Chapter 6
Prissy was livid.
Half an hour ago, she’d been on her way out the door to meet with Rose Cohen’s auxiliary league when Manning’s high school principal called to inform her that Manning had gotten into a fight with another student.
She’d rushed right over to Coronado High. Upon her arrival, she’d found her son sprawled in a chair across from Principal Henderson’s desk, an ice pack pressed to his left eye. When he saw Prissy, a look of dread had crossed his face before his expression turned sullen.
Seething with fury, Prissy listened with forced composure as the principal explained to her what had happened that morning. “According to other students who witnessed the fight,” Henderson said at the end of his account, “Manning threw the first punch.”
Prissy glanced sharply at her son. “Is that true?”
Lowering the ice pack from his face, Manning mumbled, “Yeah.”
“What? Why did you do that?”
Manning fell mutinously silent, glaring down at his sneakers.
“I asked you a question,” Prissy snapped. “Why did you start the fight?”
Her son scowled. “I didn’t start it. I finished it.”
Taken aback by his brash response, Prissy shot a glance at Principal Henderson. The man was frowning, his eyes narrowed with disapproval.
Striving for patience—and resisting the maternal instinct to fuss over her son’s swelling eye—Prissy prodded, “So you threw the first punch, but you didn’t start the fight?”
“No, ma’am.”
When Manning stubbornly offered no more, it took everything Prissy had not to reach over and smack him upside his head.
“I certainly share your frustration, Dr. Wolf,” Principal Henderson interjected. “None of the eyewitnesses saw what actually led to the altercation, or so they claim. The other boy and his friends aren’t cooperating, and neither is Manning.”
“Where is the other student?” Prissy asked. “I’d like to meet with him and his parents to get to the bottom of this incident.”
Principal Henderson grimaced. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible today. Rory had to be taken to the hospital. His, ah, nose may be broken.”
Prissy gasped, whipping her head around to stare incredulously at Manning. She couldn’t believe that her own child had sent another student to the hospital. The hospital!
“What on earth has gotten into you?” she demanded furiously.
Manning slumped lower in his chair, radiating teenage rebellion and resentment.
Principal Henderson cleared his throat, drawing Prissy’s angry gaze back to him. “Because Manning violated our no-fighting policy, I’m afraid I have no choice but to suspend him for three days.” The man wore a pained expression. “I’m sorry, Dr. Wolf. I wish I could offer an alternative—”
“Oh, no,” Prissy interrupted, holding up a hand. “You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Henderson. My son broke the rules, so he has to suffer the consequences of his actions. Believe me, he knows better than to expect preferential treatment just because I’m the superintendent.”
Principal Henderson looked immensely relieved, and Prissy knew why. Her predecessor had been known to hold grudges, retaliating against anyone she even suspected of opposing her. Principal Henderson undoubtedly feared that Prissy would find a way to punish him for suspending her son. But right now, the only one who needed to fear her wrath was Manning.
“Since this was his second offense,” Principal Henderson volunteered, “Rory Kerrigan will be suspended for six days.”
Prissy arched a brow. “A repeat offender?”
“You could say that.” Principal Henderson glanced at Manning, wry humor tugging at his lips. “But after today, I think it’s safe to assume that Rory will choose his battles more wisely.”
Prissy didn’t share the principal’s amusement. Turning to her son, she said sternly, “Do you have something to say to Principal Henderson?”
With obvious reluctance, Manning looked at the principal and mumbled dutifully, “I’m sorry for—”
“Sit up,” Prissy snapped.
He straightened in the chair. “I’m sorry for getting into a fight with Rory.”
“And?” Prissy prompted.
Manning clenched his jaw. “It won’t happen again, sir.”
Principal Henderson nodded graciously. “Apology accepted. You’re a good student, Manning. I’ve heard nothing but great things about you from your teachers, all of whom have high expectations of you. So I don’t want to see you back in my office again. Understood?”
Manning nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good.”
