eyebrows raised. “Mrs. Duggins?”
I nodded.
“They’re waiting for you.” I could sense her shaking her head and “tsk-tsking” me as I walked away. When I entered the room, three pairs of eyes assaulted me.
Mr. Fielding hunched over his massive desk. His audible sigh splattered me with judgment. “Mrs. Duggins, please have a seat.” He pointed to the armchair next to an elegant woman with expensive highlights who stared straight ahead at Mr. Fielding. She sat noble and erect, poised like a model spokesperson for good posture in her pink polo shirt and tennis skirt, which accentuated her personal-trainer-sculpted thighs.
Elongating my short torso in the leather chair, I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt to hide my Mediterranean assets. With a pound of makeup caking her feminine features, the woman looked ready for the runway, not tennis at the country club. Seconds seemed like minutes before she turned and scorched me with her stare.
A thousand ice splinters pricked my fingers, the numbness scaling my arms, then slowly, like an ice sculpture in July, I started to melt.
“This is Mrs. Lewandowski, the mother of the boy Matt assaulted.”
I shifted to find a comfortable position. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lewandowski.” The poster mom for lifestyles of the rich and snobbish glared down her perfectly sculpted nose toward me. “I … I don’t know what got into him.”
Matt slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. His arms crossed over his blue blazer, face contorted. When had the light gone from his steel blue eyes?
“How in the world can Todd sing in the Christmas musical with a broken nose?” Mrs. Lewandowski gracefully flailed her tanned hands with perfect French-manicured nails. A large diamond ring adorned her slender finger.
Hiding my pinky nail under my Coach bag, I uncrossed and crossed my legs. My lip quivered, then trembled as I pushed out another apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“His father is going to be furious. Talent scouts will be in the audience. Do you know how hard it is to get noticed in a small town like ours?”
Ironically, I understood all too well. “I know it won’t make up for what Matt did, but I’d be happy to pay for the medical bills.” I peeked at Matt, gnawing on a hangnail, oblivious to our conversation.
“Oh, you’re right about that. You will pay. A lot more than medical bills. Expect a call from my lawyer.” She glared at Matt, then at me. “How you ever got accepted in to this fine institution, I’ll never understand, but you can be sure I will see to it that there are stricter acceptance requirements from now on.”
My facial muscles tensed as I suppressed tears, fighting the stereotype, pushing away the judgment I had lived with most of my life. A cacophony of emotion threatened to destroy the person I toiled so hard to create. I wouldn’t let her see me fall apart.
Mrs. Lewandowski stood. “Now if there’s nothing more to discuss here, I need to check on my son.” She turned on her heels and stalked out of the office.
I looked at Mr. Fielding, leveling my voice. “What happens now?”
“The officer should return soon. He’s with Todd Lewandowski and his father taking a statement in the nurse’s office.”
Five minutes of agonizing silence later, a policeman stepped into the room, his truck-driver paunch hanging over his utility belt. It wasn’t hard to tell he was a coffee and donut man. The wet spot on his dark blue shirt and crumbs in his mustache took the mystery out of his diet.
“Mrs. Duggins, I’m Officer Taylor.” He extended his hairy paw. The black dirt under his fingernails threatened to soil my hands. I reluctantly shook it. “Seems like we got ourselves a little situation here. The Lewandowski boy says Matt attacked him without provocation.”
Matt shot from his seat. “That’s a lie. He started it.”
I glared at my brother, but he stood, eyes challenging.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Officer
I nodded.
“They’re waiting for you.” I could sense her shaking her head and “tsk-tsking” me as I walked away. When I entered the room, three pairs of eyes assaulted me.
Mr. Fielding hunched over his massive desk. His audible sigh splattered me with judgment. “Mrs. Duggins, please have a seat.” He pointed to the armchair next to an elegant woman with expensive highlights who stared straight ahead at Mr. Fielding. She sat noble and erect, poised like a model spokesperson for good posture in her pink polo shirt and tennis skirt, which accentuated her personal-trainer-sculpted thighs.
Elongating my short torso in the leather chair, I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt to hide my Mediterranean assets. With a pound of makeup caking her feminine features, the woman looked ready for the runway, not tennis at the country club. Seconds seemed like minutes before she turned and scorched me with her stare.
A thousand ice splinters pricked my fingers, the numbness scaling my arms, then slowly, like an ice sculpture in July, I started to melt.
“This is Mrs. Lewandowski, the mother of the boy Matt assaulted.”
I shifted to find a comfortable position. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lewandowski.” The poster mom for lifestyles of the rich and snobbish glared down her perfectly sculpted nose toward me. “I … I don’t know what got into him.”
Matt slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. His arms crossed over his blue blazer, face contorted. When had the light gone from his steel blue eyes?
“How in the world can Todd sing in the Christmas musical with a broken nose?” Mrs. Lewandowski gracefully flailed her tanned hands with perfect French-manicured nails. A large diamond ring adorned her slender finger.
Hiding my pinky nail under my Coach bag, I uncrossed and crossed my legs. My lip quivered, then trembled as I pushed out another apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“His father is going to be furious. Talent scouts will be in the audience. Do you know how hard it is to get noticed in a small town like ours?”
Ironically, I understood all too well. “I know it won’t make up for what Matt did, but I’d be happy to pay for the medical bills.” I peeked at Matt, gnawing on a hangnail, oblivious to our conversation.
“Oh, you’re right about that. You will pay. A lot more than medical bills. Expect a call from my lawyer.” She glared at Matt, then at me. “How you ever got accepted in to this fine institution, I’ll never understand, but you can be sure I will see to it that there are stricter acceptance requirements from now on.”
My facial muscles tensed as I suppressed tears, fighting the stereotype, pushing away the judgment I had lived with most of my life. A cacophony of emotion threatened to destroy the person I toiled so hard to create. I wouldn’t let her see me fall apart.
Mrs. Lewandowski stood. “Now if there’s nothing more to discuss here, I need to check on my son.” She turned on her heels and stalked out of the office.
I looked at Mr. Fielding, leveling my voice. “What happens now?”
“The officer should return soon. He’s with Todd Lewandowski and his father taking a statement in the nurse’s office.”
Five minutes of agonizing silence later, a policeman stepped into the room, his truck-driver paunch hanging over his utility belt. It wasn’t hard to tell he was a coffee and donut man. The wet spot on his dark blue shirt and crumbs in his mustache took the mystery out of his diet.
“Mrs. Duggins, I’m Officer Taylor.” He extended his hairy paw. The black dirt under his fingernails threatened to soil my hands. I reluctantly shook it. “Seems like we got ourselves a little situation here. The Lewandowski boy says Matt attacked him without provocation.”
Matt shot from his seat. “That’s a lie. He started it.”
I glared at my brother, but he stood, eyes challenging.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Officer
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