Erika
Liam is a brilliant public speaker. He’s always been good at getting in front of a crowd and doing his thing. If he were different, he would be perfect for politics. He speaks well, he’s good looking, and he’s incredibly smart. My son is so many good things.
Before the debate begins, Liam is deep in conversation with a beautiful girl. She seems to also be on the debate team, but she looks like she could be a model. She has blond hair that appears professionally styled. And given how skinny she is, it’s amazing how large her breasts are. Do sixteen- year-old girls get implants? I’m horrified by the idea of it.
There’s a woman next to me who is fiddling with her cell phone. The gray laced through her hair makes me think she’s about my age—probably another parent. “Excuse me,” I say.
She looks up and smiles pleasantly. “Yes?”
“Do you know the name of the blond girl on the stage? The one in the yellow blouse.”
The woman nods. “That’s Olivia Reynolds. She’s a really strong debater. But not as good as the boy. Liam.”
“Liam is my son,” I say, allowing for an instant that touch of pride I often deny myself when I talk about Liam these days.
“Is he?” The woman’s eyes light up. “Well, he is absolutely wonderful. Very talented. You must be really proud of him. I wish my son could speak half as well.”
I smile, trying to enjoy the compliment, but my mind is racing. Olivia Reynolds. That’s the girl Liam is interested in. And it’s not surprising, because she is absolutely beautiful. Of course Liam would like her.
I’ve got to fix this.
I excuse myself from this woman who won’t stop gushing about my son, and I step out of the auditorium. I just need to make a quick call. I’ll be back in time for the debate.
I check the contacts on my phone, searching for the name Frank Marino. My heart is pounding as I click on his name. The phone rings once. Then again.
It’s Frank. Leave a message. Voicemail.
“Frank? It’s Erika Cass. I need to talk to you. There’s another… Please call me back. As soon as you can.”
Frank is very reliable. He’ll call back tonight.
I return to the auditorium where the students are assembled on the stage. Liam is behind the podium. Sometimes I look at him, and I can’t get over how that tiny helpless baby grew up into this handsome, intelligent young man. There were times when Liam was an infant when I imagined what he’d be like when he was older.
I was so naïve. I had no idea what was to come.
Liam gives a great performance, as usual. His team wins the debate, as if there was ever any doubt. He is an excellent performer and speaker. When he was in third grade, he had to give a presentation for class, and he insisted on wearing his nicest button-down shirt and pants. He even dug out the black clip-on tie I bought him for a wedding the year before. I thought he was absolutely adorable and took about a hundred photographs. It’s almost a decade later, and he still takes public speaking just as seriously.
Liam is also very competitive. I don’t know how much he cares about debate per se, but he definitely cares about winning. Whenever he does well in a track meet or a debate, he’s in a great mood. But if he doesn’t do well, he gets quiet and won’t talk much that evening. Fortunately for him, he’s very good at winning. And he’s very good at getting what he wants.
I won’t let him have what he wants this time.
Liam’s eyes light up when he sees me walking over to congratulate him. “Did you see, Mom? We won! We get to go to State!”
I grin at him. “You did great.”
He loosens his tie, which makes him look older than sixteen. Unlike when he was eight, he knows how to tie his own tie now—no more clip- ons. I watched him practicing it in a mirror a couple of years ago until he could do it perfect. “Thanks.”
Before I can say anything else, Mrs. Randall links her arm into mine and pulls me away from my son. Mrs. Randall is a history teacher who is
also in charge of the debate team. She taught Liam American history during his freshman year, and was the one who encouraged him to join the debate team. I remember Liam got an A+ in the class, and the comment on his report card was that he was the best student in the class. Hannah has her now for American history, but based on Hannah’s recent comment that Mrs. Randall is a “bitch,” I have a feeling my daughter won’t be getting a similar grade.
“Mrs. Cass!” Mrs. Randall is almost glowing from the win, her gray hair coming loose from her sensible bun. “Liam was great out there, wasn’t he?”
I nod, although I’m distracted by the fact that Liam has gone over to talk to Olivia again. “Yes. I know he’s been practicing a lot.”
“He is so diligent. I wish all my students had that sort of work ethic.” She smiles at me. She is solidly in the Liam Cass fan club. “Next stop is Albany! And I bet we’ll get to Nationals this year. That will look great on his resume when he applies to college.”
Yes, in less than two years, Liam will be going away to college. I can’t even think about it. The thought of him being alone and up to his own devices terrifies me.
“That’s wonderful,” I say.
The smile slips slightly from her lips. “By the way, I hate to bring this up now, but Hannah has missed several of her homework assignments this month.”
It’s the only thing she could have said to tear my attention away from Liam and Olivia. “She… she did?”
Mrs. Randall nods slowly. “Each missed homework subtracts from her overall grade. And her last test score was…”
“I know.” I wince, thinking of the red score on Hannah’s history exam that required my signature. Unlike Liam, Hannah has never been a strong student, but high school is proving to be even worse than middle school so far. “I’ll talk to her about it and make sure she shows me her homework every night.”
“I’m certain she can turn things around.” Mrs. Randall looks back over at Liam, then back at me. “I’m sure she has it in her.”
I know what she’s implying, but Hannah is nothing like Liam. She doesn’t look like him and her personality is completely different. Mrs.
Randall isn’t the first teacher who has been disappointed by the discrepancy.
But not every teacher loves my son. He’s gotten so much better at charming adults, but some of them can see right through him. There was one in particular about three years ago. That’s a mess I don’t want to think about ever again. When I remember what Liam did…
I’ve got to talk to Frank. Tonight.
