Peter kept his eyes clenched shut, curled in a rigid state while his fingers kneaded vigorously at his forehead. His vision was mostly limited to his own clammy hands, but on all other sides was the smooth terrain of his mother’s palm, which he didn’t anticipate being allowed to leave any time soon. Or ever, if he was honest with himself.

                “I find it disturbing…” Suzanne snarled above across the principal’s desk, venom tinged in every word. “…that this school treats attempted drowning so casually. Or is it just in cases of students who are differently abled?”

                The target of her ire was silent for a moment, then adjusted his glasses and seemed to recompose.

                “Mrs. Clark, I assure you, that is not the attitude of this school.”

                “Then why did I receive a call while I was in the middle of work that my son… my fifteen-year-old son… was nearly flushed down a god-damned toilet?” she spat back instantly. “ANSWER me that!”

                Peter saw his mother’s caged fingers curve just a little further inward and closer to his body at this mention. She had both hands folded atop one another for added security, cupping her miniature son in her lap for the entire run of this draining conversation in the administrative offices. Her thumbs were trembling.

                “Again, I can’t say how dreadfully sorry we are that this was allowed to happen, Mrs. Clark,” the principal explained coolly, though he maintained a certain docility in his voice that Peter didn’t blame him for as the verbal thrashing by his mother. “As I understand it, this was an isolated incident, and-”

                “Isolated incident?” Suzanne said. From the fury in her voice, it seemed possible she would become angrier repeating just about any word in the English language. Her fingers arched nearer to her child’s crouched body in her palm. “Well, as long as it’s just ONE TIME that some girl tries to drown my SON, then I suppose it’s all right. It’s all right with the school. Am I understanding you correctly?”

                “Mrs. Clark… please, I know this is difficult, but I have to ask you to just… calm down, just for a moment, for the sake of-”

                “-for the sake of what? Your feelings?” she growled, her entire frame shuddering as she leaned further across the desk.

                Peter heard the squeak of swivel chair wheels as the principal instinctively shifted backward in his seat, in case the woman chose to lunge across the desk and claw his face clean off. Of course, his mother’s other hand safely closed over him for just a few seconds, lest she lose him over her knee in her rage.

                “I’m… well aware that we have no right to claim innocence in this case, Mrs. Clark, but I only restate the fact that it’s an isolated incident to affirm that this administration, Peter’s teachers, and most of his peers have done everything in our power to accommodate him here. And, in this case, it wasn’t a lapse of judgment or security, but a special case where-”

                “-I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Suzanne snapped. Her soft fingers trembled against Peter’s shoulders as she cradled him against her palm. “What about that charity organization that gave you a grant on the condition that you accept Peter? What would they say about this?”

                Peter furrowed his brow. Though the embrace of his mother’s fingers was comforting after the harrowing events of art class and his chilling trip into the girls’ commode, her actions now were beginning to inflict just as much of an emotional strain. He understood perfectly well how terrified his parent had to be for him right now; he felt a fraction of it for himself, after all. Still, to hear her resorting to such pious arguments made him a little queasy and, worse, allowed him to realize the fragility of this whole scenario on both sides.

                He’d been so worried all these months about Suzanne pulling him out of school and subjecting him to another lonely four years of homeschool. But what if it ultimately wasn’t her decision that ended his tenure at this school, but the administration’s? All this time, even in imagining a worst case scenario where his mother was too spooked and pulled him on a whim from the institution, Peter always was hopeful that he’d be able to wheedle his way back in with his trademark charm and tiny puppy-dog eyes.

                Such tactics wouldn’t be so useful against the school board.

                “I apologize, Mrs. Clark, again, as many times as is necessary,” the principal groaned wearily. He massaged the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We’re incredibly proud that Peter elected to attend this school for his secondary education. But again, I have to emphasize that given his… special circumstances, and the accommodations necessary to make his attendance possible, there is a limit in our ability to attend to his needs every minute of every day. Though every student is special in our school, none are… more important than others, and our resources can only stretch so far.”

                By some miracle, the man managed to finish this statement without being cut off by Suzanne’s next fiery retort. In fact, the office ruminated in silence for a few moments with the unfortunate truth of this final declaration. Peter’s stomach, most of all, was swilling.

                The man was right. Of course he was right. Peter, at least in the back of his mind, had accepted the inherent dangers for three months with the understanding that the school could only take its protection so far against the forces of twisted minds like Mandy’s. And he had learned to sleep peacefully in spite of that concept. But apparently, Suzanne had never truly accepted those same terms.

                Peter couldn’t help but shake at the knees at the notion of that revelation on the part of his mother. That he would never be absolutely secure in this place, without her. Such an idea in her brain would do no good things for his current attendance record at the school.

