Teach Me a Lesson

by Jasmine Haynes

  He took his seat once more and gave the floor to Charlotte.

  For the first time since the meeting had begun, he thought about Charlotte and his desk and Friday night. Even that, though, couldn’t erase the fiasco of the last five minutes.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE COULDN’T MAKE HER LIPS MOVE FOR ONE SECOND, then two, three. And counting.

  The others had been in a state of shock at the Smiths’ abrupt exit, but she knew exactly what happened to Jeanine. The woman had sat in terror for the entire ten minutes during which Lance had reviewed the details. Charlotte’s first reaction had been to run after Jeanine. But that wasn’t possible. She could not reveal their connection, especially not in front of her husband.

  Imagine. The chairman of the school board wanted to hear the dirty details of his wife enjoying sex with another man.

  It was like seeing the president of the United States in his underwear, far more than you really wanted to know. All right, she was in more shock than everyone else. She never would have made the connection; Smith was too common a name. Charlotte wouldn’t have connected Jeanine to Eric Collins either, though she recalled Jeanine saying that her ex refused to allow her second husband to adopt her son or change his last name. That had been a sore spot in the first years of her marriage to David.

  What to do with the information and how to handle Jeanine now that her secret was out, at least with Charlotte, was going to take some consideration. But the meeting was moving forward without her.

  Melody’s mother pursed her mouth, tiny lines fanning out from her upper lip. The rest of her face, however, didn’t react. “I feel we’re being singled out and ganged up on.” She glared at the three educators in the room. “It certainly isn’t our fault.” She allowed herself an elongated O on the word.

  Her husband immediately jumped to a defensive posture as well, leaning forward in his seat, chin jutting. “We’ve done everything we can to help Melody, spent a fortune.”

  Lance handled their indignation with aplomb. “We’re not casting blame. We’re thinking only of the children and what we can do to help them.” He eyed them each in turn. “I’m sure you want the same thing.”

  “Of course we do,” Kathryn Wright snapped.

  “We’ve thought of nothing else,” her husband insisted.

  “Then I’m sure you’ll agree that there needs to be a discussion, no matter how sensitive the issues are, so that we can do what’s best for Melody.” Lance held the woman’s gaze. “We desperately need your help, Mrs. Wright.”

  Wow. He was good. He should run for the school board. There was no way the Wrights could back out now.

  Charlotte had a compromise in mind that might put them more at ease. She looked at her principal. “May I suggest that Melody’s parents and I shift over to my office for a more private discussion. I’m sure they’ll have no problem with my providing you and Mrs. Sloan with a report.”

  “Good idea, Miss Moore.”

  God, she loved it when he said her name that way, slightly imperious but loaded with meaning. And no one else would suspect.

  He turned to the Wrights. “Is that acceptable?”

  “Well . . .” Mrs. Wright dithered.

  “Hmm . . .” Steven dithered with her.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” she concluded.

  “I agree,” Steven followed up.

  She wondered what he did for a living and if his career required any original thought.

  “That’s settled.” Lance wouldn’t want to sit through a long counseling session, and that’s certainly what Charlotte intended. When a child was having trouble, the parents needed as much counseling as the student did.

  The Wrights shook hands with both Lance and Alice, then followed Charlotte down the hall. “Would you like some coffee?” she offered.

  “Oh no. Coffee stains the teeth.” Mrs. Wright pulled a bottle of zero-calorie vitaminwater from her bag. Mr. Wright asked for nothing.

  Charlotte indicated the chairs around her small conference table. “Now, Mrs. Wright,” she began once they were all seated.

  “Please, call us Kathryn and Steven. We don’t need formality.”

  “All right. I’m Charlotte. First I’d like to establish that I don’t want to keep anything said here a secret from Melody. If I feel the need to bring up a point in my sessions with her, I’d like your permission to do so. Does that work for you?”

  “Certainly,” Kathryn said. “We’ll do anything we can to help.”

  “No secrets here,” her husband confirmed.

