Little Wonders

by Kate Rorick

  Daisy had always been the outcast at school. It had hardened her, made her delve into the fantasy worlds that fed her soul. But she did not want that fate visited on her rambunctious, outgoing, joyful three-year-old.

  “So what should I do?” Daisy’s voice cracked in anguish.

  Shanna put a gentle hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Don’t say anything. It will all blow over, I’m sure.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. I bet you by the time the Parent Association meeting convenes Wednesday night, most people will have forgotten the video exists. And you’ll have been drowning in guilt for nothing.”

  Daisy steadied herself. It felt like too much to hope for. But it was true. The average life of an internet meme was no longer Warhol’s fifteen minutes. It was closer to fifteen seconds. By the time Wednesday rolled around, that video would probably have been relegated to the dustbin of history.

  And, Daisy thought, as they both emerged from the storage space, heading off down the hall, out to pick up their kids, Shanna would be proven right.

  She would have been worried for nothing.

  * * *

  Daisy had not been worried for nothing.

  Daisy had never been to a Parent Association meeting. She had thought they would likely be a sparsely attended affair—considering they were scheduled deeply impractically midweek at five PM, considering most people had jobs to come home from or dinner to get on the table at that time. But judging by the absolutely jam-packed Little Wonders auditorium, such thinking was misguided.

  “Jesus,” she said under her breath. People, apparently, made the time for this. She pulled her bag closer up her shoulder and slowly walked through the crowd. She tried to smile and nod to people she recognized—although she knew no one’s name, beyond “Elia’s dad” or “Charlie and Calvin’s moms,” and desperately scanned the chairs for a corner to hide in.

  She grabbed a handout at the door—the photocopied meeting agenda, listing the topics to be covered. Of course, nowhere was there listed “Video of Parent Association president losing her shit with her kid,” but that didn’t mean it wasn’t under discussion. Everyone she passed was involved in the same whispered conversations that had occupied the halls of the school on Monday. But now they weren’t whispering.

  “I heard she’s been in lockdown. Like a rehab. Is there a rehab for bad parenting?”

  “. . . the video I saw had a laundry detergent ad in front of it, so if she’s not donating that money to the school . . .”

  “I heard that Hamilton is a bit behind developmentally. Not even fully potty-trained. I guess now we know why.”

  “Hey, Shanna.” Daisy pulled up next to her cousin-in-law, who was gossiping fiercely with a woman Daisy recognized as a mom, but she couldn’t say whose.

  “Daisy! Have you met Suzy Breakman-Kang?” The other woman held out a hand. She had a halo of gorgeous natural black hair, tan skin and freckles bridging her nose. She was wearing an anorak sweater and basically looked like a soap commercial.

  Daisy tugged at her army jacket, with its rebel alliance and alignment chart patches sewn onto the pockets. Suzy Breakman-Kang was one of those people who no doubt found it “difficult to relate” to Daisy.

  “Suzy’s little boy Aiden is in the Rainbow Room—and she’s the secretary of the Parent Association. Such an underappreciated job,” Shanna said, placing an understanding hand on Suzy’s wool-clad forearm.

  “Well, this is one night at least I’m going to enjoy the hell out of recording the minutes,” Suzy smirked. “I’d better get to it!”

  Shanna gave Suzy a conspiratorial wink (what was that about?) and shooed her off to the dais, where there was an old wooden table—probably made out of wood from the Mayflower—a few chairs, and nameplates.

  Seriously. There were nameplates. At a preschool.

  “Let’s find some good seats.” Shanna’s eyes were shining with anticipation. Daisy meanwhile felt like she was sinking into mud.

  “What was that about?” Daisy asked, once they jockeyed their way to seats three rows up and on the center aisle.

  “What?”

  “You know,” Daisy said, and gave Shanna a wink akin to the one that Shanna had just given Suzy Breakman-Kang.

  “Nothing,” Shanna said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. Then, she turned her concern to Daisy. “How are you doing?”

  “We had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh . . . everything’s perfectly all right now,” Daisy said with a slight bubble of hysterical laughter. She was not unknown to spontaneously quote Star Wars, especially when she was jumping out of her skin with nerves. “We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?”

