—who wasn’t anything like he’d expected from a school principal. She was young and pretty—the first woman to pique his interest in a long time. And while she hadn’t smiled much during their meeting, he got the impression she normally did.
He’d told her that they’d gone to counseling, and they had. Not just after Carolyn’s death, but for months before. Hospice had been a godsend as he’d tried to deal with her impending death, as well as Ryan and his reactions.
“Can I have the rest of the lasagna?” Ryan’s muffled voice came from inside the fridge.
“For dinner?”
“No, now. For a snack.” He turned around, the take-out container in his hands, his expression hopeful.
“Uh, no. I’ll make dinner in a bit.” Another skill he’d picked up after losing Carolyn.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Marcus nearly groaned. Those words always meant that Ryan was up to something. He smiled. How had he managed to raise a son who was a con artist at heart? Marcus leaned back against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. “What?”
“I can eat the lasagna now and get started right away on my homework.”
“And?”
“And I’ll be done in time to play in a Castle Battle tournament tonight at seven.”
“Ryan, it’s a school night.” Video games were normally off-limits except on the weekends.
“It’s the tournament of the year. Come on, Dad. I’m really good at it. I could win.”
Marcus looked at his son. The bruise around his eye was going to be dark by morning. “Put ice on that eye tonight.” Principal Hawkins’s words came to him. Did Ryan deserve a break in this? As it was, he’d be spending the next week in detention after school. Was that punishment enough? It wasn’t as if Ryan regularly got into trouble.
Ryan’s earlier explanation almost made Marcus proud of his son. Proud of his convictions, anyway.
But Marcus also knew Ryan. He’d learned over the past few months how to deal with Ryan’s “ideas.” He could “outdeal” him, or accept the proposition. Carolyn had been so much better at this than he was.
He didn’t have the energy for dealing tonight. “I want you off the computer by ten. Lights out by eleven.”
Ryan did a fist pump and shoved the plastic container into the microwave.
“But—” Marcus knew better than to let Ryan think he was totally off the hook.
Ryan slowly pivoted on his heel. “But what?”
“Tonight you get the tournament. Tomorrow we’ll discuss your punishment.”
The boy’s smile melted. “I’m sorry you got called, Dad.”
“But you’re not sorry for the fight?”
Ryan had to think a minute. “Not really.” The microwave’s timer sounded, and Ryan grabbed the hot dish. “Gotta go. Got homework to do.”
“We will discuss this,” Marcus yelled over the sound of Ryan’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Sure, Dad,” Ryan yelled back, his footsteps crossing the ceiling overhead.
Marcus sighed. To be young and so resilient. “Sorry, Carolyn,” he whispered, “I’m trying.” But the life she’d tried to help him build, the one with the family that came home and had dinner together every night, just wasn’t meant to be.
Marcus glanced at the kitchen table. It was covered with his backpack, books and laptop. They wouldn’t be eating there anytime soon.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he had a lot of extra time. Today was the deadline for the midterm essays. It could be an awfully long night.
* * *
EVERYONE ON THE teaching staff took a turn monitoring detention. While it wasn’t the norm for Addie to take a rotation, she was happy to step in since Lindy was out of the rotation right now. It was swim season, and between coaches and club sponsors, options were few.
Today there were four kids seated in the desks where, normally, Mr. Hudson taught English lit. Addie knew all four of them. She’d been the one to assign them detention.
Ryan was already seated in the back, his work out in front of him. Two other boys were here for fighting as well, and a girl, Melissa Hopper, had cut history class one time too many. Nick was nowhere to be found. Why wasn’t she surprised?
“Afternoon, everyone.” Addie put her own stack of work on the teacher’s desk. The irony that she was in detention, something she’d never gotten in school the first time around, wasn’t lost on her.
There were a few mumbled responses. The door slammed open then, and Nick came stomping in. He slumped into the first seat he came to, dropped his backpack and propped his feet on the chair in front of him.
“Good of you to join us, Mr. Holden.” She stood and walked over to him. “You can work on your homework for the next hour.”
“I don’t got none.”
“You do know I can call your teachers and check, right?” She really tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“They already went home.” Defiance came across loud and clear.
She debated arguing with him. Part of her was tempted to let him sit there and be bored for the next hour. It would serve him right. She owed it to her staff to encourage him to get his work done.
“You ain’t my mother, you know.”
Thank God. “No, I’m not. I’m your principal. Almost the same thing.” As a teacher, she’d often spent more time with some of the kids than their parents did.
He glared at her and, with a heavy sigh, reached for the backpack. The rasp of the bag’s zipper was loud in the quiet room.
“Thank you,” she said and returned to the desk. The other kids were watching, a fact she didn’t acknowledge. Ryan’s eyes were wide, though, when Nick pulled out his phone. “You know the rules, Nick. No phones. Put it away. Now, or it’s mine.”
“But I don’t have anything else to do.”
“Sorry, that’s the way it is. Kindly, put it away.”
Ryan watched closely as Nick sullenly shoved the phone into a side pocket. She could see Ryan wanted to get up and help her out. Thankfully, he didn’t. That protective streak. She wondered if he’d gotten that from his father.
Marcus Skylar’s face came to mind, and she found herself curious about him.
He’d done a good job with Ryan. The boy was a good kid. She’d done some investigating after they’d left her office. Paul Hudson had been more than happy to fill her in on what he knew. He’d defended Ryan, but didn’t know the complete details. She’d get them, she knew. She just had to find the right person to tell her. If it wasn’t for the school’s no-tolerance policy on fighting, she wasn’t sure Ryan would be here right now.
The hour dragged by. Even Ryan ran out of work to do and started fidgeting in his seat before it was time to leave.