by Sophie Love
Amy was chatting with Harry on the phone, but she looked up at Emily, using her amazing multitasking abilities to carry on a wordless conversation with her friend without missing a beat in her telephone call.
“Chantelle,” Emily mouthed. “School.” She mimed a driving motion. Daniel had the car so Amy was her only way of getting there.
Amy nodded and pointed at their waffles. They’d barely eaten them. But Emily shook her head. She had to go right now.
Without questioning her at all, Amy stood, collected her purse and, still chatting with Harry, headed out of the restaurant toward her car, Emily in tow.
As they went, Emily hoped everything worked out between Amy and Harry, because it was in moments like this one, when Daniel was busy and life had thrown a spanner in the work, when Emily needed her friends more than ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Amy drove Emily back to the school, Emily felt her nerves increasing. She hated it when Chantelle had a behavioral outburst because it felt like a step backward, and reminded her of the terrible start the girl had had to life, the scars that she still carried despite her happy demeanor.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Amy asked, glancing over at Emily’s pale face in the passenger seat.
Emily didn’t usually bite her nails but the anxiety was making her do so. “No, no, it’s probably best if it’s just me,” she said, feeling flustered, her face stiff with panic.
They reached the parking lot, now empty, and Amy swung into the closest space to the school doors. “Well, I’ll wait here and drive you home when you’re done.”
Emily already had a hand on the door handle, and she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer but I have no idea how long this will take.”
“How will you get home?”
“I’ll figure it out later. Back of Raj’s delivery truck? Handlebars of Cynthia’s bike?” She was cracking jokes, but only as a way to distract herself from her anguish.
Amy smiled tenderly. “Are you sure?”
“I promise,” Emily said, shoving the door open and quickly getting out.
She slammed her door shut and blew Amy a kiss before hurrying as fast as her pregnant belly would allow her up the stone steps. She pressed the intercom button and the receptionist answered, crackling out a greeting.
“Mrs. Morey,” Emily said into the silver speaker. “Chantelle’s mom.”
There was buzz. She heaved the door open and hurried to the desk. It was the same girl as last year, Emily realized, young, freckled, with a sweet smile that showed off a gap between her teeth.
“Hi, Emily,” the receptionist greeted her as she hurried in.
Emily realized—feeling a little distressed at the thought—that she was well known enough at the school for the receptionist to recognize her and remember her name.
“Here’s your visitor badge,” the girl added.
She handed the pass to Emily and Emily saw that she’d written her name in a red marker pen, in cursive, surrounding it with stars. It was a sweet gesture, but Emily was too flustered to appreciate it. Her focus was solely on Chantelle. But she did notice the girl’s name badge: Tilly. She made a point to commit it to memory so that at least the next time she saw the girl, hopefully in less stressful circumstances, she could be kinder.
“They’re down the hall in the counselor’s office,” Tilly said. “Do you know the way?”
“Unfortunately I know it all too well,” Emily replied.
Tilly gave her a sympathetic smile, and Emily hurried off down the hallway to Gail’s office.
Through the small window in the door, Emily saw the familiar bright red couches, the play table, reading nook, dolls house, and art station. She recognized Gail right away, sitting on one of the grown-up-sized chairs with her hair in a neat bun on top of her head. The other two women Emily didn’t know. And Chantelle was nowhere in sight. She could hear her, though, hear her yelling and screaming even through the thick pane of glass in the reinforced fire door.
Emily knocked quickly and saw Gail turn toward the window. Through the glass, she beckoned Emily in.
It was only once she was inside the room that Emily got her first glance of Chantelle. The child was curled up in the corner, crying desperately, surrounded by ripped up pieces of paper.
“What happened?” Emily asked.
“Take a seat,” Gail said. “You’ve met Miss Butler.”