  “I won’t mince words.” Charlotte smiled to take the bite out of it. “I believe the root cause of the problem is Melody’s acne.”

  “Well, duh,” Kathryn said just like a teenager.

  Steven Wright snorted in support.

  Charlotte didn’t allow their response to stop her from delivering her prepared speech. She didn’t believe they understood the full impact.

  “Severe acne like Melody’s can cause social withdrawal”—oh yes, Melody certainly exhibited that symptom—“low self-esteem, a loss of self-confidence, and poor body image.” She paused to give impact to the list. “All of this leads to anger with the world, depression, and even aggression. Which is exactly what we’re seeing with Melody.”

  “We know all this, Charlotte.” Kathryn gave the T a hard edge.

  “We’ve seen it every day,” Steven emphasized. “We’ve taken her to every doctor.”

  “I’m sure you have. Melody told me she’s taking medication, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.” Obviously. She cocked her head. “How’s her diet? Kids often eat too much junk food, fast food, processed foods.”

  Kathryn pursed her lips. “I’ve been very diligent about her diet long before the acne. I didn’t want to turn her into a fat child who could never lose the weight when she was older. It’s horrific what some parents do to their children by sheer neglect of watching what their kids put in their mouths.”

  “My wife has always declared she would never raise a fat child.”

  “I would never let a child of mine be made fun of because she’s fat.”

  “Providing a healthy diet is admirable,” Charlotte agreed, but she feared their diligence was more about appearance than health, especially with repeated use of the word fat. That wasn’t good for Melody either. It bred intolerance, both for herself and other kids. “Let’s talk about positive reinforcement. What strategies are you employing right now?”

  “Positive reinforcement? How can you positively reinforce acne?” Kathryn scoffed.

  Charlotte smiled tightly. It was better than swearing. “You can help her see beyond the acne.”

  Kathryn reared back, on the edge of indignation. “We tell her she’ll grow out of it.”

  “We’ve got her on the strongest meds money can buy.” Steven seemed to be all about the fortune he spent on his daughter.

  Hadn’t Melody’s doctors discussed her emotional well-being with the Wrights? “I’m talking about affirming how beautiful she is as she is. You could encourage her to look at herself in the mirror and help her see beyond the acne to the beautiful girl inside.”

  This time Kathryn snorted. “You’re joking, right? I can’t in all good conscience let her stand in front of a mirror and look at those horrible—” She shuddered, as if the mental picture was too much to bear.

  Good Lord, with reactions like that from her parents, how was Melody supposed to deal with the cruelty of high school kids?

  Kathryn sat up straight, shoulders squared. “We’ve done everything we can to help her self-esteem. When she came home last year crying because her breasts weren’t developing and one of those mean bitches called her flat-chested, I offered to get her breast implants. I’ve planned low-fat, low-carb menus so no one could ever accuse her of having a muffin top. I said we could start her on Botox injections so she wouldn’t get those horrible frown lines on her brow.” She ran her fingers over her perfectly smooth forehead. “I told her she co
uld have any surgery she needed to make her feel good about herself.”

  Charlotte was horrified. “You offered breast implants and Botox to a fifteen-year-old?”

  Kathryn sat even straighter, back rigid, though her face showed not an ounce of emotion. She couldn’t move her features enough to form an expression, Charlotte thought maliciously.

  “So you’re telling me,” Kathryn said between tight lips, “that it’s okay to take Melody to a dermatologist who gives her enough drugs to turn an elephant’s hide into silk, but it’s not okay to fix her flat chest?”

  Steven reinforced. “We’re getting mixed messages here, Miss Moore. We’re willing to spend whatever it takes to fix her.”

  That was Melody’s problem. Her parents wanted to fix the outer shell as if that would suddenly show Melody how beautiful she was on the inside. The more her mother suggested surgery for that issue or a cosmetic injection for that problem, the lower Melody’s self-esteem slipped and the more breakouts she would have from stress.

