Chapter 9: Temporary

"I'll be there in ten minutes," I said.

I was there in eight.

The school was a low brick building four blocks from my house.

I had walked Max to that door almost every morning for two years.

The secretary buzzed me in and pointed down the hall.

"He's in with the nurse. You're on his list, so just sign him out when you're ready."

I signed the clipboard.

Heather Ashwell. Relationship: stepmother.

I had written that on a hundred forms.

The nurse's room was tiny, with a cot and a poster about washing your hands.

Max was curled up on the cot with a paper bag in his lap.

His face was grey. His glasses were on the counter.

When he saw me he sat up so fast he went dizzy.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

I sat on the edge of the cot and put my hand on his forehead.

Hot.

The nurse said a hundred and one, probably the bug going around fifth grade.

She said she'd give us a few minutes and stepped out to find a juice box.

Max leaned against my side.

He was shaking a little.

"I called Dad," he said. "He didn't pick up."

"I know."

"I called Mom too."

"I know, buddy."

"I didn't call Grandma."

He picked at the paper bag.

"Grandma would say you're not supposed to come."

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