Dietary instructions.
It requested that Nia be denied standard cafeteria meals unless she presented written approval from a parent because she was supposedly participating in a “medically supervised nutritional restriction program.”
At the bottom:
Andre Carter
His signature.
Andre stared.
He knew every curve of his own signature.
He knew because he wrote it dozens of times each month.
This was close.
Very close.
But he had not signed it.
“I never signed this.”
Vanessa swallowed.
Andre looked toward Nia.
His daughter’s face crumpled.
“She told the school you did.”
Andre felt the room tilt.
“She said if I asked them for lunch, they’d call you and you’d be disappointed.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
Andre turned toward her.
“What did you do?”
“Andre, we need to discuss this privately.”
“No.”
“Not in front of the children.”
“You did it in front of the children.”
“That is different.”
“Explain the petition.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Andre stepped closer.
“Explain it.”
Her eyes filled.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me.”
“Nia is going to control millions of dollars someday.”
Silence.
Caleb looked up.
Ava stopped crying.
Nia stared.
Andre’s voice became almost inaudible.
“What does that have to do with feeding her?”
Vanessa looked toward Nia.
Then back at him.
“Everything.”
Andre did not shout.
That frightened Vanessa more.
He set the phone down carefully.
“Kids.”
Nobody moved.
Andre looked toward Caleb.
“Take Ava upstairs.”
Caleb hesitated.
“Dad—”
“Go.”
Then he looked at Nia.
“You stay.”
Vanessa snapped:
“No.”
Andre turned.
“What?”
“You said this shouldn’t happen in front of the children.”
“You’re right.”
He looked at Nia.
“Baby, go upstairs with them.”
Nia’s face filled with panic.
“Dad.”
“I’m not sending you away.”
Her breathing quickened.
Andre recognized fear again.
“I promise.”
He touched her shoulder.
“I’m coming upstairs in five minutes.”
“What if—”
She looked toward Vanessa.
Andre understood.
He stepped between them.
“She is not touching you.”
Nia nodded.
Then followed Caleb and Ava upstairs.
Andre waited until he heard the bedroom door close.
Then he turned.
Vanessa was already speaking.
“You have to let me explain.”
“I’m listening.”
She looked toward the staircase.
“Not here.”
“Here.”
“Andre.”
“Explain why you forged my signature.”
Vanessa’s shoulders tightened.
“I did not forge anything.”
Andre held up the phone.
“Then who did?”
“I filled out the form for you because you were traveling.”
“That is forging my signature.”
“You sign school forms all the time.”
“Not this one.”
“You would have agreed if you understood the situation.”
Andre laughed once.