Read Online This Raging Light by Estelle Laure - Free Book Online Page B

on. Her indiscernible chin has gotten even less discernible, and she wears a pageboy haircut that went out of style, like, thirty years ago.
    â€œAh.” She scoots from behind her desk and proffers a bony hug. “Lucille Bennett. It has been a spell, hasn’t it?” She’s originally from Georgia, and the accent has stuck. Her teeth are yellower than I remember. Aging looks like it sucks. “Have a seat, please.”
    I do.
    â€œYou’ll always be nine to me, I suppose.” She gives me a head-to-toe that is only acceptable because she was once my teacher. “You are turning into a beautiful woman.”
She said “woman” to me. Gross.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
    â€œI’m okay,” I mumble. “Senior year and everything.”
    â€œYou’re a senior?” Shakes her head. Her hair does not move. “What happens to the time? Do you have big college plans?”
    I have no college plans.
    â€œI’m thinking about a gap year,” I say.
    There is a definite uneasy pause, like she’s waiting for me to explain myself, which I am not going to do.
    â€œSo there was something about Wren?” I don’t mean to be rude, but being in this classroom gives me the heebies.
    â€œYes.” Mrs. LaRouche startles back to the papers in her hand. “Of course. I’m sorry your mother couldn’t come today. This is rather important, I think.”
    I will hold it together no matter what she says. I am strong.
    â€œYeah, her hours got all changed around. It’s a mess. Some nursing politics.” The nursing lie spins and spins.
    â€œAll right, well, she said it was fine with her if I share this with you, so let’s talk.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œLet me begin by saying that your sister is a remarkable child.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œShe is far more developed than her classmates in a variety of areas. Science, for instance, and math.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œShe also has excellent verbal skills. Did you know that Wren is currently reading at a ninth grade level?”
    I should start reading out loud to her on my nights off. I should do a lot of things.
    â€œQuite frankly,” she goes on, “if it were up to me, she would move forward and skip a grade. She seems unchallenged by the curriculum, and she simply breezes through her work.”
    â€œThat’s all good news, right?” I say.
    â€œAh, well.” Mrs. LaRouche removes her glasses and allows them to fall on their chain around her neck. She looks at me square. “Yes, all of that is good, but I do have some concerns.”
    â€œOkay,” I say.
    â€œWren appears extremely anxious, especially recently.” She hands me a paper.
    I have a stomachache.
    â€œShe has requested lately to sit away from the other children. She complains that noise bothers her.” She points to a desk in the corner. “That’s where she likes to spend her time. She’s rather good-natured about it, but she is isolating herself. I’m simply worried that Wren is disappearing into her own world, not engaging with the other students, and I’d like to make our school counseling services available to her, if that’s all right.”
    â€œFor what, exactly?” I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. “What good would that do?”
    â€œThere has been,” she says gently, “a lot of change for Wren in the past few months.” She sighs. “I really would have preferred to speak to your mother about all of this. It must be difficult for all three of you.”
    â€œWe’re fine,” I say, then think of what an adult would want to hear. “We’re in an adjustment period.”
    â€œYes, well, I’d like to show you something.” She hands me a piece of paper, Wren’s writing all over it, the pink pen, the curly letters, the hearts over the
i
s.
    â€œShould I read it?”
    â€œPlease,” she