Unsocial (10 page)

“Yes,
of course, I did. I didn’t gather them up in a fucking circle and talk about it
for hours, but I talked to them. Cassie couldn’t wait.”

She
lets out a sigh like
she
is frustrated with
me
. “She will be
fine. You all will, it’s just an adjustment. This really is a nice house,
though Dylan. Good job.”

I
clench my jaw.
Why doesn’t she just pat my head like a damn puppy?
 “What
else do you need to go over with me, Brooke?”

She
stands up from the table, “I have one suggestion. Family meals are a great
idea. The same time every night of the week, every family member, with a few
exceptions as they come up. Studies have shown that dinner time with the family
is a great time to check up on the kids. You’ll learn a lot about what’s going
on in their lives.”

“We
eat dinner together all of the time.”

She
looks at me, questioning me. “You all eat at the kitchen table? Healthy meals?”

Okay,
usually I order pizza or some other take out, and we spread out over the house.
“No, I mean I don’t cook or anything.”

“Well,
maybe it’s time to learn.”

“Learn?”

She
starts walking toward the door, “Yes, learn to cook healthy meals for you and
the kids to sit down at the table and eat and talk together.”

I
walk with her to the door, “Yeah, I just don’t see that happening.”

She
shakes her head, “Look how about next Tuesday I stay a little after my hour and
I’ll show you some basics. It’s cooking; it’s not that difficult.”

I
raise an eyebrow at her. Is she serious? Is she offering to help me cook for
the kids? Damn, she does care about her job. “I mean, I guess. Is that really
in your job description?”

“Yeah,
my job is to make sure that you guys adjust to this new arrangement the best
way possible, so I’m throwing in cooking lessons.”

“Okay,
if you think that’s best.”

“I’ll
see you next Tuesday.”

“Okay,
see you then.”

She
walks out to her car and leaves. Another week down. And here’s where I feel all
that crazy shit. 
I dread her coming, and I hate to see her leaving.

Brooke

I’m
sitting at my desk filling out boring paperwork, but I’m doing it with a smile
still on my face after reading Cassie’s last text; she gets to cheer in her first
football game on Friday.  As I look over the application for paid childcare for
a family I met with yesterday, I get a call on my office phone. I reach over
and answer it, “Brooke Porter.”

“Hi,
Ms. Porter, this is Evelyn Christianson at Overland Park Elementary. I’m the
principal here.”

Uh-oh,
this can’t
be good
.
“Is something wrong?”

“First
of all, are you the case worker for Michael Monroe?”

Michael?
“Yes, I am.”

“Well,
Ms. Porter, it seems we have a situation here at the school involving Michael. 
He told us that he wanted us to contact you as well as his brother Dylan.  Is
it possible for you to come to the school?  We’re still waiting for Mr. Monroe
to get here.

“Okay,
of course. Is Michael okay?”

“Michael
got into a fight at school today and punched another student. I think it would
be better if you came here to explain the rest.”

There
has
to be some mistake or unfortunate misunderstanding. I just can’t picture
Michael punching anyone. “Michael Monroe? Are you sure?”

“Yes,
I am very sure, and we take this kind of thing very seriously. His brother,
Dylan is on his way now, and after Michael informed us about who you are we
feel it prudent that you be here as well.  Can we count on you showing up?”

“Of
course, I’m leaving now.”

“Very
good, Ms. Porter.  We’ll see you when you get here.”

I
don’t have another appointment for an hour, so I quickly clear my desk and
drive to the elementary school. I walk through the double doors and see that
the main office is right in front of me. When I enter, I immediately see Dylan
and Michael standing with a stern older woman. Michael stands with his head drooped,
and Dylan is clearly pissed.

I
walk over to join them, “Dylan, Michael, what’s going on?”

Dylan
acknowledges me first, “I have no idea. Why did they call you for this?”

“Apparently
Michael told them who I am and asked that I be here. Since I’m your family’s
caseworker they called and asked me to come.”  Dylan turns to Michael with a
confused look on his face, no doubt he’s wondering why Michael wanted me to be
here. I’m wondering the same thing myself.  Before he can ask the question a
no-nonsense-looking woman joins us. Clearly she’s the principal.

She
looks at me and confirms my guess, “You must be Ms. Porter. I am Ms.
Christensen, the principal here.”

She
holds her hand out for me, and I shake it, “Ms. Christensen, it’s a pleasure to
meet you.  Can you tell us what happened, please?”

“Let’s
all go into my office and discuss it in there.”