After answering some of Principal Henderson’s questions about the upcoming bond election, Prissy thanked him for his time and ushered her son out of the office.
In the outer reception area, a mousy-looking girl with horn-rimmed glasses was speaking urgently to the secretary. “It’s very important that I see Principal Henderson and tell him—” She broke off at the sight of Prissy and Manning.
As Prissy watched in openmouthed astonishment, the girl suddenly rushed over and threw her arms around Manning’s waist. He looked startled, then adorably abashed.
Drawing away, the girl gazed up at him and whispered earnestly, “Thank you.”
He winked at her with his good eye. “Keep your head up.”
The girl nodded with the solemnity of an embattled soldier pledging to carry on the fight in honor of a fallen comrade.
As Prissy and Manning left the main office, the girl’s wistful gaze followed them out.
Prissy waited until she and Manning were in the car before she asked, “Who was that young lady?”
“Her name’s Taylor,” Manning mumbled, staring out the passenger window. “She’s in my math class.”
“Is that why you got into a fight with that boy? Because he was bullying Taylor?”
Manning merely shrugged.
Prissy frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
“Does it really matter?”
“Excuse you? Of course it matters!”
“Why, Ma?” Manning challenged, meeting her angry gaze. “What difference does it make why I was fighting? Even if I tell you that I punched Rory ’cause he was picking on Taylor, I’d still be in trouble. So what’s the point?”
“The point is that I asked you a question, and I expect an answer!”
Manning turned back to the window, ignoring her.
As her temper snapped, Prissy reached over and grabbed his chin in her hand, forcing his gaze back to hers as she scolded sharply, “Manning Josiah Wolf! Don’t you dare look away from me when I’m talking to you!”
He glowered at her, nostrils flaring, dark eyes flashing with tumultuous emotions.
Prissy stared at him, wishing she could see into his troubled soul. “What’s this really about, Manny?” she probed, striving for composure. “Are you trying to get back at me for making you go to school today? Or are you trying to punish me for uprooting you from Atlanta? Which is it?”
A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand!” Prissy burst out shrilly. “Help me understand how a boy who has everything going for him could still manage to be so damn miserable! Help me understand how you could become so enraged that you’d break someone’s nose! Help me understand just what the hell is going on with you!”
He was silent, his surly gaze shifting past her to stare out the window.
Glancing over her shoulder, Prissy saw a woman fumbling to unlock the door of a yellow Volvo nearby; she was so busy watching Prissy and Manning that she kept missing the keyhole.
Frowning at the realization that her shouting had attracted an audience, Prissy abruptly released her son’s chin and started the engine. She waited until they’d left school grounds before she resumed her tirade.
“We don’t live in Atlanta anymore, Manny. We left behind the old neighborhood where you and your brothers had to worry about fending off bullies on your way to the bus stop every morning. You don’t have to fight for your survival anymore.”
“I know that,” Manning mumbled.
“Then you need to act like it!” Exasperated, Prissy shook her head at him. “Do you have any idea what people are going to think when they hear about this incident? You’re the superintendent’s son, and like it or not, folks expect more from you. So you can’t go around getting into brawls and breaking people’s noses like you’re some hoodlum off the street!”
Once again, Manning was broodingly silent.
“Do you realize how much you’ve disrupted my day?” Prissy continued. “I was on my way to an important meeting with a large community organization when Principal Henderson called me. Thanks to you, the meeting will have to be postponed, which is a damn shame considering how hard it was for me to even get on this group’s calendar. And God only knows what’s going to happen with Rory and his parents. If you really broke his nose, they might decide to sue us. So while I’m over here trying to improve our school district and convince voters to approve a $17.4 million bond proposal, my family could be battling a lawsuit!”
Staring down at the melting ice pack in his lap, Manning grumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry,” Prissy promised. “If you think that getting three days off from school translates into a vacation, you’re in for a rude awakening. By the time you finish washing and folding your brothers’ laundry, cleaning their rooms, mopping the kitchen floor, vacuuming the house, mowing the yard, reorganizing the garage and doing whatever else needs to be done, you’re gonna beg to return to school.”
