(Peggy is narrating)
Martin folded his arms and gave my tormentor a frosty gaze. “At my church last week, Pastor Heather told us compassion was everyone’s business. Peggy, we should get back to class right away.”
We turned our backs to Perkins. Two other boys were waiting for us, Perkins’s friends no doubt. “Run!” Martin shouted. We did. Seconds later I no longer heard Martin’s shoes slapping on the pavement. I stopped running, then turned to see an amazing sight!
Martin was trapped inside a circle of three boys. One boy threw a punch at him. Martin caught his arm and tripped him, making him fall down. Another grabbed Martin from behind. Martin flipped him over his shoulder to join the first on the concrete. Perkins, still standing, produced a switchblade knife from his pocket.
Martin suggested in a low voice, “Put it back, and we can say these two boys tripped themselves running.”
“Damn,” Perkins muttered, hiding his knife in his pocket.
“Just what is going on here?” a teacher demanded.
“Mr. Chanuscho,” I said, “These boys were playing tag, and both tripped on the concrete. I called Martin and Perkins for help.”
He nodded. “You all help me get them over to the school nurse.”
We missed the start of lunch taking them to the nurse. Then, the principal wanted to see me. Once I arrived in her office, she shut her door. “Tell me what happened,” she ordered. “Now!”
“Ma’am, I found these two silly boys had tripped themselves…”
“Bull,” she interrupted. “Don’t make things worse by lying.”
“How could the truth make this any better?”
The lady looked a little sad when she heard this. “Covering up will make it less safe for everyone to learn here.”
I stared at the carpet. “Yes, ma’am,” I whispered. “But if the truth trashes Perkins, then I’ll be treated worse.”
“Look at me, girl,” she said. I did. “It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s mine. You let me worry about you. Now tell me.”
“Martin stood up to three bullies for my sake.”
“I thought it was that,” she said. “For the knife, Perkins will be expelled. I’ll suspend his friends one week. I must suspend Martin due to zero tolerance, but his parents will know I’m proud of him.”
Once school was over and I returned home, a social worker wearing a smart, pastel blue, business suit waited for me on the porch. She nodded to me. “We’re changing your placement to Spokane.”
I blinked. “Why? Isn’t that out of state?”
She sighed. “Your caretaker quit, hearing about the fight. Our Idaho and Washington CPS offices jointly found you a better fit.”
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