“Give this to your father.”
Jacob smirked, crumpled the note without looking at it, and tossed it in his backpack. “Yeah, sure.”
That night, he didn’t bother handing his dad the note. He figured it was just another complaint, something his dad would ignore like always.
But this time, Mr. Reynolds wasn’t waiting on his father.
This time, he called.
The next morning, jacob walked into class, ready for another day of torment. But the moment he stepped through the door, he froze.
At the front of the room, standing next to Mr. Reynolds, was his father.
Mark Carter wasn’t a small man. Years of working in construction had made him broad-shouldered and intimidating. His face was unreadable, but the quiet intensity in his eyes sent a chill down Jacob’s spine
Take a seat, son,” Mark said, his voice low.
acob hesitated, glancing at his friends. He wanted to play it cool, but something about his dad’s tone told him not to push it. He sat down, suddenly feeling smaller than ever.
Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “Mr. Carter and l had a conversation last night. lt seems he wasn’t aware ofyour… behavior in this class.”
Mark folded his arms. “Yeah. Turns out, my son has been acting like a little punk. That right, Jacob?”
Jacob swallowed hard. He’d never heard his father talk like this before-disappointed, angry, but most of all,serious.
