“What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here?”
Mark glanced at Emily, then back at me.
“Okay. Let’s not start shouting.”
“Oh, you want to talk about shouting? Wonderful. Because I have several questions, and I would love to hear your answers.”
I pointed toward the truck.
“Why is our daughter sitting here instead of being in school?”
Mark opened his mouth.
I held up my hand.
“And before you tell me you were just taking her somewhere, remember that I spoke to her teacher yesterday. Emily hasn’t attended a single class all week.”
Emily stared down at her backpack.
Mark sighed.
“Zoe, I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at Emily.
She shook her head slightly.
That tiny movement made my anger flare again.
“Don’t look at her for permission to answer me, Mark. You’re her father. You’re an adult. You knew she wasn’t going to school, and you helped her do it.”
