hope the chicks agree.” She shifted from foot to foot. “Good luck with the 4-H kids.”
He grimaced. “I’d almost forgotten I still have that to do.”
Startled, Olivia checked the time. “And I did forget where I was supposed to be. I’d better—”
“Yeah.”
Olivia watched his broad shoulders and long legs as he retreated. A lifetime ago, before she had met Ted, she would have appreciated the image. But that was all behind her now. Something else that had scattered beyond recovery.
Once he was out of sight, she reluctantly turned toward the office, wishing she didn’t have to face the school principal, wishing as she had so many times that Ted hadn’t died. That they were still a family. That her son still had a father, still thought the world was an adventure instead of a terrifying place filled with awful people and danger.
Running nervous hands down her thighs, she entered the office. Dorothy motioned toward the principal’s office. Through the open door, Olivia saw him, along with Joey and his teacher, Mrs. Tonell. Her stomach sank. Instinctively she knew this was going to be bad. “Sorry to be late,” she began, entering the principal’s office. “You know about the chicks that got loose in the hall....” Her voice trailed off as she spotted a note of disapproval in the principal’s eyes. Like mother, like son?
“We’re not here to talk about the chicks Dr. Harrison brought,” Principal Norrick replied.
Dr. Harrison?
“Please sit down, Mrs. Gray.”
Olivia chose the chair next to Joey’s, wishing she could give him a word of support or a hug of encouragement, but all eyes were on her. So she settled both hands in her lap, hiding their nervous shaking beneath her purse. These days her hands often trembled, her stomach remained in a perpetual knot and she never stopped thinking about why it was her family that had been destroyed.
Principal Norrick stared from behind his desk, his face set in stern lines. “We’ve been as patient as possible with Joey, but this time we cannot diminish the gravity of what he’s done. Mrs. Tonell witnessed him stealing an expensive wireless headset from the computer lab.”
The unhappy teacher looked nearly as miserable as Olivia felt. “I hoped it was just a quick impulse, that he’d turn around and put it back.”
Olivia hadn’t thought her stomach could sink any deeper, yet it did. She stared down at Joey, who sat in the rigid wooden chair next to hers. “Is this true, Joey? Did you steal from the computer lab?”
He shrugged, a halfhearted gesture that was neither acknowledgment nor apology.
Reaching over, she slipped her hand beneath his chin and tipped his face up so she could meet his eyes. “Joey?”
“I guess.”
She didn’t have it in her to be harsh to her wounded child, so she softened her voice. “Either you stole the headset or you didn’t.”
“Yeah.”
Swallowing against disappointment and sickness, Olivia turned back to the principal, waiting for the judgment to be handed down.
“He had been making progress...” Mrs. Tonell began, but her words died when the principal glared in her direction.
“We discussed this in our last meeting, Mrs. Gray,” the principal said. “And Joey is aware that he was given his final warning.”
Trembling, Olivia faced him, dreading his next words.
“Suspension and working in the library aren’t sufficient solutions to this level of misconduct,” the principal continued. “I am afraid that only leaves expulsion.”
Olivia gasped, then tried to collect herself. “Surely we can reach a compromise that will keep Joey in school.” Leaning forward, she gripped the edge of the desk. “I know how very patient you’ve been since his father passed away, and it’s appreciated far more than I can express. But Joey still hasn’t recovered.” She attempted a small smile but failed. “Neither of us has. I wouldn’t ask for special allowances for myself, but a child...hasn’t lived long enough, experienced enough to deal with such a loss. But I believe he’ll get there in time if he’s given the chance.”
Principal Norrick glanced over at the teacher, then at Joey, finally settling his gaze again on Olivia. “It is not the school’s policy to ignore such behavior....”
Olivia’s throat dried up.
Pausing, the principal turned his attention back to Joey for several moments. “We don’t often expel students. I think you know that, Mrs. Gray. And it is not something I want to do, but the other children can’t be allowed to see Joey getting away with this conduct.” His sigh nearly filled the dismal air. “There may be one option we can exercise on a probationary status.”
Olivia didn’t dare breathe.
“Joey will return the headset and he will be suspended for two weeks. He will still be responsible for collecting and completing all of his schoolwork.” The principal stressed each word, keeping his eyes on Joey. “In addition, he will be required to work two hundred hours of community service.” He turned back to Olivia. “Dorothy will give you details on where to report.”
“Thank you, Principal Norrick. We won’t let you down.”
He studied Joey, clearly upset that a student of his had come to this point. “I hope not.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” she reiterated, ready to escape the adrenaline roller coaster she had been on since entering the school. When her son didn’t speak up, she nudged him. “Joey, thank Mr. Norrick.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled without an ounce of conviction.
The principal stood, and Olivia shot up from her chair and nudged Joey toward the door.
Back in the main area of the office, she tried to gather her wits.
Dorothy sent her a sympathetic smile. “I’m filling in Joey’s community-service assignment.” She lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry to Principal Norrick’s office. “It should be one he’ll take to.”
“Thanks, Dorothy.” Olivia bit down on her lower lip. “Do you suppose there’s enough time left today for Joey to pick up his schoolwork from his teachers?”
“Should be.” The secretary reached for a different form, then scribbled the necessary information. “Joey, show this to all your teachers and they’ll give you what you need.”
Looking particularly displeased, Joey accepted the paper.
“I’ll wait by the car while you go around to your teachers,” Olivia told him as she stashed his community-service paper in her purse. “No dawdling.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not five years old.”
She met his rebellious gaze, making herself sound stern and in control, despite feeling as if she were steering a rudderless ship. “Then don’t act like you
