ELEVEN
The next day at school Angela was pulled out of class, taken to the principal’s office, and made to sit in a chair in the waiting room. The principal, Mr. Ericsson, came out and said that her mother wasn’t answering her phone. Angela wasn’t surprised. Her mother usually didn’t answer her phone unless she was looking to score something. If she already had, Angela didn’t think her mother would even hear the phone.
Mr. Ericsson stood over her, hands on his hips, and asked who else he could call to come get her. Angela didn’t really want to get her grandparents involved, or have them see her in trouble, but she didn’t know anyone else, so she finally gave the principal their number. Angela waited alone outside Mr. Ericsson’s office until her grandfather showed up.
Before he could say anything to Angela, a sober-faced woman immediately ushered them both into the principal’s office and shut the door behind them. They sat in wooden chairs before the principal’s old wooden desk. Mr. Ericsson drummed his fingers on the desk as he scowled.
“You’re Mr. Constantine? Angela’s grandfather?”
“That’s right. What’s she done?”
Mr. Ericsson cast Angela a dirty look before turning his attention back to her grandfather.
“She put another girl in the hospital, that’s what she’s done. Broke bones in her face. She’s going to require surgery.”
Her grandfather turned toward Angela, looking at her without saying anything. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew what the look meant.
“On my way home, three older girls stopped me in the parking lot of the liquor store on Barlow Street,” she explained to her grandfather. “They called me names. I tried to walk away but the biggest one punched me in the stomach. It hurt so much it made me vomit. When I was down on the ground she kicked me hard in the side and I heard her tell the other two to mess me up good. I knew they were going to hurt me bad. I knew I couldn’t outrun them.
“So I came up and planted my boot hard as I could in the face of the girl who had hit me. She went down. There was a lot of confusion and screaming. I went home.”
Her grandfather gave her a nod, looking relieved by her answer. He turned back to the principal.
“What are we doing here? Have you called us in to file some kind of charges against these three girls?”
The principal’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Mr. Constantine, Angela hurt another girl badly enough to put her in the hospital. We’re expelling Angela from school.”
Her grandfather frowned. “Expelling her? Why? You just heard her. She was defending herself. Had she not put that girl down, then the three of them would probably have put Angela in the hospital, if not worse.”
“Mr. Constantine, we have a zero-tolerance policy against violence.”
“Violence? It wasn’t violence,” her grandfather said in a calm voice. “It was self-preservation.”
Mr. Ericsson sat back and laced his fingers together on top of his prominent belly. “Angela put another girl in the hospital. We can’t tolerate such violence. That’s why she is being expelled.”
“Are you expelling the other three girls?”
He looked confused. “No, of course not. Why would we? Don’t you understand? They were the ones Angela hurt. One of them, anyway.”
A dark look came over Vito’s face. “So you’re defending the violent girls who attacked Angela and you’re punishing her for being their victim.”
“Well, no, that’s not exactly—”
“Did you ever see someone’s head split open like a melon on concrete?”
The principal’s face paled. “Why, no, but what does that—”
“I was a safety steward with my union for sixteen years. We worked around concrete surfaces all day. I saw a deliveryman slip on something one day and fall back. He hit the back of his head on a concrete curb. It cracked his skull. He was on a respirator for two weeks before his family pulled the plug. I was there that day when his heart beat for the last time.
“I saw to it that there were new rules that everyone had to wear a safety helmet anywhere on the jobsite at all times, not just the men mixing mud or laying block and brick.
“When those girls attacked Angela, they could easily have knocked her down and she could have hit her head on a concrete curb in that parking lot. She could have been left an invalid for the rest of her life. She could have died.”
“Well, the chances of—”
“Look at her. Look how thin she is. A bigger, stronger person punching a girl like Angela in the gut could easily have ruptured an artery and she could have bled internally and died in agonizing pain. Any number of serious injuries could have resulted from that kind of blow to the abdomen. This wasn’t some other girl in her class pulling her hair or throwing a spitball at her, this was a much bigger person—three of them—attacking her with the clear intent of hurting her.
“Angela didn’t set out to hurt them. She tried to get away. She was attacked. She defended herself.”
