P – Pushing People
"Call on line four, boss," Melinda's secretary called as she struggled to carry a large file box toward the office storage area.
Melinda looked up from the file she was studying, asking with only her eyes.
The secretary let out a loud huff as she jacked the box against the edge of her desk and tossed a sympathetic frown toward her employer. "It's the school again," she pursed her lips and shrugged before hefting up the box with renewed strength. "Sorry," she groaned as she waddled away with her load.
Melinda dropped the form in her hands and let out a frustrated sigh, counted to ten in two languages, took a deep cleansing breath and greeted the caller with the most cordial 'hello' she could manage.
"Hello, Mrs. Coulson," the voice on the opposite end of the call began. "This is…"
"What did he do now, Karen?" Melinda sighed, cutting the woman off and dropping her head onto her hand. She desperately tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. Fitz's antics usually meant at least two calls to Phil or Melinda every other week. Mostly it was just tomfoolery, but occasionally the boy got into more hot water than he could handle and that meant either mom or dad had to make a trip to the dean's office for a long conference regarding school policy. Fitz was smart enough, or maybe just lucky enough to stay on this side of a school suspension, but sooner or later that luck would run out. His intelligence, however grew faster than he did. Hopefully, this was one of those quick calls telling her he did such and such as a result would be banned from the cafeteria, like last month when he thought it would be hilarious to inject a package of cherry tomatoes with baking soda causing it to erupt when one of senior students added a vinaigrette dressing to her salad. Of course, no one was hurt but the mess was horrendous. A long lecture from a very amused dad, followed by a session with a highly less amused mom had Fitz seated on a rather large pillow for supper than evening and right now mom was considering a trip to the school just to apply her seal of disapproval immediately. She waited for the veritable axe to fall but was met with complete silence.
A school secretary suddenly falling completely speechless was never a good sign. Listening to it forced Melinda to sit up straight hoping she'd been cut off before the school secretary spoke again. "No, Mrs. Coulson, I'm not calling about Fitz. I'm afraid it's Jemma." The woman sounded slightly confused, as if she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing.
"Jemma?" Melinda was halfway between humor and shock. She thought for a moment. If Jemma was sick or hurt, she'd be talking to the school nurse not the dean's secretary, but things change…or maybe it was too serious for the medical staff. "Is she alright?" Melinda's concern mounted.
"Oh, yes, yes she's fine, absolutely fine," the secretary spoke quickly, realizing she probably caused the mother undue alarm. "She wasn't hurt at all."
"Wasn't hurt?" Melinda was standing. "What happened?" A dozen scenarios rocketed through her mind…lab explosions, chemical spills, dangerous experiments, sharp instruments…
"Well," the woman's voice remained unusually calm, putting Melinda even more on guard. "There was a bit of a scuffle in the common area and a few children were…"
"Jemma was involved in a fight?" Melinda dropped back into her seat. Hell, did kids with genius IQ's even have fist fights in the school yard?
"I wouldn't call it a fight, Mrs. Coulson, more of a rather slight disagreement would be an accurate description." Karen explained, again remaining overly calm.
Melinda rolled her eyes and grit her teeth. Sometimes dealing with the staff of the twins' school was extremely frustrating. Most were highly intelligent like the students they managed and severely lacking in the basic social graces. "So someone had a disagreement with Jemma and it came to a physical altercation?" She chose her words carefully, keeping her voice slow and even.
"Yes," Karen agreed and Melinda could tell she was smiling. "Yes, physical altercation…that is exactly what happened but Jemma was the antagonist, Mrs. Coulson. She is responsible for the event in the students' common area this afternoon."
Melinda dropped into her chair for a second time and took a moment to recover. "Jemma?" She breathed. "My Jemma?"
"Yes, Jemma Coulson Simmons. I'm sure that is the name I was given. I'm sure there was no mistake and I am positive it is she who is seated outside the dean's office at this moment."
"The other children were hurt?" Melinda asked, not believing her gentle daughter could harm anyone.
"Nothing a few band aids could not alleviate." Karen assured her. There was a long pause before the woman spoke again. "I am sorry, Mrs. Coulson but it is school policy that you come in to speak with the dean regarding this matter. I know Jemma has never been in any sort of disciplinary situation in the past but we cannot make exceptions. You do understand?"
"Of course…yes, yes I do," Melinda spoke quietly. "I'll be there as soon as possible, thank you." She lowered the phone to its cradle and sat back to give herself a moment to clear her mind.
xx
After a quick call to Phil, who was with a client discussing protection for a visiting dignitary from some country no one could actually pronounce, Melinda drove the twenty minutes to Jemma's school in Bethesda. The drive gave her time to run through a myriad of reactions. She was at first baffled as to what would push docile and ever understanding Jemma to actually 'pick a fight' and just how the little girl would even accomplish the feat. Jemma rarely even raised her voice, unless arguing with Fitz, but never, never, ever had the little girl come to blows with her brother even when he pushed her to the edge of her patience.
