Page 92 of Ancient History

Aguilar motioned for me to take my seat. He sat against the wall by the discipline panel members.

“We are here to discuss the failing grade Mr. Amos Bright gave to his student, Mr. Thomas Alvarez,” the lead school board member, Mr. Camp, said in a stern tone. “We’ll have Mr. Alvarez and his family give their side first, then Mr. Bright. We may interject with questions, and when it’s over, we’ll convene and deliver our decision. So it’s courtroom-lite,” he said with a chuckle, trying to inject levity into a place where it was not welcome.

The tension in the air stifled me.

The lawyer lady stood up and tried to maneuver as best she could in such tight quarters. Her heels clacked on the floor, each one hitting my ear drums. I couldn’t even worship her designer shoes.

“Are we all set to begin?” Mr. Grenier asked.

The lawyer looked at the door. “Um, just about. Waiting for one more–”

Hutch walked through the door, looking not at all pleased to be here, with a drill sergeant-looking guy behind him. His boss Bergstrom, I assumed.

He met my eyes and gave me a supportive nod before he sat down on Tommy’s side of the room.

“Thank you for meeting with us today,” she said, turning on a polite smile for the board members, who were probably all straight and loving this. “Mr. Thomas Alvarez is a hard-working student athlete. He has practice plus a part-time job at his father’s company. In between, he carries a full course load.”

I tried to keep a neutral face. I didn’t know Tommy worked another job on top of practice.

“He’s had multiple altercations with Mr. Bright throughout the year, with Mr. Bright holding him to extremely high standards. He doesn’t seem to like that my client sits in the back row.”

I really tried to keep a neutral face, but she was spinning literary fiction at this point.

“Objection!” I called out.

“This isn’t a courtroom, Mr. Bright.”

“I’d like to object to what she’s saying about me.”

“Save your objections,” Mr. Camp said with a condescending tone that old straight men seemed born with. “You’ll have your turn to speak.”

The Alvarez family ate it up. Hutch remained stoic, detached from their side.

“As my client has helped lead South Rock High to a winning season, the pressure has mounted. He’s been working in multiple roles—student, athlete, employee. Mr. Bright assigned an extensive paper with a severe deadline. He seems to believe that his is the only class that matters to students.” The lawyer let out a little scoff before reeling herself back in.

“Thomas tried his hardest to complete the difficult assignment with a ticking clock. He did voluminous research, but in his haste, he forgot to cite one of his sources.”

It took every ounce of willpower not to object again, not to cross my arms like a petulant child at having to listen to this. It’d gone from literary fiction to the lead story of a supermarket tabloid.

“Mr. Bright was unwilling to understand Thomas’s side and failed him. Does Thomas own up to what he did? Yes, he does. He’s not perfect, just a hard-working young man trying to do what’s best. But Mr. Bright was completely inflexible, and because of a vendetta against my client, he’s taken away his chance to lead South Rock to victory. He’s jeopardized his future, and by extension the fate of the entire South Rock Husky men’s soccer team. We have his coach Mr. Hawkins here to say on his behalf what a valuable player he is to the team. We are willing to work with Mr. Bright on compromise. But this punishment feels, frankly, draconian.”

She gave a nod to signal she was done.

“Thank you, Ms. Pike,” Mr. Camp said.

She swiveled on her heel and walked back to her seat without looking at me. Though she had no problem pointing at me during her speech.

I couldn’t see what she was saying to the Alverez family, but they were all smiling victoriously. Tommy shot me the scummiest grin like he owned me, that I was a pawn that got in his way.

I didn’t have the heart to look at Hutch.

“Mr. Bright.” Mr. Camp gestured at me.

I shot out of my chair, then remembered I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t be defensive, but I also couldn’t be offensive against a student. I was in a weird spot. I did not do well with weird spots.

“Ladies and—well, just gentlemen of the jur—discipline board members.” This was already off to a horrendous start. At least I wasn’t slipping into a British accent. “When I assigned this paper, I gave the same time to complete it as I did other assignments. There was no unusually tight deadline. Every single student in class managed to hand in the paper on time. Tommy—Mr. Alvarez didn’t merely forget to cite a source. He lifted an entire research article from an online magazine, word for word, paragraphs of it. There was no independent thought put into this paper. It was a simple copy-and-paste. I understand that Mr. Alvarez works hard at soccer, and I didn’t know he had a part-time job, too. But he acts totally checked out in my class. Coming in late, not doing the homework, not participating, not asking for extra help. Every metric I have for grading, he fails. If you ask my other students, you can see that I care deeply about them and what I teach. I don’t want to fail anyone. But students have to do the work. I gave the grade he earned.”

I heaved out a breath, staying professional. I didn’t look behind me at the Alvarez clan.

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