The Fake Fiancée. Megan Kelly

her eyes. “And I was having such a great day.”

      “We sent home a note yesterday. I guess you didn’t get it since it didn’t come back signed today.”

      Lisa’s jaw dropped. “What happened yesterday?”

      “He pushed another boy, and we have a zero tolerance policy regarding any show of violence. He spent thirty minutes working in the hall. The other boy called Bobby names. I don’t know the details, as neither would tell me.” She sighed. “Today, Bobby hit the child. Arnold’s nose isn’t broken, but it bled a great deal.”

      Lisa swallowed.

      “Bobby appears to have gotten the worst of it,” Miss Jensen said, as though that counted in Bobby’s favor.

      The principal’s secretary opened the door and gestured them in, forestalling any comment. Lisa turned to Abby. “You stay here.”

      She stepped in and then froze as she saw her son. When she gestured for him to show her his face, he lowered the ice pack. “Oh, my God.” He had indeed gotten the worst of it, if that was Bobby under the swollen cheek and purple eye.

      “We were about to call you,” said the principal, a smarmy-mannered chauvinist who always scraped Lisa’s nerves. “But the incident occurred right before dismissal.”

      Lisa wanted to pull Bobby to her and rock him, showering him with kisses. The incident? Where was the teacher when some bully was beating her baby? She turned to Miss Jensen, forcing herself to remember how much she usually liked the young woman. “How did this happen?”

      Mr. Bushfield cleared his throat. “Maybe we’d better ask young Robert that.”

      Lisa locked gazes with her son. “I fully intend to talk to Bobby.”

      Bobby grimaced, then winced and replaced the ice pack.

      Bushfield held up his hand. “We expect our young people to own up to their mistakes. We prefer them to take responsibility for their actions.” He paused. “Of course, you must handle this however you think best.”

      Lisa gritted her teeth. His implication hung in the air. She wanted the teacher’s version because she didn’t trust her own son to tell the truth. The guy was a jerk. She turned her back to him. “Miss Jensen?”

      “Bobby hit Arnold.” She shook her head. “By the time I got across the room, Arnold had slammed Bobby to the floor. I didn’t see how it started.”

      Lisa would have to find out what happened from Bobby, after all. She hated to give Bushfield the satisfaction. Dying to ask about punishment for this Arnold kid, Lisa said with forced politeness, “How is the other child?”

      “His parents are coming from work,” Miss Jensen said, “so he’s waiting in the nurse’s office. His nose has stopped bleeding. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

      Taking Bobby’s hand in hers, Lisa faced the principal. “The question of ‘why’ will have to be settled later.”

      “He must—” Bushfield blustered.

      Lisa raised her chin and reached for dignity. “The real problem is that it happened at all. What discipline measures does the school enforce?”

      The administrator gawked, clearly two beats behind and trying to catch up. “What do you mean?”

      “Is he suspended? Do kindergartners serve detention?”

      “We’ve found detention to be ineffective as a discipline tool for this age group. The child’s self-esteem can be severely damaged.”

      Lisa exhaled slowly so he wouldn’t notice she’d been holding her breath. “I agree. I would recommend against suspension, as well. Bobby will learn more by facing Arnold and their classmates than by staying home.”

      Bobby scowled then readjusted the ice pack.

      Bushfield wiped his pudgy face. “This mustn’t happen again.”

      “It won’t,” Lisa assured him.

      He leaned forward and shook his finger in Bobby’s face, a looming figure in his dark suit. “This will be on your permanent record, young man.”

      Miss Jensen uttered a soft protest. Lisa pushed Bobby behind her.

      “It does little good to protect him,” Bushfield said.

      “Good day.” She restrained the urge to slam his door.

      “Ms. Meyer,” he called out just before she could escape. “There is an alternative program I’ve been considering for young Robert.”

      Lisa stopped. If he mentioned juvenile detention, she would smack him. She swallowed a grin. Maybe the air in the school turned the Meyer family into violent reactionaries. “Bobby, wait outside with your sister.”

      Bobby scooted around her into the secretary’s office.

      Abby gawked at his face. “Cool.”

      Lisa glared at them both before stepping back in and carefully closing the principal’s door. “What program?”

      “In my opinion, Bobby is bored with school, and this is why he’s acting out.”

      Lisa tried not to roll her eyes. Acting out. Sheesh. In her opinion, this Arnold kid had goaded her son, and Bobby had “acted out” with his fist. His problem stemmed from his anger at his father.

      “Have you spoken with Mr. Swanson?” she asked, referring to the psychologist. She’d endured team meetings all year with Bobby’s teacher, principal, the school psychologist and the social worker, appreciating their concern for her son, even though she didn’t always agree with their assessments. Bobby met with Swanson every week, trying to talk through his feelings toward Brad and formulate ways to curb Bobby’s outbursts of temper. Anger management for a six-year-old. Lisa felt like such a failure as a mother.

      Bushfield nodded. “He sees the merit in my suggestion. Unfortunately, he had another meeting after school today. We could wait until he’s available to discuss this, but I would hesitate to detain any help for Robert, given recent circumstances.”

      Lisa turned to his teacher. “I thought this disagreement only happened yesterday and today. Is he fighting with other kids, too? Have you had other problems with Bobby?”

      “Not fighting, no,” Miss Jensen said, “although I have noticed how withdrawn he’s become since Christmas. He doesn’t interact with the other students, usually preferring to read rather than play with them.”

      “Withdrawn?” Lisa’s mouth went dry. He’d expected his dad home for Christmas, but they’d talked about it and she thought he’d accepted it. She hadn’t realized the depth of his disappointment. When had Bobby quit playing with his friends? He loved to join in any type of game. How had she not known? Of course, she only came to school on special party days. She’d thought his outbursts of anger were his only problem.

      “In the program I’m suggesting,” Bushfield said, “the children meet with instructors before and after school to study art, music and a foreign language, as well as participating in some recreational activities to challenge their bodies as well as their minds. We, of course, offer breakfast and an after-school snack to keep their energy levels high.”

      “Bobby doesn’t need day care, Mr. Bushfield.”

      “But he needs challenge, Ms. Meyer. One of the problems with Bobby is that he’s brighter than his classmates. We can’t advance him into first grade this late in the school year.”

      Lisa pushed down a surge of maternal pride. Of course, she considered Bobby brighter than average but felt gratified to hear it from educators. Why hadn’t they noticed how intelligent Bobby was before this? Shaking her head, she knew the answer. In their overgrown school district, only the special needs children got particular attention. The ordinary kids who didn’t struggle academically or misbehave were overlooked.