At that, Manning leaned back against the headrest, closed his eyes and groaned.
And for the first time that afternoon, Prissy found something to smile about.
Everything had been going so well.
The roomful of first graders listened raptly as Stan described his job as a firefighter and demonstrated fire prevention safety measures. Assisted by Sparky the Fire Dog—which was really his colleague, Jake Easton, in a Dalmatian costume—Stan taught Mason and his classmates how to Stop, Drop and Roll to smother burning clothes, and to crawl under smoke and stay low to the floor during a fire. He led them in a spirited rendition of the fire safety song—which was sung to the tune of “Frère Jacques”—and answered some of their amusing questions, like whether he’d ever hurt himself sliding down the pole at the fire station. (Which, for the record, he never had.)
He was almost home free.
Until Miss Dominguez cheerfully informed her students that they had time for just one more question before Stan’s visit ended.
A small hand shot into the air, rising above the others.
Stan smiled, pointing to the child attached to the urgently waving hand. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Colton, sir. Colton Cobb.” He was a cute kid with bright green eyes, freckled cheeks and a voice that squeaked.
Again Stan smiled. “What’s your question for me, Colton?”
The boy rose from his little desk, looked Stan in the eye and asked bluntly, “When you run into a burning house, do you ever get scared of dying?”
Stan’s throat locked.
Shit.
As a hushed silence swept over the classroom, Stan shot a glance at Miss Dominguez. But she seemed as stunned as he was.
He swallowed hard as Colton waited, oblivious to the havoc his perfectly innocent question had wrought on Stan’s nervous system.
As he floundered for a response, Mason piped up confidently, “My daddy’s the best fireman in the world. So he’s never gonna die!”
Jesus.
Stan saw Jake staring at him with his huge, spotted head cocked to one side, mimicking the perplexed gesture of a real dog. And like a faithful furry friend, he came to Stan’s rescue.
Turning to the whispering schoolchildren, he asked animatedly, “Who wants a fire hat?”
“I do! I do!” came the delighted squeals.
Relieved that the diversion tactic had worked, Stan watched as Jake reached inside his large “doggy bag” and began distributing red plastic fire hats with all the joviality of Santa Claus handing out presents at Christmastime.
“Okay, children,” Miss Dominguez called out brightly. “Let’s show our appreciation to Lieutenant Wolf and Sparky the Fire Dog for visiting our class today!”
Stan smiled weakly as the first graders showered him and Jake with a boisterous round of applause.
Afterward, as most of the kids flocked to Sparky to cop a feel of his costume, Miss Dominguez approached Stan. She was a pretty young thing who looked barely old enough to drive, let alone be a schoolteacher.
“Thanks again for coming today, Mr. Wolf,” she gushed. “You were wonderful with the children. You had them hanging on to your every word.”
Until the end when I froze like a deer in headlights, Stan thought grimly. “Thanks for inviting me,” he told Miss Dominguez. “I’m glad the kids enjoyed the presentation.”
“Enjoyed it? Are you kidding? This is all they’re going to talk about for the rest of the school year!”
Stan smiled absently, watching as Jake crouched down so that the children could play with his—Sparky’s—floppy ears.
“Maybe you could come back for Career Week,” Miss Dominguez suggested hopefully as she tucked her long, dark hair behind one ear. “I know my class would love to have you again.”
Stan chuckled. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’d better pass. I don’t want the other parents to accuse me of hogging up the limelight.”
Miss Dominguez laughed, wagging her head at him. “Now I see where Mason gets his sense of humor.”
“Uh-oh. Don’t tell me that boy’s been cutting up in class.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Mason is such a delight, Mr. Wolf. He’s one of my smartest students, and he has a way of getting the other children to listen to him.” Miss Dominguez smiled warmly. “But I guess I should wait until next week’s parent–teacher conference to tell you how he’s doing.”