There had to be a mistake, she told herself. The school had to be wrong in accusing Jemma. But why, why would the administration of the school that had already admitted Jemma had never been in trouble suddenly believe she could be at the center of this 'altercation'. Unless…unless she actually was…
Disbelief turned to anger. Why would Jemma do something so…so…un-Jemma? Why would she suddenly, out of the blue break a rule she absolutely knew would result in such serious consequences? Fighting, no, physical altercation, of any kind at the twins' school meant a three day suspension. The fact that it would also be part of Jemma's permanent pristine record would devastate the little girl. It would be like a scar she could not cover or erase.
Anger melted into sympathy for her daughter that in a moment of anger, over what was still to be determined, made a dreadful mistake. It had to be a mistake. Jemma just wouldn't. Melinda pulled into the parking lot picturing her daughter sobbing her heart out seated alone on a bench outside the dean's office. She stepped into the lot and hurried toward the door, berating herself for taking as long as she did to get here.
xx
Melinda checked in at the receptionist office and clipped a visitor's badge to her jacket before making her way down the carpeted hallway toward the Dean's office. She stepped in front of the Dean's secretary finding it unnecessary to introduce herself. Both women knew her on sight having dealt with young Fitz on more occasions than they could count. The young woman who called her stood and approached with an outstretched hand. Melinda took it. Karen squeezed gently and offered a sympathetic smile.
"Right this way, Mrs. Coulson. Dean Matthews is waiting for you." The girl urged calmly as she pushed open a large wooden door.
The short hallway between the offices was well lit and had a long wooden bench on one side with a giant fireplace on the other. Jemma sat alone at the far end of the bench, her brows set in a dreadful scowl, arms crossed over her chest and one foot swinging back and forth like a clock wound a bit too tightly while the other ground into the floor. It was certainly not the Jemma Melinda pictured. Before she could approach her daughter the door on the opposite wall opened and the dean stepped out to greet her. The man might be considered intimidating due to his large frame, but the perpetual smile on his mustached face betrayed his attempt at playing up the authoritarian version of his title.
"Mrs. Coulson," he grinned, taking her hand into his. "Please, please come in. I'm so sorry we had to have you come all the way out here this afternoon, but I'm sure we can resolve this matter quickly." He stepped aside and swung an arm toward his office motioning her inside. "Jemma?" He spoke to the little girl on the bench. "Please join us." He smiled at her and kept his arm out until Jemma rose and walked slowly into the large office behind her mother.
Dean Matthews closed the door and walked around his desk inviting Melinda to be seated in one of the large leather chairs that faced it, before sitting down himself. The man looked to the little girl who still held her arms across her chest and stared out the window behind the desk, thereby avoiding any eye contact with the other occupants of the room.
"Please, Jemma, sit down and relax." He smiled at the girl as he nodded toward a second chair before his desk.
Jemma sat on the very edge of the large wing-backed and let out a short breath. Melinda stared at the child as if she were a stranger, some child she'd never met and found completely belligerent. She could not believe this was the same little girl she watched walk to the bus stop, laughing at some silly joke her brother was telling about a monkey, only a few hours ago. She could not imagine what could have happened to change her daughter into the dark brooding little person that sat a few feet from her.
"As you know, Mrs. Coulson," the Dean began, taking Melinda's attention away from Jemma. He smiled broadly when she looked directly at him. "We seem to have had a little misunderstanding this afternoon and I'm hoping you can help us sort it out."
Jemma narrowed her eyes at the dean's description of the situation. She understood perfectly what had happened and right now she was angry. Jemma Simmons had not been angry in a very long time. She really never let herself get angry, not like this…not since, well…not for a long time. But right now she was angry and it felt good and she was going to stay angry because…because the situation called for it and she was going to answer until it stopped calling and that meant she had no intention of answering any of Mr. Smiley Dean's questions. She had no intention of looking at him or her mother because all she was going to do right now was hold on to that anger.
The little girl let out a frustrated breath that caused both adults to pause and stare at her expecting some sort of comment that did not come.
The dean started again. "As I said, Mrs. Coulson, I am hoping you can help sort this out because no one seems to be very talkative regarding the matter."
Melinda struggled to maintain her own anger. "What happened, exactly?" She asked the man.
"Jemma?" The dean addressed the student. "Would you like to give us your deposition on what occurred earlier?"
Jemma let out a small huff and turned even farther to the left and away from the adults. She bit the inside of her bottom lip and tapped one foot defiantly. Melinda grit her teeth at the Dean's choice of words, speaking to a ten year old as if she were being interrogated by legal authorities.
After waiting a few moments the Dean cleared his throat and continued. "Well, let me see if I can piece together as much as we've been able to determine." He folded his hands in front of him and addressed Melinda. "It seems Jemma and two other students were at odds about something upon arrival this morning and the bickering continued through a.m. classes then into lunch period. My understanding is that it came to a head in the commons during afternoon break. Jemma took it upon herself to silence the others with physical force."
Melinda looked at the back of her daughter's head and shook her own in disbelief. "Let me get this straight," she sighed. "Jemma hit someone, actually struck another child?"
Again Jemma let out a huff as the Dean shook his head. "No, no, Mrs. Coulson, absolutely not, Jemma did not raise a hand to anyone."
Melinda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then how, may I ask, do you consider this a physical altercation?" Her patience was waning.
