CHAPTER 187
JAX'S POV
The emergency family meeting was called for eight PM, after all three children were in bed and we could speak freely about the decision that would reshape our entire lives. I sat at our kitchen table, watching Skylar pace while Harry and Lucas reviewed the school incident reports that had been accumulating over the past week.
"Twelve complaints," Lucas said, scanning through the paperwork. "All from different parents, all expressing 'concerns' about Addison's presence in their children's classes."
"Concerns," Harry repeated, his voice heavy with disgust. "As if a ten-year-old girl is some kind of threat to their precious suburban bubble."
"She is a threat," Skylar said quietly, stopping her pacing to face us. "Not in the way they think, but she represents everything they're afraid of - a child who doesn't fit their narrow definition of normal."
"So we fight it," I said. "We go to the school board, we bring lawyers if necessary. We don't let ignorant parents dictate our daughter's education."
"With what outcome?" Skylar asked. "Even if we win, Addison spends the rest of her elementary school years being the kid whose parents had to sue to keep her in class."
Through the baby monitor, I could hear Elena stirring in her crib, probably sensing the tension that filled the house whenever we had these kinds of discussions.
"There's another option," Lucas said carefully, pulling out research he'd apparently been conducting without telling the rest of us. "Homeschooling."
"Absolutely not," Harry said immediately. "We're not letting these people drive us into isolation."
"Are we isolating ourselves, or are we protecting our children from an environment that's becoming increasingly hostile?" Lucas countered. "Look at the complaints, Harry. Parents are questioning whether our children should be around 'normal' kids at all."
I took the stack of complaints from Lucas, reading through accusations that ranged from concerning to ridiculous. One parent worried that Addison's "advanced maturity" was inappropriate for her age. Another complained that Liam had helped a classmate during a fire drill "too efficiently."
"They're afraid because our kids are competent," I realized. "Because they don't panic in crisis situations, because they think strategically about problems."
"Which makes them stand out in ways that draw attention," Skylar said. "Attention that could become dangerous if the wrong people start asking questions about why our children are so different."
Elena's crying was getting louder through the monitor, and I stood to go check on her. But as I reached the stairs, I heard Addison's bedroom door opening quietly, followed by her footsteps moving toward Elena's room.
I found Addison in Elena's room, gently lifting her crying sister from the crib with practiced competence.
"She had a bad dream," Addison said softly. "I heard her crying and came to help."
"Did we wake you up with our talking?" I asked, accepting Elena as she reached for me.
"You weren't being very quiet. And you all sounded worried, so I wanted to make sure everyone was okay."
Behind me, the others entered the nursery, their expressions shifting from tactical alertness to parental concern as they realized our ten-year-old had been monitoring our family meeting.
"Sweetheart," Skylar said gently, "you should be sleeping. Adult conversations aren't something you need to worry about."
"Are you talking about school? About whether I can keep going there?"
The directness of her question shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. Addison had always been perceptive, but her ability to cut straight to the heart of complex adult issues was sometimes unsettling.
"We're discussing what's best for your education," Lucas said diplomatically.
"The other kids' parents don't want me there anymore, do they?"
"Some of them have expressed concerns," I said carefully. "But that doesn't mean you've done anything wrong."
"I know I haven't done anything wrong. But I also know that sometimes doing the right thing makes people uncomfortable." She settled into the rocking chair. "Can I tell you something?"
"Always," Skylar said, sitting on the floor beside the chair.
"I don't really like school that much anyway. The other kids ask too many questions about our family, and the teachers always seem nervous when I know things they don't expect me to know."
"What kind of things?" Harry asked.
"Like when we had the lockdown drill last month, and I told Mrs. Peterson that the classroom door wasn't secured properly. She looked at me like I'd said something scary."
I exchanged glances with the others, realizing that our daughter's safety awareness was being interpreted as concerning behavior by people who'd never had to think about security.
"Do you want to keep going to school?" Skylar asked.
"Not really. I learn more from the lessons you give me at home anyway."
"Liam, you should be sleeping too," I said as our five-year-old appeared in the doorway.
"I don't want to go to school either," he announced. "The kids in my class don't know how to do anything useful. They can't even tie proper knots or identify which plants are safe to eat."
"Those aren't typical kindergarten skills," Lucas pointed out.
"Maybe they should be. What if there's an emergency and none of them know how to take care of themselves?"
Looking around the nursery at our family, I realized that maybe isolation wasn't a bad thing. Maybe what looked like hiding from the world was actually protecting our children from a society that would never understand them.
"What if we tried homeschooling for a year?" I suggested. "See how it works for our family."
"What about socialization?" Harry asked. "They need to interact with other children."
"Do they?" Skylar asked. "Or do they need to interact with children who share their values?"
"I vote for homeschooling," Addison said quietly.
"Me too," Liam added.
As I looked at the faces of my family, I realized that maybe we'd been asking the wrong question. Instead of wondering how to make our children fit into a world that didn't understand them, maybe we should be asking how to create a world where they could thrive.
But watching Addison rock her baby sister while discussing complex family decisions with unusual maturity, I wondered if normal socialization was something our children would ever need.
Or if they were already becoming something else entirely.
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