I didn’t leave the school immediately. It was just past four o’clock, and Leon would be out in less than an hour. Since it was Friday, Allen was originally supposed to pick him up. Now that I was here, I might as well wait and take him home, saving Allen the trip.
I wandered around the school for a bit. When I reached the school bulletin board, I saw several teachers posting something. Curious, I waited until they left and went over to look. It was a display of outstanding student essays. I read through them one by one; they were quite good. When I got to the eighth-grade section, the first essay posted was by Leon. The title was “My Mother”.
Not narcissistic enough to think he wrote about me, his stepmother, I was still curious about his view of his biological mother. I read it carefully. The essay, about a thousand words long, first described how others saw his mother, then his own perspective on her—disagreement mixed with understanding, contradiction and pain intertwined with gratitude and warmth. It was a good essay. The kid had some literary talent.
After finishing about thirty essays, I saw it was almost time. I strolled slowly back to the teaching building. The building had three floors; the eighth-grade classrooms were on the second floor. I waited by the nearest stairwell.
Five minutes later, the bell rang, and students poured out of the classrooms. I sent a message to Leon’s smartwatch, telling him I was waiting by the stairwell. But after waiting over ten minutes, when the flow of students had almost stopped, he still hadn’t appeared. I decided to go to his classroom.
When I reached the classroom door, I saw him inside talking to a girl. The girl was asking him, “Leon, I lost my meal card. Could I borrow yours?”
Leon replied, “My card has no money.”
The girl said, “That’s okay, I can add money to it.”
Leon’s tone was a bit harsh: “Can’t you just pay cash for your meal?”
The girl, almost in tears, pouted and said, “I’ll add money to your card for you, you can’t just not eat…”
Leon pushed her away impatiently: “None of your business!” He grabbed his backpack and headed out, only noticing me when he reached the door.
I smiled at him, showing no embarrassment at having been caught eavesdropping. Leon said coldly, “Move.”
First, I told him, “I’ve arranged with your dad; I’m picking you up today.” Then, I half-turned to the girl behind him and asked, “Want to grab a bite together?”
The girl blushed and stammered a refusal, “N-no, thank you, Auntie. I need to go home.” Without waiting for my response, she hurried past us and left.
Watching the girl disappear, I said to the silent Leon, “Come home with me, save your dad another trip.” Without waiting for his answer, I turned and walked away.
My car was parked on the roadside opposite the school, a conspicuous blue one. After about five minutes, Leon opened the door and got in. Instead of going straight home, I first drove to a nearby shopping mall.
Leon asked discontentedly, “What are you doing now?”
I replied, “I’m hungry. We’ll eat first, then go home.”
The mall was large and crowded, with many parents and children out for dinner after work and school. I chose a less crowded Italian restaurant. It was probably Leon’s first time in such a place. He studied the menu for a long time, finally picking a few expensive combo meals. After ordering, he pushed the menu back to me with a challenging look.
I glanced through it briefly and immediately understood his expectation. Disappointing him, I simply checked off the pasta I wanted for myself and handed the menu to the server, instructing them to proceed with our selections.
The server hesitated: “Just the two of you? This might be more than you can finish…”
I smiled: “It’s fine, just bring it all.”
Disappointed that his attempt to annoy me had failed, Leon seemed deflated. Perhaps due to the low crowd, the food came quickly. Soon, the table was filled with dishes. I placed my pasta in front of me and said to Leon before starting, “Eat up. Don’t waste food.”
Leon snorted but didn’t reply. The pasta portion was small; I finished it in just over ten minutes. By then, Leon had only just finished one appetizer. Not in a hurry, I took out my laptop from my bag and started reviewing documents.
Half an hour later, Leon seemed full and began making conversation: “Do you ever get angry?”
I looked up, unsure what incident he referred to, and simply said, “Educating you isn’t my responsibility.”
Leon poked at the food on his plate with his fork: “Just as I thought, a stepmother.” It was hard to explain, so I just smiled and remained silent.
The room was quiet for a while, then he asked, “Why did you marry my dad? My mom says my dad is a loser, and no one but her would marry him.”
Seeing he seemed to want to talk, I put down my laptop.
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