Page 28 of Faultlines

He picks up the report and snorts. “You’re kidding.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Those grades would’ve gotten me grounded for being an overachiever.” The leather chair across from me creaks as he takes a seat. “Let’s go over this client file, if you’ve got a few minutes,” he says, changing the subject.

CHAPTER TEN

FORESHOCK

Claire

My cell phone rattles against the polished wood of my desk, making me realize I haven’t looked at it in hours. The caller ID reads, “Juniper Ridge Middle School.”

I answer before the second ring. “Claire Bennett.”

“Mrs. Bennett? This is Principal Harrington.”

My grip tightens around the phone. Every parent knows that tone—the one administrators’ use when they’re about to explain why your child has become the most prominent problem in the building.

“Is Ellie okay?”

“She’s fine.”

I sag back into my chair—until his next statement makes me sit up.

“However, something has happened.” The silence lasts long enough for me to count the seconds. “Your daughter pulled a fire alarm.”

“What?”

“She pulled the fire alarm that’s located outside the cafeteria.”

“Ellie, did this?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Your daughter, Ellie Bennett.”

This makes no sense. My daughter apologizes when other people bump into her; she’s the last person on earth who would pull a fire alarm. The act is so profoundly out of character that my mind can’t quite grasp it.

“Can I speak to her?”

“You can, but I’m going to need you or Mr. Bennett to come to the school. She’s facing another suspension.”

I hear movement, and then Ellie’s voice comes through the phone. “Mom?”

“Ellie, sweetheart, what happened?”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” The words tumble out, “It was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally pull a fire alarm?”

“I tripped—some kid pushed past me and I fell against the wall, and my hand just hit it.”

“Ellie.” I keep my voice low, steady. “You don’t trip and pull a fire alarm. What happened?”

“I just… I don’t know.” I hear an intake of breath. “I didn’t mean for it to be such a big deal.”

I hear a sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

I imagine the chaos of the entire middle school evacuating during lunch.