Left Out (23 page)

Megan was the one who had told Genevieve what was going on. She'd overheard Skip bragging about their plan to Katy after lunch. It embarrassed Landon that Megan knew what had happened, but he couldn't help also feeling grateful that she had helped save him from what would have been a disastrous new assault. Those were Landon's thoughts as he and Genevieve sat in the principal's office waiting for their father.

It took over forty minutes for him to finally arrive, ducking through the door and clicking his tongue. His first words were worried. “Oh, kids. Are you okay?”

Mr. Sanders popped through the door, all business. “Mr. Dorch? Somehow I was expecting your wife.”

Landon's dad bit a lip and his cheeks reddened. “Oh, she's on her way. I told her it was an emergency. She'll walk through that door at any minute.”

Landon's dad turned a hopeful face toward the door.

Mr. Sanders considered Landon and Genevieve. “I'm not sure it's an
emergency
, but a suspension does go on their disciplinary record.”

“Suspension?” Landon's dad looked shocked.

“Your son was
warned
,” the principal said, and then he nearly gagged on his next words. “Landon was
choking
another student, Mr. Dorch.”

Landon wanted to look down, but then he'd never know what they were saying. When people were angry or serious, their tones always dropped, rendering his cochlear implants nearly useless on their own. So, he watched his father react with shock, sadness, and worry, until he realized that Genevieve was spouting off.

“. . . picture of Landon using the bathroom, which is totally
illegal!
” Genevieve's face was on fire.

“You're not a lawyer here, miss.” The principal shifted his scowl from Landon to his sister. “You're a young lady in a lot of hot water. Assaulting a fellow student? Destruction of property?”

“I didn't assault him.” Genevieve glared right back at the principal. “I
tackled
him because he took a picture of my brother using the
toilet
and he was going to
post
it. Is that okay with you?”

Landon kept his eyes moving to see who would speak first.

It was a standoff.

Then the door flung open and their mother burst into the room.

Landon had never seen his mother's hair so out of place.

“Why are those other boys not in here?” Landon's mom demanded.

“Those boys were the
victims
of this assault, Mrs. Dorch.” The principal stood up to show just how outraged he really was. “And the discipline of children besides your own isn't any of your business, madam.”

“Justice is my business.” Their mom slapped her iPad down on the principal's desk. The page read: CODE OF CONDUCT AND DISCIPLINE. Beneath that was a seal and then: BRONXVILLE SCHOOL DISTRICT. “Take a look at your own handbook, Mr. Sanders. Those ‘victims' were not victims. They're bullies who've tormented my son since before school began, and you will
not
continue to turn a blind eye to
that. Being inept is no excuse for a middle school principal paid by my tax dollars.”

“You're not going to tell
me
how to do my job, madam. This meeting is over. You can head right out that door, or I'll call security and have you removed.” Mr. Sanders trembled and then snatched up the handset of the phone on his desk.

“Good.” Their mom held up her cell phone. “I'm calling the newspaper.”

“Wait! What?”

“That's right.” Landon's mother continued to tap the screen of her phone. “And then I'm calling the superintendent, but first, the newspaper. Bullying is a big issue these days.”

“Mrs. Dorch, put the phone down.” Mr. Sanders's eyes sputtered like wet candles. “Please.”

Landon's mom didn't put it down, but she stopped tapping. “Do you know what that handbook says?”

“Which part?” Mr. Sanders asked.

“The part on page forty-two about aggravated harassment, followed by internet harassment on page forty-three, and especially possession of indecent material on page sixty-seven. I'm not sure about disseminating indecent material because I'm not sure if the perpetrator sent the picture to anyone before he was stopped by this brave young lady who happens to be my daughter.” Their mom nodded toward Genevieve.

Everyone in the room stared at Landon's mom with open mouths, none more astounded than Mr. Sanders. “You . . . you . . . but, the camera—the phone, I mean—was broken.”

“That's what the cloud is for.” Landon's mom folded her
arms across her chest. “If my husband and I want to push this, I think we need to involve the district attorney, don't you? I'm sure you remember the presentation that the DA's office made to the kids last year warning them about crimes like these? It's on your website, Mr. Sanders. It's part of why I chose to move into Bronxville. According to the website, the DA said that disseminating a picture that reveals a private part of a person's anatomy is a Class D felony. You should know that.” Their mom wore a look of disgust.

