They moved into the front room. Sunlight touched the hardwood and picture frames—Oliver at the beach with his mother, Oliver at a piano recital, a baby sleeping on Richard’s chest. Richard remembered those Saturdays when he muted calls just to feel his son’s heartbeat against him.
The Truth Comes Out
Richard sat opposite his son and softened his voice. “I’m listening.”
“It happened during reading circle,” Grace said. “Two boys teased Ollie for reading slowly. He stood up for himself—and for another boy they were teasing too. A fight started. That’s how he got the bruise. The teacher stepped in.”
Richard’s jaw tightened. “Bullying. Why wasn’t I called?”
Oliver’s shoulders rose. Grace spoke gently. “The school called Mrs. Lawson. She asked me to go, since you had your presentation. She didn’t want to trouble you.”
Frustration stirred. Amelia always made decisions like this—protective but infuriating. “Where is she now?”
“Stuck in traffic,” Grace replied.
“And what did the school say? Is Oliver in trouble?”
“Not in trouble,” Grace explained. “They suggested a follow-up. They also recommended an evaluation for dyslexia. I think it would help.”
Richard blinked. “Dyslexia?”
Oliver spoke so quietly Richard almost missed it. “Sometimes words look like puzzle pieces. Grace helps me.”
The Courage Points Notebook
Richard stared at his son. He remembered bath times, Lego cities, restless homework. He had noticed the pauses but brushed them aside. Had he been blind?
Grace pulled out a worn notebook. “We’ve been practicing with rhythm—clapping syllables, reading to a beat. Music helps.”
Inside were neat notes, doodles, milestones: Read three pages without help. Asked for new chapter. Spoke up in class. At the top, written in Oliver’s uneven hand: Courage Points.
Something loosened in Richard. “You’ve been doing all this?”
“We’ve been doing it,” Grace said, nodding at Oliver.
“The school thinks I shouldn’t fight,” Oliver blurted. “But Ben was crying. They made him read out loud and he mixed up b and d. I know how that feels.”
Richard swallowed. The bruise was nothing compared to the bravery it marked. “I’m proud you stood up for him,” he said. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Amelia Arrives
The front door opened. Amelia stepped in, her perfume soft like gardenias. She froze. “Richard, I—”
“Don’t hold back,” Richard cut her off, too quickly. Amelia flinched. He steadied his breath. “No, don’t hold back. Tell me why I had to find out like this.”
She set her bag down carefully. “Because last time I told you about school on your big day, you didn’t speak to me for an hour. You said I distracted you. I thought I was protecting you from yourself.”
Her words hit hard. Richard remembered the rushed tie, the sharp remark he regretted. He looked at Oliver tracing his Courage Points notebook.
“I was wrong,” Amelia admitted. “Grace has been wonderful, but you’re Oliver’s father. You should have been the first call.”
