Chapter 3: Don't Bully My Mom!
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I clutched my dinosaur plushie and pretended to sleep while secretly listening. Mom thought I was out cold, so she paced the living room floor. Her heart kept switching between "This isn't fair!" and "What can I possibly do?" like a lost little bird fluttering around.
I made up my mind right then—I had to do something.
Next morning, Mom announced she needed to go to her company to submit her final designs and make one last appeal. She planned to drop me at Mrs. Hoffman's place.
I shook my head wildly, like one of those bobblehead toys.
"No, Mom! I want to come with you!" I grabbed the edge of her shirt, planting my feet firmly.
"Leo, sweetie, an office isn't a place for children," Mom tried to reason with me.
"I need to protect you!" I stood on tiptoes, trying to look as serious as possible. "I made a promise yesterday that nobody gets to bully you!"
Mom stared at me, speechless. Finally, she knelt down and cupped my cheek. I heard her thinking: [My sweet, silly little man… Well, maybe having him there will give me some extra courage.]
She finally nodded. Yes! Phase one of Operation Protect Mom: complete!
Mom's company lives in a super tall gray building that looks like a giant shoebox standing on end. Inside, lots of grown-ups wear fancy "armor" (Mom calls them "suits"), and their shiny shoes go click-clack on the floor like they're all heading to a royal ball.
I grip Mom's hand tight and tune in to all the heart-voices around us.
[That traffic was absolute murder this morning…]
[Boss's tie is crooked AGAIN. It's driving me crazy…]
[Salad or burger for lunch? Ugh, decisions are THE WORST…]
Huh. Grown-ups have a lot of silly worries too.
We reach a door with "Design Department" on it. The room is full of people, and that's when I spot her.
The lady called "Brenda."
She's pretty, with bright red lips and bouncy black curls. She smells like flowers. When she sees us, her face breaks into a huge, sparkly smile.
"Oh, Claire! You made it! And you brought your adorable little boy!" She rushes over, hand already reaching to pat my head.
I duck behind Mom's legs. Because while her face is all smiles, her heart is making nasty faces at my mother.
[The nerve of her showing up! Stubborn little nobody. Dragging her kid along for the sympathy vote? Pathetic. Well, in about two minutes, she'll be completely finished here.]
This lady's heart is like broken glass—cold, sharp, and dangerous.
Mom has no idea about any of this. She nervously hands her designs to a bearded man—the art director. Meanwhile, Brenda glides toward us with a coffee cup, still wearing that fake smile.
Her pointy shoes go tap-tap-tap on the floor, each step making my heart beat faster with worry.
I zero in on the coffee cup in her hand, watching the dark liquid swirl dangerously. In her mind, I hear a countdown getting louder.
[Just a bit closer… perfect… now I just need to "accidentally" spill this all over her precious drawings… Let's see her make that deadline now!]
Her thoughts turn nasty, like a snake getting ready to strike.
No way! I can't let her do this!
Just as Brenda gets within striking distance of Mom, I launch myself like a human cannonball straight at her!
I wrap myself around her leg, hanging on with every bit of strength in my little body.
She wobbles, letting out a startled "Oh!" Suddenly, everyone in the room is staring at us.
I look up at her shocked face and, in my loudest, clearest, most innocent voice, I shout:
"Miss Lady! Your heart is saying you want to do something mean! My teacher says people who think mean things get BLACK TONGUES!"
Time freezes.
The office goes so quiet you could hear an ant sneeze. Brenda's face changes from surprise to anger to panic in three seconds flat. She opens her mouth to yell at me—almost like she's trying to prove her tongue isn't actually black.
And in that exact moment, her grip on the coffee cup fails. SPLASH! Hot coffee cascades down her fancy white dress, not a single drop missing its target!
"EEEEEK!" she shrieks.
The office explodes into chaos! I hear thoughts firing from every direction:
[Holy cow! Did that kid just read her mind?!]
[Best office drama EVER! I always knew Brenda was shady!]
[That's a $600 dress… well, karma's a real thing, isn't it?]
Brenda gapes at the massive brown stain spreading across her white dress, then at all the staring eyes around her. Her face turns tomato-red, like she might actually explode. She points a shaking finger at me, too furious to form words.
Mom looks absolutely mortified. She yanks me behind her and starts apologizing frantically.
The bearded art director walks over, looking from coffee-soaked Brenda to me with the strangest expression.
He picks up Mom's designs—completely dry and safe—and says to Brenda: "You should go clean up." Then he turns to Mom: "Claire, I think I need to take another, closer look at your work."
Brenda storms off, leaving wet footprints.
Mom grabs my hand and we make a quick escape from the battlefield.
On the way home, Mom is silent, but I can tell she's not mad. Her thoughts are all jumbled—scared, shocked, and also… just a tiny bit amused.
As for me, I catch the bearded director's parting thoughts:
[That kid… kids do say the darndest things, but Brenda's reaction was pretty telling. Maybe I've been unfair to Claire… I should really give these designs a proper review without any bias.]
Hehe.
Hidden behind Mom, I make a secret victory sign with my fingers.
Mission: totally accomplished!
