Page 6 of Head Over Skates

I look at Cyrus, hunched over, staring at his shoes. Laces dangling in sad, droopy lines. The hem of his jeans is a littlemuddied. He’s kind of a ragamuffin. But I love every inch of that kid. Even if he has a different mother than me.

“This is the second fight he’s gotten into this year, Mr. Jablonski. And his teachers report he’s uncooperative in class.”

I don’t want to be one of those guardians who think their kid can do no wrong and assume the teachers just don’t“understand”his genius. But in this case, I’m certain Cyrus is being labeled the lost cause, and he’s not getting the education he deserves. He’s smart and shy and really sensitive. Also, a little disorganized. Yes, the inside of his backpack is scary. One time I found Cheeto dust, an old stick of gum oozing out of the wrapper, a banana peel, and a dirty sock. I will never put my hand in there again without nylon gloves. But he’s a good kid. And whatever he did to that brat sitting at the other end of Ms. Burk’s desk, I’m sure he was provoked.

“Where is Mrs. Jablonski anyway?” says the kid’s mom. She scans her eyes down my body, then back up again to meet my glare.

“There is no Mrs. Jablonski,” I say.

But she already knows this. She knows Cyrus is my brother, not my kid. And that his single mother, who never took my father’s name, works two jobs.

“My brother’s mom couldn’t get away from work,” I continue. “You’re going to have to settle for me.”

She twitches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and turns to address Ms. Burk. “Clearly, the boy has issues. I’m just glad this has been brought to my attention.”

“Maybe you should turn your attention to teaching your kid to pick on someone his own size,” I snap.

She gasps and practically jumps on Ms. Burk’s desk. “See? This is what I’m talking about. No manners. What do you expect from someone that beats up grown men for a living?”

I stand up from my chair, letting it screech on the hardwood floor. “What I do for a living is none of your concern.”

She cowers as if I’d do anything to actually hurt her. Cyrus, still hunched in his seat, lifts his chin, eyes wide.

“Mr. Jablonski, please sit down,” cries Ms. Burk. “We have an issue on our hands and this is not helping.”

I point a finger at her. “You know what’s not helping? This meeting. Come on, Cyrus. We’re leaving.”

“Mr. Jablonski, I must insist?—”

“No,” I say, towering over both women with my full six-foot-three height. “You don’t get to gang up on me and my brother, placing all the blame on him for what clearly was an unfair fight.”

The mom is absolutely scandalized now, and hangs her mouth open like a fish. She makes this scoffing sound at the back of her throat. If she were wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them. Meanwhile, Ms. Burk’s eyebrow wrinkles are forming a trench, and if she pressed her lips together any tighter, they’d crack.

“Let’s go, Cyrus.” I reach out to help him with his backpack. It’s surprisingly heavy. He slides off the chair and shuffles along with me as we get the heck out of that horrible office. One more minute in there and I would have hyperventilated.

I hear Ms. Burk call after me even as I stride down the hallway. “I will have to schedule another meeting before Cyrus is allowed back in classes, Mr. Jablonski.”

Once we turn a corner, I slow down and stop to check on Cyrus. His cheeks are stained with tear tracks, and he’s got a bruise on his jaw. I crouch down to tie his shoes.

“You okay, little man?

He nods. Sniffing.

“Want to go get some ice cream?”

A small laugh escapes his lips. “It’s two degrees outside.”

“How about one of those killer donuts at Tim Hortons?”

“Am I… am I expelled?”

I finish the double knot and tap on his shoe. “Nah. We’re just taking a little break. We’ll gorge ourselves on donuts and maybe pick up a pizza on the way home.”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“I’ll have to talk to your mom about that, okay?”

I take his hand and lead him down the street to the Tim Hortons, that’s blessedly not too busy for this time of day. Just after the lunch rush, and just before the afternoon coffee crowd.

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