I felt a sudden, sharp pang in the center of my chest. « Why didn’t you tell me, Em? »
« Because I knew you’d march into the principal’s office and make a giant scene. Then they’d hate me even more for being a snitch. »
« Why didn’t you tell me, Em? »
« She’s not wrong, » Mark added.
« So your solution was to facilitate a disappearance? » I asked him.
Mark sighed. « She was throwing up every morning, Zoe. Actual, physical sickness from the stress. I thought I could just give her a few days to breathe while we figured out a plan. »
« A plan involves talking to the other parent. What was the endgame here? »
« She was throwing up every morning, Zoe. »
Mark reached into the center console and pulled out a yellow legal pad. It was covered in Emily’s neat, looped handwriting.
« We were writing it out. I told her that if she reported it clearly — dates, names, specific incidents — the school has to act. We were drafting a formal complaint. »
Emily rubbed her sleeve across her face. « I was going to send it. Eventually. »
« When? » I asked.
« The school has to act. »
She didn’t answer.
Mark rubbed the back of his neck. « I know I should have called you. I picked up the phone so many times. But she begged me not to. I didn’t want her to feel like I was choosing your side over hers. I wanted her to have one safe place where she didn’t feel pressured. »
« This isn’t about sides, Mark. This is about being a parent. We have to be the adults, even when it makes them mad at us. »
« I know, » he said.
« I picked up the phone so many times. But she begged me not to. »
I believed him. He looked like a man who had seen his daughter drowning and grabbed the first rope he could find, even if that rope was frayed and rotten.
I turned back to Emily. « Skipping school doesn’t make them stop, honey. It just gives them power. »
Her shoulders sagged.
