Chapter 5: What Was Written on That Paper
I didn't sleep that night either.
The note sat on the kitchen counter in a zip-lock bag — Lucas's idea, not mine, which told me he'd been thinking about this longer than I realized.
The next morning I called the school before eight.
The vice principal's name was Mr.
Okafor.
I had spoken to him once before, briefly, during freshman year, when I'd called to say I was worried about Lucas and he'd told me, gently but firmly, that boys go through difficult social periods and that Lucas hadn't reported anything directly to the office.
I had accepted that.
I shouldn't have.
"Mr.
Okafor," I said, "I need to come in today.
I have documentation of targeted harassment of my son that took place last school year.
I should have brought it sooner.
I'm bringing it now."
A pause.
"Mrs.
—"
"Today," I said.
"Please."
He saw me at ten-thirty.
I set the bag on his desk.
He read the note without touching it, leaning forward with his hands flat on either side.
When he looked up, his expression had changed.
"Where did Lucas find this?" he asked.
"In his locker.
Last March."
"He kept it."
"He kept it," I said.
Mr.
Okafor sat back.
He was quiet for a moment in the way people are quiet when they are recalculating something.
"Do you know who wrote it?" he asked.
"Lucas believes it was Tyler Marsh," I said.
"He has reason to believe that.
I'd like the school to investigate and reach its own conclusion."
"Of course." He nodded slowly.
"I want you to know, Mrs.
—, that if this is confirmed, it falls under our district's written harassment policy.
This isn't a gray area."
"I know," I said.
"I've read the policy.
That's why I'm here with documentation instead of just a phone call."
He looked at me steadily.
"You've done your homework."
"My son spent a year being systematically targeted," I said.
"I have a lot of catching up to do."
Mr.
Okafor called Tyler's parents that afternoon.
I know because Lucas texted me from third period: *Tyler just got called to the office.*
Then, twenty minutes later: *He came back looking like he'd seen a ghost.*
I was still in the parking lot.
I had not been able to make myself drive away.
My phone rang.
It was a number I didn't recognize.
I answered.
"Is this Lucas's mother?" A woman's voice.
Tight.
Controlled.
"Yes," I said.
"This is Dana Marsh.
Tyler's mother." A beat.
"I think we need to talk.
Before this goes any further."
I looked through the windshield at the school's front entrance.
"I agree," I said.
"But I want you to understand something first."
"What's that?"
"It's already gone further," I said.
May you like
"The question now is how much further it needs to go."
The silence on the other end lasted a long time.
