I put her favorite pasta on the table and waited until she was ready to talk.
Eventually, she told me that two girls had stared at her during lunch. One had whispered something to another, but neither had approached her directly.
“How did that make you feel?” I asked.
“Terrible.”
“Did you speak to anyone?”
She nodded.
“I went to Mrs. Reynolds. She said I did the right thing by telling her instead of trying to handle it alone.”
I smiled.
“She sounds like a good counselor.”
“She is.”
Emily twirled her fork around her plate.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for not making a huge scene.”
I set down my glass.
I could have reminded her that I had every right to be furious. I could have told her how difficult it was to sit through the meeting without demanding that the school solve everything immediately.
Instead, I said, “Thank you for telling us what was happening.”
