Page 62 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

OUR PLAN FULLY executed, I saw slight changes in Brandon, but I didn’t know that those changes were for the better.  We’d moved up to ten-minute meditating sessions that often went a little longer while Brandon pulled himself out of whatever dark hole he’d fallen in but that was only the beginning.  What concerned me more was his sleep patterns.  He seemed to be having more nightmares more frequently.  The meditation was shaking up everything in his head, it seemed, and loosening it all up.

A good thing was that he started doing some research—ofwhat, I didn’t know, but I gave him command of my laptop, which he placed on Gabriel’s desk.  Brandon now slept in my room every night and, because we were always up before my kids, they didn’t know.  He’d kept his things in Gabriel’s room but slept in mine.

One thing his research led him to had to do with breathing—deepbreathing, specifically—and he incorporated those concepts into our daily yoga and meditation sessions.  But while everything—the diet, exercise, meditation, and yoga—was beginning to make me feel better than I had in years—more alert, a little more optimistic, and healthier—it seemed to have the opposite effect on Brandon.  While he insisted this was all good for him, I was beginning to have my doubts.  I could see the struggle in his eyes, the pain on his face, and his mood was growing darker by the day.  I was certain his job had nothing to do with it.

I was positive we were doing something to his head…but, unlike Brandon, I wasn’t convinced any of it was good.  When I suggested psychotherapy more than once, though, Brandon shut me down.  “No doctors,” he’d say, and that would be the end of the discussion.

Unfortunately, my obsession and concern with Brandon’s state of mind made me a little oblivious to the rest of my family, and it wasn’t until I got a call from the principal during the last week of school that I needed to come to the office that it dawned on me.  “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to pick up JR.  He’s been in a fight here at school.”

I had so many questions but knew they’d have to wait till I got there.  I left my computer on, mid writing, and changed clothes quickly, checking the mirror to make sure I looked okay before jumping in the car and heading to the school.  As I got out of the car, I thought to text Annabel to let my daughter know she didn’t need to pick up her brother.

I was hardly at the front desk ten seconds before being ushered to the principal’s office.  JR sat sulking in the beige chair across from the man in charge who stood and shook my hand.  “Mrs. Cooper, I’m Mr. Babcock.”  Why people always assumed I wasMrs.when my kids had a last name different from mine, I’d never know.  The man definitely looked the part of principal—tall, formidable, thinning salt-and-pepper hair, clean-shaven, suit but no tie.  “Please have a seat.”

I looked over at my son, but he wasn’t looking at me.  Instead, his gaze was focused upon the corner of the steel desk.  I was trying to see if JR had any injuries, but I couldn’t see any, and he wasn’t going to give me the full benefit of his face.

Mr. Babcock’s deep voice pulled me away from my son.  “Mrs. Cooper, your son and another young man were fighting out on the lawn during the lunch period today.  You know we have a stricthands offpolicy here at the school—not only do we not allow the boys and girls to hold hands or kiss, but that extends to physical altercations.”  He paused, pressing his palms together.  “I’ve spoken to both young men, and both refuse to tell me who started it or what it was about—and that’s not atypical of this age.  Ordinarily, I’d suspend them both for three days and require that they write me an essay about how they are going to prevent this sort of behavior in the future, but Friday is the last day of school and they will have most of their finals tomorrow.  Suspending them would punish their teachers more if I chose to have the boys make up their work in another manner.  Or I could let them both fail and make them repeat the classes they’d fail.”  He sighed.  “But I’m not going to do that.  It seems a little too harsh a punishment for a first offense.”  He shifted his eyes’ focus from me to my son.  “JR, you know fighting is wrong.”

JR actually looked up and at the principal.  While my son didn’t show fear, I did see respect in his eyes.  He nodded and muttered, “Yes.”

“You know you’re getting off easy, right?”

My son nodded again.  “Is Cash’s nose okay?”

I saw Mr. Babcock’s eyes soften as this new revelation hit me.  “Yes.  The nurse told me it’s not broken.”  After a slight pause for effect, he said, “You know you’re lucky.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t carewhatthe problem was.  If you can’t resolve it through words, you bring it to an adult or you walk away.  That urge to hurt, to beat your opponent to submission—that’s primal.  That’s what cavemen do, and you’re not a caveman.  It’s something you need to work out of your systems, and if I don’t insist that you boys toe the line every day and grow and learn from your mistakes, then I’m not doing my job.”  It made me feel a little better that JR seemed to be taking Mr. Babcock’s words to heart.  “Instead of suspending you, I need you to write that essay tonight.  Five hundred words.  You can tell me about the fight itself in your essay or you can instead tell me why I insist upon no violence.  Or you can write about how you’re going to make sure you don’t fight again.  Tell me what plan you’ll put in place to stop yourself next time.”  The principal flexed his fingers, glancing at me before returning his eyes to JR.  “It’s not going to be easy and you might lose out on valuable study time tonight, but it’s the only way I’ll allow you back in school tomorrow.  You’ll report tomefirst, essay in hand, and only if I’m satisfied will I allow you to attend class.  Is that clear?”

JR nodded again.

Mr. Babcock looked over at me.  “Do you have any questions, Mrs. Cooper?”

“Probably a stupid one.  He’s done for the day, correct?”

“Yes.  I need him to think about what he did,” he said before looking at JR again, “and get started on his essay.”

“Yes, sir.”

His voice might have been quiet, steady, and calm, but his intent was clear when he said, “I’ll allow you back in the morning—provided you understand that this behavior is unacceptable on my campus.”  After maintaining eye contact with JR long enough that my son felt uncomfortable and looked down at his hands in his lap, Mr. Babcock said, “Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay.  You can go to your locker and get your things—but straight there and back.  You have five minutes and your mother will meet you in the hall by the office.”

“Yes, sir.”

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