I had to tell them the truth.
“I lied because I love him.”
“Oy, Simba that’s not enough reason,” my dad said, squeezing me tight so that I was mashed against his scratchy cardigan. “That’s never enough reason.”
“Sim, sweetie, the boy is in danger, and by association, he’s endangering you. We can’t let that happen. We exist to keep you safe. I’ve always trusted your judgment before, but now? Now I’m not sure what to think.”
“It’s just a few pain pills,” I argued. “Prescription stuff. No big deal. Liam is ridiculously smart and he knows what he’s doing. He can stop any time he’d like.”
Dad sighed. “Never in the history of ever has that phrase proven true, Sim.” He pulled me in closer and planted a kiss on my forehead.
Mum said, “Love, I hope you won’t mind excusing us. Your father and I should talk.”
“Don’t you want me to be part of the conversation? We always talk as a family,” I said.
“We speak as a family when we function as a family,” she replied. “Off you go.”
My feet felt like those heavy boots the old-timey scuba divers used to wear to keep themselves pinned to the ocean’s floor, but I made myself climb the stairs to my room anyway. I couldn’t bear to be around my folks right then, even if they had wanted to be with me.
I stripped off my sweat-soaked shirt as I reached the top of the stairs, anxious to shed at least one item that was weighing me down. The air meeting my bare, damp skin gave me goose bumps. I found Warhol camped out on my bed, vibrating with nervous energy, tail thumping a million miles an hour, sitting next to my phone. In a panic, I grabbed it and texted, u there?
I never received a response.
I learned the next morning that Liam has lost use of any way to communicate with me because his parents are serious about punishing him.
How he’s being disciplined pales in comparison to what mine have decided to do to me.
We’re moving back to London at the end of the term.
36
MALLORY
“Hey, stranger, where have you been hiding?”
Liam brushes past, not even turning to look at me. Did he not hear? I try again, louder this time. “Liam, hi! Didn’t see you at the last couple of Gatekeeper meetings. Will you be there this afternoon? This is the big day!”
Mr. Gorton lobbied for and won approval from the school board to approach the Parents’ Association. He spoke to the PA last night in a closed-door meeting to discuss imposing limits on our workload. With their approval, the teachers will have a finite amount of homework they can assign, which should lessen the burden on each student, hence allowing us more time to decompress. Mr. Gorton’s going to brief us on the specifics of the agreement at Gatekeepers today.
The whole Association meeting has been such a big deal, it even pinged my mother’s radar.
“Assignment limits? Never going to happen,” she told me yesterday, after she’d skimmed a couple of emails about the Gatekeeper’s proposal. She had her iPad in one hand, balanced on her knees, and her third (fourth?) glass of wine in the other.
“Of course it will,” I said. “The Association would be foolish to deny our request for relief.”
“Foolish or not, never going to happen,” she replied, tabbing from her email back over to ShopBop.com.
“Disagree. It’s the only logical course of action,” I argued.
I resented the way she was smirking at me, like she knew something I didn’t. Sometimes I think she gets off on taking the counterpoint, no matter what it is. I could be all, “Here’s why it’s important we protect the environment,” and she’d go off on a tangent about how convenient non-recyclable plastic bags are and why everyone’s better off using disposable diapers.
“We’re not asking for a three-day school week or anything. Just some guidelines on amounts of homework assigned and test frequency. We had teachers and guidance counselors help us phrase our request. They’re on board. What’s to object? We’re trying to save lives.”
As my mother perused ShopBop’s shoe section, she explained, “Mallory, the objection is pure economics. Decrease competition by limiting workload and test scores go down. When test scores go down, property values decrease. Property values go down, the tax base decreases. High net worth individuals flee because their properties’ values are diminishing, and then the town loses even more revenue from its tax base. Less tax base negatively impacts the school. Then the quality of education suffers and the school can’t hire the best teachers and then the whole thing is a vicious downward spiral. Schools are the linchpin of the community. No one’s going to mess with a good thing. North Shore has a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. So, sorry, never going to happen.”
That is ridiculous.
I said, “No one would be so callous when lives are at stake.”
She shrugged. “Facts are facts. Take Arizona, for example. They estimate how many prison beds they’ll need based on standardized testing of third grade reading scores.”
I snorted. “So, what, you’re saying if we have one hour less of Trig homework a night, we’re all going to turn into criminals? That’s a stretch. I mean, with the rash of suicides here, we have to do something. Do people not love their kids?”
She sipped her wine and put a pair of suede Rag and Bone booties in her shopping cart. “People love their children. They also love their status. While I wish you luck with your little proposal, don’t be surprised when the Association votes no.”
As there’s no one in North Shore as narcissistic as my mother (save, possibly, for Mr. Avery) I chose not to believe her skewed worldview. I’m confident the Parents’ Association will do the right thing.
“Remember?” I prompt, trotting up to Liam. “The big meeting was last night?”
“Uh-huh,” he replies, accelerating his pace down the hall. What’s up with that? I thought he and I were cool. I didn’t make him being with Simone into a thing. I let it all go graciously. I’m even nice to Simone because she seems to be into the Gatekeepers. We’re on the same team.
Now that I’m out of Liam’s orbit, I see how we weren’t good together. Not enough contrast between us. He probably relates better to Simone’s lack of intensity. Or maybe he’s just into hideous trousers.
(Sorry, it had to be said. Harem pants will never be the new black.)
“You won’t be there?” I press, breaking into a slight jog to keep up with him. “Today’s meeting’s too important for us not to show up in full force.”