“Actually, no, we didn’t get a chance to meet earlier,” Emily said. She shook the teacher’s hand. It was a terrible way to first meet her, Emily thought. She was a bag of nerves and felt completely frazzled. “You spoke to my husband, Daniel.”
The young teacher smiled politely, giving Emily a glimpse of the sternness that Daniel had noted. “Yes, I remember.”
“And Mrs. Doyle you’ll know,” Gail added.
Emily did a double take then. In her haste, she hadn’t really noticed the third woman in the room, but she realized now that it was the principal. Things must be serious if she was involved!
“So?” Emily said. “Was it the new class that triggered this?”
Gail nodded. “I think we were all aware this might happen. But maybe we should ask Chantelle to explain it to us. Chantelle?” Gail had an incredibly soft, gentle voice. It was the kind of voice that could coax anyone out of a tantrum.
The little girl was sobbing furiously in the corner. “I HATE her!” she yelled.
Emily looked up at Miss Butler, assuming she was the one Chantelle was referring to, and gave her a sympathetic look. She didn’t want the teacher to think it was her fault in any way.
“Who is it that you hate?” Gail continued.
“LAVERNE!” Chantelle screamed.
Emily remembered from Yvonne’s gossiping at the school gate that Laverne was the name of the new girl, the brittle-boned blonde girl whom Bailey had taken under her wing. She’d never heard Chantelle’s voice sound so shrill and piercing, so drenched in hatred. And she’d never seen so much passion in the young girl’s face, so much pain and anguish. Even in her past meltdowns over Sheila, Chantelle had never looked this distressed. Laverne had really gotten to Chantelle. Emily couldn’t begin to fathom what she could have done to cause Chantelle to perceive her to be worse than Sheila.
“Can you explain what happened with Laverne?” Gail asked softly. “We all want to understand why you’re feeling so unhappy.”
Chantelle looked up then, her face red with fury. “She stole Bailey.”
Emily frowned with confusion at the mention of Bailey’s name. She and Chantelle were as thick as thieves.
“What do you mean?” Gail probed.
Chantelle’s expression was one of unfathomable pain and hurt. It upset Emily just to see her that way.
“She said that I have a stupid accent,” Chantelle shouted. “And that Bailey was only allowed one friend with blond hair. Then Bailey told me that Laverne is her new best friend.” Chantelle’s face cracked. Instead of anger, she dissolved into tears, dropping her head onto her knees and weeping bitterly.
Emily’s hand fluttered to her heart. This was too much to bear.
“Can we do something?” Emily asked, looking up at Gail. “You understand how important it is for Chantelle to have consistency in her life.”
“Of course,” Gail replied diplomatically. “You’re good friends with Yvonne, Bailey’s mother, aren’t you? Perhaps you should speak with her about this?”
“I’m not sure how that will help,” Emily replied. “Bailey’s strong-willed. Just because her mother tells her to do something it doesn’t mean she would. Wouldn’t it be easier to just move Laverne into another class so they naturally grow apart?”
Mrs. Doyle looked aghast. “Absolutely not.”
“But look what it’s doing to Chantelle,” Emily exclaimed.
Mrs. Doyle spoke frankly. “Laverne is new here, just like Chantelle was once. She’s made a friend in Bailey and it would be cruel to take that away from her.”
Emily felt her maternal instincts sharpen. “With respect, Laverne doesn’t have the same kind of history as Chantelle. She hasn’t been through the same hardships. Wouldn’t the easiest solution be to switch their classes now? To nip it in the bud before it gets any worse? If Laverne is this mean now, how much worse will she be tomorrow or the day after?”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Doyle said, shaking her head. “But they will have to work through their problems. Gail can guide them, and of course Miss Butler will be overseeing everything in the classroom. There are no quick fixes in these situations, Mrs. Morey. Chantelle’s circumstances don’t come in to it.”
Emily looked appealingly at Gail. “You’re on my side, aren’t you?”
“It’s not about sides,” Gail replied. “I’m here for Chantelle and what’s best for her.”
