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my iPhone, still tucked into the side pocket of my bag, hadn’t stopped buzzing with work emails since I had sat down with Nate’s principal, Mrs. Spencer, to discuss Nate falling off the desk.
    â€œWe’re concerned, Mrs. Carter. Nate seems to be getting … well, more extreme. We don’t see behaviour this intense in our other students. To be honest, we don’t quite know what to make of it. And we’re worried about what has happened to Nate in the past —”
    â€œHas Nate been bullied again?” I jumped in. My heart began to race at the thought of anyone hurting my little boy again.
    â€œNo, no. I’m sorry to alarm you. It isn’t that. And we’ve kept a close eye on Nate since he joined us. So far none of that has happened. But we’re wondering if other proactive solutions might help him. And perhaps mitigate any future bullying problems.”
    I nodded, wondering what, exactly, she was referring to. Beside me, my phone kept buzzing.
    â€œHave you taken him to see anyone?” Mrs. Spencer asked gently. Despite her attempt to ask the question with a smooth voice that she’d purposely quieted, something bugged me about the way she said it. Her curtness, perhaps. It was as though she was pretending to care.
    â€œI’m sorry … see anyone?”
    â€œYes, like a psychologist. Or even a family doctor. You know, just in case …”
    Just in case? Just in case of what ?
    I shook my head and forced a smile. “No, we haven’t taken him to see anyone. I know Nate is … well … he is sometimes more extreme, as you put it. But he’s also a nine-year-old boy with a ton of energy. Boys are like that … right?”
    â€œThey can be, certainly. And Nate can also be a sweet boy. But he gets into these hyper moods and no one can seem to calm him down. I’m no doctor, but I do know of cases where Ritalin helps. Seems to calm the nerves. The extreme jitters Nate tends to have every once in a while. Perhaps it would be worth talking to your doctor about?” Mrs. Spencer peered at me through thick glasses lined in dark red. Partnered with her dated short haircut, I couldn’t help but think of Sally Jesse Raphael.
    â€œWell, Pete and I will certainly take your suggestions into consideration.” I strained to put another smile on my face. I knew Mrs. Spencer was hitting a nerve of truth, and I didn’t want to face it head-on. “For now, though, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get Nate to the doctor to get his head looked at. You know … just in case .” I rose from the uncomfortable faded pleather chair, and shook Mrs. Spencer’s hand.
    â€œOf course. I understand. We hope he didn’t hit his head too hard.”
    I nodded and followed Mrs. Spencer out of her office to greet Nate, who was slumped in his chair, the ice pack thrown aside.
    Principal Spencer picked up the discarded ice pack and handed it to me. “Nate, it’s probably just a bump, but your mother will take you to get it looked at just to be sure.”
    Nate blinked at her. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, and then shut it before he let go of the words. He blinked again.
    â€œNate, you gave us quite a scare today. You can’t be jumping on desks like that. Do you understand?” Mrs. Spencer pulled her red glasses down onto her nose and stared down at him.
    More blinking.
    â€œNate, tell Mrs. Spencer that you understand,” I interjected. Internally, I begged Nate to respond. The awkward situation was growing in its prickly nature into something that felt more like all-out embarrassment.
    â€œI’m waiting, Nate.” Mrs. Spencer’s voice was firm and unsympathetic. The room filled with silence as she waited, subconsciously picking at a hangnail on her thumb with her pointer finger.
    I touched Nate’s shoulder and crouched down to his level, talking in a hushed voice.