  Shanna blinked twice at her. “I’m great, thanks,” she said with a blank smile.

  Daisy bit her lip, and diverted attention away from her total geekitude. “I didn’t think it would be this crowded. Is this . . . normal?”

  “Oh my god, this is a packed house! Nothing like an internet scandal to bring the lurkers out of the woodwork. Not to mention the spouses.”

  So. Not a blip. Too much to hope for, Daisy figured. After all, according to the view count, the internet hadn’t lost interest in the video either.

  Suddenly, the pit in her stomach burbled at the thought of spouses.

  “Should we save seats for Rob and Jamie? Rob said he was going to try to make it.”

  “Jamie’s at work,” Shanna said, pulling her phone out of her bag and flipping through it casually. “And if you look at the traffic, Rob’s not going to make it either.”

  Shanna showed Daisy her phone, and the sea of red on the traffic map confirmed Shanna’s opinion. Great. So her support system was going to be stuck on the Mass Pike.

  It was as if she was the only person there who was aware of EVERYTHING. The way the lights hung from the ceiling. The tick of the clock on the wall. The clicks of the keys as Suzy Breakman-Kang typed on her computer from the dais, no doubt prepping for her notes.

  Everyone knew what was going on, and no one knew. No one except Daisy.

  “So I take it Rob’s seen the video now?” Shanna said, in a whisper, breaking through Daisy’s thoughts.

  “Yeah. I showed it to him, after we talked last.”

  Actually, Rob, true to form, made Daisy feel a lot better. She had silently slid her phone to him while they were watching TV that night, the video all queued up. If she’d said a word, he would have known immediately. But as he watched it, he didn’t say anything other than “Huh. That sucks.”

  “‘That sucks’?” she’d asked tentatively. “You don’t think it’s . . . awful? Or funny?” Or worthy of being a mommy meme on the internet for all eternity?

  “I can see how it’d be funny in hindsight. But awful? Come on, I’ve felt like that before. Haven’t you? Like when Carrie wouldn’t leave the Star Wars aisle of the toy store and it was closing time? Anyone who’s ever been a parent will get it.”

  And this auditorium was full of parents, Daisy thought as she looked around, chewing on her lip. So, yes, the video was no doubt going to be on the list of meeting topics, but in the grand scheme of things . . . they’d all been there, hadn’t they?

  “Listen, everything is going to be okay,” Shanna said suddenly, turning to look Daisy in the eye. “Just . . . trust me and follow my lead. Understand?”

  Before Daisy could ask what that meant, a hush fell over the crowd. Because just then, Quinn Barrett entered the room.

  She looked almost exactly the same as she had on Friday at the parade: impeccably pulled together, with a swingy knee-length trench coat over a soft-colored dress suit and pearls. And of course, a leather business folder under her arm. Daisy pulled her patch-covered army jacket a little closer.

  Quinn paused briefly, taking in all the heads turned in her direction. Then, she squared her shoulders, and headed up the center aisle, a serene smile on her face—like Meghan Markle headed up the cathedral to Prince Harry. Or was it like Marie Ant
oinette headed to the guillotine? Either way, she kept her head up, and her eyes on her destination.

  She crossed the dais, took her seat behind the nameplate that said “President,” and struck a gavel that had appeared miraculously from somewhere.

  The entire place—already quiet, turned as silent as a yoga class held in a Protestant church. (Not that Daisy had been to yoga in . . . forever. God, what would it be like to have a waist again?)

  “Come to order,” Quinn said perfunctorily. Then, with a deep breath, turned her serene smile to the crowd. “I hope everyone had a memorable Halloween! I know mine was.”

  A slight chuckle rippled through the audience. Daisy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Next to her Shanna stiffened.

  “We have a great many things to discuss at this meeting—a lot of upcoming events, so let’s get to it, shall we?” Quinn said, then hesitated. “But first—”

  This was it, this was the moment. Daisy could feel it. Everyone in the room leaned forward ever so slightly.

