Page 156 of Traces Of You
“Do you all want to sit down and try it again?” she asked loudly. “I know we are learning new rules, but we don’t move people out of the way.”
Everyone turned and went back to their seat. Once they were all seated, she lifted her hands with a smile and they got up and walked like polite considerate kids to get in line.
Macy still found herself in the back, but this time no one pushed her.
Meredith looked at the clock, then walked her kids down the hall. Those getting on the bus went first, then the remaining five stayed by her while parents came to pick them up.
Once her children were all gone, she returned to her room, gathered her belongings for the day and rushed to the principal’s office. She didn’t want to be late for her interview but had to put her children first.
“Hi, Meredith,” Stacia Fremont said. She liked Stacia, who was only a few years away from retirement. “Can I help you with something?”
“I know this is bad timing, but I’m in a hurry, yet I need to talk to you about a student.”
“Please, come in,” Stacia said. “Have a seat and let me know what is going on.”
“I’ve got a little girl. Macy Stubban. I can’t put my finger on things, but something feels off.”
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Stacia said. “You’re an excellent judge of character.”
She held back the hysterical laugh with that statement. If she was such an excellent judge of character she would have known her boyfriend was cheating on her for months right under her nose.
At least that situation was over with.
She hoped. Prayed.
Wished.
Fredrick wasn’t going away quietly.
Maybe she shouldn’t have done what she had, but she felt justified.
“Macy is hungry a lot. I know that is normal for this age. She won’t ask for more, but her stomach is always growling. She’s the first one done eating and extremely thin.”
“Have you asked her about it?”
“No. I’m not sure what to say. She had a school lunch when I checked on her yesterday. Her name hasn’t come up yet for the daily snack. I think it’s next week. I’m not holding my breath if she’ll bring something in. She’s also a little stinky.” She cringed when she said that, but it had to be expressed.
“Stinky like there is smoke or animals in the house, or body odor?”
Her bottom lip came out. “Body odor. No five-year-old should stink. Her hair is greasy, her nails kind of dirty. I help her wash them when she comes in. I don’t want her picked on.”
“It drives me nuts,” Stacia said. “Makes me sick too.”
“I know,” she said. “I noticed a few bruises on her upper arm last week. I didn’t question her. I’m gathering everything. This is a touchy situation. I have a lot of bruises and always did.”
As a child, she had been questioned, but her teachers soon learned that she spent more time on the ground than on her feet. Or bumping into tables, chairs and walls. Getting glasses had helped that significantly, but she just had horrible balance.
Or she was always in a rush and had energy to spare.
Who the heck knew, but coordination wasn’t in her vocabulary.
“You’re doing the right thing reporting this to me. Let’s start a file. I’ll have the counselor talk to Macy tomorrow. The nurse too. We’ll see if either of them can get her to open up. You might have to make a call to the home. Do you know that situation?”
“I see a father and grandmother listed. Looks to be the same address.”
“Thanks for bringing this to me,” Stacia said.
Meredith stood up. “I’m sorry, but I need to run.” She looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes to get to Ridgeway Orchards for her interview as a part-time wedding planner.