"It seems one of the other students was forcibly knocked to the ground." He explained. "The second landed on one of the aesthetic structures in the yard and a third, who came to assist the others, was thrust into a row of rhododendron."
Melinda raised one eyebrow. "So you're saying they were pushed." She attempted to clarify the man's statement.
"For lack of a better description, yes, I believe they were pushed, quiet heartily pushed." Dean Matthew agreed.
"And Jemma did this pushing?" Melinda leaned forward a little and cocked her head to one side.
"I assure you, Mrs. Coulson, that is the only thing that all parties involved were willing to state, including young Jemma." He nodded toward the girl who still stared out of the window. "What no one seems to care to share is why this entire situation took place or how it originated. Believe me I have spoken to all parties at length and not one is willing to make a statement."
"And the others were not seriously hurt?" Melinda inquired.
The Dean shook his head. "A few bumps and scratches and from what I ascertained a lot of humiliation, but no, no one was injured."
Melinda breathed again and looked to her daughter. "Jemma, I think you owe the Dean an explanation. Please, turn around and talk to us." She spoke calmly but her voice was firm.
Jemma narrowed her eyes as she stared at a large pine tree on the far end of the school campus. It was her focal point. Staring at it kept her concentration as she basked in the heat of her anger, refusing to let it dissipate. Now, even with her mother's voice still echoing in her ear she refused to turn toward the adults. She shook her head slowly, refusing even to speak her reply.
"Jemma?" Melinda spoke again, the warning eminent in the way she said her daughter's name.
The little girl pulled her arms tighter across her chest and bounced herself further to the left.
Before Melinda could speak again the dean interrupted. "We haven't been able to get much more out of her or the others, I'm afraid." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do have to suspend Jemma for the next three days according to school policy. I also must insist that she see the school counselor before returning, unless of course you'd like to see a private therapist in which case I will need documentation to verify the visit." Dean Matthews began wrapping up their attempt to solve this mystery. "Jemma," he turned toward the girl. "Mrs. Eberly will accompany you to your locker to secure what you feel is necessary to take with you. She will remain with you in the foyer until your mother meets you there." He pressed a button on his desk and a few seconds later an older woman opened the door and motioned for Jemma to accompany her. The girl complied without turning toward the dean or her mother.
Melinda rose as Jemma exited with the secretary. "I am truly sorry for whatever it is that happened, Dean Matthews." Melinda offered. "But I am sure there is a good explanation which I assure I intend to get to the bottom of once Jemma is not so very angry. In all honestly, I have never seen her like this."
The Dean stood as well and walked around his desk to accompany Melinda to the door. "We have never seen it either, but as I said no one was hurt so perhaps we should consider ourselves lucky." He paused and chuckled. "I do have to admit I was positive I'd be having this suspension conversation with you eventually but I honestly believe we would be discussing Leopold. I never expected Jemma to be seated in my office like this."
They stopped at the door. "That makes two of us, Dean Matthews." She reached out a hand and he shook it lightly. "I will contact you if…" she paused and thought again, "when I find out exactly what happened."
xx
Jemma stormed out of the school in front of her mother just far enough to be able to hear her footsteps on the pavement. It wasn't hard to find the black SUV in the visitor's parking lot. She marched to the back door and waited to hear the click of her mother unlocking the doors with the remote she held in one hand. The girl pulled it opened and threw backpack across the seat before slamming herself into the same and jamming the seatbelt into its lock. She pulled the door with all her might but failed to make it slam the way she intended. Once again she bounced her arms across her chest and stared out the window at the red brick wall that lined the small parking area.
Melinda closed her eyes and let out a long breath. If this was the beginning of puberty she was all for having her children put into stasis until their twenty first birthdays. What the hell could have gotten into Jemma that would make her toss not one, but three other children to the ground? Right now Melinda couldn't sort out her own emotions let alone try to make sense of her daughter's. She rounded the car, got inside and started the engine.
The drive home was deafeningly quiet. Melinda had already decided Jemma would have to make the first move. She would not force the girl to speak or chastise her for her feelings. Melinda would just wait it out. How to convince Phil to do the same was not going to be so easy. She drove in silence forcing her brain to think 'normal' thoughts, like what to have for supper and whether to pick up Skye at preschool before heading home. She peaked into the rear view mirror at varying intervals but Jemma remained in the same position staring out the window as the world spend past her. Melinda noticed the girl's breathing had not relaxed and her arms were still tight across her chest, both hands balled into white knuckled fists. Nope, Jemma didn't hit anyone but Melinda was sure she wanted to do just that. She flipped her dashboard phone on and quickly called Elena to pick up Skye then made a second call to the preschool to let them know there'd be an alternate pick up today. After which the hum of the car's engine was the only sound.
Melinda pulled into the driveway and barely had the key out of the ignition before Jemma was out of the car, this time able to use all of her strength to slam the car door as hard as she could. By the time Melinda walked around the vehicle her daughter was standing at the back door, back pack slung over one shoulder and those damn arms still across her chest. Melinda was starting to wonder if maybe someone had bound them there. She took a deep breath and walked calmly across the driveway, the patio, the stairs and the deck before stepping around her taciturn child to unlock the door.
