"Hey, Meg." You pause when Katie calls your name, juggling phone, keys, and a bag of paperwork while attempting to clock in. "You've got a new case coming in. Kid's moving from New York in a week or so. Dad's a politician. I left her case file on your desk."
You nod her thanks but inwardly groan. Around here, politicians usually mean difficult-to-please helicopter moms, and mid-year transfers have enough problems settling down.
At midmorning break - the first chance to look over the new case file, to familiarize yourself with the treatment plan before the student arrives - you flip open the folder.
Penny Kirkman, five years old, moving from Port Washington, Long Island, New York. Being treated for a bad lateral lisp and a few missing consonants. Current therapist is using a standard protocol, judging by session notes. Okay. Now about the family.
You turn a couple of pages. There. One brother, nine years older. Mom's a high-powered immigration lawyer. And then your eyebrows shoot up. Penny's dad is a former college professor, architect, and urban planner. And the new Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. Okay then. That'll be the highest-profile parent in the school. Considering her parents' professions, she's probably a spoiled-raised-by-nannies-kid.
Penny moved in and started school ten days later, and she's anything but spoiled.
And her family is not what you expected, either.
Penny's about to skip out the door at the end of her session when you stop her.
"Tell your Mom or Dad to give me a call tonight. We need to set up a meeting to discuss how great you're doing." It'll probably be her dad. In the past three years, Mrs. Kirkman has personally come to progress meeting maybe five times - she's usually phoned in - but the Secretary is always there. They both obviously love their daughter very much, but who would have guessed that an immigration attorney has a busier and less flexible schedule than a member of the President's cabinet?
She frowns adorably. "Dad's got the State of the Union tonight, and I think Mom is going with him this time."
"Then tomorrow night is fine. Don't worry about it," you reassure her. "Thanks for passing on the message, Penny."
Neither Kirkman parent calls that week.
School starts up again a few days after the Capitol bombing. A couple of your cases - children of Congressmen, mostly - are absent.
Penny is there, though, along with two Secret Service agents that scrutinize everyone entering the building, and one outside her classroom, following at a distance. It's a bit surreal.
Later that week, you're informed that the First Lady's office is waiting for you on Line 8. First Lady? Huh? You're momentarily confused. Oh, right, Penny's mom. That's weird. You pick up, and the staffer on the other end transfers the call to Mrs. Kirkman.
"Hey, Meg. Penny tells me I was supposed to call and schedule a meeting over a week ago. Sorry for the delay. Our family life has been a bit hectic this week." She let out a soft, ironic laugh.
You halfway smile into the phone, "I won't pretend to understand, but I can try to imagine. Ma'am." You tack the last word on hastily.
"Thank you... um, I can come in with Penny in the morning, if that works for you?"
"Ma'am, we can do it over the phone."
"No, n- I don't want Penny being treated differently than before, um, as much as possible. So I'd like to come to you. I hope you'll understand if Tom - if Penny's dad doesn't come?"
And - right. There it is. Secretary Kirkman, the quiet, polite man from Penny's past progress meetings - is now the President of the United States. "Of course, it's fine. We'll see you tomorrow, Ma'am. Thank you."
You hang up the phone and rest your chin in your hands for a moment. That's going to be an interesting meeting.
It's a historic moment when Peter MacLeish is sworn in as Vice President several weeks later. Mrs. Murray decides to let the upper grades watch it live. Plus Penny Kirkman. You go along with some of the other support staff to watch in the auditorium with the students.
When shots ring out forty-five seconds after the Vice Presidential Oath is administered, someone quickly cuts the stream. But not before a small blonde girl in the front row has seen her parents collapse on the steps of the Capitol. The room goes eerily silent. Penny's wide-eyed and blinking back tears, biting her lip and twisting her hands together. No one knows what to tell her as her Secret Service agent hurries her out of the room; they meet up with the other bodyguards as he's calling for back up to bring Peanut back to Castle.
She doesn't come to school the next few days.
When Penny does come back, it's with four bodyguards inside the building, following her around, and two outside. When she comes to your room for speech, one of the agents stands silently in the back. You're pleased that the stress her family's under has not caused her to regress much, but she looks stifled.
You're glad when you get a call from the First Lady's Office, asking you to coordinate with a tutor who will be teaching Penny in Camp David. Fresh air and freedom will do her a world of good.