Page 79 of Hot Shot

A shocked noise escapes me—I’m too stunned to speak.

Before either of us can say anything else, Cheryl lays a hand on my knee and holds one up to Nicole. “Now, hang on please. Let’s take a breath and remember we’re here to help the girls sort this out.”

“Are we?” Nicole shouts, jabbing a finger in my direction. “Because it feels like you broughtherin here to outnumber me.”

Cheryl frowns, blinking. “Now wait a second,”

“How dare you two gang up on me like this. It’s not Avery’s fault that your kid is unstable and causing problems at school. And it’s not my job to fix your kid either. That responsibility isyours.” She stands, red faced, snatching her purse off the back of the chair. “Unless some disciplinary action is taking place, I think we’re through here.”

We’re out of our seats. Cheryl is trying to smile, saying, “Please, Mrs. Franks—can we just sit down and talk about this like adults?”

“No, I don’t think we can. And I hope you know that I’ll be speaking to the principal about all of this, as well as the schoolboard. Get your kid in check,” she shoots at me. “And leaveminealone.”

She spins on her heel, leaving us gaping at her back as she storms out of the room.

I sink into my chair and plant my face in my palms. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t believe Nicole lied about what Cricket said. And there’s no excuse for that.

My shame and disappointment are complete.

Cheryl’s hand is warm on my shoulder, when she sits next to me. “You okay?”

I groan into my hands and drag myself up to sit. “What are we going to do?”

Cheryl sighs, shaking her head. “All we can do is be present in class. But…”

When she doesn’t finish, panic grips me. “What?”

“Well, Nicole’s father-in-law is the head of the school board. And they could stir up a lot of trouble for us. For you.” A pause. “I think from here, I’d better handle this with her directly.”

“I think you’re right. I’m sorry I couldn’t just…I don’t know. Smile and not say all the things I wanted to say.”

“Don’t apologize—you love Cricket and she’s suffering after already suffering so much. Of course you want to defend her. So here’s what we’re going to do. You go get Cricket and take her home. Talk to her. Guide her as best you can. I’m going to talk to the principal and let her know what happened before she gets a call. Moving forward, let’s just try our best to keep the girls away from each other and help them mediate here at school. Maybe we can get the counselor involved too. How does that sound?”

I nod, miserable and angry and sad. But I let out a heavy exhale and stand. “Thank you, Cheryl. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

“You’re not any trouble, Cassidy. Sadly, this kind of parent is more common than not. You’ll figure out how to weather them soon enough.”

A laugh puffs out of me. “You say that like I’m capable of not arguing with somebody I think is wrong.”

But her face is heavy with warning. “This is part of the job, for better or for worse. So if you want to keep it, you’ve gotta figure out how.”

Cowed, I nod, my eyes on the ground as I exit her classroom and slither into mine to get my bag. I head toward the library where Cricket sits at a teeny tiny table next to Molly with a stack of books on the surface between them. Cricket looks so small, my heart breaks. It breaks a second time at the thought of her being so cruel to Avery, despite what Avery has done to her. She smiles up at me, her toothless grin now half grown in.

The third break of my heart shatters it.

My girl, who I love so, so much.

It’s bittersweet, to have the realization at a time I can’t celebrate it.

I smile back, though I know it’s wan at best. Extending a hand, I say, “Come on, bug. Ready to go home?”

She nods, sliding out of her chair to hug Molly around the neck, then hopping over to me to take my hand.

Molly and I share a smile and say our goodbyes, and Cricket and I exit the school in silence. There’s a nip in the air—Cricket tucks into my side to keep warm as all the things I want to say whirl around my brain like the wind lashing our legs. I help her into the truck and she watches me, worried.

“Am I in trouble?” she asks once I’m in the driver’s seat, starting the truck.

I glance at her with a brow arched. “Why? Should you be?”

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