Chapter Four Piper
Chapter Four
Piper
When the PTA meeting ended, Piper maneuvered through an archipelago of small conversational islands, skillfully avoiding Cameron Schultz and her recruitment efforts for the Roaring Twenties School Gala planning committee.
Piper knew from experience that Cameron’s committees often devolved into nasty civil wars. Last year, the moms who wanted appetizers from Wegmans got into a big argument with the moms who preferred Costco, and now this year they were all room parents together and the whole thing was very awkward.
Like a cheetah, she slipped past the gala-planning moms and into the little group surrounding Mr. Vex.
Their last principal had ruled the school with an iron fist and finally retired to spend more time with her new grandbaby after fourteen years at the helm.
Mr. Vex was her opposite in every way, and many of the moms, particularly the younger ones, liked this new approach.
He also happened to be thirty-five years old and unusually good looking, which the mothers of Hollin Terrace Elementary and Middle also appreciated.
No one had ever before experienced a PILF or even known that such a thing could possibly exist.
Piper patiently awaited her turn, listening without smirking or even raising her eyebrows as Abigail Morton, a kindergarten mom, discussed the many difficulties involved in parenting her gifted son.
“I just want Benjamin to be challenged,” she told Mr. Vex earnestly. “He’s so bright, and he’s already been exposed to algebraic thinking.”
Piper bit down hard on her lower lip. Had her girls ever been exposed, unwittingly and as kindergartners, to algebraic thinking? It sounded harmful, like exposure to lead, or Agent Orange.
Mr. Vex assured her that Benjamin would receive extra enrichment in math so he could continue to learn at an accelerated pace rather than merely learning to count like his less gifted classmates.
One by one, the other moms slipped away, and finally, it was her turn.
She introduced herself with a firm handshake. “Piper Mondello. I emailed your assistant this morning to set up a meeting on Monday, but I’d prefer to talk now, if you don’t mind.”
He glanced down at his Apple Watch and frowned. “I have five minutes before my next meeting. What can I do for you?”
She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “It’s about my daughter Caitlin. She’s in seventh grade, and she’s being sexually harassed by a boy in her class.”
He raised an eyebrow. “By whom?”
“Alex Orlov.” She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture of the message she found on her daughter’s iPad.
His expression didn’t change, but his posture did. Almost imperceptibly, she sensed him pulling away.
“It sounds like he’s asking her out on a date,” he said, his voice neutral. “Kind of retro. But seems harmless enough.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Read it closely. It says I want to do things to you. Not with you. To you.”
“How many of these messages has he sent?” Mr. Vex asked, eyes narrowed as he looked down at her phone.
“This is the first one.”
He stroked his chin. “I see.”
He had the same perfectly manicured five-o’clock shadow she’d noticed on male celebrities the last time she looked at People magazine while getting her hair cut.
“But he says things too,” she added quickly. “When she’s in line in the cafeteria, and in the halls.”
“Like what?”
“It’s explicit and inappropriate.” Heat spread across her cheeks, and she wanted to shake herself.
She’d testified in court more times than she could count, repeating phrases far worse than this one, out loud and under oath, for judges and juries.
But these words felt different. Uglier. Dirtier.
Because they were directed at her daughter.
“What does he say, Mrs. Mondello?” Mr. Vex asked again.
She cleared her throat and repeated the words her daughter had finally shared with her before leaving that morning. “He said, ‘I want to tie you up and . . .’” She lowered her voice and spelled the f-word.
He raised an eyebrow. “That is explicit.”
“It’s explicit, inappropriate, and threatening.”
“It is, but unfortunately, it’s also fairly common in this day and age.” He suddenly looked much older than thirty-five, and she felt a tinge of compassion. “Thanks to the internet, boys are exposed to things they weren’t exposed to in the past, and at much younger ages.”
“And that’s unfortunate,” she said, working to keep her voice calm.
“But what are we going to do to protect our girls from the things these boys are exposed to?”
He shrugged. “Well, I can talk to this boy and ask him not to do it again.”
Her self-control evaporated. Words exploded from her mouth like shrapnel. “That’s it?”
“I can’t expel him for a first offense. But if it continues, we can talk about other interventions.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Can you at least speak to his parents so they know what’s going on?”
Once again, his expression remained neutral, but something changed in his posture. He stood up a little straighter, seemed to stiffen.
“If I feel the message isn’t getting through to the boy, then I’ll involve his . . . parents.”
There it was again. An almost imperceptible pause before the word parents.
She frowned. “Look. If my kid were doing something like this, I’d want to know.”
He gave her a weary smile. “Not everyone feels the same way. I wish they did. But many parents expect us to handle school issues at school. They don’t want to be bothered.”
“Bothered?” She inhaled sharply. “Isn’t being bothered a fundamental part of parenthood?”
He sighed. “It used to be. I’m not sure that’s the case anymore.”
She said nothing for a moment, weighing her options. Should she argue? Push back? Demand the boy be suspended? But she could tell this man believed her and even seemed slightly sympathetic. At the moment, this appeared to be the best he could do.
It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. But it might be enough to scare Alex Orlov into leaving her daughter alone.
And if he didn’t, she’d come at Mr. Vex again, harder next time. And she’d talk to the boy’s parents herself if she had to.
“Okay.” She allowed her tone to convey her unhappiness. “I guess it’s a start.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more.” His handsome face radiated sincerity. “Please keep me posted. If it continues, we’ll escalate our response.”
Was she being dazzled into acquiescence just because he looked like a young George Clooney?
“I will.”
As she walked to the car, she pondered the strange small-town dynamics of elementary and middle school.
Even if you had only one child, you could be tied to a particular school for years. Especially if it was a K–8 school. And if you had two or three or four kids, you could be trapped at a school for a decade or more as your children slowly worked their way up from kindergarten.
Every decision became a calculation. If you had three or five or eight years left at a school, did you really want to get on the administration’s bad side by fighting this particular battle now?
Or did you keep your powder dry and save your complaints for some really big issue that may or may not crop up down the road?
As she drove home, she couldn’t ditch the feeling that she hadn’t fought hard enough.
That she’d pulled her punches because she still had years ahead of her at Hollin Terrace with Mr. Vex at the helm.
Because even though Caitlin was in seventh grade, she had younger siblings coming up behind her, with Olivia in fifth grade and Bella in second.
Piper pulled into the driveway and sat in her car, trying to identify the uneasy feeling lodged in the center of her gut. There was a dynamic at play here, an undercurrent she could sense but didn’t understand.
She just wanted to keep her girls safe. Was that so much to ask?