As soon as Melinda turned the knob, Jemma pushed past her and marched into the kitchen dropping her pack just inside. As she moved she slid her jacket off her shoulders and slung it over the closest chair. The girl took a few steps, stopped when she heard her mother close the back door softly. She let out a disgusted sigh and finally let her arms fall to her sides unwilling to admit the ache in each from holding them in one position so tightly for so long.
Melinda dropped her keys onto one of the small hooks next to the door and slid her arms out of her coat then folded it over her arms and again stared at the back of her child's head. She watched Jemma's shoulders rise and fall with her heated breathing until they began to slow to a normal rhythm and finally fall indicating the child was either about to bolt or finally speak.
"Are you going to punish me now?" Jemma's voice was low and spoken with a bite.
Melinda shook her head and took a step toward the girl, stopping when she saw her body tense. "No, Jemma, no sweetheart, but I think we should talk. Don't you?" Her voice was soft and understanding.
Jemma's head dropped for a moment and Melinda felt she had broken through the anger. "Then I'll be in my room when you are ready." Before Melinda could answer, the girl stormed out of the room, down the hall and up the stairs.
As expected…she slammed her bedroom door with vigor.
xx
Fitz flew through the back door, tossing his backpack on the kitchen table and bellowing for his mother while squirming out of his jacket. He pulled one arm free and struggled with the other as he wandered down the hall continuing his shouting. Opening the hall closet he tossed his jacket inside then kicked off his shoes sending both into the dark of the large wardrobe. Kicking his coat away from preventing the door's closing he grabbed the knob and pushed the large wooden panel inward.
"Mo…" the boy yelled toward the stairs but stopped flat when Melinda appeared behind the half open door. Fitz jumped at the sight, then smiled up at her. "Mom," he greeted her.
Melinda let out a frustrated breath as she opened the door and nodded toward her son's jacket on the closet floor. He looked at it, then back to her, then back to it before he making an 'oh yeah' face and snatching it up to a hook Phil had fastened on the inner wall so the kids could hang their belongings without jumping or climbing to reach hangers.
Giving her son a nod of approval, Melinda sighed. "What is all the shouting about, Fitz?"
"Mom," Fitz exhaled with both hands outstretched. "Mom, you will not believe it." He actually hopped around her heading back toward the kitchen. The boy walked backward speaking to his mother, more animated than she'd seen him in longer than she could remember. "Mom, they said Jemma blasted some older girls in the commons and she gave it to one of the guys as well. Jemma, Mom, Jemma. It's all over school how she let them have it then got herself dragged off to the headmaster's office. Can you believe it, Mom? Jemma! Who would think she'd ever…" He stopped, finally noticing the look on his mother's face. The little boy stood next to the table and traced the pattern in the wood with one finger. "You know don't you?" He knew it was a rhetorical question, of course she knew. But, holy hell…Jemma!
Fitz moved to look past his mother on one side and then the other. "So where is she? Did the headmaster call you to his office? Was he totally beside himself? What did she say? Oh, bloody hell did give her a grand smacking?" He stopped realizing what he'd said and slapped a hand over his mouth.
Melinda raised one eyebrow and crooked a finger at the little boy, beckoning him to her. Fitz swallowed hard and took a tentative step. "I'm sorry, mom, it slipped. I was just so flabbergasted that Jemma would do such a thing. I didn't mean it, really." He tried explaining with each additional step, stopping directly in front of her and looking up with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster.
Melinda probably would have chuckled if it weren't for the situation. She placed her hands on Fitz's shoulders and shook her head. "You know we've talked about the language over and over, don't you?" The little boy nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor. Melinda shook her head.
"Jemma is in her room. Yes, I spoke to Dean Matthews and no, he was not overly upset. Jemma said nothing." She put two fingers under his chin and lifted his head to look him in the eye. "I haven't yet decided what to do about your sister and you owe me one half hour in your room…no computer."
Fitz let out a fluttery breath and frowned before attempting one reprieve. "But…"
His mother held up a finger. "Half an hour, Leopold," she stepped aside and pointed down the hall.
She never called him that unless she was totally serious. The little boy scrunched up his face in defeat and took a step in that direction, helped along with a quick but gentle swat on the backside. It hurried him along as he dashed down the hall and up the stairs. Melinda waited until she heard the sound of his door closing.
Before she had a chance to take a breath and recover from this situation the back door opened as Elena entered carrying a distraught Skye. The little girl rested her head on the woman's shoulder, her body hung limp against Elena. Melinda looked to the ceiling and blew a breath up over her nose.
"You see, I told you. Here is momma, now." Elena spoke to the little girl's ear.
Skye's head popped up as she turned toward Melinda. "Momma!" she squealed as she reached out with both arms.
Melinda gathered her baby into her arms and held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. "Wèishéme nǐ fēicháng shāngxīn, wǒ de bǎobèi?" She whispered into Skye's hair while smiling at Elena.
"I misted you, momma. I maked you a neck-a-liss to put on you fer suprice but you no comed a me." The little girl's lip formed a fine pout earning a smile from her mother as well as Elena.
