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 ï>¿The Trailer Park: The Third Year A Story in the Wynter/Trailer Park
Universe by Wizard CopyrightÂ(C) 2006 by Wizard

   Chapter 16

   "I'm sorry."

   "What for?"

   "My dad." I could see that her eyes were wet.

   "Tami, your dad's not your fault."

   "You were protecting me.  And you almost got..."

   We were sitting on the swings.  We'd both skipped school, and last night
seemed almost like a dream.  I twisted my swing and scooted closer to Tami.
I picked her up and pulled her sideways across my lap.

   "Tami, first of all, what I did was stupid.  I should have called the
cops, then knocked on the door and tried to sell him a magazine
subscription or something to stall for time.  Instead, I charged in like
John Wayne.  I'm starting to think maybe the Duke's a bad influence. 
Second, while I'm glad I helped you and your mom, I'd like to think I would
have done the same for Mrs.  Westlake or Mrs.  Taylor, and I don't even
know them."

   "You would have.  You couldn't help yourself."

   "What now?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Are you and your mom going to move back to Colorado?"

   "Nope, this is our home and we like it.  What were you and Mom talking
about while I changed?"

   "Consent papers."

   "Consent papers?"

   "Yeah, she said she'd sign."

   "What kind of consent papers?"

   "To get married.  Now all I have to do is talk my Mom and Dad into it,
and a judge and we can get married next month.  Right on your birthday."

   "Don't I have a say in this?"

   "Nope, you're stuck with me.  And have I mentioned, my religion,
Tonyism, doesn't allow divorce?"

   "No, you hadn't mentioned that.  Tonyism, huh?  Does it allow adultery?"

   "Only with spousal permission."

   Tami got quiet after that.  I gently swung back and forth, just a few
feet in each direction.  "We can wait until the day after your birthday if
you want," I prompted.

   "Anthony Marion Sims, I'll marry you whenever and wherever you want. 
Whether I'm your only wife or just one of a dozen."

   I tried to picture a house with a dozen wives.  It was a scary thought.
I had trouble with just four.  Four-and-a-half, if you count making out
with Ashley.

   "Tony," she said after a while, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about
my dad.  We said we wouldn't have any secrets."

   "No, we said we'd be honest.  There's a difference.  There'll always be
secrets.  Things you're not ready to tell me, like your dad, or things you
think I'm not ready to hear.  Or things, that aren't your secrets to tell.
I've got a couple of those," I said, thinking of Sally Jeffries and her
friend Dana.

   "Why are you so sensitive?"

   "I read," giving my standard throw-away answer.  "Actually I'm cursed by
the ability to see both sides."

   She kissed me gently on the lips, then laid her head against my chest.
"I guess I didn't tell you about my dad because I was embarrassed.  I mean,
he hits her, he hits my mom.  How could he do that?"

   "My curse doesn't extend to understanding that, but I'd guess it's the
stress of his job.  He just can't deal with it.  I mean, a cop is supposed
to be so in control all the time.  He comes home and relaxes that control,
then anything can set him off."

   Tami lifted her head and looked at me.  Then she kissed me again and
laid her head back down.  "Pretty good for somebody who doesn't
understand."

   "I spent some time last night reading on the internet about abuse."

   "Why?"

   "Because I don't understand how someone could hurt someone they love, or
even loved."

   "Did you figure it out?"

   "No.  But you said you were embarrassed.  I think there's a lot of kids
out there in the same position.  You could help them."

   "Help them?"

   "You could tell your story."

   "I can't."

   I could feel Tami starting to cry.  I held her and didn't say a word.

   "You want me to stand up in a school assembly or something, and say 'Hi,
I'm Tami and my dad beats up on my mom'."

   "Actually, you like journalism and you're good at it.  I think you
should write your story."

   "Why?  Why embarrass myself?"

   "I told you.  I went reading about this on the internet last night.  One
of the statistics I saw, said that four million women a year get battered.
That's out of a hundred and forty-three million women in the country. 
That's like one in thirty-six.  If you figure that our school has about
three or four hundred mothers, that means that there are eight to ten women
getting beat up, and their kids are just as embarrassed."

   "You're a bastard, you know that?" Tami said without lifting her head.