“Let me guess,” Emily said. “What’s best is for her to come into your office once a week to hash out her feelings? She’s a seven-year-old child. She acts on her emotions, on her feelings. Sitting here talking to you endlessly won’t help with bullying.”
“Our sessions are very valuable,” Gail replied calmly.
“I don’t think we should be so quick to label this bullying,” Mrs. Doyle interjected.
Emily was furious. She felt like everyone was abandoning Chantelle. How was this not bullying?
“Chantelle’s been mocked for her accent. She’s had her best friend taken from her. This new girl has ostracized her. How is that not bullying?”
“Emily,” Gail said softly.
But Emily was exasperated. She felt like no one in the room was prepared to do anything concrete about the situation. All they were offering was more of the same wishy-washy conversations, which felt useless to her right now, like marriage counseling for a couple of kids barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces!
“What?” Emily said furiously to Gail, so close to losing her temper it scared her.
“I have a great deal of experience dealing with these situations,” Gail continued. “I will have Chantelle, Laverne, and Bailey here together. There’s no blame. We just need to work out a way for them all to occupy the same space together.”
Emily had heard enough. “This is absurd. You’re bending over backwards to protect a bully. Come on, Chantelle, we’re leaving.”
Chantelle looked completely surprised. She blinked, her lashes wet with tears, then pulled herself to standing. Emily felt a great sense of relief when the girl rushed to her and wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. She’d done what she was supposed to as a mother; support her child unconditionally. None of this was Chantelle’s fault and the last thing she wanted was for the child to think that she’d done something wrong. Together, they marched out of the office.
“Mommy, you’re shaking,” Chantelle said as they walked along the corridors, passing Tilly at the reception desk and out onto the stone steps.
“I’m sorry,” Emily replied, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
But Chantelle seemed to have been entirely distracted from her tantrum. “Don’t say sorry,” she said, her eyes wide. “It was cool!”
Emily couldn’t help but feel a little tug at the corner of her lips. “Well, thanks. But don’t go getting any ideas. Shouting at people is not a good way to behave.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Chantelle replied.
But Emily could see the twinkle of respect in her eye. When Chantelle had needed someone on her side, Emily had been there for her. Though she felt terrible for her outburst, at least Chantelle could see firsthand that this Mama Bear always had her back.
Once standing out on the steps of the school, Emily remembered that they didn’t have any way to get home. She deliberated calling Daniel but knew he was extremely busy today with his work at Jack’s. She wasn’t sure whether she should disturb him over this. Although on the one hand he’d want to know what had happened, she was Chantelle’s mother as much as Daniel was her father, and she felt certain she could handle this situation without him. They could discuss it once he was home from work.
She dialed the inn. Lois answered.
“I don’t suppose Parker is around, is he?” Chantelle asked Lois, an image of Parker’s battered little wholesale truck in her mind’s eye.
“He is,” Lois said. “I’ll fetch him.”
The line went silent. A moment later Parker’s voice sounded through the receiver.
“Boss-lady,” he quipped, “what can I do for you?”
Emily looked down at Chantelle, who was sitting on the step fiddling with her shoelaces. She looked so glum. Emily felt confident that she’d made the right decision in not bothering Daniel. She wanted to be back on safe ground, in the comfort of their home, before the issue of Chantelle’s school day was broached.
Emily spoke into the phone to Parker. “I have a favor to ask of you…”
*
That evening, the family relaxed together in the lounge. Finally, Emily felt like enough time had lapsed and she was ready to tackle the topic of Chantelle’s first day back at school.
“So, Chantelle didn’t have a good day today, did you, sweetie,” Emily said. “Can you tell Daddy what happened?”
Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at Chantelle. She squirmed in her seat.
“You’re not in trouble,” Emily explained softly. “It’s just that Daddy doesn’t know that I had to come into the office and speak to Miss Butler and Mrs. Doyle.”
