“Of course it’s yours. Why would you even ask that?” I make the mistake of raising my voice to him. “You never let me go anywhere without you.”
“Don’t you dare yell at me.” Like a snake rising up before striking its target, he exhibits a crazed look in his eyes. Before I can twist out of his grasp, his hand collides with my cheek. “If I hear any more rumors, you’ll be black and blue.”
“Like last week?” I seethe. “If there’s anything wrong with this baby—”
“Now you wanna threaten me?” He grabs a fistful of my hair, my hands protectively shielding my massive belly. “Go get me a beer. Then get the fuck out of my sight.”
With a shove, he pushes me into the wall, holding my head right below a portrait of us taken at JCPenney. One happy family.
Vigorously shaking my head in disgust at the memory, I am separated from my past by a loud beep from the nightstand.
Feeling a sense of renewed anger, I rip the newspaper in half. A voice mail pops up as I shred the paper, and in a way, it’s mildly therapeutic.
I snatch my phone and hit the voice mail button harder than I intend.
“Hi, Mrs. Cobalt,” the unidentified caller says, mispronouncing my last name. “We have Elizabeth in the office at Washington High. It’s crucial you return our call immediately. She’s been involved in a serious accident.”
Accident?
Who leaves a voice mail like that to leave your imagination to run rampant on all the scenarios? Just the mention of that word, accident, makes me shudder. My hand flutters to my chest. Willing myself to breathe, counting forward and backward to twenty, I dial the missed call.
A gravelly voice answers on the third ring. “Washington High, Mrs. Irene Marsh speaking.”
“Hi, Irene, this is Charlotte Coburn. I just missed a call about Elle.”
“Elle?”
Impatiently I draw the syllables out. “Eliz-a-beth. Elle Laughlin.”
“Who is this?”
I snap. “You just called and left me a message.”
“Yes, I did.” She ignores my brusque tone. “Elizabeth’s being transported to the hospital.”
“What? What hospital?” The room starts to become distorted. “Is it the—”
“She’s in serious trouble.”
“What do you mean?” My voice trembles. “How bad is she hurt? Did she miscarry?”
“What?” It’s her turn to be surprised. Marsh pauses. “No . . . Elizabeth’s the one who caused injuries to another student.”
I’m silent, letting the news sink in.
“I’ve got another call coming in. Elizabeth’s with Principal Mitchum and a police officer at Covenant Hospital. Can you meet her there?”
Throwing some clothes on, I seize my purse off the island. I don’t know why I bother, but I shoot off a couple of texts to Elle.
There’s no reply.
Sprinting through the automatic doors at the hospital, I notice a uniformed cop talking to a tall, unpleasant-looking man dressed in an ill-fitting suit and tie. My eyes drift past them to the plastic waiting room chairs, where Elle’s hunched body is crumpled up.
“Elle.” I’m relieved to see her in one piece, seemingly unhurt.
She stares up at me with red, puffy eyes, and the skin around her left lid is black and blue.
“Oh my G-God, Elle,” I stammer. “I was so worried about the—”
“And you are?” the tall, balding man interrupts.
I ignore him for a moment, fixated on Elle. “What happened?”
Elle glues her stare back to the floor, her hands limp on her knees. From this angle, she looks noticeably pregnant.
Turning to the man, I repeat the question. “What happened?”
He braces his hands on his hips. “Excuse me, but who are you?”
“Elle’s—Elizabeth’s aunt.”
“Where’s Diane?”
“I’m Diane’s sister.” As I thrust my hand at him, he rebuffs my gesture.
“I can’t talk to you. You’re not the guardian.”
“Diane’s out of town.” I shrug. “I’m the one who’s in charge.”
He starts to argue, then shuts his mouth. Shaking his head, he mutters, “Then let’s go to the vending machines and have a word.”
He nods to the policeman to sit next to Elle, then turns briskly on his heel as I struggle to keep up. I follow him like I’m the one in trouble, my head bowed as his steps echo across the hospital-grade tile in front of me.
He makes a left and enters a small break room, where a Coke machine stands next to a couple of tables shoved together.
Pivoting, he introduces himself. “I’m Principal Mitchum. Douglas.”
“Charlotte.”
Touching his bald spot, he says, “Elizabeth managed to come to class today, which is a source of contention in itself—her absences are a problem, but I’ll come back to that in a minute.” He jabs a frustrated hand in the air. “She punched a student.”
I stay quiet.
“Hard enough that she knocked her out. Currently she’s being stitched up; her cheek and lip got the brunt of it.”
“What?”
Clearly not used to repeating himself with students, and certainly not adults, he flares his nostrils. He enunciates every syllable.
I fumble for a chair to sit down in. “Who is the student, and what started this?”
He tilts his head, staring hard at the fading marks on my palms. “They got into a full-on brawl. The other girl, Courtney Kerr, got the brunt of it. Elizabeth just has bruising on her face.”
“Where were the teachers?”
“It’s always the teacher’s responsibility to break up misbehaving kids, isn’t it?” he snaps.
“That’s not what I meant,” I sigh. “I just wonder if there’s another side, if someone saw the exchange.”
“You mean the fight.”
“What did they have a fight about, I wonder?”
“I hoped you might be able to provide some insight.” Leaning his head back warily, he comments, “They don’t run in the same circles, but Elizabeth, for all her faults, typically isn’t a fighter.”
“That’s good.”
Mitchum adds tersely, “I say that because she’s not at school enough for us to know what she’s capable of.” Another jab.
“Well, it’s lucky it’s just bruising. Elle . . . I mean Elizabeth, is four months pregnant.”
“I knew it.” His eyes narrow. “Now supposedly Courtney’s pregnant.”
We stare at each other dumbfounded.
“Shit,” he mutters. “I probably shouldn’t disclose that. It’s an unconfirmed rumor.” He frowns. “I used to see Elizabeth with Justin Pence. Lately, I’ve seen Courtney with him. Know anything about that?”
My face must give away my disgust as I wrinkle my nose.
Rolling his eyes upward, he whistles. “Dammit. We might have our answer right there.”
“Um, Elizabeth’s ex—how well do you know him?”
“He’s a senior.” Mitchum fixes an uneasy stare on me. “I know we’ve called in the past to report indecent behavior by the two of them on school grounds, in addition to truancy.”