35. Zoey
ZOEY
I held Roland’s hand as we walked into the principal’s office at Oakwood Elementary. Students’ colorful artwork covered the walls, and the smell of freshly sharpened pencils filled the air. Roland squeezed my hand, his green eyes wide as he took everything in.
“Hello, you must be Ms. Lester and Roland,” the principal, a kind-faced woman in her fifties, greeted us with a warm smile. “I’m Mrs. Thompson. Welcome to Oakwood.”
“Mrs. Thompson, it’s nice to meet you.” I shook her outstretched hand. “We’re excited to get Roland enrolled and ready to start in the fall.”
“Of course, I have all the paperwork right here.” She handed me a stack of forms attached to a clipboard. “Why don’t you have a seat and fill these out. Then I’ll give you and Roland a tour of the school.”
As I began filling out the enrollment forms, I glanced over at Roland.
He was flipping through a picture book about rockets.
Starting at a new school after being homeschooled would be an adjustment, but Roland was resilient.
After everything we’d been through, I just wanted to give him some stability and normalcy.
I would have preferred to wait until George was securely behind bars before enrolling Roland, but I hadn’t exactly kept up his schooling while we were dealing with the aftermath of our escape from his father’s compound.
It wasn’t fair to keep putting his education on hold.
George had firmly refused to allow Ro to be educated in a human school, an excuse I now realized was yet another method to keep me isolated and devoid of external support.
He deserved a chance to be a regular kid who made friends and learned new things.
“All set,” I announced, handing the completed forms back to Mrs. Thompson.
“Wonderful. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around.” She led us out of the office and down the bright hallway.
“This is the cafeteria, and those doors lead out to the playground.” Mrs. Thompson gestured as we walked. “The kindergarten through second-grade classrooms are down this way.”
She showed us the bright, welcoming classroom that would be Roland’s. Cubbies lined one wall, and tiny desks were arranged in clusters around a colorful rug for story time.
“What do you think, Ro? Does this look like a good room to do some learning in?” I asked.
His face lit up. “Yeah! Look, Mom, they have a fish tank.” He pointed excitedly at the bubbling aquarium in the corner. “And beanbag chairs.”
Mrs. Thompson chuckled. “We do our best to make school feel like a second home. Roland, I think you’re really going to enjoy being part of our second-grade class.”
Roland grew more eager with each new room we visited—the gym, art studio, music room, and library. After such a traumatic disruption to his life, I was happy to see him excited about something so wonderfully ordinary as starting school.
While a part of me still held my breath, terrified that George would find a way to upend our lives again, I refused to let that fear determine Roland’s future.
He needed a supportive environment to learn, grow, and heal.
I would do whatever it took to protect his chance at a happy, healthy childhood, but I had to find a way to manage his expectations.
As we walked out to the parking lot, I touched Roland’s shoulder gently. “Hey buddy, can we chat for a sec?”
He looked up at me curiously. “Sure, Mom, what’s up?”
I crouched down to his level and gripped his hands. “Ro, I know you’re super excited about starting school here. And I’m so happy you’re looking forward to it. But I need you to remember something, okay?”
He listened intently.
“Sometimes, even when we really want something to happen, things don’t always work out the way we plan.
I want you to enjoy every minute of second grade.
Learn tons, make friends, have fun. But if your father.
..” I paused, choosing my words carefully.
“If he does something that means we need to move again to stay safe, I need you to be prepared for that, all right? It doesn’t mean school won’t happen; it just might look a little different than we thought. ”
Roland frowned as he processed my words. “Do you think we’ll have to move again because of Dad?”
“I hope not, baby. I really do. And I promise I’m doing everything possible so we can stay. But I never want to make a promise I’m not sure I can keep. So for now, let’s focus on enjoying today and taking things one step at a time. Sound good?”
He squeezed my hands. “Okay. I get it. Hope for the best, expect the worst, right?”
A wry smile tugged at my lips, even as my heart ached at the unfairness of burdening an eight-year-old with such weighty concepts. “You got it, kiddo. Hope for the best, expect the worst. Now, what do you say we head home so you can get some solid playtime in before dinner?”
“Yes!” he cheered. “Can we get pizza tonight? Pretty please?”
Laughing, I straightened up and ruffled his hair. “I think that can be arranged. Race you to the car!”
