trust that everything will be okay. He’ll get through this.

“Brooke? Brooke Sullivan?”