Breadcrumbs - Anne Ursu [17]
Hazel’s cheeks went red. It wasn’t just that. She couldn’t quite say what it was, though.
Her mom sighed and rubbed her forehead. “You’re getting older now, and I think it’s time to control your imagination a little bit. Because it causes you to act in ways that are not always appropriate. Like throwing things at people.”
Hazel blushed. It wasn’t like she would throw things at just anyone.
“You could have hurt Tyler, you know. And no matter how upset you are, that’s just not okay, do you understand?”
Hazel shrugged. She heard Bobby’s voice in her head and wondered why it was she who was not allowed to hurt anyone.
“You have to live in reality sometimes,” her mother continued. “Even when it’s not fun. And reality is that you go to Lovelace now. This is a different school, and you have to behave a certain way. The reality is that sometimes people we love get hurt and we can’t just turn into the Incredible Hulk. “
Hazel looked at the floor. The Incredible Hulk batted .273 with a slugging percentage of .581. He was a disaster in the field, though.
Her mom shook her head and exhaled. The car was quiet, suddenly, and the air was scratchy and thick. “I know it’s hard with your dad gone,” she said finally. “It’s hard for me, too. And I’m trying the best I can. But”—she turned to Hazel—“we need to work together. I can’t do this alone. I can’t come running to school because you’re missing. I can’t be getting emails from your teacher all the time about your behavior. Part of being grown up is acting the way you’re supposed to act, even if you don’t feel like it. Can you be grown up for me?”
Hazel understood. Being grown up meant doing what grown-ups wanted you to do. It meant sacrificing your imagination for rules. It meant sitting quietly in your desk chair while your best friend is helicoptered off for emergency eye surgery. It meant letting people say whatever they wanted to you.
But her mother seemed so tired, and so sad, and it wasn’t like Hazel tried to make trouble. She wanted to do well in school and make friends and have her teachers like her and have her mom be happy and proud of her. She just didn’t seem to know how.
“I’ll try,” she said quietly.
“Good,” said her mom. “Now, Mr. Yee told me that some things are going to happen at school. You’re going to meet with the counselor. We’re going to go for evaluations.”
“Mrs. Jacobs hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Hazel. You have to see things from her perspective. She’s got a big class to manage. She’s just trying to do her job, honey. You never know what someone else is going through, right?”
Hazel shrugged.
“Everyone just wants to help you,” her mother said.
Hazel stared at the dashboard. Up until this year, nobody thought she needed help.
“It will be okay. You’ve been through a lot, and everyone needs help sometimes. That’s all.” She touched Hazel gently on the shoulder. “Now. Let’s call over to Jack’s and see what’s going on.”
So Hazel’s mother called up Jack’s home, while Hazel leaned in to listen. It is not an easy thing, to keep yourself from exploding. She could hear the drone of Jack’s dad’s voice from the receiver but couldn’t make out any words. She tugged at her mom’s coat and whispered, “Let me talk to Jack,” once, and then again. Her mom nodded, and an eternity later she said, “Oh, all right then,” and “I’ll let her know,” and “Thank you very much, Kevin,” and then, “Is Jack available to talk?” and finally she stopped talking, and as Hazel reached for the phone, she hung up.
Hazel gaped at her mother.
“He couldn’t talk,” she said, starting the car. “He was busy.”
“Busy? Busy doing what?”
“I don’t know. But he’s okay. He got glass in his eye.”
“Glass?” Hazel imagined a shard of glass the size of a small knife sticking out of Jack’s eye.
“Yeah. They can’t imagine how it happened. There must have been some in the snow, and . . .” Her eyes traveled to Hazel and then snapped back. “But it wasn’t very much, and they got it out.”
“But . . . it really hurt him!”
“He’s okay now,