thirty

Reversing our usual order of events, I stopped by work, dropped off Gracie, and then took my daughter to CALA. On the way to the school, conscious that Anya would walk in late, we talked strategy. No way was I going to put up with my child being teased because of me or Detweiler. I knew enough about CALA to know that a strong pre-emptive strike was in order. After parking the car, Anya and I walked into the school together, the solidarity of our bumping shoulders making both of us feel more powerful than if either of us had been alone.

“Mr. Phillips? May I speak to you?” I called to the pasty-faced little nerd who taught algebra, Anya’s first class of the day. I have no idea where they found this turkey, but I’d already observed that he took his time grading the assignments, making it difficult for his students because if they didn’t understand one concept, and he went on to the next, how could they keep up? They couldn’t. I also knew he was a nasty little jerk because I’d seen his hand-scrawled note on one of Anya’s assignments, “NOT up to par. Maybe you weren’t listening in class. Or is it because you’re blonde?”

That one I’d let slide. But his day of reckoning had come.

As I waited in the doorway, he straightened all the papers on his desk and lined up his pencils in his drawer. Once finished, he pursed his lips in irritation and sashayed my way. I nudged Anya so she’d take her seat. The other students stared at the teacher and at me. I think they guessed what might be coming because Anya walked past him with an air of confidence.

Once the classroom door was closed behind us, I faced the twit and said, “Mr. Phillips, I don’t know if you read the paper or follow the local news, but my fiancé has been wrongly accused of a crime. I am mentioning this to you because I trust that you will not allow the other students to tease Anya.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as he clasped his upper arm with one hand, twisted his whole body in a girlish way. “I can’t babysit my students, Mrs. Lowenstein. I suggest that if Anya has a problem, she take it up with the dean.”

I took this in. I nodded. I was perfectly willing to be civil, but then … he smirked. That did it. I leaned forward and poked him in the chest. “You better listen and listen good. I killed a man last week. Shot him in the head and blew his brains from here to eternity. Either you do your job and protect my child, or I’ll hunt you down and blow you to Kingdom Come. Ka-powie! And I’m a very, very good shot, buddy boy. Got it? Don’t give me that ‘I can’t babysit my students’ trash. You’re not much of a teacher in my estimation, so you ought to be good for something—and if it isn’t protecting my kid, you better be good at hide and seek, because I am coming to get you. And I always get my man. Are we clear?”

He couldn’t decide whether to faint or pee his pants.

“Yes,” he squeaked.

“Good, because I’ve got you in my sights, pal.”

With that, I walked away two steps, pivoted and headed back toward him. “Oh, and about talking to the dean? Don’t bother. I’m on my way there now. Ciao, Charlie.”

When I talked to Dean Rucklehouse, she assured me, “It’s one of CALA’s guiding principles that we will not put up with bullying or teasing. Period. End of discussion.”

“That so? You better hold a staff meeting and remind your teachers of that because that Pee-wee Herman look-alike you hired to teach algebra hasn’t gotten the memo.”

Dean Rucklehouse sneered. “Surely you are mistaken, Mrs. Lowenstein.”

“No, I’m not. But you are. And just in case you haven’t heard, I shot a man last week. Yes, I did. With these two hands. Guess what? You know how they say that once you’ve taken a life it’s easier the second time around? I totally believe that’s true. So I better never hear of ANYONE in this school standing on the sidelines with their thumbs up their butts while my daughter is teased. Are we clear on this? I hope so, because if I have to repeat myself, well …” and I pantomimed pointing a gun, aiming it at her, and shooting it. “I’ll have to resort to taking care of the problem all by my lonesome. And believe me, I can do it!”

Needless to say, I left the Dean’s office chuckling to myself. There was no way CALA would kick out a Lowenstein. My daughter was a legacy student and brighter than ninety-nine percent of the student population. Not only had I scared the snot out of them, but Sheila would finish the job of wiping any boogers off their faces.

Feeling very, very proud of myself, I marched down to Mrs. Glazer’s office. The door to the Alumni Office was locked, so I scribbled a note and slipped it under Ruth Glazer’s door: Dropped by to see you. Need help with a project. When might I come back by? Kiki L.

Squaring my shoulders and holding my head high, I walked out of CALA. Before I climbed into my ancient BMW convertible, I blew the school a nice big raspberry.