Hearts On The Line

Chapter three

I can't get to the school fast enough. My mind is reeling. What was Jackson thinking? He punched a student. Punched! Furious doesn't even begin to describe the heat flowing through my veins.

Pulling up to the school, my adrenaline is causing my hands to tremble. Everything around me blurs including the few cars that are in the lot, which sits to the left of the school. I need to breathe before I go in, I don't want them to think that I've fallen off the deep end.

He's ten and already fighting. This can't be good, what am I doing wrong? I swipe at the hot plump tears rolling down my cheeks. Pulling down the visor, I check my eyes. They are rimmed red and tearful. There's no covering it up, not when I have to get in there and have the principal chew me out for being a shitty parent.

I swipe my bag off the passenger seat and hurl myself from the car, slamming the door in my wake. Stalking across the field I realize how crazy I look. The parents are already starting to line up, the moms who walk every day are silently judging me with their narrowed gazes.

Inside, I find myself standing in the enclosed vestibule, waiting for the woman behind the glass to acknowledge me. I wipe again at the tears; grateful they have somewhat dried up for now. Staying level headed is what they need to see when I walk through those doors to the principal's office.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. – Ms. Clarke." I can't help cringing at using the last name I wish so badly to get rid of. Only, I haven't had the chance, maybe one day.

"Jackson's mom?" she asks.

I nod. It's the first time I've ever been embarrassed to be Jackson's mom. How awful is that? I give her my ID. She purses her bright red lips, types something in on the computer, and slides a visitor pass along with my ID back under the window for me.

"I'm buzzing you in. Just go around, they are waiting for you."

The principal's door is wide open. A buzzer goes off behind me and before I go inside the sound a familiar voice catches me off guard. Ignoring the intense flutter in my stomach, I make my way in.

Mr. Wells sits at his desk, his deep brown eyes finding mine as I enter.

"Ms. Clarke." He greets me with a flat tone.

I nod in response, and search for my son. Jackson is sitting to my right, the other boy to the left. My heart makes a leap when Jackson turns in his chair, his eyes as red as my own, and an ice pack pressed to his cheek.

The other boy sits hunched over, his head in his hands.

"Ah. Mr. Bailey. Thank you for joining us."

I gasp. Mr. Bailey. No. It can't be. The other boy lifts his gaze and my chest aches. He's got the ice pack on his lap, and a nasty looking bruise is starting to take color on his pale little face. I grab for my throat, stopping the building knot from forming.

Mr. Wells catches my eye. "Are you alright, Ms. Clarke?"

I lower my chin, afraid to look back, yet I'm unable to move. Vertigo takes over, making the room nearly black. I'm lost in what feels like a void of nothing. I barely register Lawson's hands on my shoulders guiding me to the chair beside Jackson. He gives me a squeeze before sitting down in the seat beside mine. Only a small gap sits between us. One that I wish I could make bigger.

"I'm – I'm okay."

I still can't look at him, but he's watching me. His gaze is so intense that it's like he's burning a hole into the side of my head. Bile rises and I swallow hard to keep it from rising. Don't get sick, I plead with myself. Somehow the urge rescinds, and I put my attention on Mr. Wells again.