My daughter was "going to school" every morning... then her teacher called me to tell me that she had skipped classes for a whole week, so I followed her the next morning.

« Eh bien, je l'ai emmenée au dépanneur, mais ils n'ont pas... »

I suddenly raised my hand. "Emily first. Why are you helping her skip school? You're her father, Mark, you should know."

Emily leaned forward. "I asked her to do it, Mom. It wasn't her idea."

"But he agreed anyway. What are you two up to?"

"Why are you helping him skip school?"

Mark raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "She asked me to come and get her because she didn't want to go-"

"That's not how life works, Mark! You can't just drop out of third grade because you don't want to."

"That's not how it is."

Emily clenched her jaw. "You don't understand. I knew you wouldn't."

"So make me understand, Emily. Talk to me."

Mark looked at Emily. "You said we were going to be honest, Emmy. She's your mother. She deserves to know."

Mark raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

Emily lowered her head.

“The other girls… They hate me. It’s not just one person. They all hate me. They move their bags when I try to sit down. They whisper ‘try hard’ every time I answer a question in English. In the gym, they act like I’m invisible. They don’t even pass me the ball.”

I felt a sharp, sudden pain in the center of my chest. "Why didn't you tell me, Em?"

"Because I knew you'd go to the principal's office and make a huge scene. And they'd hate me even more for being a snitch."

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