A Child's Wish

“Not where I was,” he said. “But I got a cot. And my own locked-in place so I felt safe.”

“Were there lots of bad kids there?” She was scaring herself, but she just kept thinking about jail and she had to know.

“I dunno,’” he said, shrugging. “Don’t worry, you aren’t going there,” he told her. “Ever.”

Kelsey really wanted to believe him.

“If I ever did go, would you come visit me?”

“If I could.”

She was glad. She started to feel funny standing there, looking at him.

“Well, ’bye,” she said quickly and scrambled through the bushes.

If only she could be in third grade again. Things were so much better then.

MEREDITH FOUGHT with herself all the way to Mark’s office. When he’d called Saturday to tell her he had the chart done, she’d had more than twelve hours to castigate herself over their kiss the night before. Twelve hours to convince herself she couldn’t see him outside school again.

When she’d insisted, they’d arranged to meet on Monday as soon as Macy left for the day. She’d waited in her classroom for Mark’s call, doing every relaxation technique she could think of. Breathing. Picturing a serene place. Relaxing one body part at a time. Clearing her chakras.

She rounded the corner of her hallway, heading down his.

None of her tricks worked. She couldn’t calm down. Kelsey was in trouble. She couldn’t get away from the feeling. She’d known it at lunch today, though the little girl explained away her cranky mood by saying she’d been yelled at by her dad that morning for forgetting to feed Gilda.

That didn’t sound like Mark. Or anything that would really upset Kelsey, either.

His office door was open. She could see the light spilling out into the hall.

Ever since school let out, Meredith had been consumed with an inexplicable fear. One panic attack after another. Over innocuous decisions such as what color ink to use for the spelling papers she still had to grade from Friday’s test. And whether or not she should carry her bag with her to Mark’s office or come back and get it afterward.

She recognized the sensations. Breathed her way through them. And was worried sick. She needed to talk to Mark. And knew that if she did, he wouldn’t believe her. He’d just get pissed off again.

He’d probably refuse to attend her hearing next week.

He was behind his desk, typing something on the computer. He’d worn a blue short-sleeved polo shirt today. It looked good with his hair.

Which was in disarray.

“You ready?”

He barely glanced up. Rolled from the computer stand to his desk. “Sure, come on in.”

So much for the attention she’d paid to her sedate navy suit and pumps—not to mention the time it had taken to get the twist in her hair. He didn’t even notice the hands-off message she was sending.

“I made a couple of copies for you.” He slid a folder across the desk. Meredith picked it up. Sat.

“You might want to look at it.” The humor in his voice drew her out of herself enough to look at him. Grin back.

And when he said, “It’s okay, Meredith, really,” her heart did a little flip-flop.

She hadn’t gotten over wanting forbidden things yet, but she was working on it. Maybe by the next time she saw him.

Flipping open the folder, Meredith searched first for the bottom line. The graph was nice, the color-coordinated lines a fine touch, but…

She read the numbers in the boxes at the bottom. And to the far right, the percentage.

Ninety. She looked again. Took the time to do the math in her head. And then peeked up at him. He was regarding her with a mixture of anticipation, resignation and discomfort.