by Tim Greaton
hear him. “Your son’s nose might be broken, and he’s got a large lump on the back of his head. I don’t believe waiting is an option.”
There was another pause and whatever was said caused Mr. Galloway’s broad shoulders to stiffen. He turned and glared at Zachary.
Thanks, Dad, Zachary thought. Of all the times for his father to grow a backbone, why must it have been when he was beat up and bloody in front of this man? Zachary felt certain he was going to throw up. He tried to focus instead on the pain in his shattered arm, and the throbbing in his nose and the back of his head. He felt like a crash-test dummy from one of the car commercials.
Mr. Galloway held the phone out to Zachary. It looked like a toy in his huge grip.
“Your father would like to speak with you.”
Awkwardly, Zachary tried to get to his feet but winced as his broken arm jiggled like hamburger in its sling. Mr. Galloway motioned for Zachary to sit as he and his enormous feet brought the cordless phone to Zachary. It even hurt to move his good right arm as Zachary accepted the phone and held it up to his ear.
“Dad?”
“I told you not to fight,” his father said. Though he wasn’t yelling, Zachary instantly recognized a tint of anger in his voice. His father never got angry.
“Billy and his friends were picking on a little kid. I tried to stop them…I mean, I did stop them, but―”
“This is serious, Zach. The school wants me to meet you at the hospital.”
Anger flashed across Zachary’s mind. He sat there battered and broken, and all his father could think about was the inconvenience of taking time off from work.
“Fine. I won’t go―”
“Just listen, Zach. There are things you don’t know, and one of them is that you can’t go to a normal hospital. Not ever!”
Thinking the crack to his head must have been worse than it felt—which would have been really bad—he tried to fathom why he couldn’t go to the hospital? Weren’t they for everyone? He knew a lot of kids that had been, some many times. Confused, he glanced toward the vice principal and Nurse Jacobs who were whispering back and forth, neither looking particularly happy, neither likely to be impressed if he gave in to the urge and vomited all over her floor.
Swallowing and trying to convince his stomach to calm down, he said, “I don’t understand.”
“Zach, you have to trust me. I’m leaving the office to get you right now, but this is very important: don’t let the nurse touch you again! And, no matter what happens, don’t let them put you in an ambulance! I will be there in less than twenty minutes. Okay?”
Zachary nodded. Then, remembering his father couldn’t see him, said, “Yeah, okay. Want to talk to Vice Principal Galloway again?”
“No,” his father said then added, “and stay away from plants, Zach.”
“Plants?”
“Just stay away from any flowers, trees—whatever—inside or outside the school. Okay?”
Zachary felt like he’d been trampled by at least two elephants. So why was his father worried about plants? But his body hurt too much to talk anymore.
“Okay.”
“Good.” His father hung up.
“Zachary,” Vice Principal Galloway said, “since we can’t call an ambulance, Nurse Jacobs would like to give you a closer examination?”
Though his stomach writhed like he’d eaten a grass snake, Zachary shook his head “no.”
“I’m sorry,” the vice principal said. He wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him.
“I don’t want to be examined again,” Zachary said. He swallowed hard.
“This is my school, Zachary,” Vice Principal Galloway warned, “and I wasn’t asking.”
“No,” Zachary said, no longer sure if his stomach wanted to heave from pain or fear of the huge brute in the shirt and tie. His need to vomit and the throbbing pains in his arm and head made it hard to focus. How had things gotten so out of control? Suddenly, he remembered the crazy warning his father had given him. His eyes scanned the room. The only plant in the room was a drooping spider plant that he sensed needed water. It was two seats away.
Vice Principal Galloway whispered to Nurse Jacobs again. She glanced toward Zachary and shook her head.
“It’s his choice.”
Judging from his narrowed eyes, Vice Principal Galloway would happily have thrown Zachary into an ambulance or even directly onto an operating table. But, instead, the huge man paced the room, making Zachary wish his father would get there soon. He used his right hand to hold his knees together, because for some reason they had begun to quake.