Mr. Ericsson fell back on the only line he knew. “But violence of any kind is strictly—”
Vito folded his arms. “So your policy at this school is to protect bullies? Your policy is that Angela should let herself be hurt, maybe very badly, possibly even murdered, rather than defend herself. Is that about the sum of it?”
The principal had clearly expected contrition. He was rattled that he wasn’t getting it. “I don’t think you understand what—”
“I think you should think very carefully about what kind of harm could come from your decision, today. What kind of message it would send to other thugs and their victims.”
Angela’s grandfather had an intimidating glare that went with a voice that, without him even raising it, could make the blood drain from people’s faces.
Mr. Ericsson wet his lips several times and averted his eyes before he spoke.
“Considering the circumstances and what Angela had to say explaining her actions, I think it best if we drop the whole thing about expelling Angela.”
“Yes, I think that would be best for all concerned.”
“But Mr. Constantine, I must tell you, Angela needs to buckle down,” Mr. Ericsson said, changing the subject. Angela had apparently already been on his radar. “She scored the highest IQ scores we’ve ever recorded at this school. Did you know that?”
“No, she never told me.”
“Well, she did. And yet her grades are subpar. She’s barely passing. She has great potential but she isn’t applying herself. Maybe if she worked harder and tried harder to fit in she wouldn’t have to defend herself in the first place. I mean, just look at the way she dresses, at those boots she wears.”
Vito lifted a leg and thunked his boot down on the desk. “What’s wrong with her boots?”
Mr. Ericsson stared a moment at the lugged sole of the boot on his desk before looking up into Vito’s glare. “Well … nothing. That’s not really my point. My point is that she needs to apply herself.”
Angela didn’t care about applying herself. When the teachers put problems up on the blackboard, she grasped the entire problem and the answer all at the same time. It bored her to tears waiting for the other kids to figure it out, or waiting while the teachers painstakingly walked other kids through what Angela had seen in the first instant. Her mind would wander away. She didn’t feel she needed to go through the motions of explaining it, so she didn’t. She knew the answer, and to her mind that was what mattered.
“And I must tell you, this isn’t the first time. That’s one reason you’re here. She’s fought with other girls before.”
“I know about that,” her grandfather said. “That’s all been petty kid stuff, just kids tussling. We’re not here to talk about petty stuff, or her grades.
“We’re here today because three older girls tried to hurt Angela.”
“Mr. Constantine, you have to understand my—”
Her grandfather leaned in, his glare darkening. “We’re here today to talk about what I should do about you causing yet more harm to Angela.”
The principal, his face pale, finally cleared his throat.
“Mr. Constantine, I already told you that after having heard the explanation—which I had been totally unaware of—I can see that there is no need to expel your daughter.”
“And you are going to suspend the girls who attacked her for a week and tell their parents why.” It wasn’t a question.
Mr. Ericsson glanced briefly at Angela. “Well, I guess that would be the right thing to do.”
“Yes it would.”
Mr. Ericsson leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. “I’m glad we’ve been able to clear up this matter, but I must insist that you see to it that she buckles down and applies herself because—”
“Let me tell you what has been cleared up today, Mr. Ericsson. I’m not sure this school is a safe environment for Angela, or for that matter any other decent children. It’s clear that you don’t have a policy to protect children from becoming the victims of abuse.
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, now. I’m suspending you and your school from Angela’s life for a week to give you time to reflect on how you are going to correct the situation.”
The principal blinked. “What? You’re pulling her out of school?”
“For a week. That will give you a chance to straighten things out. If I have to come back here again I will expel you from her life permanently. Are we clear?”
The principal swallowed. “Quite clear, Mr. Constantine.”
In the car on the way home her grandfather rode in silence for a time before he looked over at her. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and not letting those girls hurt you.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
He mulled something over before speaking again.
“I know you’re smart, Angela. I don’t need any test to tell me that. So, don’t you think you ought to use those smarts of yours? Apply yourself? Smarts can help you in life, you know.”
Angela thought a moment. “Mom’s boyfriends offer me drugs and booze all the time. They try to get me to take a hit off their crack pipes, or snort a line with them. They wanted to show me how to shoot up some of what they called the good stuff. I always tell them no, and to leave me alone.”
She didn’t say anything else.
Her grandfather got the point and smiled to himself. “I guess you do use those smarts of yours.”