   "Yeah, I know.  And if you add in the justice department figures,
seventy percent of those have kids getting hit too."

   "You can stop now."

   "Will you try it?  Just to see how it goes?  You never know, it might
help.  Sometimes, just getting it off your chest..."

   "Okay, I'll try." She was quiet for awhile.  "Tony, make love to me."

   "You mom's home."

   "What about your house?"

   "My mom's home."

   "We could go out in the woods?"

   "That could lead to frostbite in an inconvenient location.  But there's
nobody home at Robbie's house, and I know where they keep the key."

   "You may be a bastard, but you have your moments."



   Chapter 17

   MY DAD HITS MY MOM

   My dad hits my mom.  Five very simple words.  But you wouldn't believe
how hard to say.  Or write.

   My dad hits my mom.  For fifteen years, all of my life, that's been my
reality.  Most kids are embarrassed by their parents.  They're too smart,
they're too dumb, they're not cool.  For my best friend, they kiss in
public.  But I wasn't embarrassed, I was ashamed.  I didn't want anyone to
know.  And they didn't.  It was our dirty family secret.

   My dad hits my mom.  For most of my life I wondered if it was my fault.
If I was smarter, nicer, prettier, maybe this wouldn't happen.  If I was
taller, shorter, if I was a boy, maybe Dad wouldn't get so mad.  Maybe he
wouldn't hit.

   My dad hits my mom.  And the worst part was, I was alone.  No one in the
world had a dirty little secret like mine.  No one in history knew what I
felt like.

   My dad hits my mom.  A friend showed me some statistics from the Justice
Department.  Four million women get hit every year.  Many with kids.  A lot
of the kids get hit too.  I was lucky.  I...

   ...  can end.  The first step is walking up to somebody, somebody you
trust, and saying the five hardest words, 'My dad hits my mom'.

   "Damn girl.  You can write," I said as I passed the page to Robbie.

   "I never knew," was her comment when she finished.

   "You weren't supposed to," Tami said with an almost-smile.  "That's the
whole point of a secret.

   "Now what?" Robbie asked.  We were sitting outside, eating lunch out of
our brown paper bags.  It was a bright clear and warm March day.

   "Tony thinks I should print it in the school paper, in case there's
somebody out there like me, one with a dirty little secret they're ashamed
to tell."

   "Then a reprint in the New York Times, and a quick trip to Columbia
University to pick up a Pulitzer, splitting the money with me, since it was
my idea."

   Robbie patted me on the head.  "He's so cute when he's delirious."

   Tami grinned, "He's even cute when he's not."

   "So are you?  Going to put it in the paper?"

   "I'd like to.  Tony was right, it helped a lot to write it out.  I'd
like to think it might help somebody going through this.  But, it won't
work."

   "Why not?" I asked.

   Tami fixed me in her gaze.  "You take the same journalism class as I do.
Remember the guidelines?"

   "Guidelines?"

   "For printing articles in the school paper?"

   "I must have missed that class."

   "Slept through it is more likely," Robbie said, patting me on the head
again.

   "I do not sleep in class," I said indignantly.  "Except for biology and
that's a given."

   "If we could bottle Mr.  Bower, we could put the sleeping pill companies
out of business in a week," Robbie agreed.

   "The guidelines," Tami said, reminding us of the point of the
conversation, "that Mr.  Walker gave us the first class of the year--that,
Mr.  Sims, you not only attended, but were conscious for--said that
articles in the school paper must be about school sponsored activities. 
Articles about students or teachers in non-sponsored activities were
permitted on a space available basis as long as they were upbeat and
moral."

   "You sound like you memorized it," I accused.

   "I looked it up yesterday," she admitted.

   "Oh!" was the most intelligent thing I could think of to say.

   "So, I repeat, now what?" Robbie asked.

   "I give it to Mr.  Walker, he says we can't use it, and I file it away."
Tami sounded sad, as she said it.

   "You really wanted to print it?"

   "Not at first.  I started it to get the love of my life to shut up." She
flicked me on the nose, like a bad puppy.  "But it really helped to write
it.  I kinda hoped, it might help somebody to read it.

   "What'd he say?" I asked.

