"Apparently you need to improve your school system if kids around here think a legally married couple can have an illegitimate child," I said coolly, before I got to my feet. "Come on, Storm, Cyan, we’re done here."
Storm cocked a brow at me, but Caldwell sputtered, "We’re not done here. We’ve barely even started. In fact, I think we should reschedule another meeting to come up with a plan to stabilize the situation."
"I have a plan to stabilize the situation," I snarled. "I’m taking my kid out of the ‘situation’—" I used air quotes and everything, "—and I’m going to homeschool her.
"I’m not bringing her to a place that fills her with dread, where she feels unsafe, where her parents—her safety net—are called names. Where she feels she has to defend herself, and when that happens, she’s the only one punished.
"I understand that violence isn’t the answer and we have been working on that, however, she was not the instigator." Jaw clenched, I snapped, "If she’s going to be treated unjustly for being a Sinner, then—"
"We have other Sinners’ kids in class," Caldwell retorted. "They don’t get into fights."
"Well, according to you," I mocked with even more air quotes as I loomed over the desk. "‘We often have issues with Sinners’ children. It’s a learning curve for them to stop fighting.’
"Maybe that’s because they’ve been subjected to this kind of trash talk since they were toddlers and now they’re too scared to do anything other than be oppressed." I straightened up. "My daughter is a kind, thoughtful little girl. She works hard, is dedicated and determined, and even with her recent troubles, would never strike out at someone unless she felt cornered.
"You’ve placed my child in an unsafe situation, Mr. Caldwell, one where she feels she has to retaliate.
"I think your repeated inability to protect her makes this a dangerous place for her to be." I glanced at my kid and my husband, feeling empowered when I saw the raging heat in Storm’s eyes that told me exactly what he thought of my declaration, and I boomed, "Let’s go."
"Mrs. O’Shea! You can’t just leave!"
"Watch me," I growled, steering Cyan out by the shoulder, well aware that Storm had my back as we left a still sputtering Mr. Caldwell behind.
"Pencil-pushing prick," Storm grumbled under his breath, loud enough for me to hear, but I didn’t say anything. I was too pissed off to speak.
Even now, the second we walked down the halls, Cyan’s shoulders practically folded in on themselves.
Storm had been right in the car—it made no sense when Dr. Janowicz talked about Cyan having low self-esteem when she was a cocky little thing at home. Yet, here, she was fractious and anxious!
I wasn’t having it.
Things hadn’t been great in West Orange, much for the same reasons. I remembered when I was at school how Sinners’ kids were viewed. Outsiders, rebels. Bad eggs. I’d always avoided them, mostly because if my dad had found out I was friends with one, he’d have made me toss them aside.
My shoulders hunched as I realized I was just as bad as these kids here.
I’d locked Sinners’ children out, never letting them close, looking down on them when it wasn’t their fault that they were their parents’ offspring…
Instead, I’d made friends with kids whose folks were in my dad’s flock, and look how that had turned out—they’d dumped me the second my relationship with Storm had led to Cyan’s existence.
Well, I wasn’t about to stand for that kind of BS with Cyan.
My mind raced as we left the school and headed toward the parking lot. Beneath my boots, the snow crunched, and there was the scent of gasoline in the air as some old junker pulled into a space. A woman darted out of the car, then promptly squealed as she fell back on her butt. The thunk of her body colliding with the concrete had me wincing.
"Ms. Shawnee!" Cyan called out, her voice horrified as she stomped through the snow toward the woman who groaned with pain.
Storm and I hobbled after her, but it was Cyan who crouched down and asked, "Ms. Shawnee, do you need me to get the nurse?"
Winded, the woman coughed. "No, it’s okay, Cyan. Thank you though." She groaned as Storm held out a hand and helped her sit upright.
"It’s slick around here," Storm cautioned us all. "Looks like oil."
She hissed. "Just my luck."
"Let me help you onto your feet."
Ms. Shawnee winced. "I guess I can’t sit here all night. I’m late as it is." She grabbed Storm’s hand and tried to wriggle into a standing position but each time, she gasped, until she blurted out, "Oh, my back!"
Concerned, I crouched down in front of her. "Do you need an EMT? You fell pretty hard."
Ms. Shawnee shook her head. "No. I’ll be fine. I just need a minute." Her smile was tight, creased with pain. "It’s okay, you go, I can manage. It’s cold."
Storm grunted. "You’re right, it is. Cyan, go and sit in the car." He handed her the keys to the SUV. "You too, babe."
"No. I’ll stay. But Cyan, you go. Lock the doors after you get in, hmm?"
"But Mom! I want to help too."
"You won’t help if you catch a cold. Now, go on. Get."
Cyan huffed but as she scurried away, she muttered, "I hope you feel better in the morning, Ms. Shawnee."
"Thanks, Cyan," the teacher said with another wince.
I knew my little girl had an attitude problem, mostly because I dealt with it, I knew she was headstrong, but I also knew she had a kind heart, and that confirmed it.
"Do you have any water? I have Advil in my purse."
Ms. Shawnee’s eyes rounded. "You do? Damn, that would be great. Thank you so much." She reached for her own purse, cringing in pain as she did so, retrieving a bottle of water from its confines. "It’s just the bottom of my back, you know?" she mumbled as she accepted the Advil and downed two.
"It hurts like crazy when you land on your tailbone," Storm concurred, finally stopping looming over us both to squat down beside me. "Do you need me to carry you inside, ma’am?"
Even in the spotlit parking lot, I saw the teacher’s cheeks flush as she took in Storm. "That’s really kind of you, but no. Thank you so much, though."
I knew she’d checked him and his cut out, but I didn’t think it was because he was a Sinner she was hesitant to accept help.
"At least let me get you into your car," Storm rumbled, and though she hesitated at first, the teacher nodded.
"That would be so kind of you."
She swallowed as she raised her arms, letting him snag them as he carefully maneuvered so he was lifting her.
Gasps of pain escaped her as I darted forward to snag the keys she’d dropped on the ground then I quickly unlocked the door, so Storm could help her be seated.
Once she was in the driver’s seat, she peered up at us both and said, "Thank you so much both of you. You’ve been so sweet."
"Our pleasure," I said with a shrug, answering for him. "Is there anything else we can do?"