"Let me get Principal Dean," the lady says, disappearing into the office. The Principal comes out, and I’m reminded that his name is Billy Dean, which I’m sure has caused him plenty of grief over the years. "Miss Nelson has some questions."
"As do we all," Principal Dean says. "Miss Nelson, perhaps we can talk in my office?"
I look at Laurie, who’s still sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, now with tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. I kneel in front of her again and take her hands. "All right, Laurie, I'm going to go talk with Mr. Dean here. Can you sit here quietly for a few minutes? Then you and I can talk about this. I promise you, I'm not angry. We just need to talk, okay?"
"Okay, Mama," Laurie says in a tiny voice, and I kiss her fingers, giving her a reassuring smile and a pat on the cheek before standing and following Mr. Dean into his office.
"Thank you, Miss Nelson. Obviously, this is a very serious situation."
"Of course. Can you tell me what was seen or heard?"
The story that emerges is totally different from what Laurie told me, and I can understand why she reverted to just Italian. According to Mr. Dean, Laurie and a classmate were playing on the swing set before school when suddenly, Laurie tackled the girl, biting her forearm hard enough to draw blood.
"What caused it?” I ask, trying to restrain my frustration.
"According to the injured girl, nothing. She says that she was just playing when Laurie threw her down and bit her. A few of her friends corroborate the claim, but we didn’t have staff or teachers at the swings at the time. Laurie hasn't been responsive to questions."
"She was responsive to me," I said icily. "She just is so angry that she's refusing to speak in English to you right now. She admits to biting the girl, saying that the little girl called her an ‘abandoned puppy’. I’m not condoning what she did, but those are some hurtful words."
Mr. Dean nods, sitting back. "They are. And, based on what I know of the little girl who got bitten, that is probably what happened. The girl is a bit of a bully with her little group of friends. However, Miss Nelson, my hands are tied."
"In what way?"
"District policy mandates that any incidence of biting that draws blood results in an automatic one-week suspension from school for a first offense. If it happens again, Laurie could be required to attend anger management therapy or even potentially be expelled. I’ll talk with the parents of the little girl."
“Okay. So I guess I need to take Laurie with me?"
Mr. Dean nods and stands up. "I understand this may be difficult for you, Miss Nelson. You're a single working mother, I'm sure that must be hard on you. But more importantly, it's hard on Laurie. May I offer some advice?"
"Please."
Mr. Dean looks out his office window at Laurie, who is still sitting rock still in the plastic chair in the reception area. "Your daughter is bright, very intelligent, and until today, a normally happy go lucky little girl who was blossoming in her time here. It's only in the past few weeks that things have started to go south, and she's obviously very unhappy. If you can, talk to her and find out what’s wrong. Maybe it’s something that can be dealt with before she becomes more withdrawn or possibly violent. Best of luck, Miss Nelson."
I shake his offered hand and leave the office, taking Laurie by the hand. "Come on, Laurie, we need to go now. Think you can hang out at work with me for the day?"
"Yeah," Laurie grumps, and she follows along, nowhere near like her normal self. At the Gallery, she plays quietly in the back, drawing pictures for most of the time with a set of colored pencils I buy from the small selection of art supplies the shop sells, as well as an extra ream of printer paper that Colette lets me use. At the end of the night, she puts the papers in her bag and we leave, going home for dinner with Mom.
"I heard about what happened at school," Mom says after dinner. Laurie's gone into the living room to watch some cartoons before bedtime, and Mom and I are cleaning up. "How do you feel about it?"
"Angry . . . frustrated . . . a little helpless," I say, setting down the glass I am washing. "How could someone call Laurie an abandoned puppy? I'd be tempted to bite them too!"
Mom nods, a ghost of a smile on her face. "You know, when I was pregnant with you, I had a lot of taunts and stuff thrown my way. I know it was a different time, but the words hurt just as much. In fact, I remember you coming home one day from school yourself, a black eye rising and your knuckles scraped after someone called you illegitimate, or a word that basically meant that."
"How'd you deal with it?" I ask, not remembering the incident at all. I must have been very young.
“The same way you are, stewing, crying when I had privacy, racking my brain about it. But I didn't have any other options. You do, you know."
"What?"
"He is her father, Whitney. And he loves her.”