“Of course I know that.” Mr. Sanders stood upright in a futile attempt to regain his authority. The principal looked at Landon's dad and then at his mom. “Mrs. Dorch? I think we can settle all this quietly and to everyone's satisfaction, don't you?”

“First you'll admit you've got the wrong kids sitting in your office.” Their mom didn't blink.

Mr. Sanders looked like he'd been hung by his thumbs.

Landon's dad glanced at their mom. “I know my wife, Mr. Sanders. I know how she thinks and how she feels, and I have an idea that just might satisfy her, but it won't be easy to pull off. Maybe, just maybe, if you're willing to work with us, my wife and I might find a way to let you resolve this
without
involving the DA.”

Landon's mom didn't say yes, but she didn't say no either. What she said was that she wanted to think about it with the family—at home.

Landon sat with his family around the kitchen table, trying to decide what to do. His dad tried to persuade his mom that an apology from the boys would do.

“See, the thing is, Gina,” Landon's dad said, “Saturday's the big game against Tuckahoe. It's a huge tradition. The whole town goes out to watch.”

Landon's mom narrowed her eyes. “What does that
mean
, Forrest?”

Landon's dad sputtered. “Well . . .”

“Not to them. What does it mean to
me?
What do you think?” his mother asked.

“Well . . . if we get the DA involved, they may cancel the
game. The whole thing would blow up, and our kids would be in the middle of it.” Landon could tell his dad felt like he was on dangerous ground, because he was scratching his neck and blinking a lot.

His mother thumped a small fist onto the table. “What those boys did is a crime. Crimes are meant to be punished.”

“But sometimes people forgive and forget?” his father suggested quietly after a pause.

“Has anyone involved asked for forgiveness?” His mother tightened her lips and shook her head.

“Not yet,” their dad said.

Their mom's eyes blazed. “Sometimes people cross a line they shouldn't, and if you want them to know you mean business—so it won't happen again, Forrest—then you take action.”

Landon's dad hung his head, and Landon knew how he felt, that desire to just have it all go away. Landon knew things did go away too. He'd experienced it. If you just kept your head down and kept going? People would generally leave you alone. But for the first time he could remember, Landon had experienced something better than just being left alone. He had friends. He had people who believed in him. Maybe he even had a gift that people would
admire,
and admiration? It was quite a prize.

His dad came up with another idea. “Listen, I know you say their fathers encourage this kind of bullying, the way they act as coaches. What if they agreed to quietly resign?”

“Coach Bell would bring the right spirit to the team,” Landon's mother agreed.

“Look, they don't want this going to the courts any more than Mr. Sanders does. I bet they'll agree.”

“And Coach Bell can be the head coach.” Landon tried not to sound too excited, because he knew his parents' mood was somber.

“Will they even do that?” Genevieve asked. “I mean, Mr. West is the chief of police.”

Landon's dad grinned. “Well, we're just gonna have to find out.”

The next day, school spirit was soaring. Signs praising Bronxville football plastered the hallways in black and orange. From a distance, Landon saw Mike Furster walking and talking intently to Skip Dreyfus. Landon slowed down so as not to catch up to them. As soon as they disappeared around the corner, he hurried to homeroom, excited.

Brett grinned and jumped up, slapping a piece of paper down in front of Landon. “Here, check this out. My dad drew these up for short yardage. Just what my uncle was talking about. You and me like a
steamroller
.”

Landon looked up from the diagrams of Xs, Os, and arrows. “Really? But we didn't practice them.”

“Ahh, in the NFL they put plays in on the sideline.” Brett swished a hand. “Everyone knows what to do. How awesome is it that my dad is running things?”

Genevieve had filled Megan and Brett in on what had happened.

Now, Landon looked into Brett's eyes for some sign, a flicker of doubt maybe. Brett stared right back at him, stone-cold serious.

“How many players will we even have Saturday?” Landon asked.

Brett shrugged. “You and me. Guerrero, Miller, Rinehart will be there. There will be others. Lots. Skip, Mike, and Xander will apologize. You'll see. And if they don't? They only have themselves to blame, not you.”

Landon looked around the homeroom. No one was watching him, but he leaned close to Brett anyway. “Are they really not going to show up? Coach Furster and Coach West, I mean?”

“I heard your mom scared the heck out of them. I heard they apologized and agreed to resign if your parents didn't press charges against their kids.” Brett frowned, but then he smiled brightly. “My uncle said
he'd
help, so who needs them?”

That spark of news lit a small fire in Landon's heart. “If your uncle's there, I think everyone will want to play. I mean, who gets to play for an NFL player? Even if it's just for one game?”

