I speed all the way to the school. I can’t think straight, and I nearly go through a red light. I’ve gotten a fair number of calls from the kids’ schools over the years, but this is the first time I’ve been told to come in without any explanation of what went wrong. But the principal said that Nico is fine. He’s not dead and he’s not in the hospital. She said he’s fine.
But what if somebody else isn’t fine? That thought haunts me.
When I get to the school, I am comforted by the fact that there are no ambulances or fire trucks lined up outside. They make me sign in at the front desk, and it takes forever for them to make me a little temporary ID sticker to plaster on my chest. I follow the directions to the principal’s office, where I find Enzo already sitting outside in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs. He stands up when he sees me.
“They said for me to wait until you got here,” he says. “Do you know what’s going on?” I ask.
He shakes his head. Even though he is as clueless as I am, I am really glad he’s here. Enzo can be incredibly charming, and if Nico is in some sort of trouble, that could come in handy. Although I wish he didn’t have quite so much dirt on his boots. He’s left a trail leading into the room.
We sit back down on those plastic chairs. Enzo keeps tapping his foot on the ground, and after a minute, he reaches out to take my hand. We exchange nervous looks.
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” I say, even though I am sure of no such thing.
“I did not see any ambulance,” Enzo agrees. The exact same thing I had been thinking. “Is nothing.”
“This school is so snooty,” I say. “He probably just, like, had too many rips in his blue jeans.”
“He does have many rips in his jeans,” he agrees.
He squeezes my hand. Neither of us really thinks that.
Finally, the principal opens the door to her office, looking much like what I remember. She’s even wearing a white dress shirt and tan slacks like she was during the tour. But unlike during the tour, she’s not smiling.
“Please come in,” she tells us.
Enzo gives my hand one last squeeze, and we follow her into the office. Nico is already sitting there, and when I see his face, I gasp. He has what is definitely going to be a black eye, and his shirt collar is torn. He also looks like he’s been rolling around in the dirt.
“As you can see, Nicolas was fighting during recess today,” she says.
Nico won’t even look at us. He’s hanging his head, as well he should be.
I can’t believe he was caught fighting. How could he do something like that? He’s gotten into trouble for a lot of different things, but never anything violent.
“Who started the fight?” Enzo asks.
Principal Corkum’s lips tighten. “Nicolas did.” “Nico!” I cry. “How could you do that!”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into his torn shirt.
“Why?” Enzo addresses the principal. “What is reason they are fighting?”
“The other boy was making fun of a girl on the playground,” Corkum says. “Obviously, that was not good behavior on the part of the other boy. But Nicolas’s response was completely inappropriate. He could have told a teacher, or if he did not want to involve the teachers, he could have used his words. Instead, he punched the other boy in the nose.”
“So,” Enzo says shortly, “my son sticks up for girl, and now he is in trouble?”
“Mr. Accardi,” she says tightly. “Your son is in trouble for fighting on school grounds. The other boy is at the emergency room and might have a broken nose.”
“I broke my nose once.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal, which makes me cringe. “It still works.”
I thought Enzo was going to charm our way out of this, but he’s just making things worse. I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing, but we should be groveling right now. “We are so sorry this happened,” I say to the principal. “He will definitely be disciplined.”
“I’m afraid that’s not adequate given the circumstances,” Corkum says. “We are going to have to suspend Nicolas for the rest of the week.” I was afraid of this the second I saw Nico’s face, but now that she is saying the words, I want to burst into tears. Suspended? How could that happen? How will this affect his future? Do colleges find out about
third-grade suspensions?
No, that’s not the issue. The issue is that for some reason, Nico took it upon himself to punch another boy in the nose when he’s old enough to know better.
“Fine,” Enzo says. “We go home then.”
Nico won’t even look at us as we make the walk of shame out of the school. He doesn’t have the best impulse control in the world, but he’s never done anything like this before. He never even pulled my hair when he was a baby. He’s not violent.
At least he never was before.
As soon as we get out of the school and down into the parking area, Enzo lays a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Who was this other boy you were in the fight with?”
Nico’s shoulders slump. “Caden Ruda. He’s a jerk.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s a jerk,” I say. “You can’t start a fight like that.”
“I know,” Nico mumbles.
“Your mother is right,” Enzo says. He pauses. “But I also do not want you to think it is not okay to stand up for someone who is being bullied.”
Nico’s dark eyes widen at his father’s words.
“Enzo,” I snap at him. “Nico is in a lot of trouble. He punched a kid in the face!”
“A kid who deserved it.” “We don’t know that!”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I would think you of all people would be understanding about how important it is to stick up for someone in trouble.”
He’s right. I have always stuck up for people in trouble. And where has that gotten me? I went to prison because I stuck up for a friend in trouble—I kept her from being raped but then went too far and gave up ten years of my life. Enzo also sticks up for people in trouble, but he’s always been smarter about it. After all, he has never been to prison like I have.
I had hoped that Nico took after him. I don’t want my son to take after me.
“It was the wrong thing to do,” I say stubbornly. “Nicolas, you’re grounded.”
“Fine,” he mumbles.
“And you’re coming home in my car,” I add. I don’t want to risk Enzo telling Nico again that he is a hero for breaking that other kid’s nose.
I hate the way Nico won’t look at me and won’t offer a sincere apology. It’s not like him. Nico isn’t perfect, but when he gets in trouble, he’s always quick to say he’s sorry. When did that change?
It seems like my son is growing up, and I’m not sure I like what he’s becoming.
