Chapter 3 #2
“Shoulda guessed that myself. Regis Sumner,” he scoffed.
Sonny turned sideways to let April pass him in the doorway.
He had a big frame and was still in pretty good shape after a career in the military, so she squeaked by and continued marching down the hall to the front of the store.
She glanced around at the still-empty tables as she pulled her keys out of her purse.
“You got the seltzer ordered?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The newsletter’s written, just upload the photos off the desktop and hit send.”
“Aye-aye.”
“Thanks.” She reached out to open the front door. “We’ll be back after Kevin’s out of detention. Maybe about an hour if we’re lucky.”
“April.”
She stopped and turned around. Sonny covered his heart with his hand and tapped it as rapidly as a beating hummingbird’s wing. His special sign to his daughters that he loved them forever.
April returned the gesture, hoping she could keep the prickling in her eyes from turning into tears.
Of course, principal Jackass had waited to call April until school was almost out—inflicting maximum humiliation as she’d have to walk past a host of moms waiting to pick up their kids.
She was suspicious that the rumor mill was already going at full speed, and that was reinforced when she saw the way other moms looked at her right after they stopped whispering to each other.
Though not all of them. Diane Andrews, whose daughter Laurie was one of Kevin’s friends, gave her a warm smile and a wave.
April waved back, then kept her head held high, serene smile on her face as she walked past the others.
She’d had years of practicing her poker face, after all.
Her other suspicion—about the bully’s identity—was confirmed when she saw Regis’ mother standing in the secretary’s office.
Leslie Trent Sumner, who had cost April her scholarship. Arms crossed, designer purse dangling from one elbow, she glared daggers at April.
“Your son is a menace,” she hissed.
So much for that privacy policy, April thought. I guess it applies to every kid but mine. How shocking.
“Sorry—”
“You’d better be sorry,” Leslie cut her off.
“—but I think you have your son confused with mine.”
Leslie tilted her head for a second. “What? No, I don’t. Kevin attacked Regis out of sheer jealousy.”
“Oh, I doubt that. There is absolutely nothing your son has that would ever make mine jealous.”
When she saw Leslie’s cruel smile, she knew too late she’d walked straight into a trap.
“Not even a father?”
April felt her eyes widen for the merest second. Before any hurt could show, her poker face clicked back into place. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got? Then again, you always did go for the lowest hanging fruit. Your husband, for example.”
That struck a nerve. Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before April could tell her something Leslie probably already suspected—that some of April’s friends had seen him over at Cocks and Strippers with no Leslie in sight—Principal Pirogue poked his head out of his office doorway.
“You’re finally here, Ms. Taylor. I’ve been waiting for you.” He gestured for her to enter his office.
Leslie gave her a brittle laugh. “There’s a gesture I’m sure you’re familiar with, if memory serves,” she sniffed.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble your entire life, and it looks like the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Expect a lawsuit from the Sumners.” She turned on her heel and trotted out of the secretary’s office.
You bitch! You snotty, stuck-up bitch.
“I’m waiting, Ms. Taylor,” Pirogue said, not bothering to hide the impatience in his voice.
April took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into Pirogue’s office like she owned it.
“Take your usual seat,” he offered as he rounded his desk.
“Just couldn’t resist saying that, could you?”
Pirogue ignored her. He folded his hands on the desk like a judge about to deliver a death sentence. “Kevin’s behavior is inexcusable. Frankly, I’d strongly suggest you consider ADHD medication. Perhaps even an antipsychotic, given his…”
April was leaning back in her chair and actively studying the walls of Pirogue’s office.
Principal Jackass paused. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for your medical degree. Not seeing it. Therefore, you don’t get to diagnose my son because he doesn’t sit like a zombie for six hours a day.”
Color rose up his neck. He adjusted his tie. “I don’t need a medical degree to recognize disruptive behavior.”
April returned her gaze to the principal. She leaned forward. “Fun fact. I’ve talked and listened to the other moms. If Kevin goes on ADHD meds, then guess what? That makes him one of the eighty-eight percent of boys in his class already on them. You want compliant little robots, not kids.”
Pirogue’s jaw tightened. “Kevin’s violent, uncontrollable behavior will not be tolerated at my school.”
April gaped at Principal Jackass. “His uncontrollable violent behavior? Excuse me, my kid doesn’t just throw punches for no reason. He was defending himself.”
“Ms. Taylor, Kevin was the one who threw the first punch.”
April shook her head in disbelief. “No. He’s not the aggressor here. If he punched Regis, it’s because that little shi…brat…was picking on him.”
“That’s not the story I got from the child Kevin assaulted—”
“Stop playing games. You mean Regis. And I’m sure Kevin didn’t ‘assault’ him but was defending himself.
Granted, he should have used his words like he’s been taught to do, so Regis must have either been picking on him all week—like usual, may I add—or he said something so horrible, Kevin felt threatened enough to defend himself physically. ”
“Well, I asked Kevin to explain himself and he refused to discuss his reasons for lashing out—”
“Lashing out? Come on.”
“—and I can’t force him to talk, so this is why I wanted to talk to you first alone before he comes in here after detention.
” Pirogue cleared his throat like he was preparing for a speech.
“Children often act out physically when something is wrong.” He tilted his head and adapted a totally fake look of concern that matched his condescending tone. “What’s going on at home?”
April folded her arms. “What do you mean what’s going on at home?”