In English class, Megan threw Landon several worried glances.

He just couldn't get into the discussion. All he could think about was the game and what would happen. It was the Megan and Mr. Edwards Show, but neither of them could be discouraged. They went back and forth about revenge, its different forms, and the similarities between Dumas and Edmond Dantès, now the Count of Monte Cristo. After the bell, Mr. Edwards took Landon by the arm and steered him toward his desk. “I heard about everything that's going on. You stay strong, Landon.”

“I am,” Landon said. “Thanks.”

Megan was waiting for him outside the class. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Really. I'm fine. I'd be better if everyone wasn't so worried for me.”

Megan gave him a crooked smile, and her blue eyes blazed
with kindness. She reached around his middle and pressed the side of her face into the bottom of his rib cage, hugging him tight. “I know what you mean, Landon.”

He could feel her fingers sinking into the flesh of his back and was so flustered he couldn't speak. A scent like flowers and honey drifted up from her glossy hair. He wrapped his arms around her too, and her compact frame reminded him of Genevieve and his mom. His nose dipped toward the wonderful smell so that it brushed the top of her head.

“Come on, we'll be late for third period.” Megan released him, smiled up, and turned to go. Landon followed.

As they navigated the crowded hallways, Landon felt himself standing a little taller again, and he noticed that the glances people gave him weren't full of loathing but of respect, maybe even fear. He wondered if that had anything to do with him overpowering the kids who'd tormented him, or if it was because his mother had those same kids' parents pinned to the mat and wasn't letting up. Either way, Landon thought he liked it and that it might lead to other things, other friends, someday.

Megan paused outside Mr. Mazella's math class. “See you later, Landon.”

Landon's cheek still burned from the hug, and he said a quick thanks before ducking into class.

Buoyed by the image of Megan looking up at him, the smell of her shampoo, and the touch of her hair, which Landon's mind replayed over and over in every spare moment, the day flew by. Once he nearly bumped into Xander in the hallway.

“Hey.” Xander's face was frozen. “I'm supposed to apologize to you, so that's what I'm doing. Sorry.”

“Uh . . . okay.”

And that was it. Xander coasted right on past, leaving Landon's heart at a gallop.

By the end of the school day, Mike Furster had also apologized, but the only thing Landon got from Skip was a hateful stare from the other side of health class. When the last bell rang, it felt to Landon like a prison break. He burst out the front doors of the school and breathed deeply.

Outside, the rain had stopped and the sky had rolled back its clouds. The sun sparkled on the wet grass and dying leaves of the trees. Brett and Landon sat with Landon's dad in the bleachers to watch the girls' soccer game. They too played Tuckahoe, as did every other fall sport, and the crowd was bigger than normal for a middle school girls' soccer game. Genevieve scored twice to defeat the big rival 2–1, and Megan was a force on defense. After the final whistle, the Bronxville girls bounced up and down in a giant group hug, screaming so loud that even Landon heard them.

Landon's dad walked Landon and his sister and Brett and Megan home, distracted and muttering to himself as he sometimes did at his desk when he was writing. The four of them had pizza at the kitchen table. Landon could tell everyone was trying to keep him distracted from what would happen tomorrow, but worry hung like a heavy chain around his neck and his smiles were forced.

When their friends had gone home and Landon's mom arrived from work, the Dorch family assembled at the kitchen table.

“Well?” Landon's dad asked. “Where are we at, Gina?”

Landon's mom had a slice of pizza on a paper plate along with a diet soda for her late dinner. She chewed well, swallowed, and washed her bite down with soda before looking hard at Landon. “Did those boys apologize?”

Landon nodded. “Yup.”

“Really apologize?” she asked.

“Mom, they said they were sorry.” He didn't tell her about Skip.

“Three apologies?” his mom asked.

Landon looked down. “No, but I didn't see Skip, so maybe he's waiting until tomorrow.”

“Well, that's a good start. Now let's see what tomorrow brings,” she said before taking another bite.

“I just hope they'll play if their dads aren't coaching,” Genevieve said. “Everyone really wants us to win. The whole school's gone crazy about the game.”

Landon's mom finished her bite and washed it down before answering. “I spoke to Courtney Wagner on the phone this afternoon, and you know what she said?”

Genevieve just shook her head.

Landon's mom looked at him, and her emerald green eyes sparkled. “She said we don't even need those bullies. She said her brother thinks we can beat the pants off Tuckahoe with our run game.”