Unsocial

by Dykes, Nicole

  She smiles at Cassie. “Hey, Cass. So are you excited about your new place?”

  Cassie shrugs and puts on what I’m sure is a fake smile. “Yeah, it’s great.”

  That wasn’t enthusiastic at all, and I can see Brooke has picked up on it as well. “How about the first thing we do is give me a quick tour to get it out of the way. I can’t wait to see if the rest of the house is as beautiful as the outside.” Way to play that off. No need to come out and say, I need to see where everyone sleeps.

  Luke unfolds his arms, “Ugh, why do you have to see where we are sleeping! It’s a five bedroom house. We all have our own rooms, so why do you have to see them?” Obviously, her subtlety didn’t fool him, and he’s just not one to hold back.

  I do give Brooke credit for one thing; she handles Luke pretty damn well. Somehow she has patience with him and never looks to me to do something about it. She just looks him right in the eye and says, “It’s just one time, and the quicker you show me, the quicker you can get on with your life.” God, I lo….really fucking admire this girl.

  He rolls his eyes and starts downstairs to where his room is. We all follow behind. Luke goes to his door and opens it. “There it is. Amazing right?”

  She smiles, “Very nice. I’m sure it’s great having your privacy.”

  Luke doesn’t say anything, so Brooke just turns to Cassie, “Okay, where’s your room?”

  Cassie slowly walks over to her door and opens it to show Brooke her room. Brooke walks into Cassie’s room and looks around. “Wow, this is great, Cassie. You must be thrilled to have a room that’s all yours. Oh, and look at your cheerleader uniforms. I love how you arranged all the pictures from camp.” Yep, Cassie’s a cheerleader, and I’m going out of my goddamn mind.

  Cassie smiles, that fucking fake smile again. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

  I can see in Brooke’s eyes that she knows Cassie is lying too, but she goes on. “It’s bigger than my room at your age for sure. It’s bigger than my room now.”

  Cassie laughs genuinely at that, “Really?”

  “Yeah. Do you and Luke share a bathroom then?”

  Cassie nods, “Yeah, but I’m usually up first, so I don’t have to rush as much.”

  “Well, that’s great. Sharing a bathroom with only one other person versus four others has to be a huge improvement.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  We move upstairs to the main level so Brooke can inspect Michael and Gabby’s rooms, which she does with a quick approval. Now we’re heading into the dining room. Luke sits down in his chair and then looks at Brooke. Shit. He has some asshole thing to say. “You didn’t ask to see Dylan’s room this time. Have you given up on that?”

  This kid was grating on my last fucking nerve. I glare over at him, “Luke, knock it off.”

  “What? When she did the tour at our last house, she was obsessed with your bed. Now she just doesn’t care.”

  Brooke purses her lips and then looks to me, “Dylan, there are five bedrooms, so I’m assuming that you have a room now, and it’s still only the five of you here right.”

  I nod, “Yes.”

  “Great, that’s all I need to know, assuming you don’t have dead bodies lying all around.”

  I have to laugh at that, “Not now, I cleaned before you showed up.”

  “Thank you so much for that kindness. It’s sure going to save me extra paperwork,” she grins. Luke does not look pleased that he missed getting a rise out of Brooke.

  She asks the kids about school and then wraps things up with them. “Okay, so as long as everything is still good and you don’t have any questions you all are free to go.”

  Michael, Gabby, and Luke hop up hurriedly and leave, but Cassie stays. “Actually, could we talk for a minute?” She looks over at me and then back at Brooke, “Maybe in private?”

  Brooke nods, “Yeah, of course. Do you want to talk in your room?”

  She nods and they both go downstairs to talk in Cassie’s new room that she apparently hates. What could I possibly be missing? I had asked each of the kids how they wanted their rooms decorated and had followed their directions perfectly. I even spent an hour with Gabby going through every color and theme until she picked out exactly what she wanted without having to say a word.

  After about twenty minutes Brooke comes back upstairs and joins me again at the dining room table. “Okay, so just a couple of things and then I will get going.”

  “What was that about with Cassie?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that right? We just talked, she’s fine.”

  “She hates this house right?”

  Brooke looks like she is thinking hard, she thinks through everything. “No, I imagine you all just miss the old house a little.”

  Okay, so that’s what’s wrong. Brooke is speaking in code, but I understand what she’s saying. Cassie doesn’t hate this house; she just misses the old one. I hate that Brooke was right when she warned me. “Yeah, but some of us couldn’t wait to move from the old house.”

  “Yeah, but some of you are very young and probably don’t understand how much that house meant.”

  Her tone is begging me to understand where the kids are coming from. I was away from that house for many years and had lost a lot of attachment to it. Now I realize the kids have not only lost their parents but also just about everything else that’s in any way part of their norm. Goddamn, Brooke Porter. Why is she always right? It’s called a master’s degree in social work, asshat. I am getting really good at keeping my cool around the kids, but when Brooke and I are alone, I seldom hold back. This “code” bullshit is getting old. “Are you implying that I didn’t prepare them for the move?”

  “Well, did you talk to them beforehand?”