"She was one pequeño campista infeliz when I came to the door." Elena smiled as she set Skye's bag on the nearest chair.
Melinda kissed her baby a second time and squeezed her tighter. "I would love to wear the necklace you made, bao bei. I'm sorry I didn't pick you up but Jemma needed momma today."
Skye leaned back and looked into her mother's face. "Her bees sick and haves a tempachur?" She asked with concern.
Not missing the look of concern on Elena's face, Melinda stood Skye on one of the chairs and tugged off her coat. The little girl immediately spun around and plunked down on the seat. "Daddy buyed me barown appo jews, lasterday. I have some witch crackos?"
Elena furrowed her brow. "Galletas de bruja?" She stage whispered to her friend.
Smiling at how easily Skye's problem was solved and her mangled use of language, Melinda nodded at Elena as she pulled a jug of apple cider from the refrigerator. Elena pulled a small cup from the cupboard and set it on the table, still waiting for a translation. Melinda reached into a cabinet next to the fridge and pulled out a box of Ritz™ Crackers, shaking them over her head before turning back to the table. Elena nodded her understanding as Melinda counted out six crackers with Skye's help. The little girl smiled up at her mother before biting into one of the bumpy round treats. She chewed for a moment before speaking.
"I leebed you neck-a-liss in mine cubby cuz you no comed a me. Onna morrow I put it on you fer you wear a woreck." She swallowed once then picked up her cider and took a small sip. "Daddy sayed this bees appo spider." She peered into the cup for a few seconds then scrunched up her face and shook her head. "I no like a spider in my jews." She looked at Melinda and laughed. "Daddy bees a silly." She picked up another cracker and munched happily.
Melinda turned to her friend and shook her head. Elena smiled. "Problems with Jemma?" she asked quietly. Melinda gave a quick nod.
"I'm not even sure what the problem is, but she's been suspended from school for the next three days for causing a physical altercation." Melinda exhaled, using the dean's words to describe the incident.
"Jemma estabe golpeando a alguien?" Elena was appalled to think her little friend would strike someone.
"Pushing, is what the dean called it." Melinda explained with a roll of her eyes.
"Why would she…" Elena started.
"I have no idea." Melinda sighed as she moved Skye's cup out of the 'spill zone'. "She's only said about a dozen words since it happened." She shook her head. "She's been in her room since I got her home." She answered her friend's next question before it was asked.
"What will you do?" Elena wondered out loud.
Shaking her head, Melinda replied, "I thought if I gave her some time and space she'd come to me, but I don't think that's worked too well. I'm hoping Phil has some ideas when he gets home."
Before Elena could respond, both women turned toward the sound of a loud thump from the second floor. It was followed by a crash and then a strangled wail. Melinda was on her way toward the disturbance before Elena could react. She moved to follow then realized leaving Skye to her own devices would not be wise…beside, Melinda had enough to deal with at the moment.
xx
Fitz sat in the middle of the hallway floor with both hands to the back of his head. He blinked away tears as he rocked back and forth and bounced one sock clad foot against the carpet.
Melinda hurried to him then helped him to stand.
"She pushed me!" He exclaimed almost in shock. "I knocked first and she opened the door and just shoved me like I was an unwanted suitor! Knocked my head against that blasted table and upset the little figure there." Fitz pointed toward the broken knick knack on the floor. "I'm sorry, mom, I didn't mean to break it."
Melinda turned the boy around, moved his hands and spread his curls to examine the bruise on his head. "I think you'll live." She spun him to face her. "But a little ice won't hurt and I thought I told you to stay in your room."
Fitz rubbed his head and winced at the dull pain. "You said one half hour. It was up ten minutes ago." He smiled then looked at his sister's closed door. "What has her knickers all in a twist, then? I just wanted to find out what happened."
Melinda let out a sigh, put an arm around his shoulders and led him toward the stairs. "I'd like to know that myself, Fitz, but I think we just have to give her a little more time?"
"Give her time?" Fitz squeaked as he stopped before stepping down the first step. He turned to his mother, eyes wide with exasperation. "If I'd done such a daft thing you'd whack my bahoochie but good!"
Melinda smiled as she turned from the step she had stopped on and pulled her little boy into a hug and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry, bao bao. You're probably right, but you also wouldn't clam up like your sister and refuse to tell me what happened. I can't punish her when I don't know what she's done."
He pulled back and looked up at her for a moment then pointed to his head. "Well, you know she knocked my head off the floor for practically nothing."
"So you think I should march in there and give her a few swats?" Melinda took a step toward her daughter's room only to have her son grab her hand.
"No, no…I just…well, you know Jemma. She just needs to think things over a bit before she's ready to talk about it." He stopped and drew a breath through his teeth then put a hand to his head. "I think I really need that ice, mom." He pulled her toward the stairs.
