Angel of Redemption (40 page)

“
He is.
”

He
looks around the kitchen, confused.
“
Um
…
”

“
Don
’
t ask me. I
’
m not here.
”

Brayden
laughs and grabs the OJ. About twenty minutes later, Simon finally stumbles in.

“
My fucking alarm was set for p.m., not a.m.,
”
he growls.

“
I
’
m not here,
”
I inform him.
“
It
’
s all you.
”

“
Thanks,
”
he says bitterly.

I
chuckle the entire time as the boys test him, shouting orders for all sorts of
breakfast items. By the time he has them out the door, he looks frustrated and
pissed off.

“
What the hell? Are they like that every morning?
”

“
Little advice, Simon. They
’
re teenage boys. They
’
ll eat anything. Make a whole bunch of
one thing and be done with it. If they want something else, they can get it
themselves.
”

“
You couldn
’
t have told me that before they made me look like a total
idiot?
”

I
stand up and put my coffee cup and plate in the dishwasher.
“
Nope. I
’
m not here, remember?
”

I hear him muttering profanities under his breath as I walk
back to my room to take a shower and get dressed. I make it to mass just in
time to help Mrs. Thibodeau to her pew again.

“
You
’
re too young to be so grumpy, Dean,
”
she says.
“
Go find yourself a good woman and
bring her to church with you. That will make you happy.
”

I
hadn
’
t
realized I was frowning, but considering I was thinking about my nightmare, I
’
m not surprised. I chuckle and shake my head.
“
Thanks, Mrs. Thibodeau. I
’
ll do that.
”

I
get to the school in-between classes. There are teenagers everywhere, pushing,
shoving, laughing, kissing. They stare at me as I make my way to the office. A
couple of cheerleaders smile at me and giggle. I
’
m pretty sure one of them is the girl
I discovered with Brayden last year.

The
office is a nice reprieve from the noisy, crowded hallway. There are a couple
of kids milling about. One is sitting in a chair looking really pissed off. Another,
apparently an office assistant, is behind the desk talking on the phone and
taking a message.

The
door to the administrators
’
office opens. A student and another
adult, presumably a parent by the way she
’
s gripping the kid
’
s arm and frog-marching him out, pass by me.

“
Hello, Mr. Wyatt,
”
Principal Sylvester says curtly as she comes out of her
office.
“
I
think Rebecca is in the conference room. You can head on in there.
”

I
nod. No reason to make niceties. The woman has been a total bitch to too many
of my boys for me to give her so much as a polite smile.

I
make my way down a short hallway to the all-too-familiar room.

“
Hi, Dean,
”
Rebecca Duchess sighs. She
’
s sitting at the table looking over
papers. Rebecca is the guidance counselor for all my kids. She
’
s been a foster parent for twenty-five
years and knows the kinds of physical, emotional, and educational issues they
face. She
’
s someone I
’
m always nice to. She actually seems to give a shit.

“
Hi, Rebecca.
”

I
make my way over to the coffee station along the wall and pour a cup. I wonder
if I should make one for Kayla, too, but decide against it. That would probably
look weird. I
’
ve
been in this room before with other social workers and not once have I bothered
to make any one of them a cup. Thinking back on it, I feel like an asshole.

“
Would you like anything while I
’
m over here?
”
I ask.

She
glances up and smiles at me.
“
No, I
’
m good, but thank you. How have you been?
”

“
Livin
’
the dream,
”
I answer like the smart-ass I am. I
sit down, and she hands me a collated packet of papers. It
’
s a collection of reports from each of
Matty
’
s
teachers listing his strengths and areas of concern.
“
Wow, these are optimistic,
”
I grumble sarcastically, flipping
through them.
“
Do
you think he needs special education services?
”

“
I don
’
t know, Dean,
”
Rebecca sighs.

“
Well, I do.
”
She
’
s interrupted by Tyson Keens, the
hard-assed English teacher who gives most of my boys a hard time. He teaches
ninth-grade English and creative writing, and twelfth-grade AP English. Logan
is currently acing that class, and I
’
ve been told that Brayden is doing
well in the creative writing course, so you
’
d
think he wouldn
’
t be such a dick to them, but he is. I
think that
’
s just his nature.

