He bent his arms up toward his collarbone and let his wrists go limp so his hands were dangling. He collapsed his legs together at the knees and started to walk like he had a disability. “I don’t know, can I? What’s repeat mean?”
Before I could understand my movements, I pushed Keith. Hard. He stepped back a few inches. Then he laughed. Which angered me more.
“Macallan.” Levi grabbed my arm. “Calm down.”
I shoved him away. “No, I will not calm down. And how are you going to stand here like that when he’s making fun of my uncle, who, need I remind you, has been nothing but kind to you? Has never said a bad word about anybody? Who certainly would never be so cruel as to make fun of somebody?” My voice started to crack. I could feel my entire body start to shake.
“God.” Keith looked shocked at my behavior. “I’m sorry, Macallan. I thought you could take a joke.”
“Do you find this funny?” I asked, my voice hard. I didn’t want to cry in front of Keith. I could not let him know that he had gotten to me. “You’re so pathetic. I can’t wait to see you in ten years when the reality of life outside these walls hits you.”
His face became as hard as my voice. “You think you’re so tough and above it all, don’t you? But guess what. Just because your mom’s dead doesn’t mean you can be such a bitch.”
A rage I could not describe, one that I hadn’t felt in years, overtook my body. Even though I could see that the second those words left his mouth, he regretted them, it was too little, too late. Keith could say what he wanted about me, but how dare he bring up my mom.
I wanted to shut him up. And I did that the only way I knew how.
He wasn’t lucky like Levi to get a kiss from me.
Instead, I tightened up my fists and hit him right in the kisser.
Keith, Mr. Athlete Extraordinaire, was knocked onto his butt.
I towered over him. “You say one more word to me ever again about my family, and I will not be so gentle.”
I turned on my heel and came face-to-face with Mr. Matthews, the gym teacher.
“Miss Dietz, I think you need to come to the office, and that goes for you gentlemen as well.”
“She attacked me!” Keith cried out.
“That’s enough, Mr. Simon.” Mr. Matthews stepped in between us. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you were saying.”
The four of us followed Mr. Matthews to the office. I was put in a separate room from them. I knew I was in trouble. I knew my flawless school record was in jeopardy. But I didn’t care. I was angry. I was mad at the world. And why shouldn’t I have been? I’d had the most important thing taken away from me without explanation. There were times where I was able to be strong. Many instances where I could pretend that everything was fine.
But sometimes a girl just needs her mother.
The wait in the principal’s office felt like forever. I had the entire time to reevaluate how I acted. I remembered once in first grade I’d been mad at this fourth-grade boy who always teased me during recess. He’d call me names and sometimes throw sticks at me.
I finally told Mom about it. I said that I hated him and I wanted to punch him in the face.
Mom said I should never hit anybody, because violence was never the answer. That hitting someone showed that you cared. And you should never give someone that kind of power over you.
But it wasn’t Keith I was mad at. Or cared about.
The door finally opened and I saw my father. I felt so guilty for having to bring him in. I never wanted to be responsible for one of those calls.
“Hey, Calley,” Dad said softly to me. He only called me this when he was worried about his “baby girl.”
Principal Boockmeier motioned for him to sit down. I couldn’t even look at my father, I was so horrified by my behavior.
“Well, I filled in your father about what happened. It seems that Levi’s and Tim’s stories matched. Keith’s seemed to be a bit more dramatic.” Principal Boockmeier pursed her lips, like she was holding in a laugh. “While I understand you were provoked, what Keith said, though unfortunate, did not warrant your response. We have a very tough policy on violence of any kind, and you did hit him. So you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week and have after-school detention for two weeks. If there are no more incidents, this will not go on your college transcripts.”
I was shocked and relieved. Thanksgiving was this week, so I was only going to miss two days. And there was a chance it wouldn’t totally mess up my record.
I quickly got up and followed Dad out of school. He stayed silent on the car ride home. I looked down at my sore, slightly red right hand.
The car stopped and Dad shut off the engine. I looked up and found us in the Culver’s parking lot.
“What …” I mumbled.
Dad turned to me, tears in his eyes. “I can’t say that was a fun call to get, Macallan. But then I heard from both Principal Boockmeier and Levi about what happened and, well … your mother was one of the sweetest people on earth. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I’d let my father down and, worse, I’d let my mother down.
“But” — he put his hand on mine — “she would never have tolerated anybody talking crap about her family. That would not go over well. Your mother would’ve done the same thing, sweetheart. You remind me more and more of her every day, and while I might not be able to help you with everything she could, I’m so proud of you. She would’ve been, too.”