Melinda nodded and followed her little boy, knowing he would put himself in front of her door to protect his sister.
xx
Jemma slammed her door for the second time since she'd gotten home then leaned against it and slid to the floor covering her face with both hands. The little girl sat in the gathering gloom fighting the exhaustion her anger had wrought. She hadn't realized how much energy it took to hold on to being so totally enraged. Tears streamed down her cheeks no matter how hard she tried to stop them. The little girl told herself they were angry tears, furious tears. She pictured those two girls pointing at her and giggling into their hands. Their cruel comments played over and over in her head. She recalled their smug grins right before she blasted Stephanie to the ground and shoved Camilla into that dumb statue before she had a chance to react. The little girl almost smiled with the satisfaction of knocking Brandon on his arse in the shrubbery. It was all worth it and they deserved it and she'd do it again because all that anger just felt powerful and Jemma was tired of feeling weak and afraid.
She was pretty sure she was in for some serious punishment. Mom had only smacked her once but she figured that record was about to be broken and when she heard the light tap on the door she truly expected her mother to enter not Fitz all bubbly with his questions and accusations. He made her angry all over and she shoved him hard.
Leaning right here on the other side of the door she heard him wail and sniffle a few times before mom came to his rescue. She knew she hurt him, but she never intended to do that. She was just so angry and maybe being angry wasn't such a great thing. She hurt her brother and wondered if he was bleeding or perhaps sustained a concussion. Part of her wanted to race downstairs to be sure he was okay and the rest just wanted to sit here and cry.
xx
By the time Phil arrived home, Elena had departed with the promise to call tomorrow to check on everyone. Trip had carried Skye and dragged Fitz to Gram's apartment for supper and an evening of board games with his little brother while Skye was allowed to hold Mrs. Triplett's large docile and very tolerant yellow tabby, Spunk. Skye fractured that into skunk, making Trip glad the animal looked more like a small tiger. The little girl was also fascinated with Gram's collection of dolls with 'baroun skin juss like a Terrip'. Grandma Triplett was happy to keep the little ones promising to have them back by bedtime, while Phil and Melinda dealt with the serious situation together.
The couple sat together at the table sharing a light dinner while Melinda gave her husband a review of what had occurred since lunch that day. Jemma refused any supper including the small sandwich Melinda left on a try outside her door.
"You have no idea what started this?" Phil asked again.
Melinda shook her head and sipped her tea. "I hoped she would have come to me by now, but I don't think that is going to happen. I can't imagine what would make Jemma so angry she would stay that way so long."
Phil swallowed the last bite of his dinner and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Three days," he shook his head. "Suspended for three days?"
"And she has to see a counselor before she can return." Melinda added. "I called Dr. McGreevy. She can see her tomorrow afternoon." She let out a long breath. "I don't even know if it's worth the trip. She won't say a word, won't even look at me."
Phil stood and walked to the counter, poured himself a cup of coffee and returned to his seat. "How 'bout Fitz, he's okay?" He asked as he stirred cream and sugar into his cup.
"His pride was hurt more than anything. Trip's pretty concerned. He thinks she acted in self defense and he's ready to take on whoever to make sure they never put her in that position again. I had to talk him down for about twenty minutes. Skye thinks she has a 'temp-a-chur' so I let her."
The man nodded as he sipped the hot liquid from his mug. "I can just imagine the tales she'd tell tomorrow."
Melinda sighed. "I guess we're lucky she speaks some wacky combination of English and Skye lingo. There aren't many who understand her." She let out a weak laugh as Phil reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She stared at his strong fingers intertwined with her own and sighed. "Remember the break through in Sheffield when she finally opened up to us after trashing the garden shed." She looked up at him and waited for his reply.
Phil rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "Took six stitches to close that gash on her palm," he remembered.
"You didn't see her that day, Phil. She was so angry." Melinda shook her head.
"She was consumed with grief, Mel. It was part of the process." He reminded her.
Melinda looked away for a moment. "What if she's still grieving, Phil? She lost her parents in such a tragedy. How does a child ever get past that? We think she is our easy kid, that she never has a problem or gives us one, but what if it's all just Jemma holding everything in, pretending everything is fine when she's tearing apart inside and we just never noticed with all of Skye's dilemma's and Fitz's antics. She's just a little girl, Phil and she's so very mature that I forget sometimes."
"Mel," he squeezed her hand tighter. "Don't think like that. You're right, she's a little girl not an operative trained to keep emotions buried from everyone around her. If Jemma had a problem I'm sure you would notice." He assured her with a small smile.
"What about the eating, Phil? Look how long it took us to figure that out." She sighed.
"But we did and we fixed it," he smiled again. "We'll get to the bottom of this as well. Horses, Mel, remember horses."
She looked at him with knitted brows. "Horses?"
Phil chuckled. "I recall Dr. Stephens telling you more than once to look for horses when you hear hoof beats, not zebras."
Melinda quirked up one side of her face and shook her head. "In this house, it's always zebras or buffalo or reindeer or even unicorns." She scoffed. "When is anything ever simple around here? Damn it, Phil, a milk spill can set off hours of hysteria and a damn little fuzz ball animal moving to the zoo can mean a month of nightmares. How is any of that simple?"
"Hey," he stood and moved next to her pulling her into a tight hug. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy. We've got a houseful of kids with all kinds of monsters in their closets, under their beds and behind every shadow. All we can do is keep turning on the lights and chasing 'em out of town. Look how far they've come."
