It would have been nice if Miss Watson had said she’d informed Gary, too. “She didn’t give me any information.”
“Well, he’s been with you the last four days. What the hell have you let him get up to?”
“I haven’t let him get up to anything. He’s been fine, doing his homework, just fine.”
“Right.” Gary growled under his breath, as if she was the only problem Nathan had. “I don’t have time for this, Rachel.”
Yes, well, when they were married, she’d have attended the meeting on her own, but now they had two separate households. She held her tongue about who was responsible for the divorce in the first place. “We need to show Nathan a united front.”
“This Torvik guy sounds like some ass who’s into power trips. It’s probably not Nathan’s fault at all.”
She didn’t disagree with him, especially since Nathan had been so good this week. “Let’s hear the man out, Gary.”
He grumbled and said what she’d known was eventually coming. “Can’t you handle this, Rachel?”
“He’s with you half the time, Gary. We both need to hear what’s going on and come to a mutual understanding about how we’re going to deal with it.”
“Fine,” he spat into the phone, then she heard dead air.
He hadn’t always been like this. Yes, he’d been depressed, but even after he’d said he wanted a divorce, he still hadn’t been such…an asshole. There wasn’t another word for it.
Nathan didn’t return her calls. This is why they had the phones, for emergencies, not for texting their buddies. At four, she called Justin, told him they had an appointment at the school, and she’d be home right after.
So far, Justin was pretty easy. He hadn’t taken up Nathan’s habit of pitting her and Gary against each other, but then, he hadn’t wanted anything badly enough yet. Note to self: Start saving for Justin’s driving lessons and insurance. She hadn’t realized how it could affect their self-esteem.
When she arrived at the school administration offices, the principal’s door—bearing only a black nameplate that read PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE, as though the principals changed too often to get a real nameplate—was closed. Nathan was already seated in a waiting-room chair. Everyone who passed stared at him through the glass windows, the kid that had gotten sent to the principal’s office. He kept his head down.
Before speaking to her son, Rachel approached the desk. “I’m Nathan Delaney’s mother.”
Miss Watson was at least sixty, with a long nose, steel hair, and huge glasses that had been popular back in the seventies. She glanced up at Rachel. “Principal Torvik is running a bit behind.” She held her thumb and finger apart to indicate how far behind. “Since Nathan’s father isn’t here yet”—she raised a brow and left it at that—“please have a seat.”
As Miss Watson turned back to her computer, Rachel sat down next to Nathan. “You didn’t return my calls,” she said quietly.
“I’m not supposed to use my cell phone in class,” he said, the sullenness back in his voice.
“I asked you to call me back between classes.”
“I didn’t have time.” He glanced outside the office window, his eyes following a pretty blonde in a cheerleader uniform.
Rachel pressed her lips together. Dammit, things had been going so well. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said, his lips in a petulant frown.
“Nathan, why does the principal want to talk to us?”
“Ask him.”
She put her hands on the chair arms and let out a sigh. “All right. That means we’ll hear his version first.”
“It won’t make any difference. You’ll still take his side.”
“Nathan,” she started, but just then Gary burst through the door.
He didn’t look at Nathan, but spoke instead to Rachel. “Do you know what it’s like trying to get across town at this time of day?” As if it were her fault.
“Mr. and Mrs. Delaney,” Miss Watson said. “I’ll let the principal know you’re both here.” She punched a button on her phone console, then murmured into the receiver.
Moments later, the office door opened and a young man backed out, his eyes downcast. He was older than Nathan, probably a senior judging by the slight shadow of manly beard on his chin. “Thanks, thanks, thanks,” he said in triplicate.
His jeans rode too high on his waist and were therefore too short, and he wore a white button-down shirt beneath a dark blue Windbreaker that was too tight. He bobbed his head at the low rumble of a voice from within the office. Then the boy turned. His eyes flitted over Nathan’s polo jacket, and his body stiffened. Gaze on the carpet, he turned sideways, hugging the edge of Miss Watson’s desk, as if to keep as much distance between himself and Nathan as possible. Once past, he almost tripped over his own feet in a rush to get out.
