"Hello," Becky Healy walked up to the school secretary's desk. "I'm Becky Healy, Leah's mother? I got a call saying she got in trouble and I was supposed to come meet with the principal."

"Hello, Ms. Healy. If you could please sign the guest log and I will let Principal Adams know that you are here.

"Thank you," Becky took a pen out of the mug on the counter and signed her name.

"Right this way, Ms. Healy," the secretary led Becky to an office and pushed open the door. Leah was seated in front of the desk in the room and looked down when she saw her mother. The man behind the desk stood up and walked over to Becky and put out his hand.

"Hello, Ms. Healy? I'm Robert Adams, the Lanford Middle School principal.

"Hello," Becky shook the man's hand.

"Please, take a seat next to Leah," Mr. Adams gestured to the empty chair by Leah. Becky sat down, eyeing her 11-year-old daughter quizzically.

"What seems to be the problem?" Becky asked.

"Well, Ms. Healy, as you already know this is highly unusual for Leah. Her teachers, including Mrs. Winthrop, whose class she was in last period, have told me that she is usually one of the best-behaved students in the class – she follows direction well and respects both Mrs. Winthrop and her classmates. Today however, has been a different story."

"What do you mean?" Becky asked.

"Mrs. Winthrop noticed that Leah wasn't doing her math assignment like the rest of the class. When she asked Leah to start working, Leah told her 'no.' Mrs. Winthrop pushed the worksheet closer to Leah, who then proceeded to push the worksheet and her pencil off her desk. When Mrs. Winthrop asked her to pick them up, Leah again told her 'no,'" Mr. Adams replied.

"Leah Rebecca Healy!" Becky scolded, turning to her daughter in surprise. This was not like Leah at all. What was going on?

"What?" Leah snapped back.

"Why would you do that?" Becky asked.

"I just didn't feel like doing math," Leah shrugged.

"When you go to school, I expect you do exactly as your teachers tell you – it doesn't matter whether you want to or not," Becky said firmly. She turned back to Mr. Adams. "What would you like me to do, Mr. Adams?"

"I was talking with Mrs. Winthrop, and we thought maybe it would be best if Leah went home for the rest of the day. Because of her excellent behavior in the past, we are not counting this as a suspension."

Becky was quiet for a moment. "All right. Thank you, Mr. Adams. I'm so sorry," she stood up and shook the principal's hand.

"Thank you for coming down here," Mr. Adams replied. "You two have a good rest of the day."

Becky was silent as Leah got her backpack and lunchbox from her locker. Her classmates and teachers were at lunch. She remained silent as the two walked out to the car. Once they were on the road, Becky glanced at Leah in the passenger's seat.

"You, young lady, are going straight to your room when we get home. You are not to come out until supper. And after supper, you will take your shower, brush your teeth and go straight to bed. No TV or dessert for the whole weekend," Becky was trying to remain as calm as she could, but Leah's sudden shift in behavior was very frustrating – and concerning.

Leah shrugged defiantly. "Whatever. If I want to watch TV, I'll watch it. I'll just stay up until you fall asleep."

Becky's shoulders tensed up, but she remained calm, yet firm. "You do that, and we can extend the punishment into next week, too."

Leah was silent. "Good," Becky thought.

The two rode quietly for the rest of the way home. When they got inside the house, Leah set her backpack down.

"I never got to eat lunch," she told her mother.

"Bring your lunchbox into your room and eat it in there," Becky sighed.

"But I thought there was a no food in my room policy," Leah replied sassily.

"Leah Healy," Becky's voice started to rise.

"How do you expect me to follow the rules if you don't?" Leah shrugged.

"GO!" Becky yelled. Leah's eyes got wide at her mother's outburst, but she quickly headed down the hall to her room, lunchbox.

Becky could feel the tears coming on. She had never yelled at her little girl before – in fact, she and her late husband, Mark, who had died just a few weeks earlier, had agreed when Leah was a baby that they would never yell at their daughter. Now, Becky had betrayed both Leah and Mark. Great. Just what she needed right now – guilt on top of everything else.

Becky had tried to coax Leah at supper to tell her what was wrong, but Leah resisted.

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone!" Leah pushed the remaining lasagna around her plate with her fork. This was also unusual for Leah – lasagna was one of her favorite foods and she normally took second and third helpings of it every time the family had it for supper.

Eventually, Leah headed back to her room and Becky decided to make a phone call. Well, two phone calls, actually. The first was to Leah's school, to tell them she wouldn't be in on Monday. The second was to a local therapist who specialized in children. Maybe Leah would be more comfortable talking to someone who wasn't Becky.

Monday morning came around and Becky eagerly greeted Leah who appeared in the kitchen at 7:30 like she always did.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Becky said, leaning in to give Leah a hug. Leah returned a half-hearted side hug which was better than nothing, Becky supposed.

"If you want, you can go back to bed for a couple more hours – you're not going to school today," Becky told Leah.

"What? Did I get suspended?" Leah asked nervously.

"No, no, honey. I called them and told them you wouldn't be in. I made an appointment for you at 11:00 with a therapist.

"What? A therapist! I don't need a therapist," Leah was indignant.

"Please, honey," Becky was practically begging. "You don't want to talk to me, and I know something is bothering you. Will you at least talk to someone else?"

Leah sighed. "Okay," she shrugged.

Becky smiled. "Good."

Leah and Becky were in the waiting area outside the therapist's office. Soon, a woman with long blonde hair and black eyeglasses opened the office door.

"Leah?" she called.

Leah turned to her mother. "Mom, will you come with me?" she asked nervously.

"Of course, dear," Becky squeezed Leah's hand.

Once Becky and Leah had entered the office, the therapist shut the door and introduced herself. "

Hi, I'm Dr. Terry," she greeted pleasantly. Becky and Leah each shook her hand. She invited them to each take a seat on the nearby couch, which they did.

"So, Leah," Dr. Terry said. "Your mother told me on the phone that she's worried about you – she says that your behavior has changed quite a bit recently – that you've gotten into trouble at school and home – which is not like you. What do you think about that?"

Leah swallowed. Becky could see tears welling up in her daughter's eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Mom," Leah looked into her mother's eyes, which started to brim with tears as well.

"I know there's something bothering you, Leah," Becky sniffled. "Can you please tell me?"

"Is there something bothering you, Leah?" Dr. Terry prompted.

Leah nodded. "Yes," she paused, and took a deep breath. "I want my dad." At that moment, Leah couldn't hold it back any longer and let the tears fall freely. Sobbing, she fell into her mother's arms.

In that moment, Becky felt guiltier than she had about yelling at Leah a few days earlier. How could she not have known that that was the problem? It had only been three weeks since Mark died, and Leah hadn't cried since the day she found out, which Becky had found odd, because Leah had been incredibly close to her father, and was not one to hold in her emotions.

Dr. Terry offered them both a box of tissues and started to offer both Leah and Becky healthy ways to grieve. They made another appointment for the next week, and Becky felt optimistic about things – she knew that she and Leah were going to be all right.

After the appointment, Leah hugged her mom tighter than she ever had before and said, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby," Becky hugged back. "So did your father. Please don't ever forget that."