  “First of all, I’d like to thank our principal Ms. Anna and the teachers who stayed late tonight to watch our kids while we have this meeting. They truly are the most wonderful thing about Little Wonders and deserve a round of applause.”

  Slightly confused, the room dutifully clapped. So, now wasn’t the moment.

  “And of course, the Parent Association does everything it can to help the teachers, and everyone up here truly hopes that it’s felt by all the people in this room, and the kids.” Quinn held out her hands, imitating Jesus at the last supper, encompassing the whole table. The man who sat behind the “Vice President” nameplate (who was that? Was it Jonah-the-booger-eater’s dad?), the “Treasurer,” who Daisy recognized from her workout attire and eco-friendly water bottle as Violet’s mom, who dropped off around the same time as she did, and Suzy Breakman-Kang all shared a surprised glance, as Quinn led the room in another round of spontaneous applause.

  “These people all work incredibly hard. And the winter events are going to be even more amazing than the fall! So, Suzy, what’s first on the agenda?”

  Suzy’s eyebrow went up. “. . . First on our official agenda is the Thanksgiving play—”

  “Yes, the Thanksgiving play!” Quinn said cheerfully. “Which takes place right on this stage—”

  “But I think we should talk about what happened this weekend,” Suzy interrupted.

  And once again, the room leaned forward.

  Quinn kept her smile pasted on her face. “That’s not on the agenda. We’ll have time at the end of the meeting for a recap of the parade, and what could have been done better, but—”

  “But the agenda was written before.” No one needed to ask “Before what?’” Everyone knew. “And as Little Wonders has been brought to national attention, I think it needs to be addressed.”

  “I . . . I . . . ,” Quinn stuttered.

  “I second the motion,” said Vice President Jonah’s Dad.

  “I . . . All right. Fine,” Quinn said, waving her hand. “No need to call a vote. I was hoping to address this later, but honestly, I’m glad so many parents are here, because cybersecurity is truly of the utmost importance in this day and age.”

  “Cybersecurity?” Shanna said under her breath, annoyed.

  “Cybersecurity?” Suzy Breakman-Kang echoed from the dais.

  “Yes.” Quinn turned to the crowd. “I know that we all want to take pictures of our children, or . . . or video.” She swallowed hard. “And share them with friends and family and sometimes online—and that’s completely fine! We all love to get likes of our kiddos being cute. But it’s Little Wonders policy to request that when such pictures and whatnot are taken on school grounds, of school events, that they be shared privately, or posted on our Little Wonders private Facebook group. Because especially in crowd shots, it’s up to the individual parent to decide their child’s level of media exposure.”

  Quinn took a deep breath. “And this past weekend, someone broke those rules.”

  A hush settled over the crowd. They all looked from one to the other. It was as if the entire room suddenly realized that there was a second half of this scandal. No one over the past five days had considered that one of the people among them had actually made and posted the video.

  No one of course, except for Daisy. Who felt the weight of everyone’s eyes like a thousand pebbles burying her.

  “Are you serious?” came from somewhere in the audience. Daisy couldn’t tell if that person was incredulous or worried, but she and Shanna exchanged a look, eyebrows up. Daisy could tell, even for Shanna, this came to an accusatory head much more quickly than expected.

  “Who said that?” Quinn bit out, squinting into the audience—which struck Daisy as weirdly funny, because it wasn’t as if she were onstage in a Broadway play—the house lights were all up. But she said it so harshly, and so dramatically, it was a scold that went across the room. And people reacted the way they do to scoldings. Clamming up. Defenses up.

  And unsurprisingly no one owned up.

  “Well, in answer to your question, whoever you are, yes, I am serious. Someone not only violated my privacy, they violated the privacy of our school, and our children. And . . . and I think they should come forward.”

  Quinn stood rigid on the dais. The silent crowd continued to glance suspiciously at each other.

  “Come on. Who did it?” Quinn said.

  No one answered. But a few murmurs permeated the crowd.

  “Quinn, that’s not exactly what I meant when I—” Suzy Breakman-Kang said, but she was cut off by a harsh glare.

