It means she’s not taking it seriously. This is just a tick-box exercise. Proof, in case of any push-back, that the school addressed the issue and there’s nothing to see here.
If Solesi were genuinely trying to solve a bullying issue, she’d hardly pile us in together. Even the dumbest authoritarian should know to separate the supposed victim from her alleged attackers, interview us one at a time so our stories don’t cross contaminate.
So we can’t intimidate her into silence or, worse, reneging entirely.
I almost feel aggrieved on Em’s behalf.
“We’ve received a very serious complaint,” the principal begins and Em shifts in her chair, slouching, legs stretching in front of her, crossed at the ankles. “About an assault that took place inside school grounds.”
Em gives a quick shake of her head. “An assault on whom?”
“Well… you.” The principal frowns, then gestures at Em’s hair. “Would you please pull your hair back for me?”
“No. Who’s complained?”
I stare at Em again, but she’s ducked her head down so I can’t see the shadow any longer. Can’t see anything except the silken blackness of her long hair.
I raise my hand like I’m five and wait for the principal’s nod of acknowledgement. “I haven’t assaulted anyone so can I go?”
“No.”
“If he’s assaulted her,” Keith says. “Then why am I here? Can I go?”
“None of you can go.” The woman aims a sharp talon at Keith. “We have a witness who saw you push Ms Corrigan into a locker.”
“What witness?” he asks, the exact wrong thing to say. Something he realises a second too late. The quick, “I didn’t push anyone,” he adds is far too late to extract him from trouble.
“And why am I here?” I ask politely, giving her my most winning smile.
Judging from the faint snarl she gives me in return, I deduce she’s not as amenable to my charms as the average middle-aged woman. “We’ve had reports that you’re behind a few incidents involving—”
Em holds up her hand. “Who reported this?”
Principal Solesi ignores her question again, picking up a biro, she points to the darker side of Em’s forehead. “I can see that you’re injured from here. We’ll need to take some images of the bruising.”
“No thanks.”
“That wasn’t a request, Ms Corrigan. While you’re at school, you’re under our authority and we can compel you to fulfil any reasonable request. Taking a photograph of injuries you sustained on school grounds easily qualifies.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“And if this occurred outside the McKenzie High gates, that would be the primary consideration. Inside them, I have hundreds of other students whose welfare I must also take into account. We can’t excuse or tolerate physical aggression inside our corridors—”
“Who said there was any physical aggression?”
“We have a witness—”
“Who?” Em’s voice is still level but her eyes glint, sharp as razors. “Tell me who reported this.”
“Who brought this matter to our attention isn’t important.”
“It isn’t important toyou,”Em says, glaring. “But it’s important to me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked you three times.”
“The school nurse has been alerted and is ready to help you document your bruising and any contusions.”
“Someone inside the school?”
The woman’s face is puzzled, then she grasps that Em is still stuck on the snitch, not the nurse. “I’m not going to—”