Then the principal himself was at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Delaney, sorry to keep you waiting.”
Rachel didn’t hear anything else. There was just a roar in her ears, like she was standing between two freight trains fighting to drag her under their wheels.
One of the trains was Gary.
The other was Principal Rand Torvik.
15
HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN SILENT ONE OVERLONG SECOND, BUT THAT was Rand’s only reaction. Then he extended his hand. Gary was there first, shaking it, smiling like a glad-hander at one of his National Society of Accountants meetings.
Oh my God, oh my God. That’s all Rachel could think. For God’s sake, she’d been having nasty sex with her son’s principal. They’d made a movie. Wasn’t there some school rule against that kind of thing?
Rand was holding his hand out. Did he expect her to shake it like everything was fine and dandy? Yes, obviously he did.
His grip was warm, firm. His gaze didn’t reflect a thing. “I’d like to talk with you both, then we’ll invite Nathan in.”
Neither she nor Gary disagreed.
He wore a white shirt, red tie, and dark suit. It might have been the same one he’d worn that day in front of the vibrator shop.
“Please, have a seat.” Ever so polite, he ushered them into two chairs opposite his desk. Afternoon sun fell on his blond hair as he sat down in his commanding leather chair.
Framed diplomas and certificates hung on the walls, the print so small, Rachel couldn’t read them. Books filled shelves and topped filing cabinets, and binders were stacked neatly on a conference table. He had a computer, a phone, pens in a holder. His inbox wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t full either. He kept on top of things, and his office looked normal. He looked normal.
Good God, he was a teacher, a principal, he worked with kids. And he was kinky. He watched his neighbors have sex. He videotaped her.
Rachel couldn’t wrap her mind around it all.
Yet she was a mother, a receptionist, and she had boys over to her house for tent nights in the backyard. And she’d gotten kinky with Rand. She took off her panties while his neighbors had sex. She masturbated for him over the phone.
Heat flushed her skin.
“Is that all right with you, Mrs. Delaney?”
She hadn’t heard a word he’d said. This was about Nathan, and she wasn’t even listening.
Rand rescued her. “I want to review the details before we bring Nathan in.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“First of all, he’s a good kid, very smart. I’m sure on some level, he realizes his behavior is inappropriate.”
“Just cut to the chase, Principal Torvik,” Gary said. “We can take it.”
She sliced a glance at Gary. Was she imagining it, or had he deepened his voice? She had a horrible moment of comparing them. Rand had six inches and thirty pounds of muscle on Gary. Gary had five years on Rand, but he wore them like ten, with dark puffy pouches beneath his eyes and his hair thinning where Rand’s was thick. She cut off that train of thought.
Rand eyed them both. Did she imagine that his gaze softened when he glanced at he
r? “Nathan has been involved in some instances of bullying.”
Gary puffed his chest up and scowled. “My son doesn’t bully.”
For once Rachel had to agree with him. “Nathan would never pick on anyone. We’ve taught him better than that.”
“Nevertheless, he’s been reported in some incidents of name-calling and other forms of bullying.”
Gary drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
Rand ignored him. “Specifically, we have a class of developmentally challenged students. Nathan has been overhead using slurs, especially against one boy in particular.”
Rachel remembered the young man leaving Rand’s office. There had been something a bit different about him, and he’d given Nathan a wide berth. “The boy who was just in here with you?”
Rand nodded, then spoke directly to her. “Wally. He’s autistic, but quite high-functioning. He’s also verbal. Some autistics are not.” Then he included them both in his gaze. “I don’t want this bullying to cause any setbacks for him.”
Gary thinned his lips. “Well, we’ll have a talk with Nathan. I’m glad to hear it isn’t something more serious, like cutting class or fighting.”
