She bustles around, getting Ma coffee from the outer office. It’s so weird being with a parent at school, worlds colliding in the most unwelcome way, all the people with power to destroy you in the same place at the same time, Godzilla vs. Megalon in an ultimate death match. Ma doesn’t seem like she’s loving it, either. She doesn’t put her big purse down, instead keeping it in her lap, making a statement up front that this isn’t going to take long. She is, after all, the mom; these people are only in charge of my pseudo education.

“There, now.” Mrs. Mac settles behind her desk, her smile on low beam in deference to my pain. “Clara. Sounds like you had quite a scary experience last night. Do you want to talk about it?”

I glance at Ma. “It was just . . . some guy. Trying to get in at me.”

Mrs. Mac’s look is sympathetic, not only her expression, but her outfit. Today’s sweater hue: Compassionate Coral. “That doesn’t sound like ‘just’ anything. You must’ve been scared to death. The police are looking into it?” At my nod, she turns to Ma. “I really appreciate you notifying us, Rose.” Ah, she’s done her homework.

Ma nods, the two of us like a couple of those novelty dippy birds. Mrs. Mac folds her hands on the desk. “This seemed like a good opportunity to check in with both of you, see how Clara’s transitioning into the Pender state of mind.” Small laugh, fading quickly. “The past month has been hard. First Gavin, and now what’s happened to Ivy Thayer. And you couldn’t have missed our new student artwork in the hallway on your way in.” Ma laughs a little. “Mmm. Well, it’s that time of year. People take Halloween seriously around here. Mr. Crackenback’s been dealing with some pranksters, handing out some suspensions. The kids always get a little”—wiggles her shoulders—“you know. Overexcited.”

That’s one word for it. I shift in my padded womb-chair, distracted, wondering if Bree even asked about me when I wasn’t at the bus stop this morning. Really hope Moon was able to borrow his brother’s truck like he said he’d try to when I texted him last night, so Sage and I can go see Trace after school. I’ve texted everybody but Bree to ask if they’ve seen Kincaid around; nobody has, but that’s normal. I won’t tell Trace about his shelter being gone, how he ditched me. It would be like admitting we were a hookup, and the only person who didn’t know it was me.