He’s right, I did. “I’ve also told you there are exceptions, and this is one of those times. What happened in school today?”
Quinn looks away from me and sighs. “My friend was being bullied on the playground and I asked the other person… ya know, the one being mean to stop, and he didn’t. He was saying all these really mean things, and my friend was crying. The boy touched my friend and my friend said it hurt so I hit him.”
Quinn doesn’t look at me when he tells me the story. I think he’s probably afraid of what my expression is or what my reaction is going to be. What he doesn’t know is that I’m extremely proud and angry at the same time. Violence is never the answer, but sticking up for your friends is. He knows what I went through, and I made him promise he’d always stick up for those who need help.
I tap his leg to get his attention. He turns and looks at me with tears dripping down his face. “I can’t be mad at you. I am disappointed that you turned to violence, but I understand. I don’t know what your punishment will be until I’ve sat and thought about it some more.”
I get up and pull him into my arms. Everything that I couldn’t be when I was younger, he is and he makes me incredibly proud to be his dad. I sit back down and move his hair from his eyes.
“Is Peyton hurt?”
“How’d you know it was her?” he asks, his face full of shock.
“Good guess,” I say, trying to bite back the smile forming.
“She doesn’t want anyone to know.”
I nod. “Okay,” I say respecting their bond. “I want to talk to her though, so can you go get her for me?”
Quinn reluctantly gets down from the stool and walks to the door. “I’m sorry, dad.”
“I know, buddy.” He exits, leaving the door open. I take these few moments to think about what I can do to help Peyton. Probably not much, but we are more alike than she’ll want to accept. I don’t even know what I can tell Katelyn without her freaking out and coming home early. She needs this vacation, but if her daughter is being bullied at school, she needs to know so she can deal with it.
Peyton appears out of thin air. I didn’t even hear her come down the stairs. She stands in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Now that I know what’s going on, this stance makes sense. She’s protecting herself and that breaks my heart.
“Want to come in?”
She shakes her head no.
“Okay,” I say. I move my stool closer to her and sit down. “We can talk right here.”
She drops her eyes to the floor. Either she really hates me, or she’s embarrassed. I’m going to go with a bit of both just to cushion my ego.
“Do you want to tell me what happened today?”
“You’re not my dad.”
“No, I’m not and I’m not trying to be, but I want to be your friend, Peyton, if you’ll let me.”
“I have Noah and Quinn.”
“You do,” I agree. “They’re some pretty great friends, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you a story?”
Peyton shrugs and still avoids making eye contact with me. So I start my story in hopes that she’ll understand that I’ve been through the same things she’s going through now.
“When I was four, I lost my dad. On the day he died, he kissed me goodnight and went to work. When I woke up, my mom was crying and she told me that he was gone. I didn’t know what that meant until we had his funeral. I was too young to understand that my life had just changed, that everything I knew was going to go away. I had to move from my big house with all my toys and friends that I played with every day, to a very small apartment and was only allowed to bring a few things. A year later when I started school, I was scared because I didn’t know anyone. My friends were all going to a different school. I was alone and some of the other kids picked up on that. They would pull my hair or make fun of my clothes. They would say hurtful things about my dad and laugh at me when I would cry. This didn’t stop until I graduated high school and no longer had to see those people.
“If you’re being bullied, I can help you. I don’t want to know who is doing it because there’s no use in talking to his parents. Besides, you’re more important to me than some idiot kid who thinks it’s funny to make fun of people. People like him will get nowhere in life.”
Peyton finally looks at me. I don’t know what I said, but whatever it was I’m thankful. I reach forward and wipe away her tears.
“Do you want to know what I used to do when I was younger to get rid of all my anger?”
“What?” her tiny, broken voice asks.
“Come here, I’ll show you.” I get up and move JD’s stool back to where it was and walk over to my drums. Peyton stands next to me. I pull her closer, lifting her up on to my lap. I thought for sure she’d balk and run away, but she doesn’t. I place a drumstick in each hand. She looks at me questioningly.
“Do you know what the mean kid looks like?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Now picture his face on the drum and hit it.”