Rand leaned forward, spearing Gary with a look. “It’s extremely serious. Today at lunch”—his voice was deadly—“after running into Wally and knocking his tray to the floor, Nathan called him a stupid little retard who had his head up his ass.”
Rachel felt the blood drain out of her head. She heard the echo of Nathan in their kitchen, calling Principal Torvik a dickhead, and on the heels of it, she could actually hear her son saying those words in the same tone to that boy.
“I don’t believe it,” Gary said. “He would never do something like that. Whoever told you that was exaggerating.”
Rand stared him down a long moment. Then he said, ever so politely, “Please don’t be one of those parents who is part of the problem rather than the solution.”
Rachel jumped in, aghast that Gary was making things worse. “We are part of the solution, Principal Torvik. Have there been any other incidents?”
“Yes. He’s become involved with some sophomores on the JV basketball team.”
“He plays water polo,” Gary said.
“He wants to play basketball,” Rachel said. And he’d been hanging out with boys he thought could help him make the team.
“He’s gotten tight with them over the past few months. Picking on other students is some sort of test with them. Name-calling, shoving, pushing, vandalizing lockers, graffiti. I’ve had to discipline several of them.”
“Can’t you put a stop to them?” Gary asked. “They’re a bad influence on him. Maybe he’s not actually doing it, just standing there watching. An innocent bystander.”
“Nathan has been seen in the group, has done nothing to stop the behaviors, and though students have reported that he’s been involved before, this is the first time it was verifiable.”
Gary blustered, his face red, then asked, “Who heard him?”
“I did.”
Gary slapped his mouth shut. Rachel wanted to cry. How could Nathan say that to anyone, let alone a handicapped boy?
She thought about the kids Nathan was running with, some of whom already had their driver’s licenses, and probably cool cars, too. No wonder he’d wanted his permit. He was competing. She hated the way he was doing it, but she was sure this was all about looking big around his friends. Since starting back at work, she’d felt the pinch of being out of touch, of not knowing his friends, their families. That lack of involvement was coming home to roost.
“What do you suggest we do at this point”—she cut herself off before calling him Rand—“Principal Torvik?” Please, have all the answers for me.
“We need to address the root cause, Mrs. Delaney. You can ground him, try to keep him away from these so-called friends of his, but he already knows what he did was wrong. We need to know why, what’s going on in his head.”
She knew what was going on. It was the divorce, his dad dating a bimbo, a mother who wasn’t home anymore—out screwing the principal he despised, no less—his whole life changing, insecurity. And, to top it off, being a teenager.
“Shall we call Nathan in now?” Rand asked.
Rachel nodded. Gary grunted.
God, how was she supposed to fix it all?
HE’D EXPERIENCED THE MOMENTARY SHOCK OF RECOGNITION, the initial Oh shit, then, just as quickly, it was over. Rand had wanted to smile. The law of attraction. Everything was part of a circle, and there were no coincidences. He’d found her in one area of his life, and she was bound to turn up in another. It was actually no surprise that she was Nathan’s mother. There was always more than one connection.
Nathan looked like her. Yes, his hair was brown, hers blond, but they had the same face, the same eyes, the same smile. At least when Nathan smiled, which he didn’t often do around Rand.
He felt her pain. There was nothing worse than not knowing what to do for your kid. Except not understanding why it had happened. He might not have children of his own, but he’d been an educator for close to twenty years, first as a science teacher, then moving into administration. He knew kids. Nathan’s problem was the divorce and not feeling like he fit in anywhere.
Rachel’s problem was the asshole ex-husband.
Gary Delaney was a small-minded man who couldn’t see beyond his own needs. He didn’t deserve a woman like Rachel. Thus, he’d lost her.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Nathan said with that same militant stare. Except that he focused on the edge of Rand’s desk, not meeting his mother’s eyes, not meeting Rand’s.
“We had this discussion earlier, Nathan,” Rand said. “We’re not having it again. This is a different discussion. I’m not going to suspend you. I’m going to let your parents handle the issue as they see fit this time.”
