Page 68 of Work with Me

“I am not!” She jabbed the elevator’s down arrow by mistake before hitting the up arrow.

“I think you are.” I stepped into the elevator with her, and we rode up to the third level. She strode to the world’s most generic gray Honda Civic and fumbled with the key fob.

“Let me. Please?” I held out my hand for the keys.

“How are you going to get back?”

“I’ll take a rideshare. I promise I won’t inconvenience you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not inconveniencing me. Other than making me late because of this argument.”

I winked at her, something I was trying on in Texas along with the truck and the boots. “I promise you won’t be late.”

She shook her head but dropped the key in my palm. I slid the driver’s seat all the way back and adjusted the mirrors while she settled into the passenger seat. Once she’d buckled her seat belt, I pulled out of the parking space and carefully exited the garage. I didn’t turn on the making-up-for-wasted-time speed until we were on the main streets.

“So I take it this isn’t the first time his teacher’s called you in?”

“We had a regularly scheduled conference with his teaching team last month. She had some concerns then. And then, of course, the fight, but that was with the principal. I—I don’t know what to do. I wish kids came with instruction manuals. Or a customer service line. You know? It’s a lot.”

“Your mom and Esmy don’t support you?” They’d seemed great the other night.

“No, they do.” She bit her lip and turned to look out the window. “But Melissa appointed me as guardian, and Mom’s always been a little prickly about it. So I do most of the guardian stuff alone. And raising Melissa and me, Mom didn’t really have to deal with issues like Noah’s.”

I chuckled. “I imagine not.” Alicia would’ve been the perfect student, perfect daughter. Like my brother, Andrew, and my youngest sister, Natalie. Nothing at all like Sam or me. “From what I saw that night at your house, you’re doing great with him. He seems happy and well-adjusted.”

“He does, doesn’t he? I can’t figure out what’s going on at school.”

“Have you talked to his pediatrician about it?”

“His pediatrician? No. He’s fine during his checkups. And, frankly, the folks at the urgent care place know him best. We’ve spent a lot of time there with all the soccer injuries and the playground bumps and bruises he used to get.”

“He’s accident-prone?”

“Aren’t all boys?”

I glanced at her. “Not all boys.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, and all I wanted to do was hug her, make her feel better.

“So you’ve never had him tested for a learning disability or a neurological issue?”

“No.” She looked at me, a frown creasing her forehead. “Should I?”

“I told you I had a lot of trouble in school. In the bottom of the class, I figured out there were two types of kids down there with me: kids who didn’t care about school because they had bigger problems, which doesn’t seem to be the case with Noah, and kids who had undiagnosed learning disabilities or neurological differences. That was me before I was diagnosed with ADHD. Maybe you should talk to his doctor.”

“But if I—if they discover he’s different, they’ll pull him out of class for special education.”

“Yeah, I didn’t love being singled out for help. But that help made the difference between failure and success for me. I never would’ve made it to Stanford without the study skills, without the organizational help I got from my resource teacher. Besides, once they’ve identified Noah as someone with a ‘disability’”—I made air quotes since I preferred to think of it as a difference rather than a disorder—“he gets special accommodations at school. Extra time for standardized tests. Things that’ll help him succeed.”

“What if…what if they prescribe medicine for him? I’ve heard it changes kids’ personalities. I don’t want it to stunt his growth, either. He’s already on the small side.”

“Medication isn’t right for everyone. You and Noah’s doctor have to decide what’s best for him. But I don’t think I could’ve started Synergy without the focus it gave me.”

“You still take it?” Her eyes widened. “Sorry, that’s private medical information. Forget I asked.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t take it every day. Only when I notice I’m more distracted or impulsive than usual.” I grinned. “Okay, I probably should take it all the time. I’m pretty impulsive.” I waved my hand at the interior of her car. I definitely hadn’t checked in my code before I’d run out of the office.

She went silent, speaking only to direct me to Noah’s school. The school grounds had that no-kids empty feeling, but the teachers’ lot was still full.

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