Page 41 of Assigned

I pull out my phone. Crap. Lucas didn’t give me that info. “No, I’m sorry I don—”

“Riley!!”

I spin around to find Mason running toward me. He gives me a big hug, his arms circling my waist. I lean down to plant a kiss on top of his head and inhale the smell of new-mown grass and little boy shampoo. “Hey, there. Dad sent me because he got stuck at work.”

“Ma’am, who’s the teacher you’re seeing?” The woman behind the desk asks again, sounding unimpressed with my lack of knowledge and Mason’s happiness at seeing me.

Mason looks at the lady. “Mrs. Shapiro, ma’am.”

The woman nods. “May I have your license? Please sign in. It will be room 201. Second floor.” She turns the log book around so I can sign my name, then add my address and phone number.

My license too? Security is a hell of a lot different than when I went to school. This wasn’t the time to argue, though. I hand the woman what she asks for and fill out the sign-in sheet. Once complete, she hands me a sticker badge with my name on it. “You can pick up your license on the way out.”

I nod and then Mason grabs my hand and pulls me off down the hall. The school is big and spread-out, with wide, locker-lined hallways. Posters and student work and pictures of kids playing sports and performing in a play cover the walls. Some of the kids look huge.

“How old are those kids?” I ask, pointing to one that looks like he might have the start of a mustache.

Mason laughs. “Sixth graders.”

We walk up the staircase and down the hall toward the back of the building. Then Mason turns into classroom 201. The room is bright and faces the field I’d seen behind the school. Rays of sunlight stream into the room through the massive windows. The desks are arranged in groups of six. Against the back wall is a library of books and at the front, in the center, a big whiteboard is mounted on the wall. Off to the side is the teacher’s desk. A dark-haired woman in her fifties is seated behind it, looking through a stack of blue folders.

Schools definitely have changed.

“Mrs. Shapiro, this is my stepmom,” Mason says.

I freeze. What did he just call me? The woman in front of me smiles and I have to force myself to move forward.

Stepmom.

I know that’s what I am legally, but a piece of paper wouldn’t mean anything if Mason didn’t think of me that way. The word pierces my heart, flooding my chest with a warmth I’ve never felt. Yeah, this day has been full of surprises. Good ones, for a change.

Mrs. Shapiro stands up and extends her hand. “Good afternoon. Mrs. Craiger, is it?”

“Yes.” I shake the teacher’s hand, then take a seat. “Lucas couldn’t make it, but we wanted to make sure someone was here for Mason.”

“Yes, Ms. Ellis did inform me that Mason would be staying with his father for the week.” Mrs. Shapiro sits back down.

Ellis? Oh, must be Lisa’s surname.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.” Mrs. Shapiro opens a blue file folder and pulls out examples of Mason’s work. “Mason, why don’t you go work on your writing project on the computer?”

He nods and heads off to an area of the classroom that has five desktops. This school has everything.

“As you can see, your stepson is quite an exceptional young man. His scores are excellent and he’s a good writer. His Lexile scores are above grade level and he doesn’t have any issues with math.”

I look over the work. Mason is smart. Takes after his father. “This is great news. I’m sure my husband will be proud of him.” I know I am. I look over to where he’s sitting at the computer, absorbed in whatever project he’s working on.

“Mason does have a problem, though.” Mrs. Shapiro leans back in her chair and narrows her eyes a bit. “With his classmates. The school administration and I had hoped it would get better, but it has not.”

That doesn’t sound good. “What kind of problem?”

Mrs. Shapiro presses her lips together until they’re not much more than a straight line and then says, “Mason has been getting into fights with the other students.”

“Physically?” Definitely not good and possibly above my pay grade here.

Mrs. Shapiro nods her head. “We have had some altercations during recess. Ms. Ellis has been called a few times and the principal has spoken with her, but Mason isn’t getting any better. The other day, he overreacted to something another student said and disrupted the entire lesson.” The look on her face tells me she’s still pissed about it.

My head tilts sideways the slightest bit and I recall what Mason told me that day we played video games with his friend, about how he was being teased in ways that were truly cruel. My stomach sinks. He didn’t tell his mother. He only told me. He’s got no one else in his corner.

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