Page 35 of Whisper Sweet Nothings
And that scared the hell out of me.
Time to get myself in check.
ten
. . .
Winnie
We hadThanksgiving at a beautiful restaurant that Lulu’s family had rented out in Paris, and though it was strange not to be with my father, I’d had a wonderful time.
Melody had felt fine the morning after she’d puked in the elevator. I was quickly learning just how resilient children were.
We’d been back in Rosewood River for two weeks, and everything in town had shifted from fall to Christmas. White twinkle lights wrapped around every light post downtown, with white-and-red flowers hanging from each one.
It took me some time to get back on a normal sleep schedule after Paris.
I’d also grown close to Lulu, Henley, Emilia, Eloise, Wren, and Archer’s cousin Emerson since our trip, and they’d all readWhisper Sweet Nothingsfor me. They’d also been very discreet about my pen name, which I appreciated.
My mornings were back to normal: breakfast with Melody and Archer, and then she’d go off to school and I’d go to the writing cave. I looked forward to picking her up every day from school and taking her to her activities and just spending time with her. She was such a special little girl, and I adored her.
Her teacher, on the other hand, was a different story.
“I was hoping Mr. Chadwick would be picking up Melody from school today,” Mrs. Groucher said.
Her name was very fitting.
“Well, I’ve been picking her up every day for several weeks, so I’m not sure why you were expecting him.” I glanced over at Melody, who was retrieving her backpack from her cubby, and when she looked at me, I noticed that her eyes were puffy. “Has she been crying? Did something happen?”
“Yes. Something happened,” Mrs. Groucher grumped. A few of the parents hustled out of the classroom, as if they didn’t want to have to speak to her. “Melody chose to talk during work time today, so she missed Fun Friday.”
I’d heard all about Fun Friday, and personally, it didn’t sound all that fun. Mrs. Groucher allowed them to work silently in centers during Fun Friday. So I couldn’t imagine what one did when one actually missed it.
Sit in a closet in the dark?
Walk on a floor covered in tacks?
Watch paint dry?
Melody walked over and slipped her hand in mine. “I’m-I’m-I’m sorry, Mrs. Groucher.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks, and the unpleasant woman showed zero emotion.
I bent down and held both her hands in mine. “Tell me what happened, sweet pea.”
She loved the nickname, and it was very fitting, so it had stuck.
“Josh Barker asked me to help him,” she said, her voice wobbly. “He didn’t know what to do on his math paper.”
“And you helped him?” I asked, my thumb stroking over the back of her hand.
She nodded and sniffed a few times. “I just whispered that he needed to count the shapes and write the numbers.”
“And he would have known that if he’d made the choice to listen to the directions,” Mrs. Groucher said as she crossed her arms over her chest. If I hadn’t been so pissed off, I would’ve been intimidated by her.
I stood up, facing the woman head on. “So let me get this straight. One of yourfive-year-oldstudents didn’t pay attention while you gave the directions, and he asked a friend for help.” I watched her reaction, which was null and void. Amazing. “Melody didn’t turn him away; she whispered the directions. And then she sat out Fun Friday because she helped a friend?”
“Josh missed Fun Friday, too,” Melody croaked.
“He sure did. And if either of them gets another violation this coming week, they will be missing our holiday party next Friday,” her teacher said, and I could swear the corners of her lips turned up the slightest bit.