For a moment Melinda basked in the warmth and safety of his embrace, breathing in the smell of his cologne and listening to the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear. "I wouldn't change it for a thing, Phil. I just hate to see any of them in such pain knowing I could have…should have prevented it."
He kissed the top of her head. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it." He felt her nod against him. "And I think we've given her enough time to come to us. It's time we faced this head on."
xx
Phil tapped on his daughter's door. "Jemma, your mother and I would like you to come down to my office. We need to talk about this." He waited a few moments for the little girl to reply. "Jemma," he tapped again, a little harder. "That's not a request, princess. We'll give you a few minutes, but sweetie if I have to come up here again I will carry you down." Again he waited and heard nothing. "Okay, Jemma, three minutes." He let out a deep breath and walked away from the door.
Melinda stood at the window of Phil's office staring at the soft light of sunset in the west. She turned as her husband entered immediately frowning when she realized he was alone. He held up a hand before she spoke.
"I gave her three minutes." He looked at his watch. "She has two and change to make up her mind."
"And then?" Melinda pressed.
"He would carry me to his office." Jemma's soft voice came from the doorway. Phil and Melinda turned toward it.
Gone was the tense, furious child Melinda had driven home hours before. She smiled at her little girl and hurried to gather her in the hug she'd been saving. Jemma did not hug back but did not pull away.
"I'm sorry about Fitz." She spoke from inside her mother's embrace. "I never meant to hurt him."
"I know, bao bei," Melinda whispered to her. She stepped back and smiled at the little girl. "Do you think we can talk about what happened now?"
"I'm not sure I can." Jemma whispered back. "I'm not sure I won't feel all that anger come flooding right back. I don't think I can control it."
"We'll be right here," Melinda assured her.
Phil stepped behind his daughter and put an arm around her. "We'll take it slow and if it gets too much we'll just stop. How's that?"
Jemma looked back at him and gave a small nod.
Melinda helped her daughter to one of the chairs that faced Phil's desk while he lowered himself to a small table next to it. Both waited for Jemma to speak.
"I'm so sorry, momma. I didn't want all of this to happen but I was so very angry." She began, looking to her fingers rather than her parents. She picked at a small hangnail on one finger.
Melinda covered Jemma's hand with her own. "We know you were angry, bao bei. We don't understand why. What was so terrible?"
Jemma shook her head and shivered slightly. "They just would not stop. They were so horrid, not just to me but to everyone." She brushed a tear from her cheek and took a breath.
"Who, Jemma?" Melinda encouraged. Phil reached out and squeezed the little girl's hand.
"Stephanie and Camilla," Jemma's voice cracked with emotion as her hands pulled into tight fists. "They said horrid things and then they'd just laugh. They would mimic my way of speaking and say…" she hesitated, looking from one parent to the other. "They'd say I didn't belong to you, that I was a little orphan Annie and that you…you just collected thrown away children because you couldn't have your own." She drew a deep breath and thumped one fist on the arm of the chair. Melinda covered it with her hand and patted it gently. "Camilla said no one would ever believe you were my mom. She said you weren't like us." She spoke directly to Melinda. "She told all the other kids it was stupid for an Asia woman to masquerade as a parent to little Limey." Her lip quivered as she spoke but she held back her tears.
Melinda pulled her into a hug, but Jemma shook it off. She glared at her mother with tear filled eyes. Phil ran a hand along the girl's back but she stood and faced both her parents, anger brewing once again. "They are so cruel…I…I'm not sorry, momma, I'm sorry I'm not sorry."
Melinda caught her wrist before she could run. "Jemma you should have come to us, let us help." She reached up and gently tucked a stray hair behind the girl's ear.
"No, no, I couldn't, I couldn't," Jemma shook her head as she struggled to free her hand from her mother's grip. "They said…he said…said he'd hurt Fitz. He said Fitz was nothing but a cry baby and he'd make him cry loud enough for the whole academy to hear."
"Who, Jemma, who said he'd hurt Fitz?" Phil felt his own anger start to boil.
"Brandon….Camilla's boyfriend…he said he'd hurt him and that our Neanderthal brother would be able to do nothing." She looked at Melinda and then to Phil and back as tears fell freely. "He meant Trip, momma. He said Trip was nothing but a mindless hulk and he couldn't protect us at all. He said security wouldn't let people like him on campus unless he was caged." The little girl pushed her mother's attempts to comfort away with her free hand. "No…no, it…I…everything just made me so very angry. If mummy and daddy hadn't gone on that dreadful plane none of this would have ever happened…I couldn't stop anything.
Melinda tried to shush her child not seeing how the altercation with school bullies had pushed Jemma to the anger she felt over her parents' deaths, yet at the same time she understood the little girl's pain. "Jemma, bao bei, it's alright. There was nothing you could do about any of it." She looked to Phil who seemed just as baffled…just as helpless in this trauma.
"Maybe, I should call Maura," he suggested softly. Melinda shook her head. Hopefully they could resolve this without the need to sedate their child.
"Stephanie said…she said Skye was mentally deficient and should be locked away in an institute before she turned into some inhuman creature that would be a hazard to every normal person. She said her real parents were probably drug dependent morons or some kind of dreadful monsters who left her for dead because they had no idea what she was." Jemma took a deep breath after sobbing all of that at once. She looked at her mother and tried desperately to hold back her emotions. "Oh, momma, how could she be so very cruel to our baby…our sweet baby, momma…why?"
