“They used an app that searches your social media for the words ‘kill myself’ or ‘kill yourself.’ It even searched her texts and emails, like, if she said KMS in a text it meant, kill myself. KYS is kill yourself.” Anna frowned. “I don’t think they had the right to do that. They invaded her privacy.”
“I guess sometimes you have to protect your child from herself.”
“But maybe if they hadn’t pushed her, she wouldn’t have left school.” Anna looked at the high school as they rounded the curve. “Do you think I’m too dressed up?”
“No, you look great.” Maggie glanced over, and Anna had on one of her new boho dresses, a flowy affair in dark blues. Her brownish hair swung shiny to her shoulders, complementing her lovely blue eyes.
“It was dumb to dress up. I look like a tryhard.”
“What does that mean?” Maggie smiled. “I try hard.”
“It means you’re thirsty.”
“I’m thirsty, too!” Maggie said, and they both laughed. She turned into the entrance, steered toward the parking lot, pulled in, and they walked to the school, which was modern and newly renovated, with tan stone and four large panels of glass above an overhang for the main entrance.
Anna looking this way and that. “That must be the student lot. I can’t wait to go car shopping.”
“We will, in time.” Maggie had forgotten to talk to Anna aboutthe new car. They entered the school’s bright entrance room, with its large black rug that read LM in maroon letters, then went to the main office, another large, bright room with a long counter of light wood. The school staff worked on sleek desks behind the counter, and a waiting room held maroon-padded chairs organized in a square.
They went to the counter, and a blond staff member approached them with a smile. “May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Maggie Ippoliti, and I have an appointment to register my daughter, Anna Desroches.”
“Great, Maggie.” The staffer turned to Anna. “Anna, I’m Judy, and welcome to Lower Merion. Did you bring your papers?”
“I did, right here.” Maggie dug in her purse and extracted a thick folder of documents that James had emailed them. “Here’s her immunization records, transcript, Social Security card and birth certificate, and bills showing proof of residence. I also filled out the Parental Registration Statement.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll get these photocopied.” Judy took the folder and turned to Anna. “We’ll get you into classes tomorrow. I’m going to introduce you to your guidance counselor, and she’ll go over your schedule with you, then give you a quick tour.”
“That sounds great.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said, then they were taken down a hallway blanketed with colorful college pennants to the Guidance Center to meet Brittany Holt, a young brunette in a Lilly Pulitzer dress. Brittany’s office was covered with inspirational posters and a metal rack of pamphlets: Straight Talk for Teens About Alcohol, 37 Scary But True Facts About Drugs, and When Is It Rape? Maggie eyed the titles, realizing that she had a whole new list of things to worry about, while Brittany and Anna talked about her course schedule.
When they were finished, Brittany stood up. “If you have time, I’d like to show you around.”
“Sure, thank you,” Anna answered, and Maggie followed them out of the office and into the large hallway area packed with students plugged into iPhones and carrying backpacks, purses, and gear bags.
Brittany nodded. “This is a really busy time, changing from A lunch to B lunch. The bus schedule determines our hours, and the high school gets the earliest pick-up.”
“My old school was much smaller.” Anna scanned the scene, nervously.
“Are you planning on taking the bus or driving, Anna?”
“Driving.”
“Then you’ll need a parking permit. You can apply for one in the office.” Brittany turned to Maggie. “Don’t let our size worry you, as a parent. Even though we have a lot of students, we have an excellent student–teacher ratio.”
“That’s great.” Maggie smiled, and Brittany led the way past a collage with scenes of the school, which read Enter To Learn, Go Forth To Serve next to a placard of a bulldog, the school mascot. Students checked Anna out, but she looked down. Brittany pointed out the gorgeous Bryant Gymnasium donated by the basketball-playing alum Kobe Bryant, then the well-appointed library, display cases of trophies, and a banner that read Governor’s Award for Excellence in Academics. The tour ended at the cafeteria, which was massive, with students laughing, talking, and eating at long gray tables, between two all-glass walls.
“Oh, there’s those girls fromPhrases.” Anna pointed at one of the tables, and Maggie saw a table of three girls, all wearing funky clothes like the ones at Circa. She recognized the girl in the middle from the Facebook picture.
Brittany glanced at her phone. “There’s still ten minutes. Let’s take a peek inside, shall we?”
Maggie nodded. “Great idea. Anna, you can say hi to those girls, introduce yourself.”
“No, thanks,” Anna answered quickly. “I don’t want to go in.”
Maggie looked over. “You sure, honey? I’d like to.”
