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.

"Why didn't you tell me, Em?"

"She's not wrong," added Mark.

"So your solution was to facilitate a disappearance?" I asked him.

Mark sighed. "She was vomiting every morning, Zoe. A real physical illness due to stress. I thought I could give her a few days to breathe while we figured out a plan."

"A plan involves talking to the other parent. What was the purpose here?"

"She vomited every morning, Zoé."

Mark leaned over the center console and took out a yellow notepad. It was covered in Emily's neat, curly handwriting.

“We were in the process of writing it up. I told her that if she reported it clearly—dates, names, specific incidents—the school had to act. We were drafting a formal complaint.”

Emily ran her sleeve over her face. "I was going to send it. Finally."

"When?" I asked.

"The school must act."

She did not reply.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "I know I should have called you. I picked up the phone so many times. But she begged me not to. I didn't want her to feel like I was taking your side over hers. I wanted her to have a safe place where she didn't feel pressured."

"It's not about which side you're on, Mark. It's about being a parent. We have to be the adults, even if it makes them angry with us."

"I know," he said.

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