“That’s not the story I got from the child Kevin assaulted?—”
“Stop playing games. You meanRegis. And I’m sure Kevin didn’t ‘assault’ him but was defending himself. Granted, heshould have used his words like he’s been taught to do, soRegismust have either been picking on him all week—like usual, may I add—or he said something so horrible, Kevin felt threatened enough to defend himself physically.”
“Well, I asked Kevin to explain himself and he refused to discuss his reasons for lashing out?—”
“Lashing out? Comeon.”
“—and I can’t force him to talk, so this is why I wanted to talk to you first alone before he comes in here after detention.” Pirogue cleared his throat like he was preparing for a speech. “Children often act out physically when something is wrong.” He tilted his head and adapted a totally fake look of concern that matched his condescending tone. “What’s going on at home?”
April folded her arms. “What do you mean what’s going on at home?”
“Well, we all know that Riversong was the scene of a criminal act. So, what I’m asking is, is Kevin safe at home with you and your family?”
April closed her eyes and exhaled like she’d been punched. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and opened her eyes.
“Listen. The drive-by shooting was over a year ago and it had nothing to do with Riversong or my family. One of our customers was the target and she just happened to be in our shop. If anyone feels unsafe in Riversong, it would be her, and she doesn’t. She’s still a regular. We explained to Kevin that he was safe, that nothing was going to happen to him or us, it was just bad luck.” April forced herself not to squirm in her seat. She wasn’t about to let this asshole see that he’d just given voice to her worst fears. “And my son understood. He’sfine.”
“Bad luck.” Pirogue nodded like he’d just caught April in a lie. “How often does bad luck happen around you and your family?”
And there it was. It didn’t matter how many years—no, decades—had passed since Sonny Taylor had anything to dowith the criminal activities his parents committed with the hippie commune they lived in. It didn’t help that Sonny’s sister and brother-in-law had gone from being pot dealers to owning a legitimate dispensary, which had been targeted a year before the drive-by at Riversong.
No matter that my cousin is now a famous musician. No matter that my branch of the family owns a legitimate business that people love. No matter what we do, to some people we’re always going to be the town trash.
“Wow,” April stretched the word out. “That sounded almost rehearsed. Do you keep a little folder labeled ‘Taylor family talking points’ or do you just wing it and hope the condescension sticks?”
Pirogue’s thin smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Ms. Taylor, it’s no secret that children from… fractured homes… tend to act out more. Single parents do the best they can, of course, but a boy Kevin’s age really needs a strong male role model.”
April said nothing. Not because she didn’t have a comeback—she had dozens—but because it hit too close. Kevin already had the best male role model any kid could ask for in her father. Sonny had stepped into the role of grandpa without hesitation. He loved Kevin fiercely, guided him gently, never missed a milestone or an everyday moment, just as he’d done for his daughters and niece.
A traitorous little voice hissed in her mind:What if itisn’tenough? What if nurture can’t overcome nature?
She refused to let Pirogue see any of that. He’d weaponize it in a heartbeat.
April’s fingernails bit crescents into her arms as heat shot up her neck. She wanted to launch herself across his desk—but instead she smiled, cold and sharp. “He has an excellent role model. My father is the most respected man I know. He servedthis country, built a business from nothing, and shows up for his grandson every damn day.”
She leaned in, voice low and deliberate. “Funny, I’ve never once seen you at the park coaching your son’s Little League, or even showing up for recess duty here. If you’re so concerned about role models, maybe take a closer look at the one the kids see at school—because I wouldn’t want Kevin picking up your example.”
Pirogue’s jaw tightened, his ears flushing red. He straightened the stack of papers in front of him with unnecessary force.
“If Kevin continues to be a problem, Ms. Taylor, he won’t be welcomed back in the fall.”
“And if his last name were Sumner instead of Taylor, I doubt we’d be having this conversation at all.”
“Donors don’t influence my decisions,” he said, looking affronted.
“Sure they don’t.” April pushed her chair back, scraping the linoleum. “Fine. He’s suspended? I’ll save us all some time and go pull him out of detention ten minutes early.”
“Ms. Taylor. This is unacceptable behavior.”
“I guess it’s a family trait, huh?” she called over her shoulder. She stormed down the hall, Principal Jackass behind her flapping like an angry duck and squawking for her to come back, until they reached the detention room.
“If you go in there, I’ll consider it trespassing,” he threatened.
“It’s not trespassing if my kid is in there.”
“I’m calling security.”
April ignored Pirogue and pushed the door open. The room monitor was sitting behind a teacher’s desk. She looked up from a crossword at April, then at Pirogue.