Keens
doesn
’
t
like me at all. He
’
s one of the people who thinks my history does more harm
than good for the kids. He told me once that the boys talk about me as though I
were a big brother or a friend. In his opinion, I
’
m setting them up for a future of
drugs and prison because I make it look cool.

For
a long time, I questioned whether or not he was right. I even sought my dad
’
s advice. He disagreed with Keens. He
said I show the boys that, no matter where they
’
ve come from in life, it
’
s their decisions that pave the way
for their future. I was given everything, but that didn
’
t stop me from making stupid
decisions. And yet, when I hit rock bottom, I was able to drag my ass back up.
I
’
m not sure if he was insulting me or
complimenting me, but I guess the point is that he believes Keens is full of
shit. And now I do, too.

“
Look, Dean,
”
he says without an actual greeting.
“
He
’
s failing. It
’
s our responsibility as educators to
do everything we can to prevent that. And it
’
s your responsibility as his caregiver
to support his educational needs.
”

“
Has he been evaluated?
”
I ask.

“
Can we wait until all parties are present, please?
”
Rebecca says with an edge to her
voice.

Keens
looks at her and then at me.
“
Who else are we expecting?
”

“
His social worker and Debra.
”
Debra Baker is the history teacher
who caught him cheating.

Keens
glances at his watch.
“
I have exactly forty-five minutes before my AP class
starts.
”
He pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs the packet that Rebecca is holding
out for him before sitting down.

Seconds
later, Kayla walks through the door. She
’
s got a Starbucks cup in her hand and a frazzled look on
her face, but when our eyes meet, she smiles.

“
Hello, Mr. Wyatt.
”

“
Good morning, Ms. Brooks. Nice to see you again.
”

“
Likewise.
”

Kayla
greets both Rebecca and Keens, who looks her over with too much focus for my
liking. I clear my throat and, without acknowledging me, his eyes dart away.
Kayla sits down across from me and begins reading through the information.
Debra blows in, apologizing profusely for being late.

“
Give me two seconds and we can start,
”
she breathes.
“
My sub was a little overwhelmed by the
chaos of a group project.
”

The
room is silent except for the sound of papers rustling. I
’
ve already scanned through them, but I
pretend to do it again. I can feel Kayla
’
s eyes on me, but I don
’
t look at her. That is, until I feel a
sharp pain in my shin. I snap my head up to find her grinning at me.

“
Your hair
,
”
she mouths, pointing to her own head before giving me a thumbs-up
and a wink. I
’
m
confused at first, but when I put my hand up to my head, I realize what she
’
s talking about. I didn
’
t put my hat on this morning. I
’
ve got
“
sex
hair.
”
I laugh out loud, making everyone else
in the room look up at me. Kayla puts her hand over her mouth and snickers.
Keens frowns at us.

“
Okay, let
’
s get started,
”
Rebecca announces.

We
go over each report. I find myself getting agitated by the negative tone of the
meeting. I can only imagine how Kayla
’
s feeling right now.

“
As you can see, each of his teachers reports similar
issues.
”

“
It all comes down to identifying the extent of his learning
disabilities and developing a plan to work with them,
”
Keens announces.

“
I honestly don
’
t think he has learning disabilities,
”
Kayla challenges.

“
With all due respect, Ms. Brooks, I think that maybe you
’
re too emotionally invested to see
things clearly.
”

“
Of course I
’
m emotionally invested,
”
Kayla bites.
“
Every time I turn around, someone is
calling him difficult or stupid or telling him he
’
s got a learning disability.
”
She narrows her eyes pointedly.

“
So, what do you suggest then? Like I told Dean, he
’
s failing. He can
’
t continue like this.
”

“
We
’
ve been checking his homework,
”
I interrupt.
“
He
’
s not having a problem at home. He
does it quickly and quietly, and we rarely have to correct anything.
”

“
And that
’
s true,
”
Debra adds.
“
When he turns it in, it
’
s done correctly, but he
’
s not testing well, so I have concerns
about what he
’
s
actually learning.
”

“
Maybe he just doesn
’
t test well,
”
Kayla suggests.

“
He needs to be evaluated,
”
I insist.
“
We
’
re sitting here having this discussion
before anything has even been confirmed.
”