Joe King
It had only been a week since Thanksgiving, but that had been long enough for Joe to second-guess letting Jamie stay with them for an extended period. Carrie had called ahead, but the sight that greeted him when they got home was still a startling one.
He was glad of the prior warning; otherwise, he’d have been hard put to keep his voice at a normal volume. “What happened to you?”
Jamie stared at his toes. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing? You tore your shirt and scratched your face and — why are you cradling your wrist like that if it’s nothing?”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” He turned toward the stairs, only to see that Carrie had sidled around to block his way. “Aw, come on, Carrie, I need to change clothes before I head over to Mom’s and Lee’s for dinner.”
“I think,” she said mildly, “I’m going to call them and ask them to come over here instead. It’s been a while since we all had dinner together.”
“Aren’t we supposed to do that in a couple weeks for Christmas?”
“There’s no reason we can’t do both.”
“You’re changing the subject,” snapped Joe. “What happened to you?”
“I told you! Nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
Jamie didn’t answer, but Carrie aimed a sharp, knowing look in Joe’s direction. He forced himself to take several deep breaths and unclench his fists before continuing. “Okay. Did you fall? Is that how you got hurt?”
No response. His son simply stared into space with a stubborn expression.
“James,” he began, hoping that the use of his given name would be a warning, “it doesn’t make any sense for you to keep on claiming that ‘nothing’ happened to you. Not when you look like that. And we need to see to that wrist.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“That was not,” Joe ground out, “a request.”
With a scowl, the child came over and presented it. There didn’t seem to be much swelling, and nothing looked out of place. There were some bruises, but they seemed minor. When Joe pushed the fingers open from where they’d been fisted, though, Jamie yelped and yanked his hand back, his eyes tearing up.
“Hurts, does it? Can you use the hand?”
Jamie shook his head.
Carrie had quietly gotten out the first-aid kit.
“All right,” continued Joe, relenting in the face of Jamie’s obvious pain. “What about your face and under your shirt?” He brushed the visible scratches lightly, which didn’t seem to elicit much reaction, and they certainly looked as though they were superficial. “Did you fall?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“Kind of? How do you ‘kind of’ fall?” The words were harsh, but Joe kept his tone gentle. It was easier, somehow, now that the conversation had actually started.
But Jamie just shrugged and dropped his eyes.
“Did someone push you?” asked Joe. “Is that how you fell?”
At that, the boy’s eyes closed, and something that might have been relief flickered across his face. “Yeah.”
Carrie came up with a wet cloth and an elastic bandage, drawing Jamie down to sit at the kitchen table. “You’re going to have to open your hand back out so I can wrap this, love. But I’ll go as fast as I can.”
Nodding, Jamie did as she instructed, although he paled again, and a few tears spilled out onto his cheeks.
“You think it’s broken?” Joe asked his wife.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “It could just be sprained. By the time he got to my school, the doctor’s office had already closed for the night, and the school nurse had gone home. That’s why we came back here without treating it. You’re doing great, Jamie.” She had already finished cleaning the area and had begun to wind the bandage. “Just a bit longer.”
“I know,” he gasped.
“Who pushed you, son? Did they say why?”
Jamie’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was puckered in pain, but he was able to shake his head.
“All right,” Joe conceded. “I’ll call over to Amanda’s. Were their cars in front of their townhouse?”
“Amanda’s minivan was. I didn’t see Lee’s car.” Carrie finished winding the bandage and secured it with two safety pins. “But they are still unpacking, and I think Lee’s planning to make a habit of parking out at the far edge of the lot.”
Lee had claimed he was doing it to keep the Corvette from being scratched, but Joe privately suspected that it had to do with visibility from the main road. With a sigh, he reached for the phone.
“Jamie,” Carrie instructed, “you should go upstairs and clean up. But come right back down when you’re done. We’re going to finish talking about this.”
“Do we have to?” the child whined.
“Yes,” Joe heard her say as he began dialing.
“Oh, my gosh!” Amanda ran straight to Jamie, pulling him into a hug before she knelt down to examine him. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re still trying to figure out,” replied Joe as he brought in a tray from the kitchen. He’d extracted a beer from the fridge for himself, but had juice and aspirin for Jamie, along with tea for the ladies. “All I know is he got pushed.” He gave his son a look. “Are you ready to add to that yet?”
Jamie flopped down into his usual chair, favoring his bandaged wrist. “No.”
“Well,” said Amanda, “you’re going to have to tell us something. Take the aspirin, Sweetheart. It’ll make you feel better. Although I guess if you’re wrapping it up here instead of going to the doctor, it means it’s not broken. It isn’t, is it? You can’t always tell when it’s the wrist, you know. It’s real easy to mistake a sprain for a break and vice versa. I mean Mo —” she cut herself off, taking a breath. “Mother did that once, and it wasn’t until two months later when it was still hurting that she finally went to the doctor and it turned out she’d had a broken wrist the whole time. By then it had healed wrong, and they had to go in and do surgery. Have you called the d —”
“I wasn’t able to reach them,” interrupted Carrie. “I’ll try again in the morning.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Joe invited Amanda.
“Thank you.” She did so and took a long drink of her tea. “I can take tomorrow off to take Jamie to the doctor.”