We
follow her in.  She takes her seat behind the desk and instructs us to have a
seat on the other side.  “It seems that Michael got into a fight today and
punched another child at recess.”

Dylan
looks as confused as me and looks to Michael, “You punched someone, why?”

Michael’s
voice is squeaky when he says, “They wouldn’t leave me alone. I asked them to,
and they just kept calling me names and knocking my books out of my hand.”

My
heart aches for Michael. It’s clear now why he hates school so much. I keep my
voice neutral, “Michael, did you tell someone?”

He
looks over at me, “I do all the time, but they just ignore me.”

That
makes my blood boil, “How long has this been going on?”

Michael’s
small shoulders go up in a quick shrug, “A couple of years.”

I
look at the principal, “This has been going on for a couple of years, and no
one has done anything about it?”

She
almost stutters, “Well, I haven’t heard a thing about it.” She addresses
Michael with more confidence, “Who exactly did you tell?”

Michael
looks nervous, “My teacher every year, the gym teacher, and I told Ms. Reynolds
yesterday at recess because she was the teacher that was out there.”

Dylan
looks at Michael like he feels guilty, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I
don’t know. You and Luke could handle it yourselves, so I wanted to handle it
myself. Then Brooke told me just to avoid them.  I tried, Brooke, I really tried. 
They just wouldn’t stop.” He looks close to tears, and I’m simultaneously
heartbroken and beyond pissed for this boy.

I
look at Ms. Christensen, “So what is going to happen?”

“We
have a very strict no-violence policy at this school, but with the special
circumstances of Michael losing his parents this summer, I have decided to be a
little lenient and let him off with three days suspension.”

She
actually thinks she is being nice about this, and she’s blaming it on Michael
losing his parents. That doesn’t sit well with me, and I can tell Dylan is
angry also, before he can say anything, I do, “That’s being lenient? It sounds
like Michael has been bullied for years without anyone stepping in and doing
something about it. What exactly is this school’s policy on bullying?”

She
looks flustered, “We, of course, have policies, and bullying is not tolerated
Ms. Porter, but I never received a report of bullying.”

“Then
it’s obvious your teachers need a refresher course on what constitutes bullying
and when to report it.  Michael is a good kid and would not just go off without
a reason. Is the other child being suspended?”

“The
one that was punched in the nose? No, why would we punish the student who was
hit?”  The woman looks confused.

“Why,
because he was clearly bullying Michael, and from what it sounds like he’s been
getting away with it for at least two years while your staff has failed to
protect him. You cannot punish Michael and not the other kid or kids. And the
fact that you have not received a report of the prior incidences doesn’t
reflect well at all on your school or your staff.”

She
sighs heavily, and thins her lips, “Excuse me, Ms. Porter, but how do we know
that what Michael is telling us is even true?  There has never been a report of
bullying brought to my attention.  What if he’s coming up with this bullying
story to get out of trouble?” 
I’m going to slap her.

I
stare straight back across the desk at her, “Do you even know your students? 
If you did you would certainly know that Michael is in no way a liar, and he
certainly isn’t a fighter.  He’s a straight-A student who loves to read.  He’s
a 10-year-old little boy who has for the last two years expected his teachers
to help him by telling them what’s been going on with the other boys.  You have
no right to try to cover your staff’s ineptness by saying such things about
Michael.  Today’s incident simply boils down to him having to protect himself
since no one else seems to want to.  Now, what do you plan to do about the
other boy who no doubt provoked Michael into doing something that is clearly
out of character for him?”

“Alright,
I will suspend the other child for one day and speak to his parents.  I will
also speak to his teachers for the last couple of years to find out why the
bullying allegations weren’t reported.”  She stands and dismisses us from her
office. I walk with Michael and Dylan to the parking lot, and Michael looks up
at me, “Thank you for believing me. I’m sorry, Brooke.  I tried to ignore them,
but they just wouldn’t quit.  Then they started talking about Gabby and how
Gabby’s retarded now.  I just couldn’t take it, Dylan.  I know you guys are
disappointed, but I just…..”

“Michael,
stop.  I’m not disappointed in you.  I’m disappointed that the school didn’t
protect you. I’m sorry that no one did anything.  If anything like this ever
happens again, and you don’t feel safe telling a teacher, then tell Dylan or
tell me.” It is hard to tell him that there are better ways to handle things
when he has repeatedly tried.

“Thanks,
Brooke.  I’ll wait for you in the car, Dylan.”  He heads to the car leaving
Dylan and me to talk.