“That’s okay. I’m back on day shift all next week, so I won’t be able to make the meeting anyway. But my wife will fill me in.”
“Oh.” Miss Dominguez’s smile slipped a notch. “Right. Of course.”
Just then Mason ran over and threw his small arms around Stan’s waist. “You were awesome, Daddy!”
Stan smiled indulgently. “Think so?”
“Yeah!” Mason beamed up at him. “Magnum and Maddox are gonna be jealous!”
Stan laughed, affectionately rubbing the back of his son’s head. “Speaking of your brothers, we need to pick them up from their classes, then swing by the middle school to get Monty. So you need to gather your things so we can leave.”
Miss Dominguez glanced at the clock on the wall. “Goodness! It is almost time for the bell to ring.” With a brisk clap of her hands, she called out to the children, “Okay, class! Take out your planners and write down your homework assignments, then pack up and get ready for dismissal.”
As the kids raced back to their desks, Stan and Jake stepped into the hallway and closed the classroom door behind them. Jake wasted no time removing the humongous dog head.
“I couldn’t wait to do that,” he muttered, using one pawed hand to smooth his wavy blond hair. “This thing is scratchy and hot as hell.”
Stan chuckled sympathetically.
Jake was a rookie firefighter who’d had the misfortune of being around that morning when the guy who normally did the Sparky public appearances called in sick.
“Norris owes me big time,” Jake grumbled.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Stan teased, studying the row of childish drawings displayed along the wall. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself in there. You were a natural. Norris should be worried.”
Jake snorted out a laugh. “Believe me, I have no interest in replacing him as Sparky the Fire Dog. What does interest me is Miss Dominguez. Why didn’t you tell me that your kid’s teacher is a total babe?”
Stan chuckled. “Maybe because she looks like she just graduated from high school.”
Jake grinned. “Well, I’m not exactly Methuselah.”
Stan laughed. “That you aren’t, rookie.”
Sobering after another moment, Jake eyed Stan curiously. “So what happened to you in there?”
Stan automatically tensed. “What’re you talking about?”
“What happened when that kid asked you that question? You looked…well, you looked terrified.” Concerned blue eyes searched Stan’s face. “What spooked you?”
Instead of responding, Stan turned back to the wall to survey Mason’s colorful drawing of their family. He’d posed them against the backdrop of their large white house with the black shutters and pretty rose beds that Mama Wolf had planted for them during her first visit to Coronado. In the sketch, Stan was practically a giant who towered above everyone else. Larger than life.
My daddy’s the best fireman in the world. So he’s never gonna die!
Undaunted by Stan’s stony silence, Jake continued, “You’ve been doing school visits for fourteen years now, so I’m sure you’ve heard that question before. What made today different?”
Stan swallowed hard.
Thankfully he was spared from answering when the dismissal bell rang, releasing hordes of noisy children from their classrooms.
As soon as Mason appeared, Stan scooped him up and swung him onto his shoulders, making the boy squeal with delight as his peers looked on enviously.
“Come on,” Stan told Mason, “let’s go get your brothers.”
“Okay!” He waved at Jake. “Bye, Sparky!”
Jake winked at him. “Bye, Mason. Be good.”
“That’s what I should be telling you,” Stan said, watching as Jake edged toward the open doorway of Mason’s classroom. “What’re you up to?”
Jake grinned mischievously. “I’m just gonna see if Miss Dominguez needs any help, you know, erasing the chalkboard.”
Stan chuckled. “Riiight.”
As he moved off with Mason perched astride his shoulders, Jake called after him, “Enjoy your time off, lieutenant.”
“Thanks, rookie,” Stan called back. “Stay out of trouble.”
“You, too.”
I’m trying, Stan thought as he strode down the bustling hallway, oblivious to the awestruck stares of children he passed. God knows I’m trying.