  “But that’s what I’m talking about,” she snapped. “If you want the gavel, Suzy, then you can direct this meeting.” She turned back to the room at large, her eyes glowing with heat. “I can promise no repercussions for you or your child if you come forward. All you have to do is own up to posting the video, and take it down, and everything will be forgotten. But if you don’t . . .”

  The room hung on her every word. “If you don’t, then I cannot be held accountable for what kind of reaction the school administration will have . . . or the Needleton police department.”

  The words were as effective as a slap in the face. The murmurs that had permeated the room before became louder, worried, rushed.

  This, it seemed, was what the parents had assembled for: the drama, the speculation. The potential for cops to come in at that moment and put someone in handcuffs and whisk them away.

  Daisy glanced over her shoulder. No cops. No handcuffs.

  The noise was quickly reaching a fever pitch—even Quinn looked astonished at the rancor in the room.

  She couldn’t just sit here like a coward, Daisy thought. She had to do something. Quinn was right—she had not only violated Quinn’s privacy—she had violated her son’s, she had violated the privacy of everyone at the school. She deserved to be shunned. She deserved to be flagellated and driven out of the school. No, put in stocks! It was Massachusetts, after all—there had to be old-timey stocks somewhere.

  But as Daisy sat there, getting up the courage to say something, next to her, Shanna silently stood.

  “Quinn,” she said, loud enough, and in her mom voice. They all had a mom voice. The one that was strong enough to penetrate a Disneyland crowd and bring a three-year-old to heel. And apparently it was just as effective on parents as it was on their kids, because the room immediately gave Shanna the floor.

  “I know who’s responsible for the video,” Shanna said.

  Cold shot through Daisy as the blood leeched from her face and pooled somewhere around her toes. She looked up at Shanna sharply. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. It was one thing to confess—it was another thing to be outed! Daisy opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  Quinn looked as surprised as the rest of the crowd. “You do?”

  “Yes, Quinn, I do,” Shanna said. Shanna glanced down at Daisy—too briefly for anyone to notice. Then, she met Quinn’s stare straight
on. “It’s you.”

  A guffaw of disbelief finally broke the silence.

  “Me?”

  “You,” Shanna replied. She was effortlessly calm. In complete control. An utter contrast to Daisy, who was internally freaking out. “You are the one in the video, being horrible to your own son. Your actions are the reason it was posted online, and you are the one responsible.”

  Quinn Barrett must have been internally freaking out too, because for the first time at the meeting, she was set back on her heels.

  “That’s not the point—”

  “Yes, it is the point,” Shanna replied calmly but firmly. “When you google Little Wonders Preschool, the first hit is not the school’s website. It’s that video. And judging by the views, that’s not going to change any time soon. You boss us around, act like a fool in the video, and now you have the gall to threaten us?”

  “I’m not threatening anything, I am simply stating facts—”

  But Shanna just continued. And Daisy noticed every eye in the room was on her. Shanna had control of everything. Not Quinn. And Quinn . . . Quinn looked terrified.

  “Scolding us. Like we’re the preschoolers, not our kids. Saying that the person had better come forward or run afoul of the police? That is a threat. And it is conduct unbecoming a Parent Association president.”

  “No, that’s the law,” Quinn argued. “My lawyers said Massachusetts is a two-party consent state and recording me without my knowledge is considered illegal wiretapping.”

  Shanna’s eyebrow shot up. But rather than be taken aback, she simply smiled. She’d been right that Quinn had consulted her lawyer. And Shanna was ready for that.

  “I am a lawyer, and from my perspective, it was with your knowledge,” Shanna said.

  “What?” Quinn nearly screeched.

  “It was a preschool Halloween parade. Everyone had their phones out. You said it yourself, that we all love to record our kiddos, get love on social media. You live for Instagram likes. You knew there were people recording.”

  “I didn’t know they were recording me. And . . . and Ham,” Quinn said, a faint gleam coming to her eyes, but she sniffed it away. “Besides, what do you know? You’re a tax lawyer. Or, you were,” Quinn said. Potent words that had every parent in the room bristling.