by LSF Publications
by Austin Carr
Sylvia was just thinking about getting her things together and sneaking out a few minutes early when her assistant buzzed. "Yes, Jessica," she said resignedly, knowing that Jessica would simply poke her head in if she had a quick question. A buzz meant somebody wanted her.
"Peter Collins is here and would like to speak with you if you're available." Jessica sounded almost apologetic, no doubt having picked up on Sylvia's desire to exit. It was only 4:30, but most of the faculty of Monroe High School had long since departed, all save the coaches, and they were out on the fields or in the gym. She knew the lounge would be empty and the nurse and counselors gone. It was usually just her and Jessica in the late afternoon. She usually stayed until 5:00, just to set a good example, but it seemed silly when there was seldom anyone to set an example for.
Still, she now wished she'd left a few minutes earlier. She knew what Mr. Collins was here about and it didn't presage a pleasant conversation. His son, Eric, a freshman, had received a week's suspension notice for unacceptable physical contact in violation of the school's zero tolerance policy. It had been a bit of a tough call, since Eric's violation had occurred while he was defending a special needs student who was being physically bullied by an upper classman and his friends, but in the end she couldn't make an exception without endangering the entire policy. She doubted his father was happy about it. "Send him in," she said reluctantly.
A few moments later the door opened and Jessica held it for Mr. Collins, raising her eyebrows at Sylvia behind the man's back as he entered. He was a large man, well over six feet and broad shouldered. Eric was a tall boy for a freshman, lean and angular, and Sylvia observed that the boy still had plenty of room to grow, based upon his father's frame. The man was casually dressed in tan slacks and a yellow polo shirt. He could have been coming in directly from the golf course, except for the thick arms straining at the sleeves of his shirt. The arms could have come directly from an old blacksmith's forge. She wondered if he was a jackhammer operator, or worse, a bouncer.
His short, sandy hair was neatly cut and she gave him points for being clean shaven. The scruffy look in vogue did nothing for her. Her ex-husband had loved that look. She'd tried to tell him that it didn't look all that good on a man appreciably shorter than her five foot eight and as slender as an adolescent. It was one of the few times she hadn't gotten her way. He usually allowed her the status of Queen Bee and his facial hair was among the lesser reasons he was booted from the hive.
"Please, have a seat Mr. Collins," she offered politely. She glanced at Jess, still hovering in the doorway and making 'O' expression with her mouth. "And don't feel you have to stay, Jess."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. She was comfortable lecturing men. It was easier with the mothers, who usually were either intimidated by her position or all too eager to agree with her, but using her position of authority over men had its own perks. Sometimes the fathers liked to shout a bit, but it never swayed her from her point of view. In the end, she always got her way. It was her game after all.
"Was Mrs. Collins not available to come?" she asked. She didn't want to go through the same thing with another parent at another time.
He shook his head. "My wife died over a year ago."
"I'm so sorry," she offered politely. "That must be hard for you and Eric."
He nodded. "It is, but we're getting along all right. I had to leave my job to be here for him, but everyone is adjusting."
She was curious in spite of herself. "What is it you do, Mr. Collins?"
"Pete," he prompted with a smile. "I was in the Marines. I spent most of the last decade overseas until Margie..." He broke off and shrugged.
Marines. Better than a bouncer, but not a huge leap up the intellectual food chain. Guns and death. She could see where Eric got his hero impulse. "I'm sorry." She knew she was forgetting something she was expected to say. Then it came. "And thank you for your service."
He nodded his appreciation of the sentiment. She noticed him leaning forward, intent on broaching the subject at hand.
"I assume you're here to talk about Eric." No need to let him get off the ground running.
He nodded grimly. "Yes, I was a little surprised to get the suspension notification..."
She cut across him. "You ARE aware of our school's zero tolerance policy, Mr. Collins? You WERE required to read and sign it prior to Eric's enrolling."
He looked a bit taken aback at her aggressiveness and she considered that all to the good. Never let them get rolling and they're easier to derail. He gave her a small smile. "Please, I'm Pete," he said again.
"Fine." She didn't offer her first name in response. "So you are aware of the policy, aren't you, Pete?"
"I read it, but I'm not sure I understand it." Sylvia sighed inwardly. A glorified grunt. She would have to use small words. Eric seemed a bright enough boy. She only assumed he got that from his mother.
"And what don't you understand?" she asked sweetly.
He looked uncomfortable. "I thought the point of the policy was to curtail fighting."
"It is." She was glad he'd grasped that much.
"But from what Eric told me, he stopped a group of boys from harassing a mentally retarded student..."
"A special needs student," she corrected him.
