Page 92 of Finding Us
I reach across the table, placing my hand on top of his. “I would love to come to your birthday party.”
“Anyone else?” Mason asks. “Braydon?”
“Yes, and Uncle Connor.”
“What about the other kids in your class?”
“Can I invite some of them?”
“You can invite all of them if you want,” Mason answers.
His eyes widen. “The whole class?”
“If you want.”
“Okay, but I don’t want Tristan to come … he’s a butthead.”
His father laughs, but it brings out my mumma-bear. “Why? Is he mean to you?”
He bows his head, looking down at the table. “Sometimes.”
My eyes dart to Mason, finding his fork paused midway to his mouth. He’s frowning and his lips are now a thin line.
“How?” I ask.
“Today he threw my hat in the girls’ toilets and teased me when I went in to get it. He told everyone in my class I was a little girl.”
“That little shit,” I mumble under my breath. “Is that the first time he’s been mean to you?”
“No, yesterday he put grass and dirt in my water bottle and pulled on my tie until it nearly choked me.”
I gasp. “Did you tell your teacher?”
“Yes,” he says as his bottom lip quivers.
“And what did she say?”
“Tristan told her I was lying, and she said I shouldn’t tell stories.” When tears rise to his eyes, I see red, literally. “I wasn’t lying, Jazzie.”
That bitch.
I purse my lips. “Right,” I say, dropping my fork onto the table. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to march down to that school and have a word with your teacher.” He gives me a small smile as a solitary tear rolls down his cheek. Seeing him upset like this breaks my heart; this little boy has been through enough. Reaching over, I swipe his tear away. “You should’ve told us sooner.”
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me either.”
“Sweetie, we’ll always believe you. We need to know if something bad happens, so we can fix it.”
“Okay.”
When another tear falls, I scoot my chair back. “Come here.” Blake slides off his seat and walks straight into my open arms. I hug him tight, kissing the top of his head. “Don’t cry, your dad and I will sort it out tomorrow.”
When my eyes move to Mason, I find him smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“No reason,” he replies as he goes back to eating his dinner.
“You don’t have anything to say about this?”
“I have plenty to say, but it looks like you’ve got it covered.”
