“You, okay?” I ask, the sadness in her voice she couldn’t quite hide earlier is still ringing in my ears.
 
 “Yeah.” She tugs her eyes off mine when the doors to the school open and kids start rushing out to greet their parents. When Coop and Zuri find us amongst the crowd, they run towards us, smiling each of them holding a sheet of paper.
 
 “What’s this?” Nalia asks when Zuri shoves the paper into her hands.
 
 “A permission slip that I need you to sign.”
 
 “Are you guys going on a field trip?” She flips it over to look at it while I take the kids’ backpacks from them and start herding them towards the Jeep.
 
 “No, we’re starting roller skating in PE,” Coop tells us, passing me his own paper.
 
 “When does that start?” I ask him.
 
 “I don’t know, I think next week,” he says while Zuri asks.
 
 “Do you think I will be able to join my class?”
 
 “I’m not sure, honey. I’m going to have to ask your doctor.”
 
 “But I feel fine.”
 
 “I know, but I still need to ask your doctor if it’s okay.” She opens the back door, and the kids pile in while I drop their stuff in the trunk. “How was school?” she asks, turning sideways in her seat so she can look back at the kids.
 
 “Good.” Both kids say at the same time.
 
 “How was your friend that got hit at recess?”
 
 “I don’t know, she had to go to the office to get an icepack and didn’t come back to class,” Zuri says quietly.
 
 “Who was the boy that kicked the ball?” I ask as I pull out with traffic, and I feel Nalia tense.
 
 “That was Matthew. He’s a total dick,” Coop says, and I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Dad.”
 
 “It’s alright,” I mutter.
 
 “Is Matthew the kid who’s mean to you?” Nalia asks Zuri gently.
 
 “Yeah,” she says so quietly that I barely hear her.
 
 “He’s mean to everyone,” Coop adds.
 
 “Did he get in trouble for hitting the girl with the ball?” I ask, pulling into the parking lot for Sonic.
 
 “He said it was just an accident,” Coop mutters, and I glance over at Nalia, finding her eyes on me with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
 
 “Was it?” I ask, meeting my son’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and he shakes his head no.
 
 “Right.” I pull into one of the stalls and shut down the engine. When the kids get out, I reach over and grab Nalia’s hand before she can open her door, and she turns to look at me. “I’ll send an e-mail to Mrs. McGregor tonight and tell her about what we saw.”
 
 “You think he did it on purpose, too?” She looks to where the kids are now sitting at one of the picnic tables.
 
 “It looked that way to me, and even if he says it wasn’t, it’s better to have this stuff documented in case something else happens.”
 
 “I’ll also send an e-mail.” She reaches for the door and starts to get out.
 
 “One more thing?”
 
 “Yeah?” She turns to face me.