‘What do you think?’ my ex-husband Paul whispered to me as we stood at the back of the classroom, arms folded and watching our son.

‘I think this is still a terrible idea,’ I hissed back at him. ‘Truly ridiculous.’

‘The optometrist said—’

‘I don’t care,’ I snapped, causing a few heads in the back row to turn and look at us. Our son dutifully ignored us, though I thought I might have seen him wincing. The teacher looked up and frowned, unhappy that we’d even been allowed in the back of her class to “observe” in the first place.

‘Come on,’ I huffed, grabbing Paul’s arm and dragging him into the hallway.

‘What if we miss something?’ he protested, as the door shut behind us.

‘Oh, now you’re a behavioural optometrist?’ I scoffed. ‘Face it, there’s nothing we can do here.’

‘I’m worried, okay!’ he hissed back at me, twisting his hands with frustration. ‘His grades have been slipping, he isn’t progressing as fast as the other kids—’

‘You think I don’t know?’

‘I think you aren’t prepared to solve it,’ he glared, hands on his hips. ‘Why wouldn’t you let me take him to the best optometrist around the Bayside area?’

‘Because she’s only going to tell us what every other optometrist has told us,’ I said. ‘That he’s fine. Totally normal. Maybe his grades are slipping because he only does his homework every other week,’ I said, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

‘So this is my fault?’ Paul asked, incensed.

‘Well I know it’s not me!’

The door slammed open right as we were about to fly at each other, and the teacher glared at us both. She jerked her head for us to follow her up the hallway.

‘Suzy Greer,’ she said, finally.

‘What?’ Paul and I said in unison.

‘The girl who sits in front of your son,’ the teacher explained. ‘Her name is Suzy Greer, and she’s the reason his grades have been slipping. Now, if you don’t mind – get away from my classroom.’