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She straightens. “I’ve sent my stepson home for the day, while we sort
through this mess.”
I feel like smiling, but I don’t. I simply stare at her. With the amount of
upset students outside her door right now, I’m guessing the mess will take
quite a while to sort through.
“Where are your parents?” she asks.
“My father lives in Thunder Bay.”
“And your mother?”
“Gone.”
She exhales a sigh and folds her hands on her desk. She knows she’s not
going to get anywhere like this.
Reaching over, she picks up the phone receiver and holds it to her ear.
“Give me your father’s phone number.”
My fingers curl, but I don’t give myself away. This is it.
“742-555-3644.”
“What’s his name?” She punches in the number. “His real name.”
I hear the line start ringing, and my heart pounds painfully, but I remain
stoic.
“Matthew,” I answer flatly. “Matthew Lare Grayson.”
She suddenly goes still and darts her eyes up to me. Her breathing
speeds up, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Well, she remembers his name. That’s something, at least.
My father’s voice comes across on the other line. “Hello?”
And she looks back down, and I see her swallow the lump in her throat,
blinking nervously. “Matthew?”
“Gillian?”
She hangs up the phone like it’s burning hot and covers her mouth with
her hand. I almost want to smile. Just to add to the taunt.