I’m bored.
I spin on my stool like I used to do with Quinn when he was little, waiting for inspiration to strike. Liam is at ‘work’. He forgot, in all his infinite wisdom, that it takes at least two people to run Josie’s store, so he’s working with Jenna for the next couple of days.
And I sit here, bored. The kids are in school. JD stayed in L.A. I came to work to get my mind off Katelyn and her not being here, but it’s not working. All I can think about after waking up next to her, is that being alone only solidifies my desire to be a part of her life. I’m not sure what step is next, except for telling the kids. But after that, what happens next? I know that I need to see her every day to feel alive. I just don’t know what she wants or needs. I plan to find out, though.
I pull my ringing phone out of my pocket. My heart starts beating faster thinking its Katelyn. I look at the unfamiliar number and hope soars.
“Hello?”
“Mr. James?”
I feel as if my heart suddenly stops beating. The voice on the other end is not Katelyn. I should’ve known better. We may be sharing ourselves intimately, but we have yet to talk on the phone, and I was hoping that would be rectified.
“Yes?”
“This Mr. Lumsden, Principal at Beaumont Elementary –“
“Is Quinn okay?” I blurt out before he has a chance to tell me why he’s calling.
“Yes and no. I need you to come down and meet with me. When can you be here?”
“I’m on my way.” I press end and pocket my phone. I bump into my drums as I move out from behind them. I knew public school was a bad choice, but my mom assured me Quinn would do well.
I take the stairs two at time and run to my car. I take a deep breath before starting it. My phone goes off again. I hit answer without even looking at it.
“What are you doing right now?” Liam asks.
I pull out of his driveway and head toward the school. “I’m heading to school. Something’s wrong with Quinn.”
“Oh boy,” Liam says. “Listen, the Principal just called and said that Peyton needs to come home. Josie and I are her standby when Mr. Powell can’t get the girls, and he’s not home. I’ll let them know you’re picking her up. I believe Katelyn added you to the list.”
My heartbeat picks up again. “We should call Katelyn.”
“No, we shouldn’t. She needs this vacation and he didn’t say what was wrong, so it might be nothing. Just go get her and take her back to the house.”
He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything. I try not to think about what both of them could’ve done for the principal to call, but I’m about to find out. I pull into the parking lot and take the closest spot I can find. I’m not sure my feet even hit the pavement as I run into the school and into the office.
“Dad!”
I spin around and find Quinn and Peyton sitting in chairs along the wall. Both of them have their backpacks sitting on the floor. I give Quinn a good hard look. He stands and shakes his head.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he says, stepping closer.
“You have a black eye.”
“It’s my fault,” Peyton says quietly.
“No it’s not, Peyton, stop saying that.” Quinn says through gritted teeth. Peyton looks like she’s about to cry, which spurs my desire to be there for her. She crosses her arms and looks away from me.
I put my hand on Quinn’s shoulder and give it a light squeeze. “Go sit down, I’ll find out what’s going on, okay?”
“You’ll be mad.”
I sigh and nod. “Thanks for the warning, buddy.”
I walk back to the counter and announce myself to the woman behind the counter.
“You can go in and see Mr. Lumsden now.”
I remember the days I would spend in the principal’s office, waiting for my mom to come and get me. The first few times I would get into trouble, grounded. But those quickly stopped and all she would do is cry. I couldn’t stop her tears, no matter how hard I tried.
I knock once and open the door. I’m anxious and want to get the kids out of here. The principal stands and shakes my hand. We both sit. He makes a teepee with this fingers and acts like he’s thinking about what he needs to tell me.
“Mr. James, there is never an easy way to say this, but your son has been in a fight.”
“Obviously,” I reply, shortly.
“We take fighting very seriously here at Beaumont Elementary and we don’t condone violence.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Mr. Lumsden shakes his head. “Sadly, the children aren’t talking. All I’ve been able to figure out is that there was some name calling and actions taken with hands.”
“Is he suspended?”
“Three days.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The principal may not be able to figure out what happened, but I will. “And what about Peyton Powell?”
Mr. Lumsden picks up a piece of paper and studies it. “It says here that you’ll be taking her home?”
“Yes, but I need to know what to tell her mother.”
“Well, Mr. James, she’s a mystery. She won’t talk to anyone and has asked that she go home with Quinn. We usually don’t oblige students, but she’s prone to outbursts, and we feel in this situation it’s just best to send her home for the day.”
“Got it, thanks,” I say as I get out of the chair. I throw open the door and both kids jump. “Grab your stuff, let’s go,” I demand. They both stand, shouldering their backpacks and follow me out to the car.
The ride back to Liam’s is quiet and every time I look in the rear view mirror, they’re looking at each other. I can’t imagine what they’re plotting, but it won’t work. They exit the car quietly and follow me in the house.
“Downstairs, Quinn,” I say angrily. Quinn looks at Peyton before she heads into the kitchen. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why he would want to hurt another child. He knows how I feel about violence. I flip the switch in the studio, turning on the lights. He passes me and sits down on Liam’s stool.
I pull JD’s stool forward and sit across from him. “Spill it.”
“I can’t because I made a promise, and you said to always keep my promises.”
He’s right, I did. “I’ve also told you there are exceptions, and this is one of those times. What happened in school today?”
