Chapter 4
The school answered my question before Bianca did.
Lucy’s teacher, Mrs. Harper, came to the estate that afternoon.
She looked nervous.
Not afraid of me.
Afraid of what she had already done.
“There were behavior notes.”
I stared.
“What behavior?”
“Crying. Food refusal. One incident of pushing another child.”
“Did Lucy push?”
“Yes.”
Good.
Truth mattered.
“Why?”
Mrs. Harper hesitated.
“The other child tried to take her lunch.”
My jaw tightened.
Context.
Lucy had started guarding food because food had become punishment at home.
“How was the incident described?”
She looked ashamed.
“Aggressive possession.”
Of course.
“Who asked you to document it?”
“Miss Bianca.”
Silence.
“She said you were concerned Lucy was becoming uncontrollable.”
I leaned back.
There it was again.
My name.
My concern.
Invented.
“How often did Bianca contact you?”
“Six times.”
“Marcus?”
“Twice.”
I looked toward him.
He had nothing to say.
Mrs. Harper continued.
“They asked whether Lucy seemed afraid of rules.”
I almost laughed.
A three-year-old.
“Did you tell them?”
“I said she seemed anxious around food.”
“And?”
“Bianca told me that proved the problem.”
No.
It proved the injury.
I asked:
“Did Lucy ever mention eating from a dog bowl?”
Mrs. Harper went pale.
“No.”
That was the first thing all day that relieved me.
At least my daughter had not been forced to carry the humiliation into school words yet.
Then Mrs. Harper added:
“She did ask whether bad children are still people.”
Everything inside me stopped.
The breakfast room came back.
But I’m a human being.
Not spontaneous.
Lucy had been trying to solve that question for days.
Was punishment proof she was less than human?
I looked at Bianca.
For the first time, hatred almost became simpler than investigation.
May you like
Almost.
But I needed the entire structure before I destroyed it.
