by Cole Parker
Circumstances 8
I didn’t ride the bus to school the next day. The relief that gave me was miraculous. I watched out the window to see if the bus driver would stop, or at least slow down, in front of our house. She didn’t.
But before that even, after my mom and I had found something we’d lost over a year before, after we’d spent the day together, talking and talking and explaining ourselves, what we’d been thinking and why we’d done what we’d done for the last couple of years, after she’d taken me out to lunch and then we’d gone to a park and sat at a picnic table and just gotten to know each other again, I finally called Gary. We talked for a long time. He was really cool, and I hoped he was going to be a good friend. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted one. Needed one.
I’m one of those kids who go to school, do their work, and seem to disappear in the crowd. It’s my fault. I’m not at all assertive. I don’t have much courage. I’m not strong, or good-looking. I don’t stand out at all. Whatever it is that allows kids to make friends easily with other kids, I don’t seem to have that, either. Maybe I lack social skills. But I watch other kids hanging with their friends and feel an emptiness when I see it. I was really excited now that maybe Gary would make that emptiness disappear. What was so great about it was, Gary spoke in just as excited a voice as I did. Maybe that was just who he was, an outgoing and happy and excited kid, or maybe, maybe, he was as eager as I was to have a friend. And that friend he was eager to have was me!
My mother drove me to school the next day. Now you have to understand, my mother can be something of a force of nature. It’s intimidating as all get out to have that force directed against you. It’s quite different when it’s at your back.
She, with me very much in her wake and happy to be there, marched down the hall, into the office, and into Mr. Johnson’s office. His secretary was up out of her desk immediately when she saw what was happening, but she might as well have been a flea trying to stop an elephant. A small flea; a large and determined elephant.
Mr. Johnson was on the phone. My mother grabbed the receiver from his startled hand and hung it up.
“Wha—” he started to say, but that was all he could manage.
“I’m Ms. Stuart,” she interrupted. “Keith’s mother. Not Mrs. Perryman, which is what you called me yesterday. I’ve come to talk about how you treated Keith yesterday. How dare you?!”
She glared at him. Which could have been humorous but wasn’t. Standing, he was about six foot three and weighed something to the north of 250 pounds. She was five foot five, maybe, and certainly more than 100 pounds lighter. But when she was riled up, size became immaterial.
Mr. Johnson started to rise and opened his mouth to speak. My mother put her hand on his chest and pushed him back into his chair.
“You spoke to my boy twice yesterday. Both times he told you what happened. You didn’t believe him, you didn’t investigate, you furthered rumors about him that were untrue, you didn’t help him at all when you saw how intimidated and overwrought he was, you told him he had detention without even bothering to learn the truth of anything, and now you’re in trouble.”
She was on a roll and gave him no chance to say anything. “I’m a lawyer, and what you’ve done is violate your in loco parentis responsibilities. You’ve also slandered a young boy with sexual insinuations. You, and this school, are going to be paying Keith’s way through college and that’ll only be part of it. I hope this school district has really deep pockets. And, I’m suing you, personally, as well as them.”
She stopped, but her angry glare didn’t. She was right in his face, and she remained there.
Finally, Mr. Johnson spoke. He sort of hesitated as though expecting to be interrupted again.
“Uh, I didn’t really—”
“Bullshit! You did really. What you need to say now isn’t what you didn’t do, or how innocent you are, or why you made the mistakes you did. No, that won’t help at all. If you want to play the game that way, fine. Your bluster might work on high school kids, but in court, I’ll eat you alive. However,” she said, her eyes gleaming, “it’s your choice. You choose we go to court, I’ll go start taking witness statements. When the papers get it, and I’ll make sure they will, the settlement costs will just keep climbing higher and higher.”
She paused, expecting him to say something. He didn’t. I think he was in shock. My mother can do that.
She waited until he opened his mouth to speak, then jumped
in before he could. “No, that’s not how you should play it. The smart thing
for you to do would be to ask, ‘What can I do to prevent all that?’ It might
not help, but at least you’d be doing the smart thing.”
Mr. Johnson looked at her, then switched his eyes to me. I was standing there watching. Well, actually I was standing there slightly behind my mother, watching.
Mr. Johnson was thinking, I could see that. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer than I was used to hearing it. “While I have the feeling what you’re threatening me with is nuts, I’d be happy to hear what you have to say that might calm the waters. Won’t you sit down?”
My mother ignored the request, staying standing up against the front of his desk. “So you want to test that feeling you have in court? I’m perfectly willing to do that. In fact, that would probably be best for Keith’s future. Come on, Keith, let’s go.”
She turned on her heel and had taken one step toward the door when Mr. Johnson said, “Wait! I’d like to hear what you’d like me to do.”
“And I,” she said, turning back to him, “would like to hear an apology to my son, hear you tell him you were wrong not to at least investigate before dismissing him so egregiously, and to hear you tell him the detention is waived and never should have been assigned in the first place. I’d like to hear that right now.”