Jennifer smiled. “Grades aren’t the only metric we look at here, as you know. They are only one of many indicators of success.”
Frances hated it when neonates lectured her about things she already understood. Youthsplaining. But outwardly she smiled. “I understand that, Jennifer, but last year she got A’s in English and Art, for example, and this year she hasn’t gotten above a B. I just wanted to check in to make sure you aren’t aware of any problems here I might have missed?”
Jennifer looked back at the file, and lifted a piece of paper. A Post-it caught her attention. “How are things with Piper these days?”
Frances was surprised. “Who’s Piper?”
It was Jennifer’s turn to be surprised. “Piper is a new student who arrived from New York over the summer. Ava hasn’t mentioned her?” Frances shook her head. “Huh. Ava was assigned to be her buddy, you know, when Piper first got here. For the first month they were inseparable, a great pair, a good match. Then something happened, and Piper and Ava stopped hanging out overnight.”
Frances frowned. “Well, couldn’t that just be natural? You know, you get a buddy at a new job, or whatever, and after a week or so you make your own connections and kind of stop hanging out with the buddy . . .” Jennifer was looking at her blankly, but Frances pushed on. “Have you read The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker? He talks about it, he might even give that relationship a name, it’s an awesome book . . .” Now Jennifer was looking openly concerned, so Frances trailed off and cleared her throat. “No,” she said, “Ava hasn’t mentioned Piper at all.”
Jennifer shrugged. “Well, that’s the only thing her file mentions, that and the extracurriculars. Are you seeing behavior at home that concerns you?”
Frances shrugged back at her. “No, just the usual crankiness and complaints that we don’t give her a phone.”
Jennifer was shocked. “She doesn’t have a phone?” Brief pause. “Pretty much every kid in ninth grade has a phone. What if she needs to call you?”
Frances said, “Well, apparently she could borrow one of the many phones around her. I can’t believe every kid has a phone. They’re very expensive and that’s not including the monthly bill.”
Jennifer looked genuinely concerned. “No, really, they all do.” She got to her feet, the meeting apparently over. “I’m sorry, I have a staff meeting to go to.” She held out her hand. “Always a pleasure, Frances. You should consider getting Ava a phone, though. Not having one really singles her out.”
Frances walked down the school hallway perplexed. Had she missed a memo? Pencils, paper, textbooks, iPhone? Really? She looked up and realized she’d walked the wrong way out of Jennifer’s office. A bell rang for the end of class, and suddenly the hall was filled with kids, as tall or taller than Frances. They all had backpacks large enough to support a three-month exploration of Europe, and Frances was nearly knocked over several times before she managed to find a clear channel down the center of the hallway.
“Mom?” Shit, she’d come face-to-face with Ava, who at first looked pleased to see her, then suspicious. “Is there something wrong? Is everyone OK? What are you doing here?” The other kids pushed around them, and Frances got a sudden mental image of the buffalo stampede in The Lion King. She really needed to spend less time with Disney.
“Everyone’s fine. I had to see Jennifer about something.” She looked at her daughter. “Is that eyeliner?”
“You came to see if I was wearing makeup?”
“No, I’m just asking a question. And while I’m asking: Is that lipstick?”
Ava narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”
Frances took a breath. “Let’s start over, OK?”
“OK.”
“Hi, Ava, funny meeting you here.”
“Not really, I’m here every day. You, however . . .”
“I’m here to see your counselor, because I had some questions for her.”
“About me?”
“Of course, what other topic would we discuss?”
“Your secret desire to become a cheerleader?”
Frances laughed. “Busted.”
Ava smiled, then the bell rang again. “I have to go. Mom, really, why are you here?”
“To spy on you. We can talk about it when I pick you up later, OK?” Frances went to hug her daughter, expecting to be rebuffed, but Ava hugged her back, tightly.
“I miss you when I’m at school,” she said quietly in Frances’s ear.
“Me, too,” her mom replied.
They let go of each other, and Ava put on a believable expression of unconcern. “See ya later, Mom.”
Frances nodded and Ava walked off. After a moment Frances turned to leave, so when Ava turned around to smile at her mother one more time, she only saw her back.
Nine.
Driving away from school, Frances called Michael, putting the call on speaker.
“Sup, dog?” His voice always cheered her up.
“Do you have five minutes to chat?” She slowed to let an extremely slow old lady cross the street, causing the person behind her to honk his horn. She raised her hand in front of her driver’s mirror, the middle finger extended. What was she supposed to do, run the woman down? We’re all getting old, asshole, she thought, it won’t be long before it’s you shuffling along and peeing anxiously into your adult diapers because some dick, who isn’t brave enough to chivy you face-to-face, is happy to lean on his horn. Fuck you, asshole. The guy honked again and she rolled down the window and extended her other hand: tipped up palm, emphatic point at old person, middle finger. Frances knew that mime documentary she’d watched would come in handy one day. She tried to focus on her husband.
“Yup, as long as it’s five minutes. I have a meeting at ten.” He sounded busy, but relaxed, which was pretty much his default state.
Frances looked at her watch, nine forty-five. “OK. I went to school to talk to Jennifer the counselor.”
Michael laughed. “And now you want to become a cheerleader?”
“Ava said the same thing. What is with you people?” The lady