   Tami grinned.  "Mr.  Walker said it's the best thing I've ever written
and one of the best essays he's ever read."

   "And?" Robbie prompted.

   "It doesn't fit with school policy for newspaper articles."

   "Well, if it's any consolation.  Your not the first reporter to have a
story squashed." I said, hopefully.

   "Yeah, boyfriend," Tami said, sliding her arm around my waist and her
hand into my back pocket.  "That helps a lot."

   "Sarcasm doesn't become you," I said repeating her movements and
finishing with my hand in her back pocket.

   "Yeah, but it becomes me," Robbie added.  "And you two better watch it,
or you'll get Parker's public-display-of-affection speech number one oh
three." We were standing outside the history classroom, waiting for the
sixth period second bell.

   "Right now," Tami said with a heavy sigh, "I don't really care."

   "Kelly, my favorite math genius!"

   Kelly smiled.  She might only be twelve, but she looked as confident as
any high school freshman.  I knew that Robbie and Tami had both helped her
with make-up and stuff, and I'd heard she was dating a boy in the eighth
grade who was almost as smart as her.

   "Tony, you want something," she accused with a grin.

   "Who, me?"



   Chapter 18

   Second period on Friday, and Mr.  Bower droned on and on about the life
cycle of the mosquito.  I glanced around.  Most of the class were nodding
off as usual.  Even Tami and Robbie, who shared a lab table with me and
Luke, looked zoned out.

   It's not that biology can't be interesting -"hell, I was in my third
year of research on female mammalian mating habits--but Mr.  Bower had a
monotone voice and never got excited.  I doubt he could give a word
inflection if he wanted to.  It was a good thing his tests were straight
out of the book or everybody would flunk.  And it was a required course.

   For once, I was wide awake.  But not because of the life cycle of the
mosquito.  I was waiting.  I actually listened to Bower; not the content,
but his delivery.  How the hell could he talk and talk without changing his
pitch or tone even a little?  Did he know he did it?  Did he ever notice
that half his class was asleep and the other half, dazed?

   An aide from the office came in and set a stack of newspapers on the
corner of Bower's desk.  Bower either didn't notice or didn't care, because
his delivery on the blood sucking tendencies of the mosquito didn't waiver.
The man was amazing in a tragic sort of way.  The papers always got
delivered second period.  When the bell rang, everybody would grab one on
their way out.

   I wondered if Bower would notice if I got up and started passing them
out.  I glanced at the clock over the door.  Fifteen minutes.

   The door banged open, waking everyone, and Parker strode in.  I was
reminded about the movie about George Patton.  I wondered if they ever made
a movie of my life, could we get George C.  Scott to play Parker?

   Parker looked around as Bower abruptly stopped talking, with a real live
change in pitch to indicate surprise.  Parked focused on our table and
stomped over.

   "You!"

   Tami started when she realized he was talking to her.  He had a folded
newspaper in his hand that he slapped down against the desk.

   "What is the meaning of this?"

   "I, uh, I, uh..."

   "Excuse me, some of us are trying to learn here," I said.

   "I am not in the mood for you," he said, shifting his stare to me.

   I wanted to tell him that I wasn't in the mood for him either, but my
policy is never get suspended on a Friday if you can help it.  Ruins the
weekend.  "We're here to learn and Mr.  Bower was just getting to the good
part."

   "I was?" Bower asked in surprise.  "Well, to continue, the female
mos..."

   "I'm not done here." Parker said loudly.  "What is this about?" He
slapped the paper against the desk again.

   "What?" Tami stammered.

   "This," he said, slapping the paper down for the third time.

   "I..."

   "You might get better results if you showed her the paper instead of
waving it around," Robbie suggested sweetly.

   "Stay out of this," he shouted.  I watched the vein in his forehead
start to throb.  I pictured it as a mamba, ready to strike.

   "Mr.  Parker, If you must yell at students, could you do it elsewhere?"
Bower asked, surprising everyone.

   "Teach your class," Parker snapped.

   "I'm trying to," Bower snapped back.

   Parker ignored him.  "What is this?" He opened the paper and displayed
it for Tami.

   I decided to be helpful so we could get back to the other bloodsucker,
the mosquito.  "It's a newspaper.  A popular form of mass communication. 
The first newspaper in the United States was the Boston News-Letter, first
published in 1704--or was it 1705?"

