But each of us has special talents to offer. Mr. Dunleavy, Miss Posey and your teachers just think you’ll be able to grow your special talents better in this new school.”
“Okay, Mommy. Can I get back to class now? I think I’m missing gym and we’re learning how to play basketball today!”
“You have a great kid there, Mrs. Trellis,” Miss Posey said, smiling appreciatively at Eliza, who warmed with pride and smiled back as she hugged her son and watched him scamper off.
“I don’t know where he gets it all from,” Eliza said half-jokingly.
“Like you said, God,” Miss Posey said.
Mr. Dunleavy cleared his throat, signaling the end of the meeting and his displeasure at Miss Posey’s last statement. It was a public school, and teachers were not supposed to be voicing any religious commentary. “We will make the transfer beginning next year then, if you and your husband agree.”
IT WAS the family tradition that the youngest go first in unwrapping their Christmas presents. Austin beamed with delight, standing in the middle of their small living room in his plaid flannel pajamas as he unwrapped his last gift under the tree. He opened the large cardboard box, pulling out a child-sized acoustic guitar.
“Wow, a guitar!” he exclaimed, pulling it out and strumming the still out-of-tune instrument.
“Santa must have figured you’re going to need it for music lessons in your new school,” Alex said, winking at his wife.
Eliza turned to Cameron, catching him rolling his eyes at his father’s comment. He had announced just days before Christmas that he no longer believed in Santa, that according to his friends it was just a thing parents made up to make sure their kids were good, especially around the hectic holidays. Eliza had made her older son swear to secrecy involving Santa so Austin wouldn’t find out.
Cameron had also reached the bottom of his pile of gifts, and he opened his big box, pulling out a huge Matchbox race set with double looped tracks and at least two dozen race cars. He had often watched the Nascar races on TV with his dad, and Eliza had thought it would be the perfect gift for him. But she watched in dismay as her son, looking downcast, sadly put the set back in the box, not bothering to even pretend he wasn’t disappointed.
“What’s wrong, Cameron? I thought…I mean, I’m sure Santa knew you loved race cars,” Eliza said.
“I kind of wanted a drum set,” he replied softly. Eliza looked hopelessly at her husband.
“Ah…that’s right, you did mention it once a while back.” Alex sat his spiked eggnog down on the end table and leaned forward in his chair. “Well, son, maybe you’ll get one next year for your birthday or Christmas. Santa probably didn’t have enough money to give a whole drum set out to all the kids who wanted one.”
Cameron hunched over cross-legged on the floor by the tree, his elbows resting on his knees, and put his face in his hands, pouting and sullen, not looking at any of them. Eliza realized he was trying not to cry.
Austin walked over and tapped his older brother on the shoulder, extending the guitar toward him. “Hey, Cameron, I’ll let you play my guitar,” he said cheerfully.
Cameron swatted at the guitar, sending it banging to the floor. “I don’t want your stinking guitar, stupid.” He uncrossed his legs, stood up, and started to stomp out of the room.
“Cameron, get back here.” Alex rose from his chair and grabbed his son by the arm, spinning him around. He looked down at his son and shook him angrily. “You need to apologize to your brother, and to your mother and me. You’re being an ungrateful brat, and you should know better than that.”
Cameron flinched and looked down, unable to meet his father’s gaze. “Sorry, Austin,” he mumbled, his voice trembling. “Sorry, Mom and Dad. Can I go now?” His lower lip quivered.
“Sure, honey,” she said, noticing with agitation that her husband still looked angry. But she held back from saying anymore, wanting to protect her son from further humiliation.
Alex let go of his arm, and Cameron fled from the room.
CHAPTER 6
THE SLIGHT MARKS on Cameron’s arm—impressions from his father’s anger that Christmas morning—healed quickly, but the bruises to the ten-year-old boy’s ego didn’t. Cameron stayed silent for a week, not bothering to talk to the rest of his family.
Several months later, Eliza was called into Mr. Dunleavy’s office again, but this time not for good news. Her fear from the first time, that Cameron was in trouble, was now being realized.
She sat once again across the desk from the lanky principal as he relayed the episode.
“I’m afraid Cameron was bullying another student, Mrs. Trellis,” he said in his authoritative, nasal tone. “The students were on the playground, and Cameron and another fifth grader, Donny Slade, approached a younger boy who’s in fourth grade, Bobby Montrose, and asked him if he had any money to lend them. When Bobby said he did but refused to give it to them, they shoved him into the rock-climbing wall, and his glasses fell to the ground and broke. They pushed him hard enough that he has bruises on his face and shoulder, according to his mother. They also emptied his pockets and took the dollar’s worth of change he had. I am suspending both Donny and your son for one week for assault and petty theft. Cameron will have to make up the schoolwork on his own time.”
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