Page 69 of Work with Me

She took a deep breath and put her hand on the door handle. “Thanks, Jackson. I appreciate the advice. And the ride.”

“Can I—do you want me to go in with you?”

“In with me? No.” She wrinkled her nose in that expression I found adorable.

“For moral support.”

“No, I— Fine. If you want.”

We got out, and I locked the car and handed her the key. She led me inside, where we signed in. The scents of disinfectant and books and kids’ smelly sneakers took me right back to my own school days. I half-expected to see Baron Sinclair and his gang of bullies come around the corner, threatening to smash my nose in. But the silence, broken only by a pair of quiet adult voices down the hall, told me no kids were in the building.

We walked down the hall decorated with leftover construction-paper jack-o’-lanterns to a door markedMrs. O’Reilly, 5th Grade Language Arts.Alicia knocked and opened the door.

“Ms. Weber. Come in.” Mrs. O’Reilly could’ve been one of my old teachers. Her hair was a pinkish red, but the wrinkles around her downturned mouth gave away her age. She sat behind her desk and gestured at a pair of kid-size chairs in front of it. Alicia perched delicately on one. Mine squealed when I sat, and my knees rose almost to my chest.

Mrs. O’Reilly looked over her half-rims at me. “And you are?”

“A family friend,” I lied.

“This is highly—”

“Mrs. O’Reilly, I know we have only twenty minutes,” Alicia interrupted her, making the teacher frown. “I’d like to hear your concerns about Noah.”

“Noah isn’t doing well in my class. While his grades have improved”—she gave Alicia a pointed look over her glasses—“slightly, he’s been disruptive. Speaking out of turn, tapping his pencil, talking to the other children. Not to mention the fight on the playground last month.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Alicia said, her face pale. “What do you think we can do to help him?”

“I’ve done everything I can think of,” Mrs. O’Reilly said. She gestured at a desk at the back of the classroom with a cardboard divider surrounding it. “I’ve separated him from the other children. I’ve disciplined him.” She pointed at the edge of the whiteboard behind her with a list of children’s names and either smiley faces or frowny faces. Noah’s name had a lot of frowny faces next to it. “He’s been sitting inside during recess all week to finish his classwork.”

“Sitting inside at recess?” My blood pressure had risen as she’d listed each intervention. When she’d mentioned recess, I thought my head might explode. “That’s the worst thing for him.”

“Your name?” This time, she took off the glasses and speared me with a beady-eyed stare.

“Jackson Jones, ma’am.”

“Mr. Jones, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m speaking to Noah’s guardian.”

“It’s okay,” Alicia said. “Why is recess such a big deal, Jackson?”

“If he’s got ADHD, he’s got to expend his excess energy somehow. Sitting inside all day is only going to make it worse. Even if he doesn’t have it, kids need exercise. They need to run around. Socialize. Take a break. No wonder he’s acting out.” I stood and paced behind the chair. This classroom and its reminders of my own elementary-school misery made me twitch.

Mrs. O’Reilly shifted so she faced Alicia. “I understand Noah’s father doesn’t live with you.”

“No. We, ah. No.”

“Children who grow up in single-parent homes are more likely to use drugs.”

I spun on my boot sole. “Where did you get that statistic?”

She glared at me. “Everyone knows that.”

Alicia cleared her throat. “He also lives with his grandmothers.”

Mrs. O’Reilly’s thin eyebrows disappeared into her forehead wrinkles. “Is he receiving discipline of any kind at home? Or is he playing video games all night?”

Alicia’s face went from pale to red faster than was probably healthy. “Of course we discipline him. And he isn’t allowed to watch videos or play games until he finishes his homework.”

“Maybe stronger discipline and a more structured home life would help.” Mrs. O’Reilly shot me a calculating glare. “I’m not sure Mr. Jones is the best person to provide it.”

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