The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(49)

“Very impressive,” he said. “Anyway, I’m here because I’m concerned about Charlie Kellogg.”

Dr. Didier sat down and tapped a few keys on her computer, then frowned. “I don’t see you listed here under contacts. What’s your relationship to Charlie?” she asked.

“I was engaged to his mother. She died several years ago.”

Dr. Didier gave a nod, then stretched her hands over her head, cracking her knuckles. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I won’t be able to discuss anything with you.”

“I realize that. I’m a professor over at Wickham.”

“Cool beans!”

“But I did want you to be aware of the fact that I think Charlie’s being bullied.”

Dr. Didier sighed. “So you’re still in touch with this kid?” she asked. “Even though his mom died, what...three years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And do his guardians know you’re still involved? Because when an adult not related to a child expresses an interest, you know...the bells, they go a little crazy.”

Tom blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Are you a pedophile, in other words?”

“Christ! No!”

“I’m just gonna put in a request with the police to check you out, okay? It’s routine.”

“I’m not a child molester! Besides, the police have already talked to the Kelloggs about me.” And didn’t that sound damning. “Look,” he said more calmly, “I lived with the boy and his mum. His grandparents are...distracted, and his dad is barely in the picture. I’m just trying to look after the kid.”

“And by look after, what do you mean?” Dr. Didier asked. “Because it sounds creepy, Mr. Barlow.”

Oh, now he was Mr. Barlow? He was Tom when he was going to be her weight-lifting partner. “What I mean is, I think I should report it to his f**king school when I think he’s getting roughed up!”

“All right, all right, settle down,” the principal said, holding up her hands. “I appreciate your concern, and I’d ask that you appreciate mine. You can’t be too careful these days. I will be calling Charlie’s grandparents to tell them that you came by, for the record.”

“Fine.” Great. Janice would tell Charlie, and Charlie would be furious.

But still.

“So why do you think Charlie’s been bullied?” Dr. Didier asked.

“I picked him up from a party a couple of weeks ago, and his ear was bleeding. He says he’s fine, but he’s not very talkative.”

“Did he tell you why his ear was bleeding?”

“No. He said he got it caught. It’s a piercing. Nasty thing.” Tom swallowed.

“So it could’ve been that.”

“It could’ve been, yes. It also could’ve been some prat who smacked him or yanked his earring or—”

“Look, Tom, our school has a no-tolerance policy on bullying. If it was witnessed, our students have been told since they were in kindergarten that they are not to stand for such behavior, and saying nothing is akin to bullying itself.” She rolled her eyes. “And we all know how well that works. Kids still get bullied. It’s just more subtle these days.”

“So what will you do?”

She pulled a face. “We’ll do everything we can. If you have a name, if Charlie would like to talk to a staff member or the guidance office, if anyone comes forward, or if there’s a witnessed event, we’ll aggressively investigate. We don’t tolerate bullying. But we also can’t control what those little shits do on their own time, forgive the language. And frankly, I can’t do anything with some vague complaint from a person who’s not even involved in Charlie’s custody. I’m sorry. I’ll keep an eye out, and I’ll tell the teachers to do the same thing, but that’s all I can do.”

Shit.

“Is he doing all right here?” Tom asked, unable to help himself.

She gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t discuss it.” She sighed. “Do you talk to Charlie’s grandparents?”

“Yes.” And they’d been as receptive as two fat bricks—Janice staring at his crotch, Walter nursing a drink, both of them feeling sorry for themselves for having to deal with their recalcitrant grandson.

“Wish I could do more.”

“Right. Thanks for your time, Dr. Didier,” he said, standing up and shaking her hand.

“You’re welcome. See you at the gym.” She held up a fist for a knuckle-bump, and he complied.

Walking out into the rain, Tom remembered how, back in the day, fights were held in the schoolyard or on the streets in his run-down neighborhood. At least it was out in the open and done with. Now, in this day and age, when kids seemed smarter and crueler, where half the parents didn’t pay attention or wouldn’t believe that their precious little Sam or Taylor could possibly be anything other than a perfect angel, because to admit such would be to have to spend more than ten minutes a day with the creature. No, today, bullying was a casual sport, and if a kid killed himself over it, ah, well, he must’ve been really f**ked up, and little Sam or Taylor wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

In other words, Charlie was on his own.