  “Yes, of course, I did. I didn’t gather them up in a fucking circle and talk about it for hours, but I talked to them. Cassie couldn’t wait.”

  She lets out a sigh like she is frustrated with me. “She will be fine. You all will, it’s just an adjustment. This really is a nice house, though Dylan. Good job.”

  I clench my jaw. Why doesn’t she just pat my head like a damn puppy? “What else do you need to go over with me, Brooke?”

  She stands up from the table, “I have one suggestion. Family meals are a great idea. The same time every night of the week, every family member, with a few exceptions as they come up. Studies have shown that dinner time with the family is a great time to check up on the kids. You’ll learn a lot about what’s going on in their lives.”

  “We eat dinner together all of the time.”

  She looks at me, questioning me. “You all eat at the kitchen table? Healthy meals?”

  Okay, usually I order pizza or some other take out, and we spread out over the house. “No, I mean I don’t cook or anything.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time to learn.”

  “Learn?”

  She starts walking toward the door, “Yes, learn to cook healthy meals for you and the kids to sit down at the table and eat and talk together.”

  I walk with her to the door, “Yeah, I just don’t see that happening.”

  She shakes her head, “Look how about next Tuesday I stay a little after my hour and I’ll show you some basics. It’s cooking; it’s not that difficult.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. Is she serious? Is she offering to help me cook for the kids? Damn, she does care about her job. “I mean, I guess. Is that really in your job description?”

  “Yeah, my job is to make sure that you guys adjust to this new arrangement the best way possible, so I’m throwing in cooking lessons.”

  “Okay, if you think that’s best.”

  “I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  She walks out to her car and leaves. Another week down. And here’s where I feel all that crazy shit. I dread her coming, and I hate to see her leaving.

  Chapter 8

  Brooke

  I’m sitting at my desk f
illing out boring paperwork, but I’m doing it with a smile still on my face after reading Cassie’s last text; she gets to cheer in her first football game on Friday. As I look over the application for paid childcare for a family I met with yesterday, I get a call on my office phone. I reach over and answer it, “Brooke Porter.”

  “Hi, Ms. Porter, this is Evelyn Christianson at Overland Park Elementary. I’m the principal here.”

  Uh-oh, this can’t be good. “Is something wrong?”

  “First of all, are you the case worker for Michael Monroe?”

  Michael? “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, Ms. Porter, it seems we have a situation here at the school involving Michael. He told us that he wanted us to contact you as well as his brother Dylan. Is it possible for you to come to the school? We’re still waiting for Mr. Monroe to get here.

  “Okay, of course. Is Michael okay?”

  “Michael got into a fight at school today and punched another student. I think it would be better if you came here to explain the rest.”

  There has to be some mistake or unfortunate misunderstanding. I just can’t picture Michael punching anyone. “Michael Monroe? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am very sure, and we take this kind of thing very seriously. His brother, Dylan is on his way now, and after Michael informed us about who you are we feel it prudent that you be here as well. Can we count on you showing up?”

  “Of course, I’m leaving now.”

  “Very good, Ms. Porter. We’ll see you when you get here.”

  I don’t have another appointment for an hour, so I quickly clear my desk and drive to the elementary school. I walk through the double doors and see that the main office is right in front of me. When I enter, I immediately see Dylan and Michael standing with a stern older woman. Michael stands with his head drooped, and Dylan is clearly pissed.

  I walk over to join them, “Dylan, Michael, what’s going on?”

  Dylan acknowledges me first, “I have no idea. Why did they call you for this?”

  “Apparently Michael told them who I am and asked that I be here. Since I’m your family’s caseworker they called and asked me to come.” Dylan turns to Michael with a confused look on his face, no doubt he’s wondering why Michael wanted me to be here. I’m wondering the same thing myself. Before he can ask the question a no-nonsense-looking woman joins us. Clearly she’s the principal.

  She looks at me and confirms my guess, “You must be Ms. Porter. I am Ms. Christensen, the principal here.”

  She holds her hand out for me, and I shake it, “Ms. Christensen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Can you tell us what happened, please?”

  “Let’s all go into my office and discuss it in there.”

  We follow her in. She takes her seat behind the desk and instructs us to have a seat on the other side. “It seems that Michael got into a fight today and punched another child at recess.”

  Dylan looks as confused as me and looks to Michael, “You punched someone, why?”

  Michael’s voice is squeaky when he says, “They wouldn’t leave me alone. I asked them to, and they just kept calling me names and knocking my books out of my hand.”

  My heart aches for Michael. It’s clear now why he hates school so much. I keep my voice neutral, “Michael, did you tell someone?”

  He looks over at me, “I do all the time, but they just ignore me.”

  That makes my blood boil, “How long has this been going on?”

  Michael’s small shoulders go up in a quick shrug, “A couple of years.”

  I look at the principal, “This has been going on for a couple of years, and no one has done anything about it?”

  She almost stutters, “Well, I haven’t heard a thing about it.” She addresses Michael with more confidence, “Who exactly did you tell?”

  Michael looks nervous, “My teacher every year, the gym teacher, and I told Ms. Reynolds yesterday at recess because she was the teacher that was out there.”

