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My voice had everyone—Becky, Carol, and Sarah—turning in my direction.
“Charles …” Carol stood from behind her desk and adjusted her red suit jacket. “Sarah got into a fight this morning with Jennifer O’Neal.”
My eyes flickered to Sarah before landing back on the principal.
Becky took a menacing step toward the principal. “You can’t start the narrative like that!” Her eyes were blazing fire, the green popping. She flipped toward me. “Charles.” She tilted her head and clenched her teeth in a sarcastic smile. “Let me start the real narrative here. Jennifer O’Neal decided to pick on Sarah’s half-ponytail today and make fun of the fact that it wasn’t perfect, but it wasokaybecause she didn’t have a mom to fix her hair.” She threw up both hands and then turned her attention back to Carol. “Let’s just tell it how it really is, right? And why isn’t Jennifer O’Neal in here, getting reprimanded, huh? Why is she not in here? I think her parents should get a call, too, because she’s a bully.”
Carol pulled at her suit jacket and placed a hand on her lip, leaning in. “Jennifer wasn’t the violent one in this situation.”
I breathed through the next seconds, searching Sarah’s face but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Becky screeched, “Violent? She pushed the kid who was getting in her face. I would have done more than push her. Unbelievable. You’re …”
Before Becky got out her next words, I lightly took her forearm and ushered her behind me.
“Is that what happened, Carol?” I asked, eyes devoid of any true emotion, wanting the facts.
“Well, yes.” She addressed me with a quiet firmness, “According to Jennifer, she said something about Sarah’s hair but did not in fact mention her mother. That’s why she’s not in here.” She had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. “But she will be talked to. Separately.”
“Really?” Becky said with doubt. “So, Sarah shoved the girl because she’d mentioned something about her hair. Really? Charles, do you believe that? Come on now.”
“Becky,” I said, my voice meaning to calm her down, but looking at the fire behind her eyes, I wondered if it was possible to calm her.
“You know how kids are, Charles,” Carol contested.
My eyebrows pulled together, and all my muscles tensed. “I know how kids can get, but I know howmykids are. And my kids are not violent unless provoked.” Well, one of my kids really. Mary was violent when she threw her tantrums, but I was working on that. I tipped my chin to Sarah. “Let’s go. I’m taking you out of school early. Becky, please grab Mary, too, and I’ll meet you in the front. I’m going to talk to Carol for a bit.”
Becky lifted her nose, her eyes still narrowed at Carol. She slipped a protective arm over Sarah’s shoulders and ushered her outside.
When the door shut, Carol sat down, but I stayed standing. This was going to be short and to the point. “I suggest you set up a meeting with Brandon and Ellie O’Neal. I want to be involved in the meeting. Make it for sometime within the next few days.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will speak with them directly,” she said, a hint of alarm in her eyes.
I paused and stared at her, giving her a moment to shift in her seat. “It is of the utmost importance that I meet with them.” I paused again, and she adjusted the collar of her shirt. “You see, I know that the O’Neals are generous contributors to this school. But … so am I. I don’t have to remind you who single-handedly funded the gym.” I tilted my head. I didn’t know the figures exactly, but I was pretty damn sure that out of all the parents of this elite private school, I gave the most. “I’ve been here a long time, Carol, and I love this school, but I will not have my daughter being bullied.”
“Charles …” she stammered.
“No.” My voice was cutthroat. “I won’t tolerate it. I suggest you schedule a meeting with Jennifer’s parents today.” Theor elseat the end of the sentence was implied. “I’ll wait for your call before the end of the day. Thanks.” I unbuttoned my suit jacket, turned to leave, and exited the school to find—oddly enough—a laughing group of three.
As soon as they saw me, they sobered up, and their laughter ceased.
“Don’t stop on my account.” I tried not to smile at them, not sure if this was a smiling situation just yet.
“Daddy!” Mary rushed toward me, jumping into my arms. “You took us out of school today? What’s the occasion? Can we get ice cream?”
“Maybe later.” After pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, I set her on her feet. I needed to talk to Sarah.
“I heard Sarah beat up a girl,” Mary exclaimed proudly.
“I didn’t beat her up. I shoved her,” Sarah deadpanned, annoyed and looking a little like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Her eyes still wouldn’t meet mine, and I knew she was embarrassed. Sarah was not a crier. I chalked it up to the fact that she’d cried all her tears when her mother died. But I could sense her anxiety rolling off of her.
“Becky, can you take Mary home? I’ll drive with Sarah.”
Becky teetered on her heels, and a part of me knew she didn’t want to leave Sarah alone right now.
“It’s fine. I’ll just be a little bit,” I said.