  “We love her and we’re doing everything possible,” Kathryn said, her voice as stiff as her body.

  She probably wasn’t a bad woman. Steven Wright probably wasn’t a bad man. But they were bad parents. Charlotte had to learn how to fix them before she could even begin to help their daughter.

  * * *

  “OH MY GOD, THEY WERE HORRIBLE.” CHARLOTTE ROLLED HER EYES expressively.

  She and Alice were sitting out in the quad with steaming mochas from the deli next to the high school. The sun had dried up the concrete, and the day had turned quite warm as long as you were wearing a jacket and basking in the sun, though that would be dipping below the horizon in half an hour or so. Charlotte had needed some air after the grueling session with the Wrights. She would have liked to discuss it with Lance, but Alice was her assistant principal and her boss. Besides, Alice had always proved a good sounding board.

  “They’re just clueless,” Alice said. Having entered the army for the educational opportunities, Alice still maintained that military bearing, whether intentional or not, but she was quite softhearted and always tried to see the best in people.

  “Clueless is the most diplomatic word you could apply,” Charlotte said with a sarcastic note.

  She’d spent another half hour with the Wrights. Melody had trouble during the school year with some of the kids making fun of her lacking in the breast department. Then, just at the end of the year, the acne started.

  “They don’t even know what happened with Eric and Melody, yet the kids were supposedly best friends. How could her parents not know?”

  “You’re being too hard on them,” Alice countered.

  “I thought I wasn’t being hard enough. Is it possible to charge parents with child abuse if they give their girls breast implants and Botox injections for their sixteenth birthday?”

  She was being facetious but Alice was a very literal person. “There’s a parental faction who believe surgery is the ultimate answer to their children’s esteem issues.” She shook her head at Charlotte. “Don’t you watch the afternoon talk shows?”

  “Like I have time?” She arched a brow. “When do you have time?”

  “I record them. I love Dr. Phil.” Alice’s face softened with awe. “I never miss an episode. Not that Dr. Phil advocates that kind of thing at all.”

  Charlotte had seen Dr. Phil, and he was quite reasonable for a talk show host. “Honestly, the whole thing is just plain crazy. Any parent pushing surgery to solve an esteem issue doesn’t deserve to have kids.” She was overstating, but all she could think about was the harm this kind of thing had done to Melody.

  “You’re not usually so judgmental.”

  “There’s something about that woman that gets to me,” Charlotte said in defense. “I think they’re ashamed of Melody. Maybe they’re afraid her face will be pockmarked.” She grimaced. “God forbid.”

  “The more emotional you get, the less you’ll be able to help Melody.”

  Alice was right. A counselor had to step back to maintain impartiality. She couldn’t do that if she let herself be emotional. The key word was empathy.

  “So tell me what they think happened.” Alice steered them back to discussion rather than judgment. “Was Eric part of this hazing Melody received?”

  “Not as far as they’re aware. There was no big fight. They used to text constantly, then she started ignoring his messages, and they weren’t disappointed because they’d never liked Eric’s stepfather. They thought it was all for the better.” Charlotte pursed her lips. “I’d like to have the Wrights start some family counseling. What do you think?”

  Alice shook her head. “It’s a touchy issue. We have no authority for ordering them to do it. But they’ve agreed to Melody’s seeing you twice a week. Let’s start with that.”

  In many ways, the school’s hands were tied these days, and there’d been a lawsuit four or five years ago, before Lance’s time, in which the school had been sued for “usurping parental rights.” They’d lost. Charlotte didn’t agree with negating parents’ rights, but on the other hand, educators had become terrified of making decisions that might result in even a whiff of the word lawsuit, despite what was in a child’s best interests. “What about talking with Eric again?”

  “That wasn’t part of the agreement in Principal Hutton’s meeting. You don’t have permission.”

  Damn. How was she supposed to help Melody under these conditions?

  Alice patted her hand. “You’ve got your session with Melody on Thursday. Stop trying to fix her and just let her talk.”

