Page 65 of Atticus
Classes run smoothly through lunchtime, then the resident math teacher has an appointment, and extra help is needed during recess. Atticus volunteers, and I do too, happy to get some air as I slip on my coat. The days are getting colder. Soon recess will be held in the gym and winter will be here in full force.
Atticus’s head is in the game more than mine. I can see him taking his task seriously, watching as kids gather around tables to chat, share videos, and check their texts, while others toss around a basketball. My thoughts are far away, thinking about Renee. I’ve run into her twice today, and she acted so cagey. Couldn’t even look me in the eye.
“Lucy,” Atticus says softly with an edge in his tone.
“Huh?” I snap out of it.
He nods across the soccer field to the corner of the school, where a group of boys advances toward Jack Gunther as he scans his phone alone, standing away from the other kids. He sees them coming and goes around the corner out of sight.
“Oh, hell,” I mutter to myself. The other boys are led by Colton Lane, a notorious bully who, despite our multiple warnings, practically gets away with murder. He’s got cutthroat parents in high-end jobs, a lot of money, and way too much free time at home. “That’s suspicious.”
We make our way toward them together. When we can no longer see the children, I panic a little and try to move faster.
Atticus stops me. “Wait.”
He sets the pace. I slow down, trusting him.
His gamble pays off. Too early, and we might not have seen the scuffle, been unable to act or report anything. Colton slams Jack against the wall, Jack’s shirt bunched in his fists before he lands a blow against Jack’s stomach.
“You stay away from Pearl, trailer trash,” Colton warns, raising his hand again brazenly to strike him.
“Stop.”
Atticus moves quickly, closing the distance between himself and the children. He hastily grabs Colton’s wrist, holding him fast.
His booming voice and swift actions startle the other boys. They jump and shuffle back, leaving Colton. He lets go of Jack.
I go to him and pull him away as he cradles his abdomen, slightly bent over. “Are you okay? Let’s get you to the school nurse.”
Colton seems to shake off getting caught and yanks his hand away from Atticus. “H-hey, you can’t do that! Get your hand off me, trash can!” He bristles. “When my father finds out you hurt my wrist—”
I can’t hold in my temper anymore, not when Colton calls Atticus a trash can. “Colton, your father isn’t going to have a leg to stand on with this.” My tone elicits a gasp from the other boys. I don’t give a damn. “You’ll go with Atticus to the principal’s office. Now.”
Scolded and irritated, Colton finally obeys.
* * *
“Expulsion? Are you out of your mind?” Colton’s mother is incredulous and offended, her red lips pursed.
His father scoffs. “I don’t think so. We’ll sue the district so fast, your head will spin.”
Carlisle is always in a mood, but today she’s pissed. Colton Lane’s parents, elusive and usually far too important for school appearances of any kind, both come into the office dressed to the nines and threaten a lawsuit against the school for allowing our bionic assistant to “assault” their son.
To her credit, she’s holding her own like an absolute champion and doesn’t flinch or grovel. Atticus stands behind her desk beside me. Carlisle heaves a long-suffering sigh, turns her computer screen toward them where they sit opposite her, and pushes play on a video.
The parents are forced to watch the evidence sent directly from Atticus’s visual feeds of Colton bullying and punching Jack in the gut.
His mother blanches in surprise and appeals to her husband, who shifts in his seat and waves a hand dismissively. “He plays a little rough. Boys will be boys. You ought to have let them settle it between them. Builds character.”
I almost say something, but Carlisle frowns at me in stern warning. I clamp my mouth shut and remain silent.
She turns back to the parents. “This is the second time your son has physically assaulted another student. The first time was last year, and we informed you of school policy when he was suspended. As of today, he’s no longer welcome here.”
“You can’t do that,” his mother declares.
“I’m the principal. I absolutely can,” Carlisle replies in a chilly, businesslike tone. “You’re welcome to file your lawsuit, of course, but no judge in this town is going to side with you when we have visual evidence directly from the android’s camera that disproves your claims of assault.”
The boy’s mother folds her arms. “And what are we supposed to do with him? We have jobs.”
