I of the Storm: Chapter 5

I patted my wig for the 16th time. Stop being so intimidated! my voice of reason chided. She’s a regular wife and mother, not some demigod!

So why did it feel like I was about to walk the gauntlet?

“Mrs. Shafer?” a high-pitched voice had said over the phone last week. “Our principal would like to meet with you, along with our educational team. Shira’s morah has, um, expressed, um, concerns about her ability to focus.”

It’s okay, I wanted to reassure the quaking 19-year-old, a secretary in charcoal tights who smiled so much you wondered if her buccinators got charley horse. You aren’t breaking an earth-shattering story.