“No. Yes.” Bruised Jaw shrugged. “I mean, kind of. We’re the reason you’re here, I guess.” When he waved his finger between the office and the two of them, I understood what he was getting at.
Heat pumped through my veins as I pushed through the door.
“Mrs. Wolff, thank you for coming.” Principal Severson rose from behind his desk, motioning at the empty chair beside Andee.
My daughter didn’t deign to acknowledge my presence other than scooting her chair a few inches away from mine.
“Did you attack those boys out there?” I started in, ignoring Principal Severson when he tried to interject something about “attack” not being the term they preferred to use.
“Hey, Mom. Great to see you too.” Andee picked at her matte gray nail polish, any kind of concern absent from her face.
“Don’t play games with me, Andee Caitlyn. There are two boys out there who look like they were attacked by a wild animal.”
Another murmur from Principal Severson refuting my verb choice.
“And this is something I should be sorry for why exactly?” Andee’s voice suggested boredom, her posture the same.
I had to force myself to take a breath instead of spewing my gut response.
“Please, Mrs. Wolff, do take a seat.” Principal Severson pulled at the collar of his crisp dress shirt. “We need to discuss the repercussions for Andee’s actions.”
A huff echoed in the back of Andee’s throat. “And what about the ‘repercussions’ for Dillweed and Dimwit out there?” She bit her thumbnail. “Let me guess, some speech about boys being boys followed by a couple of high fives before sending them back to class?”
Twisting in my seat, I waited for Andee to acknowledge me. Instead she twisted more of her back in my direction.
“Exactly what happened?” I asked, glancing in Principal Severson’s direction when Andee led with silence. “Would someone please explain?”
“Why? You already know exactly what happened, right, Mom? You made up your mind I was to blame for whatever reason you got called in today. Who needs the story when you’ve already got all the facts?” Andee stretched her arms above her head, yawning. “Just apologize to Principal Severson for your unruly child and dish out my punishment. We’ll layer it on top of my other sentences so I might hit parole by the time I’m forty.”
My finger stabbed the air in the direction of the door. “You might want to take a look outside at those two boys before playing the part of the victim.”
“Innocent until proven guilty, right, Mom?” Her steel eyebrow ring caught the light when Andee wrinkled her forehead. “For everyone that isn’t your child.”
My hands squeezed the arms of the chair. “This is your opportunity to tell your side of the story. So tell it.”
“Why? It’s not like you’re going to believe it.”
I made myself inhale for a count of five. “Andee, let’s hear it. Why did you attack—confront”—Principal Severson’s head tipped in approval—“those boys?”
Her shoulders moved beneath the navy blue sweater with Prescott Prep’s insignia on the chest. “They were running their mouths. I prefer my fists do the talking.”
“That’s not a reason to assault someone. Someones,” I replied, rubbing my temple as a headache advanced.
Andee rolled her eyes. “That’s one of the better reasons.”
Before I could reply, Principal Severson inserted himself into the conversation. “I asked Miss Wolff if there was any reason other than Mr. Heath and Mr. Carston ‘running their mouths’ for her outburst today. She assured me there was not.” He paused long enough to give Andee a chance to speak up. She responded by grabbing her backpack and checking the clock. “As this is the third time this month she’s been sent here for similar lapses, I’m afraid I have no choice but to suspend her for the remainder of the week.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “Today’s Thursday.”
“I hope she’ll use this week to reflect upon her actions so she may, in the future, deal with confrontation more constructively.” Principal Severson’s gaze settled on Andee, but she was back to chipping her nail polish. “I hope you know that I’m on your side, Miss Wolff. I know it might not seem it, given our history, but I am. If there’s anything or anyone making your life difficult here at Prescott Prep, I hope you’ll come to me next time instead of taking matters into your own hands. Or fists.” The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up as he rose from behind his desk. “I appreciate you coming in, Mrs. Wolff. I know both you and your husband lead busy lives.”
“Of course.” I rose with him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Andee grunted as she peeled herself from the chair.
“There’s nothing inconvenient about shaping the future.” The way he said it suggested it was the adage he ended most conversations with. I had similar lines I used in court. “I’ll see you Monday, Miss Wolff.”
“I’ll wait with bated breath,” Andee muttered.
My tongue worked into my cheek as I followed my daughter out of the office, unable to stop myself from tallying the number of dress code violations she’d racked up today. Ripped tights, untucked blouse, untied shoes, too many piercings by about seven, wrinkled skirt . . . the list continued.
Andee scowled at the boys reclined in the chairs outside of the office, waving her middle finger over her shoulder when they chuckled.
“Andee get that mean right hook from you or your husband, Mrs. Wolff?” the one with the ice pack asked.
I had no intention of responding, though my daughter could not find the same restraint.
“My dad,” she snapped, middle digit still extended toward the ceiling. “My mom’s convinced all battles should be fought with words.” She tromped past the front desk, shouldering past a couple of underclassmen when she reached the hall. “Because bad guys are magically reformed with fancy prose and stern looks.”
“You lost your audience,” I said with a sigh, the sound of my heels filling the wide hall.
“No.” Andee scanned me from the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t.”
“If this is the part where you rip into me for being a sellout, a ‘part of the problem,’ and a paid liar, can I request that you move on to the phase of giving me the silent treatment for however many hours or days you deem justifiable?”
Once we were outside, Andee’s pace picked up. “Gladly.”
When she reached the SUV, she threw her bag into the back seat and slammed the door behind her. By the time I’d crawled into the driver’s seat, she already had her headphones on and was scrolling through one of her playlists.
Starting the car, there were a dozen things I wanted to shout at her. Everything from how she was going to explain a suspension to her father and why she seemed intent on setting fire to every single facet of her life, but instinct or experience held me back.
Instead, I found myself staring at my child. The being I’d brought into this world, who used to bring me dandelions from the yard with a toothy, toddler grin, the girl who used to snuggle close when thunder rumbled in the distance, the person who, I reminded myself, I loved unconditionally.