Page 34 of Let's Call a Truce
It had been a while since I had seen Sophie in a school setting, and I had forgotten how she dominated the social scene. All the kids in the room hung on her every word. They mirrored her movements, laughing in unison at some joke or another she made.
I watched my daughter and the daughter of my nemesis as the large group of girls debated who would get to be together. Paris was sweet and soft-spoken compared with my Sophie’s wild and entertaining ways. Sophie steamrolled the conversation, but I noticed she never let the stronger personalities push Paris out, like it was her job to protect her from all the other kids.
“I know you hate me and don’t care about my opinion, obviously,” Ben said from my side.
“Obviously,” I parroted without so much as a sideways glance, but it was a fight to keep from smiling.
“But you’ve done well with Sophie.”
I nodded, that smile breaking free.
“She’s been so good to Paris. My daughter’s sweet, but she’s so shy. She’s been through some stuff, and Sophie seems to get her better than most.”
My curiosity and my need to not give him the satisfaction fought for dominance. “Are you trying to use your daughter to tempt me into talking?”
He laughed beside me, the quiet chuckle he made whenever we were sparring, not the boisterous laugh from earlier this week that turned my insides to jelly. “I’m trying to thank you for raising a kind and inclusive child. If it makes you talk to me, all the better.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye and bit my lip.
Sophie’s little group settled on a plan, splitting into two groups of four. With one spot left open, I saw a little boy approach her.
“Can I join your group?” he asked.
“No, you can’t, because we don’t like you,” Sophie said. The other kids sniggered as she looked down her nose at the embarrassed boy.
Fire lit in my veins at her horrible treatment of him. That was not the child I’d raised.
“Sophie Elizabeth Ryan. Come here right now.” I saw her eyes widen in fear from across the room. “What was that?”
“I don’t like him,” she said as she crossed her arms. “He said something mean about Daddy, and then I got in trouble when I hit him, but he deserved it.”
“Are you talking about two years ago?” I asked.
“Yeah, when we had to go to the principal’s office. Remember? Ineverget in trouble. It was his fault. Why do I have to be nice to him? He wasn’t nice to me.”
“Sweet pea, I know what he said hurt you, but it was a long time ago. People can change.”
Ben snorted beside me, and I threw him a glare over my shoulder.
“Give him a chance,” I said. “And no matter how mean someone was, it is always wrong to embarrass him like that. You are wonderful and kind, and I would hate for you to lose who you are because someone else was mean to you.”
Sophie nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Mom.”
I watched as she ran off and invited him to join their group, proud my parenting moment got through.
“Oh man, I am such a fan of irony,” Ben said.
“And what exactly is so ironic here?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the kids.
“You lecturing your kid on not holding grudges, when you are the queen of it.”
I tried to form an argument in my mind but came up short. I settled for the grown-up response instead. “Shut up.”
As I walked off, Ben laughed behind me, the big genuine laugh I loved.
“Chaperones.” The employee’s voice boomed through the space. “We have adult-size protective boots if you want them. Otherwise, we can tape your shoes like the kids.”
She gestured to where the kids were sitting along the bench, teachers and employees wrapping duct tape around the laces to keep as much water out as possible. It wouldn’t work.