   "Detention, Mr.  Sims."

   "For answering your question?" I asked innocently.

   He ignored me like he'd ignored Mr.  Bower.

   "Well, Miss Sharp.  Would you care to explain?"

   "Explain what?" Tami asked, confused.  "The girl's basketball team being
invited to Phoenix?" The headline was GIRL'S B'BALL TO PHOENIX TOURNAMENT,
with half of the team picture above the fold.

   "No, this," he said and showed us the bottom of the paper.  Tami's essay
was in the right hand column.

   "I...  I..."

   "Come with me.  NOW!"

   "Excuse me," I said, as politely as I knew how.

   "Mr.  Sims, your detention is now for a week.  Want to try for a month?"

   "No, sir." I smiled.  "I just thought you might like to know that I put
that in there, not Tami.  But I realize now that facts just get in your
way. I'll be quiet." I smiled again.

   The room was silent.  You could have heard the proverbial pin drop. 
Though I had a feeling that anyone dropping a pin right then, would be
joining me in detention.

   "Mr.  Sims, my office now!"

   "Could it wait five minutes?  I was really hoping to hear the rest of
the lecture.  Education and all."

   "NOW!" It was almost a scream.

   "Why did you do this?" Parker asked waving the paper in my face.

   "How did you do this?" Mr Walker, the Journalism teacher, asked as he
leaned against the front of Parker's desk.

   I was seated in front of the desk while Parker towered over me.  It
would have been more impressive without the beer belly sticking out at me.

   "I just opened the copy file on the terminal, and rearranged the front
page," I said, answering Mr.  Walker's question and ignoring Mr.  Parker's.
"I remembered everything you taught us about composition.  I moved the
article about softball try-outs to page four and cut-down two of the
articles there.  How'd I do?"

   "Very well," Mr.  Walker said.  "You really should have..."

   "Mr.  Walker, the point," Parker reminded.

   "Sorry.  The copy file that goes to the printer is password protected.
How'd you get into it?"

   "I just sat down and started typing." Which was true, after Kelly Dubrey
spent fifteen minutes hacking the file for me.

   "Why?"

   "It was a good story.  You said so yourself.  I thought it was an
important story that might help somebody in the same situation.  Isn't that
what journalism is all about?"

   "It is," Walker agreed.

   "This school has guidelines, and this story didn't meet them." Parker
grumbled.

   "I understand you set the guidelines.  I know you didn't bother getting
input from the students.  Did you ask Mr.  Walker?"

   "Policy is not your problem.  You don't run this school.  I do."

   "Funny, I thought you worked for the district.  And I thought the
elected school board ran the district."

   "Apparently your last suspension didn't teach you anything.  Certainly
not respect."

   "Not for you," I agreed.  Walker's eyes opened wide, but he didn't
comment.

   "Your mother wasn't very happy last time.  Maybe you should have thought
of that."

   "Maybe you should call her and ask her." I grinned, and he looked a
little less confident.

   "And you won't be playing baseball during your suspension this time."

   "If I'm suspended, I'll do whatever I want."

   "Not with our team.  Not during your suspension, and not after.  You're
banned from all activities."

   I opened my mouth, then closed it again.  I took a few seconds to
process.  "What about the paper, it's an extra-curricular activity?"

   "I can assure you.  You're never going near the paper again."

   "What about my journalism class?  It meets in the paper's office."

   "You just flunked journalism!"

   "I..." I closed my mouth, wondering if I was in over my head and going
down for the third time.

   "NO!"

   Parker and I both looked at Mr.  Walker.

   "What?" Parker said.

   "I said, no.  You do not decide what to grade my students, I do.  And
Mr. Sims is not earning a failing grade in my class."

   "See here..."

   "Shall we go see Marty and find out who gives the grades?" I found out
later that Marty was the superintendent.

   "This is not an appropriate discussion in front of a student."

   "I think it's very appropriate," Mr Walker corrected.  "You just said
that he was going to flunk my class.  I'm telling him that as long as I'm
grading my classes, if he does the work, he won't fail.  And so far, he's
done the work."

