“So,” Enzo says shortly, “my son sticks up for girl, and now he is in trouble?”
“Mr. Accardi,” she says tightly. “Your son is in trouble for fighting on school grounds. The other boy is at the emergency room and might have a broken nose.”
“I broke my nose once.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal, which makes me cringe. “It still works.”
I thought Enzo was going to charm our way out of this, but he’s just making things worse. I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing, but we should be groveling right now. “We are so sorry this happened,” I say to the principal. “He will definitely be disciplined.”
“I’m afraid that’s not adequate given the circumstances,” Corkum says. “We are going to have to suspend Nicolas for the rest of the week.”
I was afraid of this the second I saw Nico’s face, but now that she is saying the words, I want to burst into tears. Suspended? How could that happen? How will this affect his future? Do colleges find out about third-grade suspensions?
No, that’s not the issue. The issue is that for some reason, Nico took it upon himself to punch another boy in the nose when he’s old enough to know better.
“Fine,” Enzo says. “We go home then.”
Nico won’t even look at us as we make the walk of shame out of the school. He doesn’t have the best impulse control in the world, but he’s never done anything like this before. He never even pulled my hair when he was a baby. He’s not violent.
At least he never was before.
As soon as we get out of the school and down into the parking area, Enzo lays a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Who was this other boy you were in the fight with?”
Nico’s shoulders slump. “Caden Ruda. He’s a jerk.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s a jerk,” I say. “You can’t start a fight like that.”
“I know,” Nico mumbles.
“Your mother is right,” Enzo says. He pauses. “But I also do not want you to think it is not okay to stand up for someone who is being bullied.”
Nico’s dark eyes widen at his father’s words.
“Enzo,” I snap at him. “Nico is in a lot of trouble. He punched a kid in the face!”
“A kid who deserved it.”
“We don’t know that!”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I would think you of all people would be understanding about how important it is to stick up for someone in trouble.”
He’s right. I have always stuck up for people in trouble. And where has that gotten me? I went to prison because I stuck up for a friend in trouble—I kept her from being raped but then went too far and gave up ten years of my life. Enzo also sticks up for people in trouble, but he’s always been smarter about it. After all, he has never been to prison like I have.
I had hoped that Nico took after him. I don’t want my son to take after me.
“It was the wrong thing to do,” I say stubbornly. “Nicolas, you’re grounded.”
“Fine,” he mumbles.
“And you’re coming home in my car,” I add. I don’t want to risk Enzo telling Nico again that he is a hero for breaking that other kid’s nose.
I hate the way Nico won’t look at me and won’t offer a sincere apology. It’s not like him. Nico isn’t perfect, but when he gets in trouble, he’s always quick to say he’s sorry. When did that change?
It seems like my son is growing up, and I’m not sure I like what he’s becoming.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I check on Nico after dinner to make sure he’s doing all right. He was quiet during dinner, pushing his food around his plate instead of actually eating it. Meanwhile, Enzo acted like nothing at all was wrong. He truly doesn’t think our son deserves to be punished.
When I get into Nico’s room, he’s reading a comic book. As part of his punishment, we have taken away all his devices, but he loves comic books. He is sitting up in bed, his black hair disheveled, his eyes pinned on the page in front of him. His left eye is already turning black and blue, but when I sit at the end of his bed, I notice both eyes are bloodshot.
“Hi, honey,” I say. “How are you doing?”
He doesn’t raise his eyes from the comic. “Okay.”
“Are you feeling upset about what happened today at school? It’s okay if you are.”
“Nope.”
“Nico.” I sigh. “Would you look at me?”
It takes him a few seconds to drag his eyes away from the comic. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I just want to read.”
I squint at him, not sure I believe him. “Does your eye hurt?”
“Nope.”
I look over at the enclosure where Little Kiwi has resided ever since Enzo inflicted him on our family. I try to catch a glimpse of the praying mantis, but I don’t see him. I look among the twigs and leaves inside, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere. Just a bunch of flies.
Oh my God. Did that horrible thing escape? This day can’t possibly get any worse.