“Well, we all know that Riversong was the scene of a criminal act. So, what I’m asking is, is Kevin safe at home with you and your family?”
April closed her eyes and exhaled like she’d been punched. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and opened her eyes.
“Listen. The drive-by shooting was over a year ago and it had nothing to do with Riversong or my family. One of our customers was the target and she just happened to be in our shop. If anyone feels unsafe in Riversong, it would be her, and she doesn’t.
She’s still a regular. We explained to Kevin that he was safe, that nothing was going to happen to him or us, it was just bad luck.
” April forced herself not to squirm in her seat.
She wasn’t about to let this asshole see that he’d just given voice to her worst fears. “And my son understood. He’s fine.”
“Bad luck.” Pirogue nodded like he’d just caught April in a lie. “How often does bad luck happen around you and your family?”
And there it was. It didn’t matter how many years—no, decades—had passed since Sonny Taylor had anything to do with the criminal activities his parents committed with the hippie commune they lived in.
It didn’t help that Sonny’s sister and brother-in-law had gone from being pot dealers to owning a legitimate dispensary, which had been targeted a year before the drive-by at Riversong.
No matter that my cousin is now a famous musician. No matter that my branch of the family owns a legitimate business that people love. No matter what we do, to some people we’re always going to be the town trash.
“Wow,” April stretched the word out. “That sounded almost rehearsed. Do you keep a little folder labeled ‘Taylor family talking points’ or do you just wing it and hope the condescension sticks?”
Pirogue’s thin smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Ms. Taylor, it’s no secret that children from… fractured homes… tend to act out more. Single parents do the best they can, of course, but a boy Kevin’s age really needs a strong male role model.”
April said nothing. Not because she didn’t have a comeback—she had dozens—but because it hit too close.
Kevin already had the best male role model any kid could ask for in her father.
Sonny had stepped into the role of grandpa without hesitation.
He loved Kevin fiercely, guided him gently, never missed a milestone or an everyday moment, just as he’d done for his daughters and niece.
A traitorous little voice hissed in her mind: What if it isn’t enough? What if nurture can’t overcome nature?
She refused to let Pirogue see any of that. He’d weaponize it in a heartbeat.
April’s fingernails bit crescents into her arms as heat shot up her neck.
She wanted to launch herself across his desk—but instead she smiled, cold and sharp.
“He has an excellent role model. My father is the most respected man I know. He served this country, built a business from nothing, and shows up for his grandson every damn day.”
She leaned in, voice low and deliberate.
“Funny, I’ve never once seen you at the park coaching your son’s Little League, or even showing up for recess duty here.
If you’re so concerned about role models, maybe take a closer look at the one the kids see at school—because I wouldn’t want Kevin picking up your example. ”
Pirogue’s jaw tightened, his ears flushing red. He straightened the stack of papers in front of him with unnecessary force.
“If Kevin continues to be a problem, Ms. Taylor, he won’t be welcomed back in the fall.”
“And if his last name were Sumner instead of Taylor, I doubt we’d be having this conversation at all.”
“Donors don’t influence my decisions,” he said, looking affronted.
“Sure they don’t.” April pushed her chair back, scraping the linoleum. “Fine. He’s suspended? I’ll save us all some time and go pull him out of detention ten minutes early.”
“Ms. Taylor. This is unacceptable behavior.”
“I guess it’s a family trait, huh?” she called over her shoulder. She stormed down the hall, Principal Jackass behind her flapping like an angry duck and squawking for her to come back, until they reached the detention room.
“If you go in there, I’ll consider it trespassing,” he threatened.
“It’s not trespassing if my kid is in there.”
“I’m calling security.”
April ignored Pirogue and pushed the door open. The room monitor was sitting behind a teacher’s desk. She looked up from a crossword at April, then at Pirogue.
“What’s going on?”
April scanned the room. She counted ten kids of various ages. But no Kevin.
“Where’s my son?” She directed her question at the monitor.
“Who’s your son?”
“Kevin Taylor.”
“Oh, Kevin? I heard about the fight earlier and thought he’d been sent straight home.”
April froze. “Well, he wasn’t. He’s supposed to be in detention.” She looked back and forth between the monitor and Pirogue. “Where is my son?” April fought the panic building in her stomach and climbing up the back of her throat.
“I—” the monitor looked desperately at the principal as she shook her head. “I haven’t seen him.”
“What do you mean you haven’t seen him? Where. Is. My. Son?” Suddenly, April felt far away. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.
Pirogue’s face paled. “Ms. Taylor, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Kevin must be hiding around here somewhere.” He laid his hand on April’s shoulder.
April jerked away from him. “Don’t you dare touch me. Where the hell is my son?”
By now the kids in detention were laughing and catcalling, making this living nightmare that much worse. In her head, she chanted, Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Panicking won’t help Kevin.
“Miss Davis, please call school security,” Pirogue told the monitor. She nodded and reached for the phone on the teacher’s desk.
“School security?” April reached into her purse for her phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“Listen, we don’t need to escalate this, April.
I’m sure Kevin is hiding out of fear of punishment.
Poor little guy.” Pirogue was going for a comforting tone, but to April, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Then he had the nerve to reach for April’s phone.
She spun around, ducked, and dodged past him.
She sprinted down the hall with no idea which direction to go.
She needed to know where her son was now.
April turned a corner, unlocked her phone, and dialed 911.
Kevin. My baby. He’s gone. What if he found… Oh, God, what if Kevin’s been taken?