Roland took off like a shot. I followed close behind, determined to soak up the carefree moments as they came, George’s menacing shadow be damned. One way or another, I would give my son the life he deserved.
Half an hour later, I settled at the kitchen table, laptop open and ready, as Ro’s laughter echoed from the backyard. I logged into my remote programming course, reveling in the normalcy of it all.
It had been ages since I’d flexed my coding muscles for anything beyond a basic internet search.
But as my fingers flew across the keys, muscle memory took over, and the thrill of problem-solving came back to me.
Line by line, the assignment took shape, variables and functions slotting neatly into place.
The outside world fell away. For a precious hour, the worries about George and uprooting Ro yet again faded into the background. In their place was the sheer joy of creating something from nothing, of mastering a skill that was mine and mine alone.
As I typed the final line of code for the assignment, a glance at the clock jolted me back to reality. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for my visit with Noah. Hitting save, I closed the laptop with a satisfied snap.
“Ro,” I called, waiting for the telltale thump of sneakers on grass. “Grandpa Sam will be here any minute. Make sure you’ve got everything you need for your sleepover.”
“I’m on it, Mom!”
Shaking my head, I went to change. Life might be unpredictable, but there were still pockets of contentment. We were getting back on track. I’d code until my fingers bled to get my career up and running to provide Ro with the stability we both craved.
Noah’s warm smile flashed through my thoughts. First, though, I had to see the alpha about my son’s future.
When I was halfway up the stairs, a knock at the door made my blood freeze, but only for a split second. “Hey, Zoey, I’m here for my favorite grandson!” Sam called out.
I hurried to the living room, smoothing my hair as I went. “Sam, you’re early. Come on in.”
Sam stepped inside, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. “Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t wait to see the little rascal.”
“Not at all. Ro,” I called over my shoulder. “Grandpa Sam is here.”
Ro burst into the room, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Grandpa!” He launched himself at Sam, who caught him in a bear hug.
“There’s my boy. Ready for some epic adventures?” Sam ruffled Ro’s hair affectionately.
“You bet.” Ro pumped his fist in the air. “We’re gonna have the best time ever.”
As they headed for the door, Ro suddenly spun around. “Wait. Where are you going? Why can’t I come with you?”
I crouched in front of him and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. “Remember, sweetie? I told you earlier that I’m going to my self-defense class, then seeing Noah tonight.”
Ro’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “But I wanna see Noah, too. He promised to teach me some cool new boxing moves. What if Noah says I can’t be a boxer or be in his pack anymore, Mom? Will I always have to hear Dad talking in my head?”
My heart clenched at the fear in his eyes. “Noah would never do that, Ro. If he says George can’t communicate with you like that anymore once you’re fully part of the pack, he means it.”
Seeking confirmation, I glanced at Sam, who nodded. The grip of fear that had taken hold of my heart lessened. George wouldn’t be able to manipulate Ro.
I squeezed his shoulder. “I promise I’ll talk to Noah about setting up your next lesson. But tonight, it’s just going to be the grown-ups, okay?”
Ro kicked at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “Okay, I guess.”
Sam clapped a hand on Ro’s back. “Hey, champ. What do you say we swing by the ice cream shop on the way home? I hear they’ve got a new flavor that’ll knock your socks off.”
Ro’s face instantly brightened. “Really? Can we, Mom? Please?”
I laughed at his hopeful face. “Oh, all right. But just one scoop, you hear? I don’t want you bouncing off the walls all night.”
“You got it.” Ro grabbed Sam’s hand, practically dragging him out the door. “Let’s go, Grandpa, before all the ice cream melts.”
As their laughter faded down the walkway, I leaned against the doorframe, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. Ro’s resilience never ceased to amaze me. If only I could bounce back so easily from life’s curveballs.
But dwelling on the past wouldn’t change it. All I could do was keep moving forward, one day at a time. And right now, that meant facing the man who made my heart race and my palms sweat.
Ready or not, Noah Alexander, here I come.
“Mom, wait!” Ro stopped me just as I was about to head out the door. He ran back to me. “Your guards are going with you, right? They’ll keep you safe?”
I gave him a side hug. “Yes, honey. They’ll be with me the whole time.”
Ro’s bottom lip trembled. “But... it didn’t matter before. Dad still got through Noah’s guards. What if he tries again?”