Mr. Peterson half-carried Liam through the quiet hallways of the school. It was late—most of the staff had gone home, and the sky outside had shifted into deep orange and purple.
They reached the nurse's office just as Ms. Denning, the school nurse, was locking the cabinet and switching off the lights. She turned at the sound of the door.
"Mr. Peterson? I thought—"
Her voice cut off when she saw Liam.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Liam?"
Liam gave a weak nod, swaying on his feet.
Ms. Denning rushed to help, easing him onto the padded cot. She flicked the lights back on and pulled her gloves back out.
"This is worse than usual," she murmured.
Peterson looked at her. "Usual?"
She didn't look away from the growing bruise on Liam's side. "He and his friends are here all the time. Headaches, sprained wrists, bruises, bloody noses. I keep a drawer stocked just for them. I've filed reports, but…" Her voice trailed off with quiet frustration.
Peterson's jaw tensed.
Liam winced as she pressed gently along his ribs. She paused. "Dislocated shoulder." " And from looking I can say that there may be injuries to his ribs too. He needs to be taken to the emergency room quickly, there may be internal injuries."
Peterson nodded. "Call an ambulance?"
"No, it'll take longer," she said, already reaching for her keys. "I'll drive. You come with me."
Peterson turned to Liam. "I need to call your mother."
But Liam's eyes snapped up. "Please… don't."
Peterson hesitated. "Liam—"
"She works two jobs. Nights and mornings. She's barely sleeping, barely eating, and she's still keeping us afloat. If she sees me like this—she'll fall apart. Just… Please don't tell her. Not yet."
Denning looked over, her face softening.
Peterson crouched beside the cot. "She's your mother. She deserves to know."
"I don't want to be a burden to her too," Liam whispered.
"You're not a problem," Peterson said. "You're her son."
Liam blinked away tears. "Please."
A long pause.
Finally, Peterson nodded. "Okay. Hospital first. But after that—you call her. We are going to do this right."
Liam gave a small nod.
They arrived at the emergency room just after sunset.
Nurse Denning helped Liam into a wheelchair while Peterson checked him in. The waiting room was half-full—parents cradling coughing toddlers, elderly patients nodding off in chairs—but Liam barely noticed. His vision blurred at the edges.
It took nearly an hour before a nurse called them back. A doctor examined him, asked quiet questions, then gently popped his shoulder back into place.
Liam bit down on his scream.
Then came the X-rays.
The results weren't surprising.
"Dislocated left shoulder, confirmed," the doctor said. "And minor fractures in the sixth and seventh ribs. Hairline only, but painful. He's going to need at least four to six weeks of rest, possibly physical therapy."
Liam nodded silently.
Denning stepped closer. "You need to tell her now."
Peterson crouched beside him again. "You said you didn't want her to worry. But Liam—this will break her more, If she finds out later."
Liam sat still for a long moment, then finally whispered, "Okay."
Thirty minutes later, a pair of sneakers echoed down the corridor.
Marissa Cooper rushed through the ER doors, her hair pulled back from a double shift, her eyes wide with panic.
"Where's Liam?"
She spotted him instantly in the bed—sling in place, bandages wrapping his side. Her purse hit the floor as she reached him.
"Baby, what—what happened to you?"
Liam couldn't meet her eyes.
Peterson stepped forward, quiet and calm. "Mrs. Cooper? I'm Jake Peterson—Liam's English teacher."
Marissa looked up at him, her eyes already filling.
"He was assaulted. By a group of students after school. He's safe now, and the worst is over, but… you needed to know."
She turned back to Liam, stunned. "You're being bullied? How long has this been happening?"
Liam swallowed hard. "A while."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"You're already working two jobs. You're exhausted. I just… I didn't want to add to it."
Her face crumpled. "You think I'd rather not know? You think I wouldn't want to help my own son?"
"I didn't want to be another thing weighing you down," Liam whispered. "I didn't want to break you."
Marissa sat beside him, taking his hand. "You wouldn't break me, sweetheart. Not you. You're the reason I keep going."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I should've seen this. I've been so busy surviving, I didn't even see my son slipping through the cracks."
"You're not a bad mom," Liam said, voice shaking. "You're the best. I just didn't know how to tell you."
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his.
"I'm here now," she whispered. "I'll fix it. We'll fix it."
Peterson watched in silence, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Behind him, Denning wiped her eyes.
For the first time in too long, Liam wasn't alone.
He had an ally in his mother. Mr. Peterson. In Nurse Denning.
And though the pain hadn't gone—the healing had already begun.