Again he looked flustered. "Okay, a special needs student. He told me one of the boys was pushing her, not letting her leave and the other two were throwing kotex at her. Was he lying to me about that, because I don't think Eric lies to me. At least he hasn't up until now."
"No, that's my understanding of what happened."
"Oh." Again a look of confusion. "He said the girl was crying, saying she wanted to die, and nobody was doing anything, so he tried to shield her and get her away."
Sylvia nodded her affirmation. "True as far as it goes. But when your son intervened the other boys attacked him and a fight ensued."
"Ensued?" She inwardly rolled her eyes. Small words, she reminded herself. "You're making this sound like the fight spontaneously combusted, or was some event in nature like photosynthesis. Eric was attacked and defended himself. And a traumatized girl."
Sylvia leaned back in her plush executive chair. Okay, so she'd misjudged the man's intelligence a tad. "He was involved in a fight, Mr. Collins. All participants in a fight are considered equally guilty. He should have gone and gotten a teacher or a member of the security team."
"While a poor little girl is put through hell? Seriously?"
"That's the written policy," she said firmly. Maybe the fact that it was in writing would impress him.
"And if those people aren't available? Excuse me, Ms. Nash, but there has to be some allowances made for circumstances."
Here it comes, she thought. An exception needs to be made in MY case. "If exceptions are made, the policy doesn't serve as a deterrent. Surely you as a military man can understand the need for following regulations."
He gave her a pained smile, a contemptuous smirk if truth be told. "I'm sorry, Ms. Nash, but that's an insane policy. It doesn't deter thugs and bullies, it enables them. And it disarms the kids that would like to be helpful. That's what I understand as a military man."
Sylvia bristled, not so much at his words as at the disbelieving smile on his face. She didn't like being made fun of, certainly not by someone she considered not all that far removed from Neanderthal status.
"You signed the form, Mr. Collins," she reminded him coolly.
"Like we have a choice in that?" She noticed with satisfaction that he'd raised his voice. She was winning. "Would you enroll him if I hadn't signed your precious form?"
She gave him her best speculative look, engineered to make him feel like he was a bug being inspected. "I'm sorry that you have a problem following rules and regulations. Obviously your son has the same issue." Zing, she thought.
"Depends on the rules and regulations." His anger was evident. "I did three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq and seemed to do okay. But my commanding officers weren't petty little bureaucrats who hide behind an idiotic policy rather than exercise the smallest amount of critical thinking."
She'd had enough. "This is getting us nowhere, Mr. Collins. Eric's suspension stands. Now if there's nothing else..." She stood up and gestured towards the door.
He made no move to go, just stared at her in amazement. "One question, Ms. Nash. Do you really believe in your policy? I mean, do you hold yourself to the same standards of conduct?"
"Of course," she said firmly.
He laughed and shook his head. "I'm betting not," he smiled.
"You would lose that bet. Just as you have lost this argument. Now, if you don't mind..." She held her arm out imperiously towards the door.
She watched him get to his feet with a loud, resigned sigh. Good, she thought, defeated at last. To her surprise he held out his hand. "Thanks for the insight, Ms. Nash," he said softly.
Well, no one could say she couldn't win with good grace. She put on a plastic smile and came around her desk, hand outstretched. He met her at the side. "I'm sorry..." she started, intending to offer some polite nothing about regretting that they couldn't achieve a meeting of the minds.
Suddenly, he reached out and secured her wrist. "No, but you're going to be," he said wearily.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked loudly. She pulled her arm back, but Pete's grip was like a vise. She remembered feeling like this when her father dragged her over to the couch for a spanking. But this man couldn't be thinking of doing that to her. A grown woman? A school principal, in her office no less? "Let me go right now!"
He pulled her firmly towards the desk. His hands were enormous, completely overlapping her forearm with finger length to spare. She pulled back against him, lowering her rear end for leverage, digging in her heels and trying to jerk her arm free, but it was like pulling against a tow truck. "Stop it," she ordered in her best voice of authority.
"Don't worry. I'm sure someone will run and get one of those security drones, or another teacher."
With her free hand she slapped him across the face. The blow landed flush against his clean-shaven cheek and the force of it shocked her wrist and elbow. He barely reacted to the slap, unmoving and almost unblinking, but for a moment he stopped pulling her. He didn't release her though and after a brief pause a satisfied smile crossed his face. "Now, you see there? You just defended yourself physically, so I guess in your school, by your rules, we're now equally at fault." He sat himself down on the side of the desk. his right foot on the floor and his left leg perched near the edge. Another slow, inexorable pull and she was up against the edge of the desk with her pelvis pushed against his leg. "You got your shot in, and now I'll get mine."
"You can't do this!" she protested, giving another violent twist and dropping her butt nearly to the floor.
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