The principal’s face paled. “Why, no, but what does that—”
“I was a safety steward with my union for sixteen years. We worked around concrete surfaces all day. I saw a deliveryman slip on something one day and fall back. He hit the back of his head on a concrete curb. It cracked his skull. He was on a respirator for two weeks before his family pulled the plug. I was there that day when his heart beat for the last time.
“I saw to it that there were new rules that everyone had to wear a safety helmet anywhere on the jobsite at all times, not just the men mixing mud or laying block and brick.
“When those girls attacked Angela, they could easily have knocked her down and she could have hit her head on a concrete curb in that parking lot. She could have been left an invalid for the rest of her life. She could have died.”
“Well, the chances of—”
“Look at her. Look how thin she is. A bigger, stronger person punching a girl like Angela in the gut could easily have ruptured an artery and she could have bled internally and died in agonizing pain. Any number of serious injuries could have resulted from that kind of blow to the abdomen. This wasn’t some other girl in her class pulling her hair or throwing a spitball at her, this was a much bigger person—three of them—attacking her with the clear intent of hurting her.
“Angela didn’t set out to hurt them. She tried to get away. She was attacked. She defended herself.”
Mr. Ericsson fell back on the only line he knew. “But violence of any kind is strictly—”
Vito folded his arms. “So your policy at this school is to protect bullies? Your policy is that Angela should let herself be hurt, maybe very badly, possibly even murdered, rather than defend herself. Is that about the sum of it?”
The principal had clearly expected contrition. He was rattled that he wasn’t getting it. “I don’t think you understand what—”
“I think you should think very carefully about what kind of harm could come from your decision, today. What kind of message it would send to other thugs and their victims.”
Angela’s grandfather had an intimidating glare that went with a voice that, without him even raising it, could make the blood drain from people’s faces.
Mr. Ericsson wet his lips several times and averted his eyes before he spoke.
“Considering the circumstances and what Angela had to say explaining her actions, I think it best if we drop the whole thing about expelling Angela.”
“Yes, I think that would be best for all concerned.”
“But Mr. Constantine, I must tell you, Angela needs to buckle down,” Mr. Ericsson said, changing the subject. Angela had apparently already been on his radar. “She scored the highest IQ scores we’ve ever recorded at this school. Did you know that?”
“No, she never told me.”
“Well, she did. And yet her grades are subpar. She’s barely passing. She has great potential but she isn’t applying herself. Maybe if she worked harder and tried harder to fit in she wouldn’t have to defend herself in the first place. I mean, just look at the way she dresses, at those boots she wears.”
Vito lifted a leg and thunked his boot down on the desk. “What’s wrong with her boots?”
Mr. Ericsson stared a moment at the lugged sole of the boot on his desk before looking up into Vito’s glare. “Well … nothing. That’s not really my point. My point is that she needs to apply herself.”
Angela didn’t care about applying herself. When the teachers put problems up on the blackboard, she grasped the entire problem and the answer all at the same time. It bored her to tears waiting for the other kids to figure it out, or waiting while the teachers painstakingly walked other kids through what Angela had seen in the first instant. Her mind would wander away. She didn’t feel she needed to go through the motions of explaining it, so she didn’t. She knew the answer, and to her mind that was what mattered.
“And I must tell you, this isn’t the first time. That’s one reason you’re here. She’s fought with other girls before.”
“I know about that,” her grandfather said. “That’s all been petty kid stuff, just kids tussling. We’re not here to talk about petty stuff, or her grades.
“We’re here today because three older girls tried to hurt Angela.”
“Mr. Constantine, you have to understand my—”
Her grandfather leaned in, his glare darkening. “We’re here today to talk about what I should do about you causing yet more harm to Angela.”
The principal, his face pale, finally cleared his throat.
“Mr. Constantine, I already told you that after having heard the explanation—which I had been totally unaware of—I can see that there is no need to expel your daughter.”
“And you are going to suspend the girls who attacked her for a week and tell their parents why.” It wasn’t a question.
Mr. Ericsson glanced briefly at Angela. “Well, I guess that would be the right thing to do.”
“Yes it would.”
Mr. Ericsson leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. “I’m glad we’ve been able to clear up this matter, but I must insist that you see to it that she buckles down and applies herself because—”
“Let me tell you what has been cleared up today, Mr. Ericsson. I’m not sure this school is a safe environment for Angela, or for that matter any other decent children. It’s clear that you don’t have a policy to protect children from becoming the victims of abuse.
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, now. I’m suspending you and your school from Angela’s life for a week to give you time to reflect on how you are going to correct the situation.”
The principal blinked. “What? You’re pulling her out of school?”
“For a week. That will give you a chance to straighten things out. If I have to come back here again I will expel you from her life permanently. Are we clear?”
The principal swallowed. “Quite clear, Mr. Constantine.”
In the car on the way home her grandfather rode in silence for a time before he looked over at her. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and not letting those girls hurt you.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
He mulled something over before speaking again.
“I know you’re smart, Angela. I don’t need any test to tell me that. So, don’t you think you ought to use those smarts of yours? Apply yourself? Smarts can help you in life, you know.”
Angela thought a moment. “Mom’s boyfriends offer me drugs and booze all the time. They try to get me to take a hit off their crack pipes, or snort a line with them. They wanted to show me how to shoot up some of what they called the good stuff. I always tell them no, and to leave me alone.”
She didn’t say anything else.
Her grandfather got the point and smiled to himself. “I guess you do use those smarts of yours.”
TWELVE
When they got to the house in town, Vito told Gabriella to get things together, that they were going to go stay out at the cabin for a time. She asked why, what had happened, and what about school.
“Nothing much,” he told her. “Angela was jumped by three bigger girls and she defended herself. I thought it would be safer if I pulled her out of school for a week so things can cool down.”
Once they got to the cabin, her grandparents went into the bedroom and shut the door. She could hear them calmly discussing something, but she didn’t know what. Her grandparents were very close. They shared everything. Sometimes it seemed they could have an entire conversation just by looking at each other. Angela suspected that Vito was telling Gabriella about the girls who had attacked her, and what she had done to one of them.
When they came out, instead of going hiking or fishing, her grandfather pulled a small handgun out of the cabinet where he kept his guns. He checked that it was empty and then handed the gun to Angela.