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only a little slap.”
    She always said that, too.
    T HE NEXT AFTERNOON Mr. Barker told Theo that the school counsellor wanted to see her. Theo slowly walked down the hall to Ms. Sunter’s office.
    â€œSit down, Theo. How are you today?”
    â€œFine.” Theo slid into a chair in front of Ms. Sunter’s desk. How many times had she sat in front of a desk while a nosy adult asked her questions? Sometimes it was a social worker, sometimes a principal or counsellor. Theo examined this one. Ms. Sunter was young and brisk, with pretty black hair and a tailored red pant suit.
    She got straight to the point. “Theo, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer honestly and not be afraid—okay?”
    â€œOkay,” said Theo. She braced herself to lie.
    â€œYour teacher says that you are simply not there in class—that you daydream constantly, never do your homework and don’t try to make friends. He thought you just needed time to adjust, but you’ve been here for a month now with no improvement.” She smiled. “No one is angry with you. I’m sure there are good reasons why you can’t concentrate. Nothing you tell me will get you into trouble, do you understand? I just want to help you.” They all said that.
    Ms. Sunter rifled through a file of papers. “Now let’s see …” She proceeded to recite Theo’s history to her, while Theo nodded in the appropriate spots. The names of her previous four schools. The seven places, including two shelters and one hotel, where she and Rae had lived.The times Rae had worked and the times, especially when Theo was a preschooler, when they’d lived on welfare.
    Theo stared at the thick file. How did they know so much about her? It made her feel like a criminal with a record.
    Ms. Sunter was looking at the pages angrily. “You and your mother have certainly had a hard life. Didn’t your father ever help out? Have you ever met him?” Theo shook her head. “Do you know who he is?” asked the counsellor more gently.
    Theo squirmed. “He was from Greece. My mother met him when he was staying with his uncle here—she was visiting here too, from Victoria. That’s why I have a Greek name,” she added. She could hear Rae’s words: “As handsome as a Greek god.”
    Ms. Sunter smiled. “Do you know what your father’s name is?”
    â€œAlexios,” whispered Theo.
    â€œAlexios what?”
    â€œI don’t know. My mother never knew his last name. He was going back to Greece the week after she met him. She didn’t have his address and she never heard from him again.” Theo flushed. Rae would be furious if she knew she was saying all this.
    Ms. Sunter sighed, scribbling in her notes. “I don’t know my father either—he left when I was a baby.”
    â€œOh.”
    Ms. Sunter looked as if she expected her to say more. Theo shifted impatiently and wished the counsellor wouldget on with the hard part—the questions about Rae.
    â€œLet’s talk about your mother now.” Theo got ready. “She’s working at the Hastings Diner, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat are her hours?”
    â€œTen to six.”
    â€œWho takes care of you after school?”
    Theo thought fast. “A woman in our building called Mrs. Mitic. She’s really nice. We watch TV together until my mother comes home.”
    â€œDoes Mrs. Mitic make your supper?”
    â€œNo, my mother does after she gets back from work.”
    â€œDo you get enough to eat, Theo? I know your mum must have a hard time stretching her salary.”
    â€œMy mother’s very good at budgeting,” said Theo.
    â€œAnd what sort of things do you have for supper? What did your mother give you last night, for example?”
    Theo tried to remember what she’d fixed herself. “Kraft Dinner,” she said finally.
    Ms.