“Thank you. You can rest assured we’ll take care of it, Principal Torvik,” Rachel said.
Wrong time, wrong place, but later, he wanted to hear her say that in the bedroom when she was down on her knees. Or he was on his. He’d think about that when she called him tonight. Right now, he had other things to deal with. Like the ex.
Delaney clenched and unclenched his fists. “We’ll talk to him and draw our own conclusions.”
He’d expected that kind of reaction. Delaney wasn’t merely small-minded, he was a small man. If he admitted Nathan had a problem, he’d have to admit he’d fucked up by divorcing his gorgeous wife. Rachel hadn’t talked much about her marriage, but he’d read between the lines and realized the ex was at fault.
“Your parents understand that if I have to call them again, the measures I’ll be forced to take will be greater.”
Nathan merely stared sullenly at the same spot on the desk. Rand had explained Wally’s disability. But all most kids saw was that his jeans were too short and his clothes too tight as if he’d outgrown them, he never looked anyone in the eyes, he abhorred being touched, and he talked in threes, short sharp sentences, sometimes only one word, but always repeated three times. Something about the number three made him feel safe. The clothes did, too, like a child holding on to a security blanket. What kids noticed was his strangeness. Nathan still didn’t understand, no matter how Rand described autism.
“If you want to come in and talk to me, Nathan, my door is always open,” Rand said.
The boy snorted.
“I can make an appointment with the school counselor, if you’d prefer.”
Nathan’s face reddened. “I don’t need a counselor.”
Rand didn’t practice magic. He couldn’t perform miracles. He’d had his eye on Nathan. He was a good kid; Rand felt that in his gut. Long ago, when he was Nathan’s age, he’d fallen in with a bad crowd. They’d smoked pot—and inhaled. Things may have gone from bad to worse if not for Mr. Lumberger, his math teacher. All it took was one adult who gave a damn about him. Rand strove to do the same t
hing for his students. When he saw a good kid on the brink, like Nathan, he didn’t let him fall over into the abyss without reaching out a hand to grab him. Mr. Lumberger was why he’d become a teacher; kids like Nathan and Wally were why his job had become his vocation.
He had, however, made some mistakes with Nathan, but he would keep offering his hand until he figured out what the boy really needed.
In the meantime, Nathan had Rachel. Even without his help, Rand believed she’d be enough to bring Nathan around. Unless the asshole ex-husband got in the way.
“I WANT TO TALK TO YOU.” GARY PARKED HIS CAR IN THE DRIVE AND followed her into the garage. Nathan was already inside.
It had taken three tries on the remote to open the garage door. She’d changed the batteries, but something else was wrong, maybe the reader. Gary had still done nothing about it.
“I have to make dinner, Gary. What do you want?”
Hands jammed at his hips, legs spread, he blocked her way into the kitchen. “That guy’s got it out for Nathan for some reason.”
Gary wanted to take Nathan’s word that it was an accident, but Rachel believed Rand. Rephrase, she believed the principal. But would she have been so adamant if she wasn’t having sex with him? Who knew? “He has no reason to make up the story.”
“So you believe your son would pick on some retarded kid?” Gary said the word with a sneer.
“They’re mentally challenged, not retarded, and if Nathan felt backed into a corner by these new friends of his, he might take the line of least resistance and do what they tell him to.”
“That’s bullshit, Rachel. Have you even met these kids?”
“No, I haven’t. Have you?” she threw back at him, but guilt made her face flush.
“I have a mortgage to cover, Rachel, and I don’t get paid for the overtime I have to work.” Oh yeah, he just had to grind in that he’d gotten the short end of the settlement stick.
She covered her mouth. They weren’t fighting about helping Nathan. They’d turned this whole thing into being about them. “Gary, let me talk to Nathan. When we’re not with the principal, he might be more willing to open up.”
The Principal's Office Page 13
