Emily looked appealingly at Gail. “You’re on my side, aren’t you?”
“It’s not about sides,” Gail replied. “I’m here for Chantelle and what’s best for her.”
“Let me guess,” Emily said. “What’s best is for her to come into your office once a week to hash out her feelings? She’s a seven-year-old child. She acts on her emotions, on her feelings. Sitting here talking to you endlessly won’t help with bullying.”
“Our sessions are very valuable,” Gail replied calmly.
“I don’t think we should be so quick to label this bullying,” Mrs. Doyle interjected.
Emily was furious. She felt like everyone was abandoning Chantelle. How was this not bullying?
“Chantelle’s been mocked for her accent. She’s had her best friend taken from her. This new girl has ostracized her. How is that not bullying?”
“Emily,” Gail said softly.
But Emily was exasperated. She felt like no one in the room was prepared to do anything concrete about the situation. All they were offering was more of the same wishy-washy conversations, which felt useless to her right now, like marriage counseling for a couple of kids barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces!
“What?” Emily said furiously to Gail, so close to losing her temper it scared her.
“I have a great deal of experience dealing with these situations,” Gail continued. “I will have Chantelle, Laverne, and Bailey here together. There’s no blame. We just need to work out a way for them all to occupy the same space together.”
Emily had heard enough. “This is absurd. You’re bending over backwards to protect a bully. Come on, Chantelle, we’re leaving.”
Chantelle looked completely surprised. She blinked, her lashes wet with tears, then pulled herself to standing. Emily felt a great sense of relief when the girl rushed to her and wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. She’d done what she was supposed to as a mother; support her child unconditionally. None of this was Chantelle’s fault and the last thing she wanted was for the child to think that she’d done something wrong. Together, they marched out of the office.
“Mommy, you’re shaking,” Chantelle said as they walked along the corridors, passing Tilly at the reception desk and out onto the stone steps.
“I’m sorry,” Emily replied, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
But Chantelle seemed to have been entirely distracted from her tantrum. “Don’t say sorry,” she said, her eyes wide. “It was cool!”
Emily couldn’t help but feel a little tug at the corner of her lips. “Well, thanks. But don’t go getting any ideas. Shouting at people is not a good way to behave.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Chantelle replied.
But Emily could see the twinkle of respect in her eye. When Chantelle had needed someone on her side, Emily had been there for her. Though she felt terrible for her outburst, at least Chantelle could see firsthand that this Mama Bear always had her back.
Once standing out on the steps of the school, Emily remembered that they didn’t have any way to get home. She deliberated calling Daniel but knew he was extremely busy today with his work at Jack’s. She wasn’t sure whether she should disturb him over this. Although on the one hand he’d want to know what had happened, she was Chantelle’s mother as much as Daniel was her father, and she felt certain she could handle this situation without him. They could discuss it once he was home from work.
She dialed the inn. Lois answered.
“I don’t suppose Parker is around, is he?” Chantelle asked Lois, an image of Parker’s battered little wholesale truck in her mind’s eye.
“He is,” Lois said. “I’ll fetch him.”
The line went silent. A moment later Parker’s voice sounded through the receiver.
“Boss-lady,” he quipped, “what can I do for you?”
Emily looked down at Chantelle, who was sitting on the step fiddling with her shoelaces. She looked so glum. Emily felt confident that she’d made the right decision in not bothering Daniel. She wanted to be back on safe ground, in the comfort of their home, before the issue of Chantelle’s school day was broached.
Emily spoke into the phone to Parker. “I have a favor to ask of you…”
That evening, the family relaxed together in the lounge. Finally, Emily felt like enough time had lapsed and she was ready to tackle the topic of Chantelle’s first day back at school.
“So, Chantelle didn’t have a good day today, did you, sweetie,” Emily said. “Can you tell Daddy what happened?”
Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at Chantelle. She squirmed in her seat.
“You’re not in trouble,” Emily explained softly. “It’s just that Daddy doesn’t know that I had to come into the office and speak to Miss Butler and Mrs. Doyle.”
Daniel’s surprised expression grew stronger. “Mrs. Doyle, the principal?” he asked.
Emily could tell he was fighting to keep his tone even.
Chantelle nodded with shame.
“I wanted to change class because of a horrible girl,” she said, her gaze fixed on her lap.
“What horrible girl?” Daniel asked.
“She’s new,” Chantelle said. “Her name is Laverne. And she’s Bailey’s best friend.”
Daniel looked over at Emily. She flashed him a sad look.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Daniel said. “I’m sure Bailey is just trying to be nice to her because she’s new and doesn’t know anyone.”
“It’s not like that,” Chantelle said, hitting her fist against the armrest of the couch. “Laverne told Bailey that she’s only allowed one friend with blond hair and because Laverne’s is blonder than mine, Bailey chose her!”
Emily could see the little girl was in pain, and she was growing irate as she recalled the painful events of the day.
“Have you spoken to Yvonne?” Daniel asked Emily.
She shook her head. At the same time, Chantelle shouted, “No!” She seemed panicked. “Please don’t speak to Yvonne about it. I don’t want her to tell Bailey off or force her to be my friend again. I only want her to be my friend if she wants to, not because her mom told her to.”
Emily felt so bad for Chantelle. The world of seven-year-olds could be just as complicated as the grown-up one. She desperately wished she could take all the hurt away from the little girl, but that wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t right, either. It was her job as a mom to guide Chantelle through these unpleasant experiences, not shield her from them or eradicate them.
“Do you also remember what Laverne said about you?” Emily prompted. She knew Chantelle didn’t want to talk about it but it was important that they worked through her emotions. She was almost eight years old and the people around her would soon lose patience with her tantrums. She had a steep learning curve ahead of her and a lot of time to make up for. She’d already made remarkable progress but there was still so far to go.
“She said I had a stupid accent,” Chantelle said. Then glumly, she added, “She’s right. I wish I had your voice, Daddy. Why do I have to sound like Sheila?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your voice,” Daniel told her. “Your accent is beautiful.”
“But it makes me different. And it makes people think I’m stupid.”
“You’re