Her teacher was at her house? Teachers didn’t even call parents unless you were totally flunking or you were a “behavior problem.” You practically had to rob a bank for one to come to where you lived. Was that thing in the cubby hall with Dusty and Veronica that bad? Wasn’t an apology good enough? With visions in her head of Dusty and Veronica’s mothers storming the school, screaming Spanish at Mrs. Nunez and demanding that Lucy be hauled into court, she walked toward the back door. She knew if she moved any slower she’d go backward. She wasn’t sure being a natural-born soccer player was going to count for anything when she got there. Especially when she saw Dad behind Mr. Auggy, face pinched around his triangle nose. She hadn’t seen it do that since the very first day he came home without Mom. She felt sick. “Are you okay, Miss Lucy?” Mr. Auggy said. The small smile didn’t appear. “Sure,” Lucy said. He seemed to let out all his air and stepped back into the kitchen, leaving Dad like a silhouette in the doorway.