The next fifteen minutes were spent in silence, except for the few occasions when Vice Principal Galloway stopped pacing long enough to ask Zachary about the fight. Zachary tried to explain that he’d helped a younger boy get away from bullies, but when the vice principal’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, Zachary fell silent. The throbbing in his head made it hard to concentrate, and he refused to make the effort for someone who was never going to believe him anyway. Besides, if they got caught, Billy and his friends would ultimately blame it on him and—four against one—the school would believe them, as had always happened in the past.
His body aching all over, Zachary tried several times to close his eyes but each time had an odd compulsion to get up and touch the spider plant in the corner. Eerily, it was as if the plant were calling to him. His room at home was filled with plants, and he had always had a knack in caring for them. But this was something different. It seemed to him as though the spider plant was actually trying to communicate with him. He even imagined its long slender leaves were reaching out to him.
Knowing he must be going crazy, Zachary rubbed his eyes and gasped from the pain of accidentally touching his swollen nose. He then shifted in his seat so he couldn’t see the potted plant out of the corner of his eye, but his pain-filled mind could still sense it calling to him, inviting him to touch its leaves, to enjoy the peaceful state of just being. He had a vision of himself sitting in a pot of soil, luxuriating in the warm sunlight that shone through the window. As a plant, he could sense the frenetic nature of humans and the ongoing suffering caused by incessant movement, but to Zachary in his little pot those concerns would be distant; peace and tranquility could be his if only he would join with the little plant. All he had to do was reach his hand—
Suddenly, Zachary realized he had risen to his feet and was about to take a step toward the spider plant in the corner.
“Are you okay?” Vice Principal Galloway asked from where he had sat in a chair on the other side of the room. There was genuine concern in his voice.
Zachary glanced warily at the spider plant and eased back into his seat. How could his father have known? And, apparently having been right about plants, could he also be right about the dangers of a hospital? Come to think of it, Zachary didn’t remember ever being in a hospital. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember ever having been sick or even hurt…at least not until the bruises Billy had inflicted on him the day before. But that couldn’t be right. Kids got sick all the time. They got colds, flus, sore throats. But, sitting there, a swollen mass of bruises, Zachary couldn’t remember ever having had a single illness.
All these strange thoughts ran through his mind as he sat silently across from the unusually quiet vice principal and the concerned nurse. Zachary didn’t want to look at either of them but also didn’t dare to look toward the spider plant again, so he stared down at his hands. The one sticking out of his sling had started to turn deep purple, giving him the distinct impression it might soon be black if something wasn’t done soon. Had his father made a mistake by not letting them call him an ambulance?
Just then, Zachary heard his father’s distinctive fast footsteps coming down the hall, the quick pace he guessed coming from a career in sales, always hurrying from one appointment to another. As a young child, Zachary often had to run just to keep up unless his mother slowed everyone enough for his little legs to walk at a comfortable
gait. Missing her more than ever, Zachary wondered when thoughts of his mother would finally stop haunting him.
When the elder Pill finally burst through the nurse’s office door, his eyes locked on Zachary.
“Are you alright?”
“Been better,” Zachary replied.
“How could you people let something like this happen?” his father said, turning forcefully toward Vice Principal Galloway.
The tall muscular man, who Zachary thought could probably have lifted a car if he had a mind to do it, looked directly into his father’s eyes from his seated position.
“We can’t control students every minute of every day, Mr. Pill. And, in this case, we don’t even know what happened because your son doesn’t seem to want to discuss it. I did overhear him tell you that ‘Billy’ was involved. I assume that’s the same Billy Timkin he fought with yesterday?”
“My son didn’t start either of those fights.” There was a steely edge to his father’s voice that Zachary had never heard before.
Getting to his feet, Mr. Galloway towered over everyone in the room, including Zachary’s father who was an inch shorter than Zachary.
“No matter who started it, Mr. Pill,” he said, “these altercations must stop. You will need to discuss this with Principal Coldwell before your son can reenter the premises.”
“Are you saying my son is being expelled for getting picked on?”
His pain forgotten for the moment, Zachary
