“Unfortunately,” he says at last with practiced concern, “a pattern has emerged that warrants our attention.”
And there’s the pivot.
My stomach tightens. “What pattern?”
Carson slides his chair back and stands, moving to the window where he adjusts the blinds, allowing more light to stripe across the carpet.
“Several parents have expressed concern about Sprinkles’s presence in the classroom.” He turns toward me, backlit by the window, his profile swallowed by shadow. “Nothing formal, of course. Just inquiries about our service animal policies.”
“The school approved Quinn’s accommodation before she enrolled.” The folder crinkles in my grasp, and I will my fingers to relax. “Her paperwork is complete and on file.”
“Yes, yes.” Carson waves a hand dismissively. “The legalities are well-established. This is more about perception, Leif.”
Instead of resuming his seat, he stays on my side of the desk and leans his hips against it, his crossed feet almost touching mine with familiarity. “You remember how parents can be. There have been some whispers about how the large donation the Wright Pack made to the school under the previous dean’s administrationboughtQuinn’s special accommodations.”
“That’s not?—”
“I know,” he soothes with a gentle rumble. “Any child with similar needs would be treated the same. I’m on Quinn’s side.”
Instead of soothing me, the borderline purr raises goose bumps all over my body. “I think Iwouldlike a glass of water.”
I stand to put distance between us and stride to the sideboard.
“Ms. Peterson has also noted minor disruptions of students being distracted by the dog’s presence, as well as space considerations during group activities.” Carson’s fingers drum a light rhythm on his desk. “Again, nothing serious if taken on a one-on-one basis, but collectively forming a pattern that we should address proactively.”
My heart pounds as I pour myself a glass from the decanter and take a sip. There have been no disruptions. Quinn reports daily on how well Sprinkles behaves, and how the novelty for other students wore off within days. I’ve spoken with Ms. Peterson every morning, too, and she’s never mentioned concerns.
With a steadying breath, I turn back to Carson. “This is the first I’ve heard of any issues.”
Carson settles into his chair behind the desk, his demeanor softening into a version of empathy that might pass muster if experience hadn’t taught me better.
“That’s why I wanted to meet.” He spreads his hands on the desk, palms up in a gesture of openness. “These small concerns shouldn’t reach you piecemeal through the grapevine. Better to address them now and nip them in the bud.”
I return to my chair and sit as pressure builds in my chest. Carson framing himself as an ally rather than an adversary is a familiar pattern.
“You understand how this works.” Carson reaches up to loosen his tie, as if already exhausted by the burden of juggling the school’s administration. “It doesn’t matter how solid the documentation is if enough parents decide there’s a problem.”
The unspoken threat hangs in the air between us. Carson hasn’t directly criticized Quinn’s accommodations, yet he’s planted the seed that their continuation depends on community goodwill rather than legal right.
“Has anyone filed a formal complaint?”
“No, no.” Carson shakes his head, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Nothing so worrisome. But I need to be thorough in my role as advocate for all students.”
My breathing grows shallow as memories from Westbrook surface, of similar conversations where Carson positioned himself as helpful while undermining my authority.
The sweet-iron scent of his pheromones fills my nostrils, triggering an instinctive desire to submit that I refuse to give in to. “Quinn’s accommodation is protected under federal law. Her doctor’s documentation is extensive.”
“And we respect the law.” Carson leans forward with concern. “No one is suggesting removing the accommodation, Leif. Doing so would be unconscionable.”
His emphasis on “no one” carries the subtle implication that such an idea exists in the ether, waiting to be voiced by someone else.
“What concerns me is ensuring Quinn’s long-term success here.” Carson continues. “The best accommodations integrate seamlessly into the school community. When they become points of contention, the student often suffers regardless of how hard we defend their rights.”
The manipulation is masterful, framing the potential restriction of Quinn’s needs as protection of her interests. I recognize the tactic, but struggle to counter it without appearing unreasonable.
“Quinn’s adjustment has been positivebecauseof Sprinkles.” I open my folder, pulling out the weekly progress notes I’ve kept. “Her anxiety levels have decreased, her class participation has increased, and her social integration continues to improve.”
Carson accepts the papers with interest, scanning them before setting them aside without comment. “No one questions the benefit to Quinn. The challenge lies in balancing individual needs with community dynamics. A delicate equation, wouldn’t you agree?”