The Weight of Blood (29)

And now, he has to deal with my daddy, Jules thought, her grin widening as she glared at Mrs. Morgan, sitting in the corner. Her teacher might have had the principal on puppet strings, but she was no match for Jules’s power of persuasion.

Mr. O’Donnell rearranged his desk for the third time, sweat covering his forehead. “Well, it’s . . . it’s . . .”

“It’s about your daughter’s behavior these past few weeks,” Mrs. Morgan chimed in. “Maybe even years, considering what others have told me.”

Mr. Marshall swiveled in the chair as if noticing her for the first time. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Her history teacher. Sorry we weren’t properly introduced at the parent-teacher conference you missed.”

He eyed her up and down, measured her worth, then refocused on Mr. O’Donnell. “Look, Steve, I have a flight to catch out of Greenville, so you mind hurrying this along? Now, Jules came home very upset the other night, claiming that you threatened her.”

This seemed to steady Mr. O’Donnell’s shaky hands. “I did no such thing! As I told your wife, I sent her home so we could do a thorough investigation before deciding the best course of action.”

“Investigation about what? A stupid costume? Don’t you people have better things to do?”

Mrs. Morgan scoffed. “Mr. Marshall, I don’t think your daughter understands the severity of her actions. She came to a school function in blackface.”

“And the school has a no-tolerance policy for bullying,” Mr. O’Donnell added.

“But I didn’t bully anyone!” Jules turned to her father. “You can ask Wendy or Jason. They were there too!” Jules knew the combination of both those names would win him over, with Jason’s family being the richest one in town next to theirs and Wendy being too sweet to lie.

Mr. Marshall sighed as if the whole meeting was utter nonsense. “Do you have proof of this ‘bullying’?”

Mr. O’Donnell folded his hands on the desk and enunciated every word to be clearly felt. “Mr. Marshall, there is a picture. Of your daughter. At a school function. Dressed in blackface. With the name of a Black student written on her shirt. All over the internet. And CNN.”

Mr. Marshall sat stone-faced and shrugged. “It was just some paint. I’ve seen kids at games dunked head to toe in white and no one cries about it.”

Mrs. Morgan’s eyes flared. “It wasn’t a football game or white paint. It was black and purposefully inciting. Aside from it being grossly inappropriate, crude, and racist, it was hurtful and insulting, not only to a fragile young woman of color but to all of the Black students at Springville High.”

Jules’s seat burned beneath her. “Excuse me, but why is she even here?” she snapped.

“She’s here as a witness of the previous incident,” Mr. O’Donnell explained, nodding at Mrs. Morgan.

Mr. Marshall scowled. “What incident?”

“Your daughter threw pencils into a student’s hair. The same student she pretended to be for the pep rally.”

Mr. Marshall turned to Jules with a frown. A frown of disapproval—she didn’t see it often. It made her fidget.

“It wasn’t me, Daddy, I swear,” Jules insisted, gripping the arms of her chair. “It was the other girls. I told you how kids are always trying to blame stuff on me! I’m not even in the video!”

Mr. Marshall nodded and turned back to the principal. “She said it wasn’t her. And without proof—”

“I saw her throw it,” Mrs. Morgan announced, a touch of haughtiness in her voice. Jules wanted to rip her tongue out with pliers.

Just then, Jules’s phone pinged loudly, startling Mr. O’Donnell.

“Well, it’s your word against hers, and I got a team of lawyers ready to handle any misunderstanding.”

Mrs. Morgan tilted her head, giving Mr. O’Donnell a pointed look.

He took his cue. “That’s all well and good, Mr. Marshall, but . . . your daughter is suspended for the rest of the school year.”

Jules shot up to her feet. “What?”

“She can attend graduation after she takes, and passes, her finals from home.”

“Daddy!”

Mr. Marshall waved his hands, instructing the room to settle down. “Okay, look. Clearly, this was . . . a mistake. Jules learned her lesson, and she’ll never do it again. There’s no need to overact ’cause of some teasing. Really, kids need to toughen up these days. How d’you expect them to make it in the real world with all this coddling?”

Mr. O’Donnell glanced at Mrs. Morgan as if checking for approval. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands.”

Mr. Marshall sighed through a tight smile. “Alright. That’s fine. I’ll see what my buddies on the school board have to say about this.”

Jules’s phone pinged again. Twice.

Mr. O’Donnell folded his hands on the desk. “It . . . was the school board’s decision. Your daughter has brought a lot of unwanted attention to Springville, and they feel the best course of action is to remove the . . . problem.”

Jules unraveled. “But . . . this is my last week as cheer captain with my friends. You can’t do this to me!”