Carrie shook her head. “If you go into the doctor’s office and ask for a work-in, it could take all day. Why don’t I take him to the school nurse in the morning, instead? If she thinks he needs to see the doctor, they’ll take him in quicker once he gets there, since she’ll have already made the determination. Plus, neither of us would need to take as much time away from work. There’s no reason I shouldn’t —”
“Yes, there is,” said Joe. “You can’t sign permission to treat.”
“It’s all right,” said Amanda into the awkward pause that followed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll take care of it. Now, Jamie,” she continued, turning to her son, “your dad says you got pushed. Who pushed you?”
He stared at his toes. “Didn’t see.”
“Was it an accident?”
“I doubt it,” interjected Joe. “Look at his face. It happened outside, didn’t it? And you landed on the sidewalk.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, shoulders drooping. “We were outside at the bus corral.”
Amanda picked the questioning back up. “Who were you with?”
“No one. I was by myself, running to the bus.”
“Did any teachers see it?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Amanda sighed. “Jamie, are we going to have a repeat of what we went through when you got into those fights a couple weeks ago?”
His face came up at that, eyes wide. “I wasn’t fighting! I was walking away, the way you and Dad told me to! Well, okay, I was running, but that wasn’t because I was afraid of them. It was because I thought I was gonna miss the bus.”
“‘Them,’ who?” asked Joe. He could hear his voice getting tight again.
Jamie shook his head. “Not important.”
Joe took a deep breath to steady himself. “It’s very important if someone was giving you a hard time. What were they hassling you about?”
He shrugged. “Same old, same old.”
“About your mom?”
No answer.
Amanda bit her lip. “Jamie, did Bobby Boyd or Tad or Katie Carlisle call me a…” she hesitated for the briefest of moments. “A whore, again?”
“No!” The word burst out. “They all walk home. It was some of the eighth graders saying that…” he trailed off. “Just that it was a shame Grandma hadn’t left you enough life insurance, so you’re probably going to lose the house to foreclosure which is why I have to ride the bus now. And that your new husband wasn’t much of a man if he isn’t willing to help you out. Nor are you, Dad, since you’re too busy with your —” he stopped. “No. I’m not gonna say it, ’cause it’s another ugly word.”
Amanda’s face had become a little flushed. Joe couldn’t blame her, and he couldn’t miss the look on his own wife’s face, either. He took another deep breath. “Were they talking about Carrie’s skin color? Was that the ugly word?”
“Yeah.” He looked over at his stepmother. “I’m sorry.”
Carrie shook her head. “You weren’t the one who said it.”
“I guess not, but it’s still ugly. Really, though, they were mostly talking about Mom and Dad, not you or Lee.” His eyes darted around the room. “I did what you said! I walked away ’cause it wasn’t worth it! They’re just trying to prove they’re all grown up since they’re starting high school next year. I told them that picking on a seventh grader didn’t make ’em any more than bullies, and that’s when they all got around me in a circle and I knew I was gonna end up in big trouble if I stayed there. But I don’t think they expected me to shove through and take off running.”
Joe got to his feet. “That does it. I’m calling the school. I don’t care what time it is.”
“You’ll have to leave a message,” said Carrie. “They aren’t there.”
“Then I’ll leave a message, because he’s not going back after his doctor’s appointment. I want him transferred.”
“So do I,” said Amanda. “Joe, sweetheart, please. Listen to me.” She had climbed back to her feet to face him. “We’re close enough to the winter break that we can do it then. I’ll call the superintendent’s office tomorrow, once I’m in the office. We’ll transfer him to — what zone are we in, anyway?”
“Swanson,” murmured Carrie.
“Swanson!” cried Jamie. “What if I don’t want to go to Swanson?”
“It’s just for the rest of the school year,” said Amanda. “Remember, I told you that Lee and I are going to look for a new house as soon as the old one sells. We’ve actually…” her blush this time seemed different, somehow, from her earlier one. “He likes the area around Rockville, and it does have good schools and houses that work for us, in our price range.”
“Rockville! All the way in Maryland? No, Mom, we can’t move there!”
“Jamie,” said Carrie, her voice still soft. “There’s nothing wrong with Rockville.”
“But all my friends are in Arlington!”
“Are they really your friends?” questioned Joe. “Because friends would have stood beside you to lift you up, instead of across from you to tear you down. It sounds to me like you’ve been getting bullied. That’s not what friends do.”
His son gave him a pleading look. “And I want to spend time with you and Carrie even after I move back in with them! I can’t do that if I’m so far away.”
At that, Carrie gave him a sharp, significant look, but Joe couldn’t quite bring himself to meet either Jamie’s eyes or hers, or Amanda’s for that matter. The official decision about their potential assignment was supposed to come through by the end of the year, but he’d been quietly assured that they had been awarded the posting they’d requested. Still, he hadn’t yet seen anything in writing, and neither had she, so they didn’t necessarily need to bring it up just yet.
Fortunately, a knock on the door saved him from having to gloss over anything, or even worse, tell an outright lie.
Author’s Note:
- Claude A. Swanson Junior High School opened in January 1940. It is the oldest surviving middle school in Arlington.