All We Ever Wanted(20)

“Well,” Walter said calmly. “For another, Finch’s actions were in contravention of our core values as expressed in Windsor’s Code of Conduct.”

“But this didn’t happen at Windsor,” Kirk argued. “It happened at a friend’s home. On private property…And…and is this girl even a minority?”

I stared at him, mouth agape, stunned by the question.

“The Code of Conduct does not have geographical restrictions. It applies to all students enrolled at Windsor, wherever they may be,” Walter said calmly. “And yes, Lyla is part Latina, actually.”

Finch looked appalled by his father’s question, too, but then I wondered if it was actually just panic. Maybe the direness of the situation was beginning to sink in for him. He turned to Walter and said, “Mr. Quarterman…am I getting suspended?”

“I don’t know, Finch. But if these charges go forward to the Honor Council, and I see no reason why they wouldn’t, the issue of suspension will ultimately be decided by that group.”

“Who’s on this Honor Council?” Kirk asked.

“Eight students. And eight faculty members.”

“And? How does this work?” Kirk pressed. “Would Finch have representation? I assume we can bring in our lawyer?”

Walter shook his head. “No. That’s not the procedure we use for these matters….”

   “So he doesn’t get a fair trial?”

“It’s not a trial. And we like to think that it’s very fair, actually.”

Kirk sighed, looking extremely put out. “And if he’s ultimately suspended? What’s involved with that? What are we talking, exactly?”

“That varies. But if Finch were to be suspended, he would not be allowed to walk at the graduation ceremony. And we would be required to notify the colleges to which he’s been accepted of his suspension.”

“He just got into Princeton,” Kirk said.

Walter nodded and said yes, he was aware. He then added his congratulations.

“Thank you,” Kirk and Finch said in unison. Kirk added, “So then what?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, regarding Princeton?” Kirk asked.

Mr. Quarterman raised his palms and shrugged, looking conspicuously indifferent. “How Princeton handles the news of Finch’s suspension would be entirely up to them.”

Finch’s eyes widened. “Could they un-accept me?”

“Revoke your acceptance?” Walter said. “Of course they could. They’re a private institution, just as we are. They can do as they see fit under the circumstances.”

“Wow,” Finch said under his breath.

“Yes,” Walter said. “So as you see…there could be very serious ramifications.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Kirk shouted. “For a thirty-second lapse of judgment he could lose eighteen years of hard work?”

“Kirk,” Walter said, his voice and posture growing subtly more imposing. “We don’t know the outcome of this yet. And we also don’t know what Princeton would do if Finch were suspended. However, I’m sure you understand the seriousness of that picture, as well as the racist nature of your son’s words.”

   There it was. The R word. I’d said it myself—and aloud to Kirk and Finch—but it was so much worse hearing it from another. My eyes welled up.

Kirk took a deep breath, as if regrouping. “Okay. Well, is there any way to handle this privately? Our son’s entire future is at stake here, Walt.”

“The Honor Council is private. All proceedings would remain completely confidential.”

“Right. But I mean…privately privately?”

“You mean avoid the Honor Council altogether?” Walter said, raising his brow.

“Yes. I mean…what if we talked to the girl’s parents?”

Walter began to answer, then stopped, then started again. “Calling Lyla’s father is up to you,” he said. “I’m not sure that would change anything….But in my experience, sincere apologies never hurt in these kinds of situations…in life, generally.”

In that moment, I could tell that Kirk had just detected a path to getting his way. I knew the expression well—the glimmer in his eyes, the way his face sort of relaxed. “Okay, then,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “We’ll call her parents—and take it from here.”

Walter nodded, looking apprehensive at best. “She lives with her father,” he said.

“Okay. I assume his number’s in the directory?” Kirk asked, shifting in his seat, glancing at his watch.

“It is,” Walter replied.

I struggled to think of something meaningful to say, something to offset Kirk’s sudden cavalier tone, but he seemed to be on a roll I couldn’t curtail.

   “Okay, great,” he said, standing abruptly. “Well, I hate to dash like this, but I have a flight to catch. I’ve already pushed it back once today for this.”

“I’m sorry you had to change your travel plans,” Walter said, not sounding the slightest bit sorry.

The two of us stood as Kirk said, “No worries. Not a problem at all.”