31

One Story

Mr. Peters?”

“Yes?” the teacher answered into the phone.

“Oh good, I’m glad I caught you before school starts. This is Mrs. Peverly, Dylan’s social worker.”

“Oh…hello…uh…I thought Mr. Kruger was Dylan’s social worker.”

“Yes, he was for a short period of time. There was a mix-up when Dylan moved to Calgary, so it’s taken a while for us to get things straightened out. Can you hold on for a minute?”

Mr. Peters heard the phone drop and then the shuffling of papers.

“Thanks for holding. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is that I thought I should touch base with you and find out how he’s doing.”

“He’s up and down. Some days are good and other days are terrible.” Mr. Peters paused. “Overall, I think I’ve seen some improvement, but he’s very unpredictable. His mood changes without warning.”

“That seems to correspond with what others have told me about him. There are a lot of disruptions in his world, and you’ll likely continue to see the effects of his unstable home life.” The social worker took a deep breath before continuing. “I want to inform you about Dylan’s weekend.”

“Oh yeah, how was his visit with his brother?”

“Not good,” she said quickly.

“What is it?” Mr. Peters asked. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s okay.” She paused for a moment. “As you know, Dylan has been abused by his mother…and others. Well, his brothers, Blake and Sean, fit into the category of others. It may be hard to believe, but they have more problems than Dylan. They were still around when Dylan’s father was in the picture, and he was a violent man. Dylan’s father left just after he was born, which was a good thing. I’m sorry to say that the brothers picked up some of his behaviors. Now, client confidentiality won’t allow me to tell you exactly what happened, but I will tell you that this weekend was a very negative experience for Dylan.”

“Oh, no.” Mr. Peters sighed. “Was there no supervision?”

“They were being supervised but were left alone for a brief period.”

“How was this allowed? You must have known he was in danger.”

“We believe it’s important for our clients to stay connected with their families.”

“At what cost?”

Mrs. Peverly remained silent and then exhaled. “We made a huge mistake. I firmly believe in keeping families connected, but we should have monitored the visit more closely.”

Mr. Peters shook his head. “How is Dylan?”

“He’s okay. I’m meeting with him today, as is his art therapist. He won’t be in school until tomorrow.”

“How should we deal with him at school?”

“Just treat him like normal. Don’t even ask him about his weekend. If he brings it up, talk about it, but I wouldn’t broach the subject if I were you. He may not want to talk about it.”

“Okay, thank-you for keeping me informed,” he said bluntly. “If anything comes up that I should know about, please phone me.”

“Thank-you for your time, Mr. Peters. I’ll be in touch.”

Mr. Peters hung up the phone and leaned on the desk. He stared blankly at the floor and wondered what Dylan was going through.

The next morning, Dylan, Jake, and Ted flew into the classroom in a flurry of name-calling and yelling.

“Okay! What now, Dylan?” Mr. Peters asked angrily.

“It wasn’t him,” Ted interrupted. “Miss Rodent sent Jake and me in because Jake’s a butthead.”

“Who sent you in?”

“Uhh…Miss Roland.”

“He pulled down my pants!” spat Jake.

“It was an accident.”

Mr. Peters glared at Ted with an expression of disbelief.

“Okay…well…it wasn’t exactly an accident,” Ted stammered. “But…but he hit me.”

“Yeah, well, you pushed me.”

“Yeah, and you crushed my fort.”

“Enough!” Mr. Peters clapped his hands over his ears. “I don’t have time for this. Here’s what you’re going to do! I want one story. I’m going to leave you two alone for ten minutes, and you’re going to come up with one version that you can both agree upon. Do you understand?”

Jake and Ted nodded.

Mr. Peters looked at Dylan. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a witness,” Dylan said excitedly. “I saw the whole thing, and Miss Rodent thought I could help.”

“First of all, that is not her name,” Mr. Peters said abruptly. “It is Roland, Miss Roland. Second, does this have anything to do with you?”

“I’m a witness,” Dylan responded.

“I realize that, but do you need to be here?”

“Yes! I’m a witness!” he exclaimed loudly.

The teacher’s expression revealed his frustration. Then he looked at Ted and Jake.

“Is there any need for Dylan to be here?”

The two boys shrugged.

“Would you like him to stay or go?”

“He can stay,” Ted responded quickly.

Mr. Peters glanced at Jake, who nodded in agreement.

“You get ten minutes to deliver one story,” Mr. Peters said curtly.

Mr. Peters went back to his desk and tried to read student journals. He couldn’t hear every word, but it appeared that the conversation was going well. All three boys spoke calmly, and each of them seemed to listen when one of the others talked. Even Dylan was involved. He nodded and appeared to contribute to what was being said.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Peters put down his pen and walked over to the three boys. “Okay. One story.”

