A man stepped out.
I stared.
Then I actually said aloud:
“You have got to be kidding me.”
It was Derek.
My ex-husband.
He was holding two coffees.
Ava climbed out on the passenger side.
She said something.
Derek laughed.
I was out of my car before either of them noticed me.
“Ava!”
She turned.
The color vanished from her face.
“Mom?”
Derek slowly lowered his coffee.
“Oh, boy.”
I marched across the parking lot.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Rachel—”
“No.”
I pointed at Derek.
“You don't get to ‘Rachel’ me right now.”
Ava stepped between us.
“Mom, please.”
“You have missed an entire week of school!”
Her eyes widened.
“So they called you.”
“Yes, they called me! Because apparently the people who work at your school know more about where my daughter is than I do.”
I turned toward Derek.
“And you.”
He grimaced.
“Yeah.”
“You have been picking her up?”
“Yes.”
“For five days?”
“Rachel, I can explain.”
“You helped our daughter skip school for five straight days and never thought her mother might need to know?”
Ava suddenly shouted.
“Stop yelling at him!”
I looked at her.
“He didn't make me do anything. I called Dad.”
Derek rubbed his forehead.
“Ava—”
“No. I'm not letting her blame you.”
I laughed once, but there was nothing humorous about it.
“Wonderful. So both of you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“You don't understand,” Ava said.
“Then explain it.”
She looked away.
“Ava.”
Nothing.
Derek set the coffees on the hood of the truck.
“Tell her.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“You promised.”
“I promised I'd give you time. I didn't promise we'd lie forever.”
“You lied pretty comfortably for five days,” I said.
Derek flinched.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“Not now.”
“Oh, now we're worried about timing?”
Ava suddenly began crying.
Not dramatic teenage tears.
Silent tears.
The kind that fall before the person realizes they've lost control.
My anger disappeared almost instantly.
I stepped closer.
“Ava?”
She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“I hate that place.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“I hate school.”
Derek looked down.
Ava's breathing became uneven.
“They won't leave me alone.”
“Who?”
“The girls.”
“What girls?”
She shook her head.
“Basically all of them.”
That made no sense.
Ava had friends.
At least I thought she did.
“What happened?”
She laughed bitterly.
“You really don't know.”
“No, sweetheart. I don't.”
She looked at me then.
And the shame in her face broke something inside me.
