Free ONE SMALL VICTORY by Maryann Miller Page A

the
author. She rested the book on her stomach and thought about what
she was doing. Who was she to think she could pull this off? She
was no super hero. She was a middle-aged mother whose biggest
challenge up to this point was surviving her bad choice in men.

    CHAPTER NINE

    Jenny just barely remembered the
parent/teacher conference in time. She had fifteen minutes to get
there and could forget about a shower first. If only she’d
remembered earlier, it would have been the perfect excuse to put
off a major cleanup of the flower cooler.

    She washed the big chunks of grime off, then
locked the doors and headed for her car. She wouldn’t have to
contact the kids. Scott would remember she had the conference. It
was for him, and they’d argued last week about her need to go. She
was sure she should, he wasn’t. He said the failing notice from his
biology teacher was taken care of. He’d pulled his grade up.
Everything was fine. But Jenny knew it wasn’t fine. And she should
have questioned him that first time he said he didn’t have
homework.

    But then, wasn’t everything a lot clearer
with hindsight? Long before the current mess of her life, Jenny had
learned that it was better not to beat herself up for past
mistakes. Not a damn thing she could do about them in the
present.

    She pulled into the school parking lot,
locked her car, and headed for the redbrick building. She was
supposed to meet the teacher in the lab.

    For being such a small community, Little Oak
High School had a state-of-the-art biology lab, much better than
the one in the metropolitan school Jenny had attended in Dallas.
Walking in, she noticed the strong aroma common to all labs,
formaldehyde. She also took note of the three people sitting at a
table near Mr. Taylor’s desk. So it wasn’t just a conference with
him. She recognized the other teachers. Both had taught Michael,
and she’d had conferences with them in the past.

    “Ms. Jasik, thank you for coming.” Taylor
stood in that ungainly stance often used by very tall men and
motioned her to an empty chair. “You know Brenda Ames with the
English Department and Sylvia Comstat our History teacher. And
please call me Gordon.”

    Jenny nodded to the pert, young blonde and
the older woman who had an incredible cascade of auburn curls. Then
she perched on the edge of the seat and willed herself not to brush
at her rumpled clothes. They looked better at the end of their day
than she ever did even at the beginning of hers. They must think
I’m a moron coming in looking like a slob.

    Obviously, they didn’t, as they all gave her
bright smiles and didn’t glance once at the bleached out spot on
her jeans.

    After greetings were exchanged, Gordon sat
back down. “I asked them here today because we’ve all been
concerned about Scott’s lack of attention to schoolwork.”

    His pause was met with more eager smiles from
the other teachers and a sense of impending dread from Jenny. She
didn’t know if this was an opening for her to offer a comment, but
what could she say?

    Brenda Ames cleared her throat. “It’s not
that he’s doing horribly. And we’re certainly cognizant of his
recent loss.”

    Another pause, and again Jenny couldn’t find
an appropriate response. She nodded and Brenda continued. “We
noticed that he seemed to be rebounding from his grief up until a
few weeks ago. Then everything seemed to bottom out. Has something
else happened at home that we should be mindful of?”

    Jenny had to fight to stifle a laugh, and
perhaps Gordon mistook that effort for a sign of distress. “Are you
okay?” he asked. “Can I get you anything?”

    “I’m fine. Just a little fall allergy
problem.”

    “If you’re not feeling well, we can
reschedule,” the history teacher said.

    “No problem.” Jenny turned to Gordon. “Scott
said he’s worked to bring his biology grade up.”

    “Yes. Yes, he has made some effort.” Gordon
leaned back in his chair, tipping it on two legs