Chapter 4
IF LOOKS COULD KILL
brIAR
Now
“It is unacceptable behavior.”
“Yes, I agree it is unacceptable. I just—”
“She tackled the little boy! Pinned his arms under her knees before she hit him. With a closed fist!”
I take a steadying breath, trying to gather my thoughts and calm my already racing nerves after running all the way over here.
“I’m just trying to understand what happened? Remi wouldn’t attack another child for no reason.” I glance down at my daughter, who’s scowling in the chair next to mine. She might have her moments, but this is a stretch, even for her.
“We’re worried she’s falling behind for her age. This type of behavior is not acceptable in our preschool classroom. But we know Remi may not have the vocabulary to express herself properly…”
The hair on the back of my neck rises, and irritation grows.
Remi has plenty of words. She just chooses not to use them.
She’s quiet for her age, thoughtful; she just has a bit of a temper.
Not exactly out of character for an almost four year old; they don’t call them the terrible-threes for no reason.
“Again, if you could just take me through what happened before she hit him?”
Mrs. Davis ignores me. “We have a zero-tolerance policy at our school for violence. This is Remi’s second strike. One more incident and we may be forced to expel her.”
Expel a preschooler?
“She’s three,” I say flatly. “I’d hardly call her a threat.”
Mrs. Davis’ eyes drop to my daughter, a wary expression on her face. “Be that as it may, given today’s incident, I recommend we schedule a parent-teacher conference to discuss Remi’s social-emotional development as soon as possible.”
I stare at her, wondering what the hell it is we’re doing right now…
“Okay.” I agree, even though I still think they’re overreacting.
“Ideally, we would like both you and Remi’s father to be in attendance. Are there any particular days of the week that are better?”
I blink at her, and I feel tension creep up my spine.
“Actually, it’ll just be me,” I say awkwardly. “And Mondays would be best.”
Mrs. Davis peers at me over her deep purple frames. Her mouth thins into a frown. “It would be in Remi’s best interest if both parents attended. We’d like for everyone to be on the same page.”
I draw a deep, controlled breath before I lean down to talk to Remi.
“Hey Rem, is your backpack still in Miss Ashley’s classroom?”
Remi nods.
“Can you go grab it for me? We’re almost ready to go.”
Silently, Remi hops down off the chair. I watch her walk across the hall, disappearing into Miss Ashley’s classroom before I turn back to address Mrs. Davis.
“Remi doesn’t have a father. It’s just me.
So seeing as how he doesn’t exist, if we could get that appointment scheduled?
Because I have somewhere to be.” My words are clipped, dripping with irritation, and though a quick glance at the clock tells me we still have over an hour until Remi’s doctor’s appointment, I want out of this office.
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Davis fiddles with her glasses before going back to her computer screen, judgement rolling off of her in waves.
Of course, the problem child belongs to the single mom.
I bite the inside of my cheeks. “My apologies,” she mumbles, without looking me in the eye. “I have next Tuesday at three p.m.?”
I sigh. Pulling out my phone to check the schedule for that day. “I can make it work.” I type it in quickly. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s all,” she says with clear dismissal.
“Why did you punch Jack, Rem?” I wait until we’re fully around the block before I ask her the question the school practically refused to answer.
Remi scrunches up her nose. “Jack pushed me. He pushed me three times!”
Okay, fair. I probably would have punched him too.
“But why didn’t you use your words?” I ask because parenting…
“I did! I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen!
” The glower on her face tells me she’d hit him again just thinking about it.
I’m about to suggest that she should’ve told a teacher at that point when she continues, “And then he pushed Grace and she fell. So I punched him.” She shrugs, with an air of nonchalance I can only gape at.
“He thought it was funny, so I punched him again. And then he was sorry.”
Jesus.
“Are you mad at me?” She looks up, her big round eyes full of genuine worry, and I sigh, moving us to the corner of the sidewalk, out of people’s way before crouching down to her level.
“No,” I admit. As frustrated as I am with the situation, I’m not really mad at her.
Where the hell were the teachers when all of this was going down?
“I’m proud of you for defending yourself and your friend, but next time I need you to do it with your words—or tell an adult.
No fists.” I shoot her a look that says I’m serious.
She rolls her eyes, a perfect mirror of my own signature move. With her blonde hair and dark eyes, she may look nothing like me, but she sure has my attitude.
“Remi,” I warn.
“Fine,” she bites out.
“And I need you to apologize to Jack tomorrow morning when you see him.”
“But that’s not fair!”
My eyes narrow, and her mouth snaps shut. Temper flaring, she crosses her arms again, shooting me a wicked little glare. If looks could kill…
“Fine,” she huffs out in defeat, a pout forming on her lips.
“Okay.” I twist one of her long blonde curls with my finger before she swats my hand away. She’s as much of a fan of physical touch as I am, though she is the exception. I just want to squish her given any opportunity.
“Well,” I say, checking the time on my phone. “We still have an hour before Doctor Haven. Do you want to get some ice cream?”
I’ve done my parenting duty, demanded reparations, and now—yeah, I’m going to reward my daughter for not taking some boy’s shit lying down.
“Cookie dough?” she asks, bouncing up and down excitedly. Irritation falling away at the drop of a hat. I wish I could get over things that quickly…
“You got it.”