Daniel’s surprised expression grew stronger. “Mrs. Doyle, the principal?” he asked.
Emily could tell he was fighting to keep his tone even.
Chantelle nodded with shame.
“I wanted to change class because of a horrible girl,” she said, her gaze fixed on her lap.
“What horrible girl?” Daniel asked.
“She’s new,” Chantelle said. “Her name is Laverne. And she’s Bailey’s best friend.”
Daniel looked over at Emily. She flashed him a sad look.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Daniel said. “I’m sure Bailey is just trying to be nice to her because she’s new and doesn’t know anyone.”
“It’s not like that,” Chantelle said, hitting her fist against the armrest of the couch. “Laverne told Bailey that she’s only allowed one friend with blond hair and because Laverne’s is blonder than mine, Bailey chose her!”
Emily could see the little girl was in pain, and she was growing irate as she recalled the painful events of the day.
“Have you spoken to Yvonne?” Daniel asked Emily.
She shook her head. At the same time, Chantelle shouted, “No!” She seemed panicked. “Please don’t speak to Yvonne about it. I don’t want her to tell Bailey off or force her to be my friend again. I only want her to be my friend if she wants to, not because her mom told her to.”
Emily felt so bad for Chantelle. The world of seven-year-olds could be just as complicated as the grown-up one. She desperately wished she could take all the hurt away from the little girl, but that wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t right, either. It was her job as a mom to guide Chantelle through these unpleasant experiences, not shield her from them or eradicate them.
“Do you also remember what Laverne said about you?” Emily prompted. She knew Chantelle didn’t want to talk about it but it was important that they worked through her emotions. She was almost eight years old and the people around her would soon lose patience with her tantrums. She had a steep learning curve ahead of her and a lot of time to make up for. She’d already made remarkable progress but there was still so far to go.
“She said I had a stupid accent,” Chantelle said. Then glumly, she added, “She’s right. I wish I had your voice, Daddy. Why do I have to sound like Sheila?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your voice,” Daniel told her. “Your accent is beautiful.”
“But it makes me different. And it makes people think I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Daniel said sternly. �
��Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you are. You’re perfect the way you are.”
Emily loved the amount of warmth in his voice. His speech was very touching. But Chantelle did not seem to be buying it at all. She looked just as glum as ever.
“May I be excused now?” she said quietly.
Daniel looked at Emily. She shrugged, unsure what the best thing to do was.
“I’d like to watch cartoons in my room,” Chantelle added.
“Sure,” Emily said. Everyone deserves a cheer-up routine, she thought. If cartoons in bed could self-soothe Chantelle then that was better than having her melt down.
Chantelle slid off the couch and left the room. Once she was gone, Daniel looked sadly at Emily.
“You should have told me,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “As soon as it happened. Why didn’t you call?”
Emily frowned. She’d been so sure of her decision to get Parker to pick them up before, but now seeing Daniel’s expression she felt her resolve weaken. “You were at work,” she told him softly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“But this is my little girl,” he said, sternly. “I need to know if she’d being bullied.”
Emily touched Daniel’s hand. She knew him well enough now to understand that it was the stress from his new work that was making him grouchy and short with her. It wasn’t meant to be personal and so she tried not to take it as such.
“Honey, I handled it,” she told him calmly but firmly. “Having you there wouldn’t have helped matters. In fact, having us both show up like that at the school could have been quite intimidating for Chantelle. I don’t know if it’s always the best thing for her to have all these adults peering down at her evaluating her behavior. I dealt with the school, then we came home and spent the rest of the day quietly working on our respective activities. Giving her space is just as important as talking through these things.” She folded her arms triumphantly. “I actually think I did a great job.”
Daniel looked a little pained. “I’m not saying you didn’t do a great job,” he said. “You know I think you’re an awesome mom.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I just hate having responsibilities that pull me away from you, from our family.”
