Page 76 of The Last to Let Go
I despise her with every fiber of my being, for ambushing me, for her headshaking and phony concern, but especially for using the word “truant.”
“Either way,” she continues, “this number of absences is unacceptable.”
“I’m not quite sure what that means. I’ve had the flu a couple of times. But I’ve been keeping up with schoolwork and everything. I can’t really help it if I’ve been sick, can I?”
“Look,” she begins, sitting up straighter, “you have to meet me halfway here—a quarter, an eighth of the way, even. Give me something,anything, to work with,” she says, clasping her hands together. “Your teachers are concerned about you. You started off very strong, and now... well, your work has tapered off.” She stares at me while I consider this for a moment.
“Like I said, I’ve been sick. But I’m better now, and I just need a little time to catch up.”
“Did you know if you have more than ten unexcused absences, you could be in danger of not having enough credits to pass the year?” she asks.
I shake my head no.
“This is serious. I need to speak with your brother. We need to get some documentation for your absences—that is, if they’re legitimate.”
“I thought you only needed a note after three days in a row.”
She grins. “I see you’ve brushed up on the rules.”
“Not really,” I lie. “I just like to be informed.”
“Good. This is me informing you that you’ve already accumulated thirteen unexcused absences since December. And that doesn’t include the days you’ve been late or gone home early, which are adding up as well.”
“What?” My voice is raised, I know, but I can’t help it. “How? It couldn’t have been that many already.”
She nods emphatically. “No, I assure you, it is. I’m looking at it right here.” She flips the printout over and slides it in front of me.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing; it’s true. I scramble to find some kind of response. “Well, once I explain to my brother, he can write a note and sign them and—”
“Yes, do that. I’ll still need to speak with him, of course.” She reaches across the desk and draws an arrow in red pen. Once. Then twice. “But see these—these two weeks you missed three days in a row. For those you need doctor’s notes. The rule is three or more, not more than three, by the way.”
Those are the week of the trial and then the week of my breakup with Dani. When I look up, Mrs. Murray is eyeing me like she’s some kind of bird of prey. She knows I’m trapped. In another life I would’ve commended her for being such a stickler about the rules. But this isn’t another life.
“No problem,” I tell her, careful not to let on how screwed I really am. “Can I get to class now?”
“Of course.” She stands with a smile, and so do I. “Remember, I need to see your brother. In person. Have him call me, please. Will you?”
I find Tyler at his locker before chem. “Dude,” he says as I approach. “You look like crap.”
“I feel like crap, thanks for noticing.” I drop my bag on the floor and kneel down next to it, rifling through the mishmash of papers crumpled at the bottom. “I need help,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I’m not even going to touch that one.”
“With midterms. Mrs. Murray ambushed me today. I’ve gotta find a way to step it up.” Finally my hand finds my stash of aspirin. I twist off the childproof cap and shake three white pills out into the palm of my hand. “Because apparently it’s common knowledge among the entire staff that I’m fucking up in all areas right now.”
“What do you mean?” He closes his locker and stands there, looking down at me, waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t know.” I throw the pills into the back of my throat and down them with a swig from my water bottle. “Does it ever just feel too hard some days?”
“What, school? Shit. Yeah.”
“Not school. Just life, in general.”
He crouches down next to me, and looking at me more seriously than he ever has before, he says, “Honestly, now. Should I be worried about you?”
“What, I’m just venting.”
“Yeah, I know. But should I be worried?”
