When She Regretted Her Lies novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: A Hundred and Forty Dollars of Backpack

Mrs. Tandy points a finger at Rena in the drop-off line and Birdie is pretty happy about it, until a caseworker asks to speak to Birdie alone.

Mrs. Tandy pointed a finger an inch from my nose in front of forty parents and said I was wasteful.

It was eight-fifteen in the Little Acorn Preschool drop-off line, and the line had stopped moving to watch.

"A hundred and forty dollars," she said. "For a backpack. For a child who will lose it by Friday."

The backpack in question was on Birdie's back.

It was the one with the sloth on it, and it had a lunch pocket that kept a yogurt cold until noon.

"She's carried it for three weeks," I said. "And I got it on sale."

"On sale from what?"

"From a hundred and sixty."

Mrs. Tandy turned to the parents with her palm out.

Her phone was in her other hand, and I knew it was on, because a red dot glowed on the screen.

Yesterday's video of our porch was already in the parents' group chat.

I had seen it at six that morning, with forty-one thumbs-up under it.

I took a breath and asked my daughter the question I always ask, because a counselor once told me to.

"Birdie, how do you feel when someone yells at Mommy?"

She looked up at me.

She looked at Mrs. Tandy's finger, which had not moved.

"To be honest?" she said. "I'm pretty happy you got yelled at."

Somebody in the line said "Oh, wow," softly, the way people do at a car crash.

"Because you said no to the second snack," Birdie added. "So it's fair."

Mrs. Tandy lowered her finger and then raised it again, now at my daughter.

"Young lady, that is not kind."

"It's not kind," Birdie agreed. "It's true. And you're only the third ugliest mom here. Mommy is first."

There was a silence.

Mrs. Tandy's mouth opened and closed.

"Who's second?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"I can't say. She's standing right there."

Forty parents looked at forty other parents.

I took Birdie's hand, looked at Mrs. Tandy and kept my voice flat.

"You filmed my porch yesterday."

"It's a public street."

"It's my porch. I'd like the video deleted."

"It's evidence."

"Of what?" I asked. "She said I count the snacks. I do count the snacks."

A mother near the front laughed and then covered it with a cough.

Mrs. Tandy's face went red from the collar up.

"A police officer was at your door, Rena."

"He was doing the census," I said. "He checked every room, and he left. He had a clipboard."

"And why would a policeman check every room?"

"Because I asked him to."

That was true, and it was the only sentence in the whole exchange I would have been glad to hear read back to a judge.

I walked Birdie to the classroom door with my chin up and my face hot.

At the cubby, she tugged my sleeve.

"Mom, I'm sorry about the second ugliest."

"You didn't say second. You said third."

"I know. I moved her down for being mean. I'm allowed."

"Okay."

"Mrs. Tandy won't be mad at me tomorrow?"

"Mrs. Tandy might be mad at me tomorrow," I said. "That's different."

I kissed the top of her head and she went in without looking back, the sloth bouncing.

Out in the hall, I stood by the fire extinguisher and breathed for a while.

Then I took an index card from my purse and a pen from the sign-in table.

At two in the morning I had worked out a rule, and now I wrote it down so I couldn't talk myself out of it.

Say only what I'd be glad to hear read back.

I looked at it.

I wrote underneath: Even about snacks.

I was folding the card into my coat pocket when the school secretary called my name from the front desk.

She had the face of someone about to deliver bad news.

"Mrs. Kimball. There's someone here to see you."

"Who?"

She tipped her head toward the small room behind her.

Through the window in its door I saw a woman in a gray blazer with a lanyard around her neck, sitting very straight.

On the table in front of her sat a thin folder, and on the folder was my daughter's name.

"She asked to speak with Birdie," the secretary said. "Alone."

"She's five," I said.

"I know."

"I'm her mother."

"I know," the secretary said again, very gently.

I put my hand flat on the door.

The woman in the gray blazer looked up, and her face did not change at all.

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