   "I'm the vice principal of this school, and if I say he fails..."

   "You will Not grade ONE of my students!  If you want to do the grading,
I'll bring you my grade books and you can grade them all.  And I'll be sure
to let all the other teachers know that you'll be taking care of that chore
from now on."

   I always liked Mr.  Walker.  Now I wanted him to adopt me.

   "Fine, he's passing your class, but he's to have nothing further to do
with the newspaper."

   "The newspaper is, and always has been, part of the class," Mr.  Walker
explained.

   Parker looked like he wanted to sit on the floor and kick and scream. 
"You can go back to class now.  I can handle it from here.

   "Yes, I can see you can," Walker said sarcastically and left.

   "Mr.  Sims, you can wait on the bench outside the office.  Mrs.  Hatcher
will call your mother.

   "Thank you, sir.  It's been a pleasure as always, sir," I said with a
grin as I left the office, just to keep him guessing.

   Mom was less upset than I expected.  After ten minutes with Parker in
his office she was more than happy to listen to my side.  She commented
that I was playing fast and loose with the rules again, but didn't seem mad
about it.

   "I won't bother asking if it was worth it.  What I don't understand,"
she said as she turned the car into the trailer park.  "Why do you always
do this in March?"

   I hadn't thought about it like that.  "I guess it's the nice weather
that gets to me."



   Chapter 19

   "Why?"

   "Why what?"

   "Anthony Marion Sims, you know damn well what I'm asking."

   I grinned and kissed Tami on the nose as we walked down Elizabeth
Taylor. Then for good measure, I leaned the other way and kissed Robbie's
nose too.

   "Are you familiar with Sir Edmund Hillary?"

   "Because it's there?"

   I nodded.  "Though in this case, because it needed to be done."

   "But you're suspended."

   "It's not the first time," Robbie injected.

   "You're not helping," I said.

   "But, your parents," Tami said.

   "I'm not quite sure what's happening there," I admitted.  "Mom dropped
me off, told me to stay out of trouble, and went back to work.  She didn't
ground me or give me a ton of chores or anything.  But maybe she's waiting
to talk it over with Dad."

   "What about baseball?" Robbie asked.

   "Not looking good.  Parker said I was banned from all activities."

   "For how long?"

   "I think forever."

   Tami looked like somebody had just run over her puppy.  "It's my fault."

   "Don't be stupid," Robbie said before I could.  "You didn't make Tony
put your essay in the paper.  You didn't even know."

   "But if I hadn't written it?"

   "And who talked you into that?  Besides, Mr.  Calloway posted the list
for varsity today, and Tony was on it, even though he missed today's
tryout."

   "I was?" I said in surprise.

   "Yep, and so was I."

   I stopped and hugged Robbie.  Then I hugged Tami.  Life was good.  I
made the team before I got kicked off.

   "We should celebrate," I decided.  "Why don't you call Ricky.  We'll all
go to a movie."

   "Ricky?"

   "You know, your boyfriend."

   "Uh, Tony, Ricky dumped me."

   "Ricky dumped you," I repeated, stunned.  "When?  How?  Why?"

   Robbie grinned.  "Monday.  He told me.  Molli."

   "I don't...  The kid's got brain damage.  Must have taken a baseball off
the noggin."

   "I agree," Tami said quickly.

   Robbie shook her head.  "It's cool.  We've been going out since June. 
That's a record for me.  For him too."

   "You're okay with this?" I asked.

   "Sure.  We aren't, weren't, like you two.  It wasn't special, it was
just fun.  If he hadn't dumped me, I would have cut him loose pretty soon.
It was just...  time to move on."

   "Molli who?" Tami asked.

   "Molli Seaver."

   "A cheerleader?  He dumped you for a brain-dead cheerleader?"

   "Tony Sims!  Molli isn't brain dead.  She's on the speech team and the
debate team.  Just because she's pretty and a cheerleader..."

   "Sorry, Mom," I said.

   "I tell your real mother you're stereotyping women like that and you
won't see daylight until after Traci graduates."

   "That's a fact," Tami agreed.

   "Hey!  I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

   "Not when you're being sexist."

   "I wasn't being sexist.  I was being cheer-ist."