Quinn looks away from me and sighs. “My friend was being bullied on the playground and I asked the other person… ya know, the one being mean to stop, and he didn’t. He was saying all these really mean things, and my friend was crying. The boy touched my friend and my friend said it hurt so I hit him.”
Quinn doesn’t look at me when he tells me the story. I think he’s probably afraid of what my expression is or what my reaction is going to be. What he doesn’t know is that I’m extremely proud and angry at the same time. Violence is never the answer, but sticking up for your friends is. He knows what I went through, and I made him promise he’d always stick up for those who need help.
I tap his leg to get his attention. He turns and looks at me with tears dripping down his face. “I can’t be mad at you. I am disappointed that you turned to violence, but I understand. I don’t know what your punishment will be until I’ve sat and thought about it some more.”
I get up and pull him into my arms. Everything that I couldn’t be when I was younger, he is and he makes me incredibly proud to be his dad. I sit back down and move his hair from his eyes.
“Is Peyton hurt?”
“How’d you know it was her?” he asks, his face full of shock.
“Good guess,” I say, trying to bite back the smile forming.
“She doesn’t want anyone to know.”
I nod. “Okay,” I say respecting their bond. “I want to talk to her though, so can you go get her for me?”
Quinn reluctantly gets down from the stool and walks to the door. “I’m sorry, dad.”
“I know, buddy.” He exits, leaving the door open. I take these few moments to think about what I can do to help Peyton. Probably not much, but we are more alike than she’ll want to accept. I don’t even know what I can tell Katelyn without her freaking out and coming home early. She needs this vacation, but if her daughter is being bullied at school, she needs to know so she can deal with it.
Peyton appears out of thin air. I didn’t even hear her come down the stairs. She stands in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Now that I know what’s going on, this stance makes sense. She’s protecting herself and that breaks my heart.
“Want to come in?”
She shakes her head no.
“Okay,” I say. I move my stool closer to her and sit down. “We can talk right here.”
She drops her eyes to the floor. Either she really hates me, or she’s embarrassed. I’m going to go with a bit of both just to cushion my ego.
“Do you want to tell me what happened today?”
“You’re not my dad.”
“No, I’m not and I’m not trying to be, but I want to be your friend, Peyton, if you’ll let me.”
“I have Noah and Quinn.”
“You do,” I agree. “They’re some pretty great friends, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you a story?”
Peyton shrugs and still avoids making eye contact with me. So I start my story in hopes that she’ll understand that I’ve been through the same things she’s going through now.
“When I was four, I lost my dad. On the day he died, he kissed me goodnight and went to work. When I woke up, my mom was crying and she told me that he was gone. I didn’t know what that meant until we had his funeral. I was too young to understand that my life had just changed, that everything I knew was going to go away. I had to move from my big house with all my toys and friends that I played with every day, to a very small apartment and was only allowed to bring a few things. A year later when I started school, I was scared because I didn’t know anyone. My friends were all going to a different school. I was alone and some of the other kids picked up on that. They would pull my hair or make fun of my clothes. They would say hurtful things about my dad and laugh at me when I would cry. This didn’t stop until I graduated high school and no longer had to see those people.
“If you’re being bullied, I can help you. I don’t want to know who is doing it because there’s no use in talking to his parents. Besides, you’re more important to me than some idiot kid who thinks it’s funny to make fun of people. People like him will get nowhere in life.”
Peyton finally looks at me. I don’t know what I said, but whatever it was I’m thankful. I reach forward and wipe away her tears.
“Do you want to know what I used to do when I was younger to get rid of all my anger?”
“What?” her tiny, broken voice asks.
“Come here, I’ll show you.” I get up and move JD’s stool back to where it was and walk over to my drums. Peyton stands next to me. I pull her closer, lifting her up on to my lap. I thought for sure she’d balk and run away, but she doesn’t. I place a drumstick in each hand. She looks at me questioningly.
“Do you know what the mean kid looks like?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Now picture his face on the drum and hit it.”
Peyton does, but only taps the drum.
“No, Peyton. I want you to hit it hard. Let it all out on my drums. You can’t hurt them, so don’t even worry about that right now.”
Peyton hits the drum again, but barely.
“Is that all you got?” I ask. I pull another set of sticks out and hit the drum hard. I do this over and over again, saying things that make me angry. Peyton tries again, this time much harder. We take turns hitting the drums until she has both sticks pounding down. I sit there, holding her steady in my lap so she doesn’t fall forward.
When she’s done, she drops the sticks and turns in my lap. Her face is red and puffy from tears and it breaks my heart to see her going through so much pain.
“I’m so sorry, Peyton, no one deserves this much pain.”
“Your daddy went to heaven too?”
“He did.”
“Did you cry?”
“I did. He was my best friend.”
“So was my daddy.”
“I know.” I pull her into a hug and she squeezes me as hard as she can. I don’t know if this is a turning point for us or not, but right now, I’m willing to accept whatever she needs to dish out, whether it’s good or bad. “You can come down here anytime you want.”
“You won’t be mad?”
I shake my head. “No, not at all.”
She turns and picks up the sticks and taps them down a few times. She touches the cymbal and laughs at the different noises it makes.
“Harrison?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Will you teach me to play?”
My heart soars with relief. I try not to think too much into what she’s asking, but if this is a way for us to connect, I’m running with it.
“Anything for you, Peyton.”