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
