This time, there was no nervous tic on Asa’s face. His shoulders weren’t slumped. And he had a smile there that definitely hadn’t been there before.
I turned my back on the room and walked out into the hall.
“…I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” Mr. O’Malley touched his forehead, as if what he saw wasn’t registering. “I… how do you think that’s acceptable?”
Knowing that O’Malley had this, and there was something weird about the situation in there, I walked back inside the room.
“Asa, buddy?”
Asa looked up.
“Can you move to the corner over there? I want to talk to this boy.” I gestured toward the kid who looked like he was about to puke. And not because I was in the room. Because he was looking at his test as if it were a monster.
Asa immediately got up and ran to the corner where there was a beanbag.
I had an idle thought that there were probably thousands of germs on there, and Delanie would probably have a conniption if she knew he was sitting on it.
I smiled and let him stay, turning my head.
The kid that had come in second was working away on his paper, as if he was used to talking, so I let him be and went to the older one.
I dropped down onto my haunches and looked at the boy.
He looked familiar, but I didn’t know why.
The moment the kid’s eyes looked up to meet mine, I knew instantly.
His father worked with me at the KPD. He was a police officer. A detective, actually. Neal Sallow.
“You’re Neal’s kid, aren’t you?” I asked, grinning.
The kid looked up at me and his eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”
“You look like him. Your eyes, especially.” I tapped my temple right at the corner of my eyes. “Can’t hide the resemblance with those peepers.”
They were a weird shade of green, almost yellow. More like a green highlighter.
The kid smiled at hearing that. “You work with my dad?”
Since I wasn’t in uniform, it had me insanely curious how he’d guessed that. I grinned.
“How do you know I’m not just some criminal that your dad arrested?” I teased.
He rolled his eyes, looking exactly like I’d seen his dad do a hundred thousand times.
“You have that tattoo.” He pointed at my left forearm.
I looked down at the thin blue line that went through the middle of my all black and gray tattooed forearm.
The words ‘honor,’ ‘serve,’ and ‘protect,’ were all written elegantly onto my forearm. Wings, a badge, and few other ‘officer’ related things were woven neatly in ink into my skin around the words.
It was fuckin’ awesome, and the tattoo itself had taken many, many sessions to complete.
“I do,” I said. “And yes, I work with your dad at Kilgore Police Department. Do you have his number? I’d like to call him. What’s your name, by the way?”
The kid rattled off the number, and I mentally stored it as I continued to talk to the boy about the teacher.
In the end, I realized that he’d been given much the same treatment as Asa.
“My dad is a trash truck driver,” the second kid, Tom, said. “Your dad’s occupation is way cooler.”
With that, he got up and left, taking his paper and turning it into a tray at the front of the room.
“That’s why he doesn’t get the same treatment as we do,” Neal Junior, better known as Junior, said.
I blinked. “Because your dad’s an officer?”
He nodded. “She treats all of us like this. She hates our fathers’ occupation. And one girl whose aunt is raising her, too.”
I felt my belly churn.
“Tell me why you think that,” I asked, leaning against the wall next to the kid.
Instead of calling Neal, I texted him, and he responded with he would be there immediately.
When I heard a commotion in the hall, I patted the kid on the back. “Get your work done, buddy. Holler if you need help, okay? And you’ll get the full thirty minutes that you need.”
Junior nodded his head and went back to his test, his face much more relaxed now.
When I arrived back outside, it was to see Neal standing there looking worried.
I gestured at him with a lift of my chin and motioned for him to meet me a little farther down the hall.
Then I’d explained what I’d just heard while we watched O’Malley continue to tear into Ms. Greeley.
Neal went stiff, then he turned without a word and walked up to the teacher.
“So you’re the reason my kid comes home and cries every night?” he snapped.
And that’s how the fight happened.
***
Delanie
“What on Earth is going on?” the old lady asked.
My brows rose as I tapped my foot with impatience.
I’d gotten here to see the principal over ten minutes ago, yet he still wasn’t back, despite the old lady’s assurances that he was on his way.