   I'm not sure if it was part of her plan, but spending the weekend
waiting for the other shoe to drop made it a very, very long weekend.  Mom
didn't say a word.  Nether did Dad.  And I was free to come and go.

   My mother is trying to drive me crazy.

   I was camped on the sofa, stretched out with my feet on the arm, when
there was a knock on the door.  I figured it was probably somebody wanting
to bring me to Jesus, and I was really into rereading Asimov's Caves of
Steel, so I ignored it.

   It was Sunday, and Tami had gone shopping with her mom, and Robbie and
her dad were doing something with Ashley and her family.  They knocked
again.

   "You going to get that?" Traci asked, from the kitchen.

   "Wasn't planning to," I said and turned the page.

   Traci mumbled something about men and lazy and went to the door.

   "It's for you."

   I looked up.  Mikee was standing in the door.

   "Hi," I said, swinging my feet to the floor.

   "Uh, hi," Mikee said and stepped past Traci.  "I need a favor."

   "Sure."

   "I need...  uh...  that is..." She looked over at Traci again, then
lowered her voice.  "I need a rubber," Mikee said, glancing back at Traci
and turning red.

   I felt my eyes open wide.  It sounded like my friend Luke was about to
lose his amateur status.  "Not a problem." I got up and walked past her to
my room.  I had a box in my football bag, I opened it and pulled out four.

   Back in the living room, I handed them to Mikee.

   "Uh, thanks." She looked at Traci again, then made her escape.

   Traci gave me an appraising look as I settled back on the couch.  "That
was nice of you."

   "Unh huh."

   "I wonder how she knew to come here?"

   "Uh..."

   "I guess she figured because you're so hot and heavy with Tami."

   "I guess." This was not a conversation I wanted to have with my little
sister.

   "Still..."

   I never found out where she was going.  There was another knock.  Traci
opened the door, Mikee was back, this time with Kelly.

   "Uh, hi again."

   Traci opened the door and pointed the two girls toward me.

   "I need another favor," Mikee said when she was standing in front of me.
I nodded.  "Can Kelly hang here for awhile?"

   I nodded and smiled at the younger girl.

   Mikee was red-faced again.  "Luke was kinda weirded out about her being
in the house," she admitted, before leaving.

   'Now what?' I thought.  If Traci wasn't here, Kelly and I could have
some fun on our own, but she was, so we couldn't.

   Kelly settled on my knee and looked at me.  "Kenny says, you're
suspended again."

   "Unh huh."

   "He was pretty happy about it."

   "That doesn't surprise me."

   Kelly looked back at Traci, who was standing by the door watching us.  I
think she realized that she had to be good.  "Want to play a game or
something?"

   "Sure.  Traci, you up for it?"

   "I guess."

   I cleared the dining room table while Traci got Monopoly out of the hall
closet.  I made a mental note to remind Luke that he owed me.  Big time.



   Chapter 20

   "It was good of you to see us," Mom started out politely.  "Especially
so early on a Monday morning."

   "I'm always happy to talk to one of our parents," Mrs.  Jeffries, the
principal, smiled.  She was a grey kind of woman.  Not her clothes: they
were bright, almost loud.  But the woman herself was grey, not just her
hair, her personality.  Just...  blah.

   She was also a closed-door principal.  I rarely saw her.  I doubted that
I'd seen her in the halls a dozen times since school started.  Mr.  Parker
was the visible face of the school.

   And that was a very depressing thought.

   "What can I do for you?" she prompted.

   "I wanted to talk to you about Tony's punishment."

   "I see.  I had a feeling that was what this was about." She leaned back
in her chair and steepled her fingers.  "What Tony did was very serious. 
He may have thought he had a good reason, but the fact is, he ignored
school policies and hacked a school computer.  I think a five day
suspension is very fair."

   "Oh, I agree," Mom said, surprising Mrs.  Jeffries.  "I thought the
suspension was very fair."

   "You did?  You do?"

   Mom nodded.

   "I'm very gratified to hear that.  So often parents don't want their
little ones to take the consequences for their actions."

   Little ones?  What were we, eight?

   "No, that's not a problem.  I think even Tony will agree that his
sentence was fair under the circumstances." Both women looked at me and I
nodded.

