“I just wanted to check up on you guys and see how you were holding up after Monday.” Mr. Irvine traded a glance with Clyde. He extended a hand to one of the plastic bags. “I actually wanted to talk with you and Barry for a few minutes. Is that okay?”

“He’s not in trouble, is he? He shouldn’t be. It wasn’t his fault!” She babbled while they stepped into the kitchen. Mr. Sampson lagged behind and nudged Clyde.

“You didn’t cause any more, did you?” He asked.

“How is that even possible if I’ve been suspended for something I didn’t do?”

“I’m just saying,” Mr. Sampson tried to nudge Clyde again, but was sidestepped. “It’s okay to cause a little trouble.”

“Good to know I have such enabling parents.” Clyde muttered, then slinked back down into the arm chair. “Just hurry up with Mr. Irvine, okay? I’m starving.”

-----

The kitchen was usually the warmest place in the house, but it quickly dissipated when Mr. Irvine invited both of Clyde’s parents to join him at the table. He sat up straight and had his hands folded.

“First of all, the Stones aren’t pressing charges.” He announced.

“Oh, thank God!” Mrs. Sampson exhaled. “We were so worried!”

“Come on, Jenna. We both know that Stone boy started it.” Mr. Sampson leaned back against his chair.

“So, you’re both aware that Clyde has been bullied for a while?”

“What do you mean ‘for a while’?” Mrs. Sampson squeaked. She gave her husband a sideways glance. He shrugged in response.

“Terry told me Nathan has been bullying your son since the beginning of high school. Has he told you about any of it?”

“I don’t think so.” Mr. Sampson scratched the back of his head. “He’s a pretty reserved kid.”

“If this has been happening for years, why didn’t he come to us, Barry?” Mrs. Sampson shot him a glare.

“He’s a teenager, honey. Of course he wasn’t going to tell us.”

“Why didn’t Terry let us know, at least?” Mrs. Sampson narrowed her eyes at Mr. Irvine.

“Terry told me the other day.” He unfolded his hands and laid them flat on the table. “He’s been telling me that Clyde has been acting strange since last weekend.”

“Strange? What do you mean?” Mrs. Sampson straightened up.

“From what Terry told me, they haven’t talked since Saturday. Clyde hasn’t returned his calls or texts and even went as far as telling Terry to never speak to him again.”

“That’s not like him at all! He’s been friends with Terry since middle school!” Mrs. Sampson clasped her hands over her mouth, turning her head towards the living room.

“What about when he’s home?” Mr. Irvine turned to Mr. Sampson. “Have you noticed any change in his behavior?”

“Come to think of it, he has been spending a lot of time in his room with the door shut.” He admitted. “He never lets us see what he’s doing, saying it’s some sort of project for school.”

“Have you ever went inside?”

“I’ve tried a few times, but he’s always had the door locked.” Mr. Sampson folded his arms.

“Barry,” Mrs. Sampson stood up from her seat. “You know all of the doors upstairs don’t have locks on them.”

“Is he trying to hide something from you two?” Mr. Irvine motioned for her to sit down, but she didn’t oblige.

The fourth chair at the kitchen table squeaked.

“Yes, I’m trying to hide something.” All three adults snapped their heads to stare at Clyde reaching for the biggest box of food. “I’m dying of hunger.”

“Clyde. Sweetheart.” Mrs. Sampson placed her hand on Clyde’s. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing, mom. I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, giving his hand a squeeze. Clyde pulled it back and stared at Mr. Irvine.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“About how you need to patch things up with Terry.” Mr. Irvine said.

“You know, Mr. Irvine,” Clyde glared at him. “Maybe you’re in the wrong line of work. You know I could hear you guys from the other room, right?”

“Clyde!” Mrs. Sampson shot up from her seat, but Mr. Irvine held up his hand.

“It’s okay, Jen.” He turned to Clyde. “Your parents told me that you’re working on a project for school.”

“Sort of.”

“What’s the project?”

“Look, can you guys stop treating me like I’m an idiot?” Clyde grabbed a smaller box from the take-out bags. “If you want the truth about Terry, Nathan, what I’ve been doing up in my room; all you have to do is ask.”

“So, what’s the truth?” Mr. Sampson asked after Clyde downed half of the chicken teriyaki. He set the box down and took a breath.

“Terry was right, Mr. Irvine. I can move things with my mind.”