                His mother’s fingers wrapped firmly around him, inviting him deeper against the warm wall of her palm, probably mistaking his shaking for lingering anxiety from his earlier voyage. Which was true, certainly, but not nearly so much as the fear of being pulled away from the school. Away from his teachers, the play, his friends.

                Away from Lisa.

                Peter only sighed. There was no use in offering his own input at this time. There would surely be enough terse arguments about this event for many evenings to come at home. All of which he would lose, of course, by default, because he was the child and she was the adult, and perhaps more importantly, he was the anomaly and she was the normal. It wouldn’t help anyone to be humiliated by his mother’s fury in front of the principal.

                Instead, he kept his mouth closed and accepted the curling embrace of his mother’s giant hand. He pulled her thumb tighter across his stomach. Half out of security, and half out of resigned sadness at the possibilities.

                Plus, he was still more than a little chilled after his plunge into the ice-cold toilet, even after he’d changed out of his sopping outfit and into his gym uniform. The defense of his mother’s massive hands on all sides of his body wasn’t all unwelcome.

                It seemed Suzanne was finally releasing some of the stone tension, at least in the muscles of her fingers and her overall posture. Peter watched her tightly sealed lips shifting from side to side above, weighing possible comebacks. The silence, if anything, made him more uneasy. She hadn’t looked down at him for several minutes now.

                He wondered if she was too afraid to do so.

                “So what’s going to happen to this girl?” Suzanne breathed heavily at last, seemingly shifting the subject. “How are you going to reassure me that my son will be safe if… if he continues to attend your school?”

                Peter had to fight the urge to break free of the gentle tangle of his mother’s fingers and jump for joy. It wasn’t exactly an optimistic question on Suzanne’s behalf, but the mere fact that it wasn’t a done deal already was enough to empower the boy. By some miracle, he hadn’t lost yet.

                “She’s being handled in the other room with a counselor, the campus security officer, and two other administrators,” the principal said calmly, refolding his hands back in his lap. “This young lady has had many prior behavioral problems. From the brief conversation I had with them before you arrived, Mrs. Clark, it’s my expectation that she’ll be suspended for at least two weeks while a final decision is made about whether her attendance here is terminated permanently.”

                “I see,” Suzanne said, nodding in measured pace. Her fingers had taken to petting Peter’s back as she worked through each and every carefully chosen word of the principal’s explanation.

                Motionless, the boy sagged forward, allowing his parent to stroke his shoulders and hoping she’d stop consciously thinking of his physical size pathetically occupying her hand, and instead see the logic of it.

                Mandy was almost surely going to be taken out of the school. That made sense, didn’t it? The whole threatening-to-possibly-murder-another-student thing? If the principal felt it wasn’t likely, it seemed impossible he’d even suggest the possibility of expulsion, after the wringing he’d received by Suzanne. But he had said it.

                For Peter, it felt like the healthiest thing to put today behind him and focus on the positives. His greatest threat under this roof would finally be leaving. All he needed now was a few more days of school without incident, just as he’d exhibited for two whole months, to claw his way back into Suzanne’s semi-good graces.

                “Mom,” Peter said. On the next pass of his mother’s soothing fingers along his back, he wrapped his arms around her index finger, and pulled it closer to his chest again. It got her attention. “Mom?”

                “Yes, honey?” she responded smoothly, mustering a smile for show as she looked down at him curled up atop her palms in her lap. Her demeanor had switched like a light from the poisonous front she presented to the principal.

                “I’ve got the play tonight and tomorrow,” he said. Peter didn’t bother interjecting with whiny syllables or a fake-cry pout. He simply kept the woman’s finger embraced to his torso, and looked her straight in the eye, speaking in a steady tone. “I’ve worked really hard. So have all my friends in the play. I can’t let them down after all this time.”

                Suzanne shut her eyes, which for an instant seemed to glisten. She grimaced and looked back up to the principal, bobbing her head to clear away a stray tress of blonde hair that had fallen over her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to free up a hand from under Peter to correct it. Her lips budged.

                “Then I suppose he’s got to keep coming for two more days, at least,” she said with some difficulty to the principal. Her fingers resumed their petting of her persuasive little son. “He’ll finish up today and tomorrow night, and then we’ll just go from there. Providing that… that freak-girl is kept away from the perimeter of this building, and there are eyes kept on him at all times.”

                “That sounds more than fair to me,” the principal said neutrally. “Peter, what about you?”

                The boy sat back upright as his mother hoisted him slowly toward the upper level of the desk and opened her palms atop it. Remaining perched on the ends of Suzanne’s long digits, Peter bit his lip and looked the man, too, square in the eye.

                “Yes,” he said, clinging to that last shred of hope. “I think it sounds fair.”