  Alice had a good point. Everyone was trying to fix Melody. What Charlotte needed to do was get Melody to open up. The problem was how to encourage her to do that. Charlotte had two days to figure it out.

  15

  CHARLOTTE STAYED LATE AT SCHOOL TO MAKE NOTES IN MELODY’S file regarding both the meeting with the Wrights and her subsequent discussion with Alice. It was best to document everything when it was all fresh. After that was done, she closed her door and dialed Jeanine’s cell phone. It rang an extraordinarily long time.

  “Hello?” Jeanine’s voice was soft, hesitant, almost as if she were afraid.

  “Jeanine, it’s Charlotte Moore.”

  “Oh God, I was afraid it was you. Don’t call me here.” Her voice rose, panicky.

  “Where?”

  “I’m hiding in the laundry room.”

  “I called your cell, as we agreed.” Charlotte had never gotten her home phone number.

  Jeanine lowered her voice. “I can’t see you anymore.”

  If someone was listening in on the conversation, it would sound more like Jeanine was talking to a lover instead of her therapist.

  “Let’s talk about that, Jeanine. I realize you don’t want your husband to know. But nothing has changed. We aren’t required to tell him if you don’t want to.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m sure it was hard for you to come to me in the first place, and it’s your business whether you tell him or not, though I would recommend you do so. But regardless, I still believe it’s in your best interest to continue your therapy.”

  “But he knows about us,” she hissed softly.

  Again, there was that vague sense of tryst rather than therapy. “How?”

  “He just kept asking why I’d acted so oddly in the meeting. Finally I just told him. I had to. Now he’s mad as a hornet.”

  First things first. “Are you afraid he’ll act violently toward you?”

  Jeanine snorted. “Nothing like that. It’s just that he can be so”—Charlotte could almost see the woman gesturing in the air as she searched for the right way to put it—“so difficult to live with when he doesn’t get his way. He’s worried about what I might have told you. It’s just not worth it.”

  This was the problem with only one spouse receiving the counseling. You needed buy-in, and Jeanine didn’t have it. But things wouldn’t get better for the Smiths if she
simply gave in to her husband.

  “Before we break it off completely, may I suggest one session with both of you in attendance. I can assure your husband that whatever we’ve discussed is confidential and—”

  “No,” Jeanine said sharply. “It’s not going to work. I want you to know it wasn’t my fault. Now I have to go.”

  Charlotte was left talking to dead air. What wasn’t Jeanine’s fault? The words sounded almost ominous.

  “Gee, that went well.” The sentiment echoed Lance after the disastrous parent conference.

  Which reminded her, the principal was exactly the person she needed to talk to. For a lot of reasons, half of which had nothing to do with Melody, Jeanine, her husband, or the Wrights.

  But Lance’s office was locked up tight, the lights off. Damn. He was gone.

  * * *

  IT WAS LONG PAST DARK WHEN HER CAR PULLED OUT OF THE school parking lot. Lance followed.

  When he’d left, her office door was closed but a light glowed from beneath the door. He’d pulled his car out onto the street, no particular plan in mind. Even as he waited for her—over a quarter of an hour—his mind was a jumble of sexual images but nothing specific.

  He should have been thinking about this afternoon’s parent conference. He should have discussed what she’d learned in her session with the Wrights. But it was after school hours and the only thing on his mind right now was getting up Charlotte Moore’s skirt.

  From two car lengths behind her, he called her cell phone on his Bluetooth.

  “Pull over,” he said after her clipped Hello.

  “What on earth—”

  “Pull into that parking lot on the right,” he ordered.

  “Where are you?”

  He flashed his lights. “Right behind you.”

  “You’re crazy.” But she tapped her brakes and pulled into the mini-mall lot.

  The spaces fronting the stores were full, but next to the road, the row was empty. He rolled into the spot on the passenger side of the one she’d chosen. Looking at her, he said, “You were extremely insolent in our preplanning meeting today.”