"Ian Buckley and Ryan Stone."
She hands me a clipboard to sign in. When I'm done, I set it down and wait while she makes a phone call. Barely any time passes before another lady, this one older and slower moving, comes out of a room and calls me over. I give Denise a friendly smile and beat back the dread that rises. I hate school administrators with a passion. Even the good ones are just too meddlesome for my liking. This lady seems nice enough. She introduces herself as Mrs. Marsh, and when she brings me into her office, I find Ian and Ryan sitting on opposite sides of the room, each facing a wall. Both turn their heads toward me just slightly. Ryan's nostrils flare and his bottom lip is jutted out, but there's a nervousness in his eyes when he catches sight of me. Ian looks my way, but his face remains passive, as if he's not really seeing me.
"Thank you for coming down, Mrs. Stone," she says and motions to a seat in the middle of the two troublesome little boys. Lord help me, she did not just call me that. Ryan's head jerks a little at the suggestion.
"Miss Buckley," I say. I almost explain to her that I'm not Ryan's mom or guardian, that I'm just his babysitter for the day, but I stop myself. For some reason, I don't feel like divulging all that business to her.
"Right. Miss Buckley, we had an incident today concerning bullying, and your sons' teacher felt it was serious enough to dismiss them from class early."
"What happened?"
"Ryan was overheard making fun of Ian on the playground and calling him names. When Ian began to cry, Ryan pushed him to the ground. The yard attendant tried to stop it, but Ryan completely ignored her."
Mrs. Marsh gives me a minute to process what she's just said. I have to close my eyes and take several deep breaths before I turn my eyes on Jim Stone's son, all the while reminding myself that he's a nine-year-old boy and not a fucking little demon. Man, if it were legal to whoop his ass, I would.
"Do things like this happen at home?" There's the assumption again. I shouldn't have suggested Ryan's mine. He's not, and the school now seems to be under the impression that I'm with his father or something.
"No, they sure as hell don't," I say, with my eyes still boring holes into the back of Ryan's head. When he finally does turn to look at me, it's a very slow pivot. The steel of his jaw is betrayed by the water in his eyes.
"I have to say, Miss Buckley, that Ryan's always had behavioral problems. I reviewed his records before you got here. I also took a moment to review Ian's records, and I'm worried. This is not the first time Ryan's engaged in bullying behavior, and it likely won't be the last. With Ian's past--"
I don't let her finish.
"Stop right there," I warn coldly.
But she doesn't.
Because she's either stupid or prideful.
"With Ian's past, I'm not certain that this is a healthy situation for your son."
My eyes shoot first to Ian. All I can see beyond his mop of unruly dark blond hair is the single tear that falls down his cheek. My boy's sensitive, and he really hates when people talk about his past. I'd give anything to never have him shed another tear. Not that I have much to give, but I'd do anything for the adults of this world to understand that when they talk about kids in front of them, it fucks them up.
"Miss Buckley?" Mrs. Marsh's voice is quieter now as she draws me out of my thoughts.
"My son is fine," I say and lean over to run my fingers through his hair. His shoulders relax just a little from the contact. "He and Ryan have been friends for months now, and this is the first I've heard of any bullying."
"With all due respect, you're new in town. I've been principal of this school for over twenty years. Ryan's father was a student here, and he wasn't much better. Don't get me wrong. I don't think Jim Stone or his son are bad people. The boy needs discipline, a firm hand."