Page 74 of Here & There

My foot taps against the linoleum.

Shelby rests a hand on my arm. “It’s going to go great, Mac. The whole reason we’re here is the school said they had resources for things like this.”

I grunt. “That was the other principal. Where the hell is she, anyway? Then I sit back in my chair. “Thanks again for coming.” I rub my hands along my thighs. Thank God Shelby’s here. If she wasn’t, I’d be even more nervous.

“Mac?”

“Huh?” I stare down the direction the secretary went.

“You’re doing the right thing, remember?”

I do remember. We laid out the options for how to handle Nate’s bullying last night. They were 1) do nothing, 2) take care of this myself, or 3) handle it like a responsible parent.

I went with option three, because it felt like the right one. Even though thinking about anyone pushing Nate around makes me want to beat my chest and charge like a damn daddy gorilla.

The secretary reappears, looking a little flustered. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid there might be a bit of a wait.”

“Okay,” I say. Not much I can do.

Except the little wait turns out to be over half an hour. Shelby pulls out her e-reader. I could read too—she says she has a backup book—but I can’t focus. I fidget on my phone for a bit, then close my eyes.

I should have picked option two. I’ve always handled problems by myself.That’s how we do it, son. If you see a problem, you fix it.

When I open my eyes, Shelby’s book is in view. I catch the wordsmilky breasts.

“What are you reading, Shelby?” I ask.

She sucks in a breath, turning an adorable shade of pink. “Do you mind?”

“No,” I say, grateful for the distraction.

She stuffs her e-reader into her little backpack purse at the sound of clopping heels.

“Mr. MacGregor,” the secretary says, reappearing at the end of the hallway. “The principal will see you now. I’m so terribly sorry about the wait.”

I grip Shelby’s hand and pull her up with me.

“Hey,” she whispers. “I’m just here for moral support, remember?”

She said she wasn’t the parent, so she didn’t want to impose or be a distraction in the meeting. But now I don’t want to go in there alone. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I screw it up even worse?

“I need you with me,” I say. “Please.”

Shelby must notice the sweat on my palms because she softens. “Okay.” This comes with a light squeeze of my hand.

Relief makes me feel a little more confident as we follow the secretary down the hall. While now is not the time to notice how good her hand feels in mine, or how much that simple little squeeze comforted me, I can’t help it. Handling parent things with Shelby by my side feels so much better than going it alone.

But my upward-rising mood comes to a full stop as we enter the principal’s office. The place is spartan, with a shelf full of leather-bound books behind a plain oak desk. I remember this office being colorful and bright before, and in fact, I can see shadows on the wall where posters used to hang. The principal himself is a snively looking man in his fifties, with watery eyes and a thick brown and gray mustache. His hands are folded onthe desk blotter in front of him. He looks vaguely familiar. I must have seen his photo on the school website.

He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t smile or even offer us a seat.

Did he just make us wait on purpose? So we could sweat?

The secretary gives me an almost apologetic smile before ducking her head and closing the door behind her. Shelby and I sit down in the plain black chairs facing the desk. I feel like we’re kids in trouble.

“Mr. MacGregor, is it?” the principal says.

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you for seeing us. I mean, me.”

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