I was halfway through my shift at the diner when the school called about an “incident” involving my son. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot and froze. A police SUV sat by the entrance.
I was halfway through my shift at the diner when the school called, saying there’d been an “incident” with my son. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot and froze. A police SUV sat by the entrance. Whatever had happened, I knew I had to stand by Ethan.
The lunch rush at the diner where I worked was in full swing when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out to check who was calling, and my stomach dropped.
It was my son’s middle school. Schools don’t call in the middle of the day unless something’s wrong.
I answered the call with shaking fingers.
“Ma’am, this is Principal Dawson. We need you to come to the school immediately. There’s been an incident involving your son, Ethan.”
He spoke in a clipped voice, brisk and official. I immediately thought the worst.
“Is he hurt?”
“No. A student’s phone has gone missing, and Ethan’s name has come up. We just need to clear things up. Please come right away.”
The line went dead before I could ask anything else.
Ethan, my sweet, stubborn kid, had been begging me to get him a new phone for weeks, but he wouldn’t steal someone else’s phone… would he?
I stood there, the sounds of the diner fading into white noise around me as I replayed our conversation from the previous night.
