I never thought I'd be the kind of mother who follows her child, but when I discovered she'd been lying to me, that's exactly what I did.
Emily is 14. Her dad, Mark, and I split up years ago. He's the guy who remembers your favorite ice cream but forgets to sign permission slips or book appointments. Mark is all heart but no organization, and I couldn't carry it all by myself anymore.
I thought Emily had adjusted well.
But the terrible teens have a way of bringing problems to the surface.
I discovered she'd been lying to me.
Emily seemed like her usual self.
She was a bit quieter, maybe a little more glued to her phone than usual, a bit overly fond of wearing oversized hoodies that covered half her face, but nothing that screamed "crisis."
She left for school every morning at 7:30 a.m. Her grades were good, and when I asked how school was going, she always said it was fine.
Then I got a phone call from the school.
When I asked how school was going, she always said it was fine.
I answered right away. I assumed she had a fever or forgot her gym shoes.
"This is Mrs. Carter, Emily's homeroom teacher. I wanted to check in because Emily has been absent all week."
I almost laughed; it was just so out of character for my Emily.
"That can't be right." I pushed back from my desk. "She leaves the house every morning. I watch her walk out the door."
There was a long, heavy beat of silence.
"She leaves the house every morning. I watch her walk out the door."
"No," Mrs. Carter said. "She hasn't been in any of her classes since Monday."
"Monday… okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll talk to her."
I hung up the phone and sat there. My daughter had been pretending to go to school all week… where had she really been going?
When Emily came home that evening, I was waiting for her.
"How was school, Em?" I asked.
When Emily came home that evening, I was waiting for her.
"The usual," she replied. "I got a whole ton of math homework, and History is so boring."
"And what about your friends?"
She stiffened.
"Em?"
Emily rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?"
She stomped off to her room, and I watched her go. She'd been lying for four days, so I figured a direct confrontation would just make her dig a deeper hole.
I needed a different approach.
She'd been lying for four days.
***
The next morning, I went through the motions.
I watched her walk away down the driveway. Then, I ran for the car. I parked a short distance from the bus stop and watched her get on the bus. Nothing concerning so far.
So, I followed the bus. When it hissed to a stop in front of the high school, a sea of teenagers poured out. Emily was among them.
But as the crowd flowed toward the heavy double doors of the building, she peeled off.
I watched her walk away down the driveway.
She lingered by the bus stop sign.
What are you doing? I soon got my answer.
An old pickup truck rolled up to the curb. It was rusted around the wheel wells and had a dent in the tailgate. Emily yanked the passenger door open and hopped in.
My pulse turned into a drum solo against my ribs. My first instinct was to call the authorities. I was reaching for my phone… but she'd smiled when she saw the truck, and he'd climbed in willingly.
The truck pulled away. I followed them.
Emily yanked the passenger door open and hopped in.
Maybe I was overreacting, but even if Emily wasn't in danger, she was still skipping school, and I needed to know why.
They drove toward the outskirts of town, where the strip malls give way to quiet parks. They eventually pulled into a gravel lot near the lake.
"If I'm about to catch you skipping school to be with a boyfriend you haven't told me about…" I growled as I pulled into the lot behind them.
I parked a short distance away, and that's when I saw the driver.
They drove toward the outskirts of town.
"You have got to be kidding me!"
I was out of my car so fast that I didn't even close the door behind me.
I marched toward the pickup truck. Emily saw me first. She was laughing at something he'd said, but her smile dropped the moment we made eye contact.
I marched up to the driver's side window and rapped my knuckles against the glass.
Slowly, the window lowered.
"You have got to be kidding me!"
"Hey, Zoe, what are you doing—"
"Following you." I braced my hands against the door. "What are you doing? Emily is supposed to be in school, and why on earth are you driving this? Where's your Ford?"
"Well, I took it to the panel beater, but they didn't—"
I sharply raised my hand. "Emily first. Why are you helping her cut school? You're her father, Mark, you should know better."
Emily leaned forward. "I asked him to, Mom. It wasn't his idea."
"But he still went along with it. What are you two up to?"
"Why are you helping her cut school?"
