All Adults Here(71)
“You have to what, try to kiss me? Do it now, I’ll do a Boomerang.” Sidney puckered up and held her phone at arm’s length. “You get in here, too, Robin, all the girls in one picture!”
“Okay, that’s it,” Cecelia said, and pulled back her right arm until her fist was touching her shoulder, and then she let it fly, straight into Sidney’s nose. There was a sharp noise, like an aluminum can being crushed. A thin stream of blood spurted out of Sidney’s nose, like a single ketchup packet, and she gasped, in pain, surprise, or both, bringing her hands to her face. Cecelia and August stood patiently while Mr. Davidson quickly made his way to the back of the class, the smile fading from his face as he realized they were fighting about more than equations.
* * *
—
The middle school principal’s office had a carpeted waiting room, and that’s where Cecelia had been sitting for an hour. August’s parents had come to pick him up, leaving with damp faces and a little affectionate squeeze of Cecelia’s hand after a brief private conversation in the office, and then Sidney’s father had come and taken her home after a second private conversation, and still, there Cecelia sat, alone with the principal’s receptionist, a plump woman named Rita who was much beloved around the school for having a wide selection of Entenmann’s cookies sitting on her desk, free for the taking. So far, Cecelia had had three. The principal herself had vanished with her leather briefcase some time ago.
Rita held the phone to her ear, shook her head, and set it back in its cradle.
“Still no answer, honey.”
“Did you try my aunt Porter too?”
Rita consulted her notepad, ticking off names with the sharp tip of her pencil. “I tried your grandmother, your aunt, your mother, your father, then your aunt again.” She frowned. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m sure one of them will call us back super soon.”
“I could still make the late bus,” Cecelia said, looking at the clock.
“It’s just school policy, sweetie, after an incident, to have an adult take you home.” Rita wore one pair of glasses on her face and another on a chain around her neck.
“Maybe you could try Shear Beauty? Ask for Birdie?” Cecelia looked at her palms. There was also Elliot and Wendy, but she didn’t want to sit in between the twins’ car seats and get hit by flying objects or, worse, sit in a totally silent car with her uncle.
The door opened, and Ms. Skolnick blew in, her arms full of books and a stack of paper between her teeth. She stuck the papers in her mailbox, which was next to the door, and then saw Cecelia and did a double take.
“Hi!” Ms. Skolnick looked at Rita. “What’s going on?”
“There was an altercation in Mr. Davidson’s eighth-grade algebra class,” Rita said. “We’re just waiting for a parent to pick her up. A family member.”
It was funny, to have adults talk about her over her head, but Cecelia had gotten used to the idea of having no say in her own destiny. If she could have chosen anyone to walk through the door, she didn’t know whom it would be. Gammy, she supposed, because that was the current arrangement. That was what was supposed to happen. If it had been her mother or her father, who she wanted to see so badly, so badly that she might do something crazy like punch a mean girl in the face, then it would mean something dramatic had happened. The irony was not lost on her, that her rage about being unfairly blamed had led to her doing something that was, without question, her fault.
Ms. Skolnick tiptoed across the carpet until she was behind Rita’s desk, where she crouched down beside Rita. She cupped a hand in front of her mouth like she was testing for bad breath, and spoke too quietly for Cecelia to hear, which she assumed was the point. Rita nodded.
“Do you have house keys, Cecelia?” Rita asked.
“To my grandmother’s house? Yes.” Cecelia dug them out of her bag and waved them in the air.
Rita looked at Ms. Skolnick again, who nodded. “Well, since the principal has already gone home, and I can’t seem to get ahold of anyone, we’ll have a meeting next week, okay, dear? Ms. Skolnick has offered to drive you home. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure,” Cecelia said, and before she knew it, Ms. Skolnick had hooked her by the elbow and was pulling her out of the office, down the hall, and out the front door.
* * *
—
The faculty parking lot was at the back of the building, next to the soccer field. It was full of well-loved Hondas and Nissans, with an occasional Ford. The sky was pink and orange, with the sun already hanging low on the horizon.
“Sorry about this,” Cecelia said.
“It’s fine! No trouble at all.” Ms. Skolnick started to jiggle some keys.
“Yeah, but it’s just really weird that she couldn’t get in touch with literally anyone. It’s not your job, I know. I have an enormous family. Sort of. I mean, there are a lot of people in it.” Cecelia chewed on a fingernail. How enormous could a family be if not one member could come pick her up? She had some cousins in France—maybe she could get on a plane. She spoke enough to get by.
“I am happy to do it, really.” Ms. Skolnick put her hands on her belly as they walked—she was clearly pregnant. Cecelia had noticed before, but she’d been well trained to ignore such things unless she was on a crowded subway train. “Whew, sometimes she kicks me so hard that it feels like she’s trying to audition for American Ninja Warrior, and the obstacle course is just getting out of my body.”