He
plays with his keys in his large hands, “Thank you for what you said. I had no
idea he has been going through this, let alone going through it for years.  I
should have guessed something was off when you were talking to them about
starting school.  It just seems like he should have been as excited as Cassie. 
He loves to read and learn; he just doesn’t want to do it at school, and now we
know why.  I should have asked questions.”

“Dylan,
don’t blame yourself, I should have asked more questions as well.  I sensed
something wasn’t right because like you said, he should have been more
excited.  He’s a wonderful student who loves to read.  Since he does so well
with his school work, I just dismissed it that he was bored in school.  I never
suspected the bullying either. I wanted to ask, but I just didn’t know if he
would trust me enough to tell me if anything were wrong.”

Dylan’s
handsome face almost looks guilty, “Yeah, and I certainly didn’t help with that
either.  Like you said, they’ll start trusting you when I let my guard down
with you.” He looks toward the car where Michael is waiting then back to me
like he remembers something. “Earlier this week he came home with his shirt
ripped. He said it was no big deal that some kid grabbed it on the playground. 
Then I just kind of started teaching him a couple of self-defense moves.  I
didn’t think he would need to use them.  Nothing crazy, I just wanted to teach
him how to protect himself.  Are we totally fucked over this?”

So
that’s where he learned to throw a punch. Makes sense and I think it’s sweet
that Dylan tried to help. “No, I mean, obviously I have to write this up
because it will be on his school record, but I will word it very cleverly and
word it working the bullying aspect and the school’s responsibility for letting
it get this far by not stopping it.”

“So
am I going to have to explain to the judge that I taught him how to hit?”

I
shake my head, “No, I think it’s great that you taught him self-defense, and
seriously I think you should get the rest of them involved as well. Just make
sure it is in defense only. As for Michael hitting that kid, I can easily write
that up as brothers horsing around.  You weren’t aware of the bullying before
you taught him to throw a punch.  Who knows, maybe you were just horsing
around, right?”  I give him a small grin.

He
smiles, actually smiles. Wow, if it’s even possible, he is even more gorgeous
when he genuinely smiles instead of giving the normal brooding face I’m used to.
“Thanks, Brooke.”

“You’re
very welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday for our meeting and cooking lesson.”

He
runs his hand through his hair, “About that, you don’t have to give up your
free time for us.”

“I
want to. First of all, I love to cook, so it’s no big deal, and second of all,
it’s my job. I am going to do everything I can to turn the Monroes into the
all-American family.”

He
grins again; I can get used to that look. “If you say so, see you then.”

“I’ll
text you what you need to shop for at the grocery store.  Enjoy the rest of
your week.”

“Wait,
there’s shopping?” he teases.

“Absolutely. 
Do you need a lesson in that as well?”

“Probably,
just text me the list and I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll
do that.  Enjoy the rest of your week, Dylan.”

We
say goodbye, and I drive back to the office to make it to my appointment just
in time.  I am feeling pretty good because I can tell I’m making real progress
with Dylan Monroe.

When
Tuesday rolls around again, I feel excited, for the first time, about my weekly
visit at the Monroe house.  I ring the doorbell, and Dylan lets me inside, and
I have to mention here, he’s smiling too. Even the kids seem to be in good
moods.  The first thing I plan on is getting straight to our weekly sit-down
meeting to see what’s been going on, but decide to take a little more casual
approach.  Instead of heading to the dining room I take a seat on the floor in
front of the coffee table.  After I had left the office, I stopped by my
apartment to change into jeans and t-shirt since I was going to be cooking
tonight, and I want to be comfortable.  After giving me curious looks, everyone
finds places on the sectional and settles in.  Cassie, of course, takes up
residence on the carpet next to me.  It’s a no-brainer that I start with her, I
pretty much always start with her.  “So, how did cheering at your first
football game go?”

I
remember how happy Cassie’s texts were when she told me she would be getting to
join the varsity cheerleaders at the high school games, and from the look on
her face, she wasn’t disappointed by the experience. “Oh my God, it was so much
fun! I love cheering.  I love the crowds.  Brooke, you have to watch me at the
next home game.  Please, please.”

Experiencing
an excited Cassie is way too infectious.  I sneak a peek at Dylan because I
really should get his approval before I commit to Cassie’s pleas, and see he’s
still smiling.  He gives just the smallest ascent of his head, so I turn to
Cassie smiling and giving my promise to be at the next home game.