Influenced by Eva Robinson (love story books to read .TXT) 📕

“Our neuropsychologist said disorganization is a function of his unique profile. She said she thinks he has the most unique profile she’s ever seen—I mean, she was really blown away by it. That’s why he needs the extra support to reach his true potential. We just want what’s best for him.”

Already her palms were sweating, and her mouth was going dry. “I’ll send you my testing in just a few minutes, and we can discuss it in the meeting at noon.”

Just a few minutes—a lie.

“But how will you get Hugo’s phone to him?”

“No. I’ll see you at twelve.” Hannah hung up, her pulse racing.

Part of her wanted to just give them whatever they wanted. Extra time on tests, tutoring for AP classes. A special rule that meant Hugo personally was not accountable for homework while still getting As.

But it wasn’t fair, was it? The kids who couldn’t afford private neuropsychologists were getting overlooked. Those with money plowed their way further to the top, securing their position in society with financial privileges.

Her phone started blinking again, but she ignored it. Just write the report. It was already May. She just had to make it six more weeks, and the school year would be over.

She toyed with her S&O bracelet. Even at one of the fanciest schools in Cambridge, she didn’t remember students demanding that teachers find their lost belongings. Then again, maybe she’d just had no idea what the other kids were doing. She supposed teenagers had always been pains in the neck, and they always would be.

She started searching her bag and pulled out a small stack of manila folders and dropped them on her desk. A sense of unease climbed her throat as she searched through one folder after another, looking for Hugo’s results.

These were all the wrong folders. She was losing her mind. Oh, freaking hell, she’d brought the wrong folders home last night.

Where were his test results?

She felt like her brain had holes in it.

With her heart slamming, she jumped up from her chair and crossed to the filing cabinet. The metal cabinet groaned as she opened it, and she pulled out Hugo’s folder with a sinking feeling.

Empty.

She’d lost Hugo’s test results, and now she was about to lose her job.

Three

What if she’d left it in a booth at McDonald’s when she’d taken Nora for a Happy Meal on the way home? What if anyone saw his confidential results?

Deep breaths. 

She closed her eyes, trying to picture the testing protocol. What were the scores? They’d been all average, but she couldn’t remember all the subtest scores. What had he got on the Block Design test? A nine? Ten?

Vaguely, she could picture the folder on the table next to a Happy Meal. She had a vivid memory of the googly-eyed Happy Meal toy, and wondering if any parts could fall off and choke Nora to death. And maybe that was the problem. Some percentage of Hannah’s work brain had been replaced with perpetual nightmarish parenting scenarios.

She threaded her fingers into her hair, ready to pull it out. Short of sleeping with a student, leaving a test report in a public place might be the worst thing a school psychologist could do.

She couldn’t tell anyone about this. The parents would sue. Hannah would lose her job, and she’d never get a new one. She and Nora would have to move into her mom’s tiny apartment. Nora would spend time around an angry, alcoholic grandmother who told her that juice would make her fat, and a mom with cognitive damage from long-term insomnia.

It would last about three months till Hannah took Nora out of her mom’s house. The old quote from the Saturday Night Live skit blared in her mind, and she imagined herself living in a van by the Charles River.

Her hands were shaking, her stomach churning with nausea. Now her clothes felt too hot, the waist of her pants too tight around her belly. Her breath sped up. She was suffocating in this office.

She wanted to be at home, with Nora in her arms, making her laugh. She wanted to be blowing raspberries on her daughter’s potbelly, chasing her around the apartment and listening to her squeal with laughter. Why was Hannah stuck here in this suffocating office?

For a moment, she wondered, what if she just… made up the results?

No, that was totally unethical. She couldn’t go into a contentious meeting with numbers she’d just pulled from the air, defending her position.

A knock sounded on her door, and before she could respond, Jerry was opening it. “Sorry to bother you, Hannah, but Hugo’s mom seems upset.”

Go away, Jerry. Mentally, she was still on the testing disaster, and she struggled to shift gears. She blinked, trying to orient herself, and pulled her well-worn trick of repeating a word to buy time. “Upset.”

Jerry sighed and dropped into the chair. He steepled his fingers. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

Hannah stole a glance at herself in the reflection of the silver picture frame. Dark circles under her eyes gave her a haunted look, and her brown hair had ballooned with an unfortunate frizz.

“I’m fine.” Lie. “Sorry, what was the problem?”

“Hugo’s mom is very upset. He called her and said you didn’t have time for him this morning. Apparently, you made him feel that he wasn’t important enough for your time. And she wants the report. And she said you hung up on her.”

Hannah nodded. “Yes. I’m working at that now.”

Jerry tilted his head, squinting. “It’s probably better if you do those at home, to free up more time during the day for the students. So they don’t feel ignored.”

Something hot and angry was rising in Hannah now, and her hands tightened around her coffee cup. It would probably be better, Jerry, if the district hired the appropriate number of psychologists.

Jerry pulled out his phone and frowned at it. “Uh-oh. Okay. I gave Hugo’s mom my cell number, and she’s texting me that he’s gone AWOL. He’s left school,