They are words Valerie knows will be seared into his consciousness forever, part of his indelible life story, along with Summer Turner, the little girl who convinced him to remove his mask and show her his scars, right before issuing the cruel proclamation that made three children laugh, Grayson among them.
It happened on the Friday of Charlie’s first week back to school, just as Valerie was finally feeling optimistic. Not home free by any means, but out of the danger zone. She had just successfully argued a motion for summary judgment in front of a notoriously misogynistic judge, leaving the courthouse with a renewed sense of confidence that comes with success, with the feeling of being good at something. Life was returning to normal, she thought, as she reached into her purse for her keys and checked her cell phone, seeing four missed calls, two from Nick, two from the school. She had only turned her phone off for an hour, a rule at the courthouse, and although it occurred to her that something could happen in that short a window, she didn’t think that it actually would. Envisioning another accident, and knowing that she could get a report from Nick faster than a web of secretaries at the school, she frantically got into the car and dialed his number, bracing herself for his medical report.
“Hi there,” Nick answered in such a way that confirmed to Valerie that the calls were about Charlie, and that something bad had happened, but that it wasn’t as dire as she feared. She felt her panic recede slightly as she asked, “Is Charlie okay?”
“Yes. He’s fine.”
“He wasn’t hurt?”
“No . . . Not physically . . . But there was an incident,” Nick said calmly. “The school tried to call you first—“
“I know. I was in court,” she said, feeling overwhelming guilt for being unavailable, and even more so for allowing herself to care about work, however fleetingly.
“Did you win?” Nick asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Congratulations,” he said.
“Nick. What kind of an incident?”
“A... playground incident.”
Valerie’s heart sank as he continued, “A little girl called him a name. A few kids laughed. Charlie got mad and pushed her off the monkey bars. She’s a little scraped up. They’re both here in the headmaster’s office.”
“Where are you?”
“With Charlie. I just stepped out of the office for a second to take your call. . . When your secretary told the headmaster you were in court, Charlie gave them my number. He was pretty upset—about the name-calling, about getting in trouble.”
“Is he crying?” she asked, her heart breaking.
“Not anymore . . . He’s calmed down . . . He’ll be all right.”
“I’m sorry. . .” Valerie said, feeling somewhat surprised that Charlie didn’t call Jason or her mother before Nick. “I know how busy you are . . .”
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m glad he called me ... I’m glad I could come.”
“I am, too,” she said, stepping on the gas pedal, feeling a vague sense of déjà vu. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Take your time. Be careful. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” Valerie said. She nearly hung up, but instead mustered the courage to ask what the little girl had said to Charlie.
“What?” Nick said, clearly stalling, doing his best to evade her question.
“The little girl. What did she call Charlie?”
“Oh . . . That... It was ridiculous ... It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me,” she said, steeling herself.
He hesitated and then replied, his voice so quiet and muffled that she wasn’t sure she heard him right. But she had. She shook her head, seething, almost scaring herself by the venom she could feel for a six-year-old child.
“Val?” Nick said, the tenderness in his voice making her eyes fill with tears.
“What?”
“It’ll only make him stronger,” he said.
***
Minutes later, a school receptionist ushers Valerie into the headmaster’s office, a stately room decorated with oriental rugs, antique furniture, and a large bronze statue of a horse. She sees Summer first, perched on a leather wing chair, sniffling and cradling her arm. With long platinum-blond hair, bright green eyes, and a delicate, upturned nose, she reminds Valerie of a preteen Barbie doll. She clearly is a fast girl in the making, dressed in an alarmingly short jean skirt, pink Uggs, and sparkly lip gloss. Valerie remembers thinking she was trouble on the first day of school as she watched a trio of mousy-brown-haired girls follow Summer around the classroom like ladies-in-waiting. Ironically, she also remembers feeling grateful she had a boy. They were so much less complicated, especially those not yet prone to crushes. For the time being at least, Charlie was immune to the likes of Summer.
But that was before.
Purple alien face.
She makes eye contact with Summer, doing her best to telepathically communicate hatred as she steps the whole way into the office, now spotting Charlie, Nick, and Mr. Peterson, the headmaster, a tall, slender man with a youthful face, premature gray hair, and owlish, wire-rimmed glasses.