Influenced by Eva Robinson (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

the great thief of sleep, would start wailing in the early hours. Last night at four a.m., Nora had started wailing, “Help, please! Help, please!” How could Hannah ignore such a sad, plaintive cry?

Hannah would always scoop her up, kiss her fat cheeks. In bed, Nora would launch into a series of increasingly absurd demands. Water. Milk. Monkey. Go for walk.

Hannah rarely fell back asleep after that. It was, perhaps, the best part of her day, which was why she never bothered to sleep-train Nora. When her little girl fell asleep next to her, Hannah relished the peacefulness of her rising and falling chest.

But the fatigue was starting to eat holes in her brain. When she was really desperate, she’d dose herself with a bit of Benadryl to get back asleep. And now here she was in a Benadryl hangover, staring open-mouthed at a Believe in Yourself poster.

She took a sip of coffee, trying to get some of that caffeinated magic going. She tried not to think about the fact that she’d bought the I Love a School Psychologist mug for herself. Like the poster, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it seemed beyond sad. Who buys something like that for themselves?

With a little coffee buzz starting to brighten her mind, she flipped her work schedule open. Meetings, cognitive testing, then counseling.

Crap. She still hadn’t finished the report for the noon meeting, and that one would be difficult. Hugo’s parents always brought lawyers to scrutinize her findings.

Her office door creaked open, and she found herself looking at the disheveled hair of Hugo himself. “Hey, Miss Moreno.”

She thought about telling him his shirt was buttoned crooked, but there was the risk it would set him off again. “Always lovely to see you. We have a meeting for you at noon. You’re coming, I hope?”

“Yeah. But I have a crisis now.”

Hannah leaned back in her chair. She’d never get his report done in time if he took up her morning with one of his many “crises.”

Before she could answer, her phone started ringing. She muted it. “Hugo, we can come up with a plan at the meeting. We can talk about how to manage your time better.”

“I don’t think time management is my issue. Precalculus is my issue.”

She shook her head. “That is a perfect thing to discuss at your meeting, at noon.”

“My parents won’t agree, though.”

“Well, you’re not eighteen for a few months, so we will need—”

“I have twenty-six missing homework assignments. There’s no way I can make it up.”

The red light blinked on her phone again—another phone call. Hannah’s head throbbed. “Listen, Hugo. I know you feel crushed by the weight of what you have to do now. Everything’s overwhelming, and there’s just too much. There’s too much, and sometimes you lie awake at night…” She trailed off, surprised to feel her eyes stinging. She’d zoned out on the light blinking on the phone. “Hugo, I have to prepare for your meeting.”

Establish reasonable boundaries. 

He stared at her for a moment. “Fine.” He whirled and left, slamming the door behind him so hard that the room rattled.

Blinking, Hannah lifted her bag off the floor and rifled through it for his testing protocols. But the door was already opening again. This time it was the head of her department, Jerry. His shirt was also buttoned crooked, but in this case she was sure she should keep it to herself.

Jerry pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m getting frantic phone calls from a mom. She said it’s an emergency.” He pointed at the flashing light on her office phone. “Said she’s been calling you. Says she left a bunch of messages.”

“I was just with a student.”

“Well, she sounds frantic. So… she needs a call back.”

As Jerry slipped out the door, the phone started ringing again, and Hannah picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hannah? You never sent me the report for Hugo’s meeting. I wanted the test reports in advance to review with our advocate and the neuropsychologist, and there’s almost no time left. The meeting’s in four hours.”

Hannah’s pulse raced. There had been a time when she’d sent copies home a week in advance so parents could read them.

“Review?” Hannah repeated the word to buy herself extra time while she figured out what else to say.

“It’s just that we have concerns that Hugo isn’t rising to his potential. We think he has a very unique profile that requires additional support. And obviously, he’s going to need extra time on tests. With tutoring and extra time on tests, he’ll really have the chance to fulfill his potential. I’m sure you’ll agree with our neuropsychologist’s interpretations, but we need to review your testing in advance. We expected to have it by now.”

Without even reviewing the reports, Hannah could tell the meeting would not go well. Hugo wouldn’t qualify for anything. He had perfectly average cognitive skills. The problems were: 1) His parents wanted him to take a full load of advanced classes because they were fixated on Stanford, and 2) He had a video-game addiction that kept him up throughout the night raiding troll caves or slaughtering goblin mercenaries. Or something. She had no idea what the specifics of the games were—only that they weren’t precalculus.

“We’ll have to decide as a team in the meeting,” said Hannah. “I can’t come to any conclusions without teacher input.”

“There’s another matter. Hugo doesn’t know where his phone is. He emailed me. He thought maybe he left it in the library before classes started. Can you look for it and bring it to him? He gets anxious without his phone, and the meeting won’t go well at all if he’s anxious.”

Is she kidding? “It would be better if he learned some independent skills, I think, instead of having adults swoop in to fix things for him. He’s nearly eighteen.” She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. “And I’m not able to leave my office at this time. That’s not really