Ted began slowly. “I was building a fort in the playground pebbles—for ants. Jake walked over and STOMPED on it.” Jake sat upright and was about to say something when Ted added, “He said he was just raising his foot and pretending to stomp on my fort but lost his balance and stepped into it.”

“Yeah, he tripped,” Dylan agreed.

Mr. Peters surveyed the three faces. “Is everyone in agreement so far?” They all nodded.

Ted continued. “I got so mad that I pushed him to the ground. He said he was embarrassed by being pushed down, so he got up and punched me in the shoulder.”

Ted stopped and looked at the ground. His face reddened. Mr. Peters waited for a moment. All three boys appeared embarrassed.

Mr. Peters broke the silence. “And then what happened?”

Jake and Ted stared at the ground.

Dylan jumped in. “That’s when Ted pulled down Jake’s pants!” he said, pointing at Jake.

“Is this true, Ted?” Mr. Peters asked.

“Yes.” Ted spoke into his hand.

A slight smile appeared on the teacher’s face, which he covered with his hand, and he breathed in deeply. He was glad all three boys were staring at the ground.

“I can tell that you feel bad about what you’ve done, and I don’t think you’ll do it again.”

Ted shook his head.

Mr. Peters turned to Jake. “I can see why you’re upset. That must have been very embarrassing for you, but you need to take some responsibility in this. Even if you were joking and didn’t mean to ruin his fort, you can see the consequences of your actions. This isn’t the first time you’ve picked on Ted. It needs to stop. How do you think Ted feels when he sees you coming?”

“Bad,” Jake responded.

“I was bullied by an older boy when I was a kid,” Mr. Peters said, “and I was always scared. Now. You both know each other’s perspectives on the event. Am I correct?”

Both boys nodded.

“If you can’t get along, stay away from each other. I don’t want this to happen again. I’ll be watching you two. Now run along.”

As the boys got up to leave, Mr. Peters asked Dylan to remain seated. He knelt down and looked into Dylan’s face.

“I apologize for blaming you. That was wrong of me. I should have asked questions before immediately jumping to conclusions.”

Dylan raised his shoulders. “That’s okay,” he said quietly.

“How does it feel being on the other side of a problem?”

“I like it,” Dylan answered with a grin.

“Well, I’m very impressed. I can tell that you were helpful in working through this dilemma.”

A faint smile appeared on Dylan’s face. “Can I go now?”

“In a minute.” Mr. Peters’s face turned very serious. “How are you, Dylan?”

The boy stirred uncomfortably. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well if you need to come and talk to me, you know where to find me.”

Dylan shrugged and repeated his earlier question. “Can I go now?”

“Yeah. Go.” As Dylan walked away, Mr. Peters called out, “Thank-you, Dylan.”

Dylan paused for a brief second and then left the room.

Just before lunch, Mrs. Giles took her group of students into the library for creative writing. Dylan and Albert sat at different tables on opposite sides of the room. Everyone was writing quietly when Dylan noticed a pair of scissors. He picked them up.

“Dylan! Put those down.” Mrs. Giles demanded. “You don’t need them for this exercise.”

He rubbed his thumb over the points and smiled at her. Then he pointed at her and pretended to stab himself in the chest.

“You’re going to have to work in the office if you don’t listen to me.”

Dylan ignored her and started spinning the scissors around his index finger. After a couple of rotations they flew off and stuck into the carpet. Just as Dylan reached for them, Mrs. Giles stepped on the scissors and held them beneath her foot, trapping his fingers.

“You old bitch!” he shrieked.

Everyone in the library stopped what they were doing and stared at the shaking, red-faced boy.

“Go to the office! Right now!”

Albert muttered something under his breath and snickered. Dylan walked over to him, messed up his hair, and slammed his face into the table. Then he ran out of the school. Mr. Peters heard the commotion and dashed into the library. The first thing he noticed was Albert’s disheveled appearance. He seemed stunned and shaken.

“Did Dylan do this?” Mr. Peters asked angrily.

Mrs. Giles nodded. Mr. Peters tilted Albert’s head back to get a better look.

“Are you okay, Albert?”

Albert stuck out his lower lip and dabbed it with his finger. He seemed pleased by the drop of blood on his fingertip.

Mrs. Giles put her arm around Albert. “Let’s get you fixed up. Come with me.”

Dylan sped across the field and into the neighborhood. A group of older students was walking down the street, so he ducked into an alley. Out of breath, he collapsed beside a tent trailer and leaned up against the wheel.

He opened the envelope and peered in at the stiff, black insect. Then he examined the designs on his palms. The indentations seemed less prominent.

“They’re starting to heal,” Dylan whispered as he traced the pattern with his thumb.

Then he rolled one palm over the other and adjusted the placement of each impression until they lined up. The two opposing designs locked into place. Dylan closed his eyes and raised his glowing hands toward his face.