Nets and Lies(36)

“Mrs. Solano—”

“That’s Bradford,” my mother corrected through clenched teeth. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, she would have to correct them. Even when I lay mangled and broken, there was no way in hell she wanted any connections to my father.

“My apologies, Ms. Bradford, but I can assure you there is no need to threaten us with lawsuits. What happened here was clearly an accident,” a voice said on my right. I realized it was Mr. Sands.

Mom snorted contemptuously. “Pushing my daughter down a flight of fifteen stairs was no damn accident. Neither was defacing her locker and keying her car. But you people didn’t take that seriously either.”

This time it was Dr. Micheltree who responded. “Yes, we are taking it seriously, Ms. Bradford. We’ve been reviewing the tapes to find the culprit.”

“Fantastic. I suppose you’re going to do the same to see who it was who attacked her?”

I interrupted her. “I know who it was.”

All the heads spun to stare at me in surprise. “But how could you possibly know, Jordan? I mean, from the tapes you were obviously pushed from behind,” Mom argued.

“I still know who it was dammit!” I countered, trying to pull myself into a sitting position. When I heard the plastic paper crinkling beneath me, I realized I was in the bed at the nurse’s office. Great, I didn’t even want to begin to know how I got here. I imagined lying there in a crumpled heap for hours as numerous kids stepped over me. I’m sure it would make for some great gossip.

Mom reached out and helped me. Then she kissed my forehead. “Who was it baby?”

“Carson Ridings.”

Dr. Micheltree and Mr. Sands exchanged a look. “But Carson Ridings doesn’t even go here anymore. He graduated two years ago.”

“Well, let’s just say he decided to pay me a visit.” With what little strength I had left, I raised my shirt out of my jeans. I gritted my teeth and twisted to the right.

At the sound of my mother’s gasp, I knew they’d seen Carson’s handiwork, and I slowly let the shirt fall. Then I fell back against the pillows, exhausted from that small exertion.

“So you’re saying Carson came into school this morning and then assaulted you?” Dr. Micheltree asked.

I nodded.

“But why? Do you have a history with him?”

Before I could answer, Mom replied, “Unfortunately yes.”

“Our history had nothing to do with today,” I insisted.

Dr. Micheltree raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

I shook my head, trying to find the words to explain why Carson had driven two hours from college to beat the shit out of me in an athletic closet in the gym.

“What was it about, JoJo?” Mom asked.

“Coach T,” I murmured. I glanced at the others who peered anxiously at me. “He’s angry about my accusations towards Coach T. Carson said without Coach T’s connections, his sister wouldn’t get the scholarship she needs. He wanted me to tell everyone I’d been lying.”

Dr. Micheltree sighed. “I suppose this is a matter for the police, considering Mr. Ridings is no longer a student here.”

Mom tossed her hair over her shoulder. “That’s all well and good, but how do you propose to keep my daughter safe?”

Dr. Micheltree held up her hands. “Ms. Bradford we’re trying our best—”

Mom strode across the tiny room to stand in front of Dr. Micheltree. “I’m sorry that I have to say you’re doing a f**king miserable job, lady! I don’t pay tax dollars to have my daughter bullied, beaten, and almost killed.”

“Perhaps Newton isn’t the best learning environment for Jordan at present,” Mr. Sands said.

We all turned to look at him. He flushed a little before nervously clearing his throat. “What I meant to say is it might be in Jordan’s best interest to transfer schools for a period of time. At least until things die down.”

“And where would you suggest?” Mom asked.

“Pathways.”

I gasped. “Are you crazy? I’m not going to that hell hole! Only druggies and bad asses go there.” I stared helplessly at Mom. “I’m not one of those kids!”

“Jordan, lots of nice students go to Pathways. Some are merely academically behind, and they find the learning environment is more conducive to their needs,” Dr. Micheltree said.

“Their needs? Like smoking pot or shooting up between classes?” I countered.

She grimaced. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Before I could say anything else, Mom interrupted me. “So let me get this straight. Basically what you’re saying is you do not have the means to protect my daughter against a hostile environment, and she would be better served at another school?”

Dr. Micheltree glanced over at Mr. Sands before she replied. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we’re saying.”

Mom nodded. She snatched up her purse and threw it onto her shoulder. “All right then. If you’re fully acknowledging you have failed my daughter, then it’s time she left this school.”

“Wait, Mom, no!” I cried.

She shook her head at me before turning back to Dr. Micheltree. “Please withdraw her from this shit hole you call a school, and give me the necessary paperwork to enroll her somewhere else.”