19
The twenty-minute drive to Concord Elementary feels like hours.
Denise, who is now Ms. Hancourt, again, didn’t go into details. All she would say over the phone was that Caitlyn was fine, but that she was in a bit of trouble. I asked what kind of trouble and she only reiterated that I should come in.
Kids are playing on the playground as I make my way from the parking lot to the main entrance.
I try to mask my panic from the staff as I walk into the main office and up to the desk.
The secretary looks up from her computer. “May I help you?”
“Uh, yes. I was asked to come in. My daughter, Cai—”
“Mr. Price?”
Principal Craig is standing in the doorway to her office.
“Come with me, please.”
*
“Apparently, there was some sort of incident on the playground during recess,” she says, leading me down the hall to Ms. Hancourt’s classroom.
“What kind of incident?”
“Caitlyn shoved a boy.”
“She shoved a boy?” In my entire life, no sentence has made less sense.
“Yes, but that’s not why we asked you to come in.”
“Then why did you—?”
We stop outside the door to the classroom.
“I’ll let Ms. Hancourt explain.”
She gestures for me to go in.
Caitlyn is sitting at a desk with her eyes down.
Denise stands off to the side with her arms folded, her expression just as confused as mine.
I quickly go to Caitlyn and take her face in my hands. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
She meekly nods.
“What happened?”
Caitlyn hesitates.
Principal Craig chimes in. “During recess, she shoved a boy named Peter Sanders and knocked him down.”
Oh no. I thought there was no way she would do it. I still can’t believe it.
“You saw her do this?” I ask.
“Some of the other kids say that they saw Caitlyn sort of shove him, and Peter says she did it,” Denise says in a softer tone than Principal Craig.
“Where is he now?”
“He’s with the nurse. He was pretty shaken up.”
I turn back to Caitlyn.
“Sweetheart?”
She brings her eyes up just enough to look at me.
“What happened?”
She sniffs. “I was talking to her,” she says, barely above a whisper. “Peter was making fun of me for talking to her. He wouldn’t stop … She got mad.”
“Who, sweetheart? Who got mad?”
Caitlyn’s eyes slide back down to the desk.
“Caitlyn says she didn’t do it,” Denise says, quietly. “She said … She said Katherine shoved Peter.”
My heart sinks. I don’t have a problem with Caitlyn standing up for herself or anyone else, but if she’s blaming her imaginary friend, then this is a new step, the one the psychologist had warned me about. Caitlyn insisted that her lie is real and it’s my fault. I suggested that she show Peter Sanders ‘who was the boss’ and I didn’t call her on it when she insisted that her imaginary friend gave me the necklace, even if she was trying to be nice.
“Who’s Katherine?” Principal Craig asks.
“It’s her imaginary friend,” I sigh.
Caitlyn’s head snaps up. The hurt and betrayal on her face are more than I can bear and I look away towards Principal Craig.
“Since we moved, she’s had an imaginary friend named ‘Katherine’, but the thing with this Peter kid, I may have—”
“Mr. Price, that’s not why we called you here.”
“Then, what is?”
Principal Craig points to the whiteboard behind me. “That.”
I turn and freeze.
Scrawled across the board in the uneven hand of a child are the words “Hancourt is stupid”, “I hate you”, “stupid stupid stupid” and finally:
“We wanted you to see before we erased it,” Principal Craig says after a long silence.
“I … I can’t believe it.”
“That’s why we wanted you to see it,” Principal Craig replies and nods to Denise, who picks up an eraser and begins wiping away the writing.
Stunned, I turn to my daughter. “Caitlyn?”
“I didn’t do it,” she weakly pleads.
“Caitlyn, don’t lie to me. Not now.”
Her face springs up, again, and the words come out in a frightened torrent. “It was Katherine! I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen! She didn’t like that Peter was making fun of me for talking to her, so she pushed him.”
“Caitlyn—”
“Then she got mad at Ms. Hancourt for saying that I was in trouble. I told her not to write that, but she said that’s what her dad called Rebecca—”
“Caitlyn—”
“—and that Ms. Hancourt was going to ruin everything between you and Mom, because last night you and Ms. Hancourt—”
“Caitlyn, stop it!” I yell.
Denise stares at me in shock.
A tense silence fills the room.
I desperately try to convey with a glance to Denise that I haven’t told Caitlyn anything about last night, but her thoughts are clear; She believes that I did, and now, Principal Craig will know.
I can already see the suspicion growing behind Principal Craig’s eyes as she looks from Denise to me.
I have to get both Caitlyn and myself out of here.
I look at Denise and Principal Craig. “I’m going to take her home for today.”
“We think that would be best,” Principal Craig replies through tightened lips.
I hold out my hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”
Keeping her eyes to the floor, Caitlyn slides out of her chair, takes my hand, and we begin walking towards the door. We pass into the hall, followed by Principal Craig and Denise. Children begin entering from the doors leading to the playground. Their voices echo off the walls and their shoes squeak across the floor.
We arrive back at the main entrance. I turn back to Denise and Principal Craig.
“I’m really sorry about this.”
Principal Craig nods, somewhat sympathetically. “It’ll be fine. We know that this is a rough time. Thank you for coming in.” She looks down at Caitlyn. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Caitlyn?”
Caitlyn doesn’t respond.
“Caitlyn?” I ask.
“It’s okay,” Principal Craig says with a consoling smile. “Again, thank you for coming in.”
She turns and begins walking back towards her office. As she walks away, she says over her shoulder, “Ms. Hancourt, if you can come see me in my office, please?” and continues walking.
I face Denise.
“I didn’t say anything to Caitlyn. I swear to God.”
Her wounded expression doesn’t change. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything else you need, Mr. Price?”
“Sure … I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what to say. What else can I say?
“Thank you for coming in,” she replies.
She shakes her head and begins walking towards the office.