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You don't get a seat. The professor meets you at the door and points down the hall.

Principal Smith's office is already occupied. Your mother is in the chair across from his desk, coat folded on her lap. She left the house right after you did. She looks up when you come in. He does not.

Sit down, <<=$name>>. Your mother left work because you have been skipping class.

I had to hear it from him. You don't get to disappear and pretend I won't be called.

Sit down. Your professor says you were in the room and didn't take in a word.

I left work for this. I sat here and listened to him tell me you are throwing class away.

<> <= 60>>

I'm sorry about my son. It's so hard being a single mother. I go to bed alone and spend half the night thinking about a man putting his hands on me.

Say the word and you won't spend tonight thinking about it.

Careful. I might take you up on that before we leave this office.

Her knee rests against the side of his desk, toward him.

<= 30>>

I'm sorry about my son. It's so hard being a single mother. The house is empty after he leaves, and I forget what it feels like when a man looks at me.

I'm looking.

Then keep looking. It's been a long time since anyone did.

<= 10>>

I'm sorry about my son. It's so hard being a single mother raising a kid these days.

She looks at him when she says it.

Then someone should be making it easier on you. You don't look like you've been looked after.

I wouldn't know what to do with the attention.

She doesn't look away.

I'm sorry about my son. It's so hard being a single mother raising a kid these days.

She says it to the desk.

A woman handling all of that alone. You wear it well.

She laughs like she isn't sure she heard him right, and pulls her coat tighter.

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