Page 44 of Breaking Rules

Now, I saw that the way I had done things had been wrong, but I had no way of stopping what I had put into motion.

“I’ll leave,” I said, “but I’m going to speak to Principal McKenna about this. Evanne is smart, and there’s no reason she should have done so poorly on a piece of homework.”

Lumen’s eyes flashed. “I always give my students the chance to ask questions, and if Evanne doesn’t understand something, she asks. I can’t read minds.”

“Then how do you explain the mistakes?”

“I wasn’t there when she did the work,” Lumen reminded me. “I encourage my students to ask for help from their parents for homework. If she doesn’t ask for help–”

“She did!” I snapped. “She asked for my help!”

And that was when it hit me.

Fuck.

The blood drained from my face as I remembered sitting down Friday evening to help Evanne with her math homework.

Without a calculator.

I put out my hand to steady myself as the enormity of what I’d done hit me. This went far beyond Evanne getting poor marks on homework – which was bad enough – but I had said so many hurtful things to a woman who had done nothing but love and care for my daughter from the moment they’d first met.

“Alec?”

The concern in Lumen’s voice made me look up.

“You look like you’re going to pass out.” She gestured to a nearby chair. “Sit. The last thing I need is you to fall, bash your head, then sue me on top of everything else.”

I didn’t tell her that would never happen. Instead, I sat down. I needed to tell her the truth. It was the only way I could possibly begin to make up for what I had just done. I just didn’t know if I could manage to stand while doing it. I wasn’t simply humiliated, I was sick to my stomach, to borrow an American phrase.

“I helped her,” I admitted quietly. I kept my gaze on the floor. “She asked for help and explained that you didn’t want them to use calculators, which meant I couldn’t use one.”

Lumen came close enough for me to see her bare feet.

I closed my eyes and revealed something no one outside of my family knew. “I’m dyslexic. I can barely read or do math without a calculator or computer program.”

Twenty-Eight

Lumen

I had to admit,out of all the possible things I could have imagined Alec saying, this wasn’t even close to being on my radar. As soon as he said it, however, so many things made a lot more sense, not the least of which were Evanne’s homework issue and Alec’s irritation at going to a new restaurant for dinner.

“I struggled in primary school,” he continued, the internal struggle he still felt coming out in his voice. “But I hid it well enough that I was nearly seven before Ma realized what was wrong. She helped me until she passed, and that year, the teachers felt for me enough they were laxer than they would have been otherwise.”

He’d been Evanne’s age when his mother died, I realized suddenly. I couldn’t imagine having a student in my class who not only lost his mother but had five younger siblings to help out with as well.

“When we moved to San Ramon, Da enrolled us in a good private school, one that had specialty tracks for kids like me. I had a teacher there, Mr. Woodard, who taught me how to use the parts of my intelligence that were above average to not only get by, but to excel.”

This was the most I’d ever heard Alec say at once, and certainly more than he’d ever told me about himself. The walls he’d used to keep me out were crumbling.

“By the time I was ready for grade nine, I transferred to the mainstream track with the rest of my siblings and graduated at the top of my class. I went to college, and no one there knew about my…issues. Then I received my degree, and Da made me a part of MIRI, and still, no one knew.” He raised his head and finally let his eyes meet mine. “When Evanne was born, I bought the audio versions of the five most popular kids’ books and memorized them. Every year, I’d memorize more, all so I could pretend to read to my daughter.”

When he’d said his family was the only ones who knew, I’d assumed that had included Keli and Evanne, but now, I didn’t think that was the case.

“I’ve been so careful,” he said, “but helping Evanne with her homework wasn’t something I had time to plan for, not to this extent, anyway. The math sheet on Friday caught me off-guard, and I didn’t know what to do except hope for the best.” He rubbed his jaw, anguish in his eyes. “I never imagined it would come to this.”

“You have to tell Evanne,” I said softly.

“I can’t.” His tone was almost pleading. “How can I tell my daughter that I’m the reason her answers were wrong, and it was all because I can barely read?”