Читать книгу Four Little Problems - Carrie Weaver - Страница 7

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN my son needs a reality check?” Emily planted her fists on the substitute teacher’s desk and leaned forward.

Mr. Stevens’s eyes narrowed, but he held her gaze.

Something she had to admire despite his know-it-all attitude.

Topping five-eleven, Emily knew some men found her intimidating during the best of times. But today, suffering from PMS and hearing another childless moron offering advice on how to raise her kids, she felt darn near homicidal.

Or suicidal. Single parenthood sucked at times.

Mr. Stevens gestured toward a chair. “Please sit down, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Ms. Patterson.” She glared at him just long enough to let him know she wasn’t ceding defeat. Then she wedged her rear end in the kiddie chair.

“Ms. Patterson, perhaps I started our meeting on the wrong foot. I’d anticipated Mrs. Wells’s return from maternity leave by now. As a substitute, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage conducting her parent/teacher conferences.”

Emily decided not to point out that her day hadn’t been peachy, either. So, she went for a noncommittal “Mm-hm.”

It wasn’t her fault Mrs. Wells had extended her maternity leave. And it wasn’t her fault this guy was experimenting with the idea of becoming a teacher. Rumor had it, Mr. Stevens was some well-known scientist, on leave from a high-paying job.

He flipped through a file folder on his desk. “Jason is an exceedingly bright child. His test scores are well above average.”

“He’s a smart kid.”

“But he needs a firm hand if he’s to achieve his potential. Perhaps his father should meet with us, too, and we can all formulate a plan for rewards and consequences?”

“Honey, if you can find Walt, you feel free to bring him in and have that conversation. Child services hasn’t been able to locate him in seven years. But if you do, be sure to offer him a beer. That’s the kind of reward he’ll understand. And as far as consequences, he’s not big on those. That’s why he works under the table to avoid taxes and child support. I’m the one who administers rewards and consequences for four children.” Emily ran out of breath, her chest heaving with emotion.

Mr. Stevens glanced around the room, at the ceiling and everywhere but at Emily. “I’m sure it’s very difficult.”

You have no idea. “Yes, it is.”

“Maybe we could work more closely to ensure Jason makes the most of his opportunities.”

Warning bells went off in Emily’s head. Hadn’t a boss once made a similar offer in mentoring her boys? And expected a game of slap and tickle with Emily in return? “Would you please clarify what you mean by working more closely together?”

“An accountability notebook would be a good thing. I’ll write down Jason’s homework assignments and you can check them daily to make sure he stays on task. I’ll also include a section regarding his behavior in class. Consequences at home should help there.”

Emily released a breath. “Okay. We can do that. He’s a good kid, Mr. Stevens. For some reason, he’s just gotten out of hand this year.”

“He’s gotten out of hand because he’s been allowed to. If you’re interested, I have a few brochures for the district-sponsored parenting classes.” He opened his top desk drawer.

Emily’s heart sank. If she didn’t think he was right, she’d call him on his condescending attitude. As it was, she was too embarrassed to tell him that she’d already taken the courses and tried her darnedest to apply what she’d learned, but none of it seemed to work with Jason these days. Neither did any of the tactics she’d used when he was small. He’d turned into an alien creature almost overnight.

The teacher rummaged in his top desk drawer. “And I can give you a list of reading resources. Some parents find behavior modification quite helpful. Skinner, of course, was the—”

A muffled snap came from his drawer.

He jumped to his feet, cursing under his breath.

Emily tried to place the snapping sound—she’d heard it recently in another context.

Mr. Stevens brought his hand to chest level. “What the hell?”

Emily gulped at what she saw. A small mousetrap gripped the teacher’s middle finger, turning the tip an ugly purple.

Now she remembered the sound. Jason’s ill-advised purchase at the dollar store. And how she’d instructed him to get rid of the mousetrap before he broke a finger.

Jumping up, she grabbed a pair of scissors, intent on prying the spring open.

“No!” Stevens jerked away.

“Stand still.” Emily advanced, intent on saving him.

The door opened and the principal entered. “Mr. Stev— What’s going on?” she asked. Her gaze skimmed over Emily, the raised scissors, the swearing teacher, the mousetrap.

The principal crossed her arms over her chest. “Ms. Patterson, I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Let me explain.”

“Go.” Her voice brooked no argument.