Page 14 of Off the Charts
“Doctor Griff. Doctor Voss. Everyone,” I nodded my head once, looking around the room.
“I won’t hold you long,” Doctor Voss spoke up as she flipped through some papers. She was exactly what we needed at SPA, strict, for us, and didn’t put up with nobody’s shit. We worked well together. “We needed your signatures on this suspension. Also, Bobby here says that he feels you have a certain vendetta toward his children being that you were the one to evaluate them. He wanted to put a face to the name,” she made faces as she read off his statement.
“Hmm,” I chuckled, tucking my hands in my pocket and turning into his direction. “Vayce Denver.”
The father scoffed. “My kids don’t need no fucking evaluation. I keep seeing your name on these letters and in the system. Ain’t shit going on at our house! They kids. They gone pick on the next one!”
“We have a zero tolerance for bullying in any magnitude,” Shawn added.
“There’s zero logic in that. Maybe in your household, yes, but behind these doors, they can’t.” I accepted the pen from Doctor Griff to sign my name.
“Speak on my household again,” the father dared.
I didn’t forget where I was at, I just didn’t give a fuck. It took a split second before I was in his space. He looked up at me, fear dancing in his eyes.
“This type of behavior is learned. What kids act out is a clear reflection of their environment, so as the man of your household,” I placed emphasis on the word again. “What are you teaching your children? To be bullies? Remember, one blow and the big bad wolf can be taken down. That book can become your real life. Is that what you want?”
“You good, bro,” Coach Bishop patted my shoulder as I looked down at the parent whose chest was heaving up and down. Shawn grabbed my other shoulder, nudging me a little bitand I took a step back, never taking my eyes off the parent until he looked away.
Doctor Griff stood with his arms folded against his chest while Doctor Voss held a knowing grin.
“Your son is suspended for the first two wee?—”
“Actually, Doctor V,” I cut her off, balling up the paper we’d just signed and tossed it into the trash. “I’m going to recommend a higher punishment. Being that this isn’t his first time, I feel that he needs more time to sit with what he’s done. Maybe he and his brother can study the Bible during that time and his father too. That seems like the only thing that will help at this point.”
“I like it,” she nodded, jotting across the form. “One more offense, and you all will have to move for him to have proper schooling. Fair?”
“Fair to me,” I shrugged.
“This some bullshit,” the father muttered.
“We feel the same, but it’s our job to protect our students,” Doctor Voss said as she signed off on the papers. “Because you seem to test my hand, I have turned this suspension into thirteen days instead of ten. When he returns, he will be in ISS for an additional week. Being that we are at the end of the school year, this suspension will carry over into the next. Please note that there will be no next time. It will be a phone call letting you know your son is expelled.” She handed over the papers. “Thank you for your time. Have a great day. Mr. Cooley, you can see these young men out.”
“I got it.”
I nodded to everyone in the office before following them out, making quick strides so I could be in the parent’s space. Gripping his shoulder, I turned him to face me.
“Teach them lil’ nigga some manners,” I spoke low enough for him to not only hear but feel me.
The flare in his nose let me know he wasn’t on shit, but took heed to what I’d said. Patting his shoulder twice, I stepped around him and headed back to my office. I was scheduled to leave at eleven today, but after that little run in, I disinfected my office and logged out. We only had another week of this shit, and I couldn’t wait for summer because a nigga needed a fucking break.
Years had passedand this drive never seemed to get easier. There was a time where I would ride down this highway with anger in my bones and tears in my eyes wondering if the shoe was on the other foot, would she do any of this for me?
My mother was currently awaiting trial at Pine Harvest Correctional Facility for fraud and theft. Back home, mama’s nickname was Sticky. As a kid, I thought the name was cool because she was well known, not knowing it was for the wrong reasons. Her name wasn’t for shits and giggles; she really had sticky fingers. You couldn’t leave shit around Mama, not even a half-opened bag of chips or it would become hers. Whatever she wanted that you had, she would take, and her children weren’t excluded from that.
My baby sister Valen and I were left to fend for ourselves while she ran Indigo Falls with whoever’s money she’d made hers. Because of her lifestyle, I was home making adult decisions at the ripe age of eleven. As fucked up as it sounds, Sticky scarred us so much that we were thankful she was in jail. She wasn’t mature enough to be in the real world making beneficial decisions.
Mama took from my household and put me in a bind that cost me twenty-grand then lied about it. She’d done Valen the same way, but my sister didn’t believe in second chances. V cut her ass off and never looked back. For a while, I fought for Mama, but there were only so many excuses I could make. She refused any help we offered so we let her crash. For twenty years, she has been in and out of jail and the system was even tired of her ass. She was currently facing five years.
Once a month, I made a two-hour drive to visit her. It took years of personal therapy for me to move on and honestly, the shit was still a struggle because choosing to forgive someone didn’t mean that you forgot the hurt they caused. It meant that I was choosing to not hold that bitterness in my heart while loving you from afar. That was the best description of our relationship. Even on rocky grounds, I visited her because thanks to the walls of the jail, I got to see the parent I begged God for.
Two hours seemed to fly by. After parking, I took down another water bottle before making my way into the prison. The smell of old mops and off brand bleach filled my senses as I approached security. Placing my watch in the bucket, I stepped through the metal detector and extended my arms for them to scan me with the wand. After confirming I was good, I was led toward the back rooms. Some days, visitation was strict with no physical contact, others, we were separated by a glass window, speaking into a phone. Judging by the room I was walking into, we would be at a table where we could hug and talk.
The visitation room wasn’t as crowded today. I sat in the far corner where I could see everyone in the space. About five minutes passed before the intercom buzzed and the side metal door slid open. Sticky was closer to the back of the line, and I watched her eyes scan the room in search of me.
“Ma,” I called out.
Her head turned in my direction, her eyes lighting up when she spotted me. “My sweet Vayce! Oh, give your mama some love.”