   "I'm afraid you've lost me then.  I don't understand what this meeting's
about." Mrs.  Jeffries said as her fingers interlocked, then she templed
just her forefingers.

   "It's about the rest of his punishment."

   "I'm sorry?"

   "Mr.  Parker has barred him from all further activities.  No sports,
school shows, no newspaper or yearbook."

   "I see.  I wasn't aware of that, but I'm sure Mr.  Parker has his
reasons."

   I would have loved to comment about Mr.  Parker and his reasons, but I
had a feeling that Mom wouldn't have appreciated the help.

   "Mr.  Parker also threatened to fail Tony in journalism class until Mr.
Walker intervened."

   "Again, I'm sure Mr.  Parker had his reasons."

   "Apparently Mr.  Walker didn't think so."

   "Well, I'd have to talk to Mr.  Parker..."

   "We'll wait."

   "Excuse me?"

   "I said, we'd be happy to wait, if you want to talk to Mr.  Parker about
this."

   "I didn't mean right now."

   "Why not?  We came to get this resolved."

   "Well, I make it a point never to over-rule my subordinates."

   "Then what good are you?" Mom asked bluntly.

   "Excuse me?"

   "What good are you?" Mom repeated slowly.  "If you never over-rule your
subordinates, either they're always right, in which case you're
superfluous, or you're afraid to make a decision in which case you're a
waste of space."

   Go get'm Mom.

   "You don't have to be insulting."

   "I wasn't being.  I was stating reality."

   "I'm not sure we have anything more to discuss," Mrs.  Jeffries said,
standing.

   "Sit down.  We're not finished," Mom snapped.

   "I don't see..."

   "That may be the problem.  Now, Mr.  Parker has set a punishment.  Do
you feel it's appropriate?"

   "Well, it does seem a little extreme, but Mr.  Parker is an able
administrator."

   "If it's extreme, will you overturn it?"

   "As I said, it's my policy not to over-rule..."

   Mom looked at her watch.  "C'mon Tony, we're late for our appointment
with Mr.  Mulino."

   Mrs.  Jeffries looked startled.  "You have an appointment with the
superintendent?"

   "Yes, we do."

   "But..."

   "Like you said, you have a policy."

   Mom stood, so I stood.

   I wondered if I'd be able to survive in this school once Mom got through
with it.

   "Mrs.  Jeffries has a policy of never over-ruling her subordinates," Mom
said without preamble.  "Do you have the same policy?"

   "Well, I like to support my people, but sometimes I have to change their
decisions."

   "That's a start.  Are you familiar with Tony's case?"

   "I know he's been suspended.

   "For five days.  That's..."

   "Tony?" Martin Mulino interrupted.  "What do you think?  Was five days
fair?"

   "Yes, sir!" I said quickly.  "I think if I'd been the principal it would
have been more."

   "Are you aware of the rest of the punishment?" Mom asked.

   "No.  Just the suspension."

   "Tony's been banned from all future extra-curricular activities."

   "I see.  That's unusual.  We sometimes suspend a student from an
activity, but only if he's causing problems in that activity.  I've never
heard of banning a student from all activities."

   "So you'll reverse him," I asked, hopefully.

   "No."

   "No?" Mom and I said together.

   "But I will investigate and then decide if such action is warranted.  If
it isn't, then I'll reverse it.  Or let Mr.  Parker reverse it himself."

   "Thanks Mom," I said as we walked out into the parking lot.

   "For what?"

   "Going to bat for me."

   Mom stopped and looked me in the eye.  Lately that was getting a little
harder since I was now a quarter-inch taller than her.  "Tony, I think you,
as your dad says, play fast and loose with the rules.  But I also think you
understand that there may be consequences, and you're prepared to take
those consequences.  And I'm just mean enough to let you," Mom said with a
grin.

   "But sometimes, people over-react and the punishment doesn't fit the
crime.  Then I'll be happy to be your mother and fight for you.  I don't
think this punishment fits this crime, so I'll be in your corner until we
straighten it out, or you screw up worse.  Whichever comes first."

   "I couldn't ask for more." I couldn't resist.  I hugged her.  "Thanks
for being my mom."
   Mom hugged back.  "Thanks for keeping your crime spree local."