  Dylan looks at Michael like he feels guilty, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “I don’t know. You and Luke could handle it yourselves, so I wanted to handle it myself. Then Brooke told me just to avoid them. I tried, Brooke, I really tried. They just wouldn’t stop.” He looks close to tears, and I’m simultaneously heartbroken and beyond pissed for this boy.

  I look at Ms. Christensen, “So what is going to happen?”

  “We have a very strict no-violence policy at this school, but with the special circumstances of Michael losing his parents this summer, I have decided to be a little lenient and let him off with three days suspension.”

  She actually thinks she is being nice about this, and she’s blaming it on Michael losing his parents. That doesn’t sit well with me, and I can tell Dylan is angry also, before he can say anything, I do, “That’s being lenient? It sounds like Michael has been bullied for years without anyone stepping in and doing something about it. What exactly is this school’s policy on bullying?”

  She looks flustered, “We, of course, have policies, and bullying is not tolerated Ms. Porter, but I never received a report of bullying.”

  “Then it’s obvious your teachers need a refresher course on what constitutes bullying and when to report it. Michael is a good kid and would not just go off without a reason. Is the other child being suspended?”

  “The one that was punched in the nose? No, why would we punish the student who was hit?” The woman looks confused.

  “Why, because he was clearly bullying Michael, and from what it sounds like he’s been getting away with it for at least two years while your staff has failed to protect him. You cannot punish Michael and not the other kid or kids. And the fact that you have not received a report of the prior incidences doesn’t reflect well at all on your school or your staff.”

  She sighs heavily, and thins her lips, “Excuse me, Ms. Porter, but how do we know that what Michael is telling us is even true? There has never been a report of bullying brought to my attention. What if he’s coming up with this bullying story to get out of trouble?” I’m going to slap her.

  I stare straight back across the desk at her, “Do you even know your students? If you did you would certainly know that Michael is in no way a liar, and he certainly isn’t a fighter. He’s a straight-A student who loves to read. He’s a 10-year-old little boy who has for the last two years expected his teachers to help him by telling them what’s been going on with the other boys. You have no right to try to cover your staff’s ineptness by saying such things about Michael. Today’s incident simply boils down to him having to protect himself since no one else seems to want to. Now, what do you plan to do about the other boy who no doubt provoked Michael into doing something that is clearly out of character for him?”

  “Alright, I will suspend the other child for one day and speak to his parents. I will also speak to his teachers for the last couple of years to find out why the bullying allegations weren’t reported.” She stands and dismisses us from her office. I walk with Michael and Dylan to the parking lot, and Michael looks up at me, “Thank you for believing me. I’m sorry, Brooke. I tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t quit. Then they started talking about Gabby and how Gabby’s retarded now. I just couldn’t take it, Dylan. I know you guys are disappointed, but I just…..”

  “Michael, stop. I’m not disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that the school didn’t protect you. I’m sorry that no one did anything. If anything like this ever happens again, and you don’t feel safe telling a teacher, then tell Dylan or tell me.” It is hard to tell him that there are better ways to handle things when he has repeatedly tried.

  “Thanks, Brooke. I’ll wait for you in the car, Dylan.” He heads to the car leaving Dylan and me to talk.

  He plays with his keys in his large hands, “Thank you for what you said. I had no idea he has been going through this, let alone going through it for years. I should have guessed something was off when you were talking to them about st
arting school. It just seems like he should have been as excited as Cassie. He loves to read and learn; he just doesn’t want to do it at school, and now we know why. I should have asked questions.”

  “Dylan, don’t blame yourself, I should have asked more questions as well. I sensed something wasn’t right because like you said, he should have been more excited. He’s a wonderful student who loves to read. Since he does so well with his school work, I just dismissed it that he was bored in school. I never suspected the bullying either. I wanted to ask, but I just didn’t know if he would trust me enough to tell me if anything were wrong.”

  Dylan’s handsome face almost looks guilty, “Yeah, and I certainly didn’t help with that either. Like you said, they’ll start trusting you when I let my guard down with you.” He looks toward the car where Michael is waiting then back to me like he remembers something. “Earlier this week he came home with his shirt ripped. He said it was no big deal that some kid grabbed it on the playground. Then I just kind of started teaching him a couple of self-defense moves. I didn’t think he would need to use them. Nothing crazy, I just wanted to teach him how to protect himself. Are we totally fucked over this?”

  So that’s where he learned to throw a punch. Makes sense and I think it’s sweet that Dylan tried to help. “No, I mean, obviously I have to write this up because it will be on his school record, but I will word it very cleverly and word it working the bullying aspect and the school’s responsibility for letting it get this far by not stopping it.”

  “So am I going to have to explain to the judge that I taught him how to hit?”

  I shake my head, “No, I think it’s great that you taught him self-defense, and seriously I think you should get the rest of them involved as well. Just make sure it is in defense only. As for Michael hitting that kid, I can easily write that up as brothers horsing around. You weren’t aware of the bullying before you taught him to throw a punch. Who knows, maybe you were just horsing around, right?” I give him a small grin.