Again, Melinda tried to pull the little girl to her bosom, to comfort and hold her until she could banish all of the pain Jemma had taken on herself. But the little girl would have none of it. "If I stayed in Sheffield, none of this would happened. If they didn't go on that trip they'd be there and I would have my parents and not have to worry about hurting any of you because I…I…"
"Jemma, princess, listen to me," Phil dropped to his knees in front of the little girl and held her upper arms in a firm, but gentle grasp. "You did nothing to deserve this."
Jemma struggled against his hold and shook her head. "I did…I did…on family weekend…I did, Da. I did. I…bested them in the science exhibit. They…they always took first prize, every year until I ruined everything for them. They hate me and all of you because you brought me here. You brought me here because my parents left me and I hate them…I hate them for dying and leaving me…for making me a burden to everyone."
"Jemma!" Melinda took a firmer stand. "You have never been a burden. You are part of this family and we love you very much." Again Melinda failed to comprehend how the child was leaping from one concept to the other or even how she was linking both together.
Struggling to now escape the hold of both parents, Jemma cried harder. "You would not have to love me if all of this just didn't happen."
"We don't love you because we have to, Jemma." Phil assured her attempting to hold on without hurting her at the same time. He pulled her to his chest and wrapped both arms around her, keeping her tightly to him despite her struggle to escape. "We love you Jemma, we won't let go. We're sorry all of this happened but we will make it right, all of it." He spoke to his wife with only his eyes, letting her know as well that this was something they would get through. Melinda tried and failed to hold back her own tears as she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him cocooning Jemma's trembling form between them.
For as valiant as the little girl struggled she was no match for her parents and their determination to convince her of their compassion and understanding. Her cries became hysterical before she gave in to the comfort they offered and slowly returned her father's embrace. Phil let out the breath he held, allowing himself to relax into his little girl's hug. Melinda did the same as the three of them melted to the floor and rested against Phil's large desk. He held Jemma on his lap, still pressed against his chest while Melinda rested her head on his shoulder and her arm around her little girl.
"I'm so sorry," Jemma hiccoughed between sobs and small gasps for breath.
"Shhh," Melinda shushed her. "Shhh, bao bei, just relax, quiet…breath slowly, don't talk right now."
"But," Jemma tried again. Melinda put a finger over the little girl's lips as Phil kissed the top of her head.
"We all need to take a breath," He spoke softly.
Jemma closed her eyes and nodded against Phil's chest. She listened to the gentle sound of his heart beating and felt his chest rise and fall with his easy deep breaths. Melinda was pressed close to her side so that she felt her mother's breathing as well. Jemma found the pattern in her parents' respiration and slowly brought hers to match theirs, taking slow deep breaths and exhaling just as slowly. The three sat that way for what seemed like an hour before any dared to break the silence.
Melinda smiled down at her little girl and bent to kiss her forehead. "Those girls and their friend are bullies, Jemma. They are the problem not you or your family and definitely not your parents. They need to feel powerful and they do that by making you and probably others feel weak."
Phil nodded as he hugged her tighter. "Giving in to their taunting and striking out is normal, princess but it just fuels their fire. They wouldn't say a word because they want you to take all the blame, to feel like you've wronged them. There are times when we need to fight for what we believe, Jemma, but it isn't always with our fists or by shoving our problems to the ground."
Jemma nodded, but didn't really understand. "Then how do I make them stop?"
"We make them stop, Jemma. This isn't something you can do all by yourself. We talk to the dean and to their parents and we let everyone we can know exactly what is going on. We take away their power." Melinda explained.
"How?" Jemma sniffled.
"First, you promise to tell us every time any of them or anyone ever threatens you in any way." Phil squeezed her to his chest and kissed her head again.
"And we talk about everything. I know that words hurt, bao bei, but just because these girls are bigger than you or snottier," Melinda raised her brows at Phil. What other term could she use? "It doesn't make what they say true. Fitz has a lot of things he is working through and crying does not make him weak. Trip is big and strong and sweet and loving. He loves you very much and there is probably no one that could keep him from protecting any of you."
"If ole Trip gets on that campus, Brandon better be the one in a cage if he knows what's good for him." Phil jested, earning the first attempt at a smile from his little girl.
Melinda smiled as well. "And Skye…she's fine, Jemma. She is bright and eager and just wants to be part of everything. We all help her everyday and although she is a little slower at all the things most kids her age are doing, she will catch up. Remember she didn't have a mum like you did to teach her all the wonderful things you know…but she has you and Fitz and Trip to show her so much now. She's tiny and funny and a bundle of energy, but you will see that she'll be a power house all on her own some day. Just like you." Melinda tapped one finger on her daughter's chest.
"You have to know those things in your heart and hold on to them with all your might. You can't let anyone shake them or make you feel anything else. You have to know that your mom and I and your brothers and sister will always be here for you, no matter what." Phil smiled down at the child in his lap.
Jemma let out a breath and snuggled into Phil's embrace. She looked up at Melinda and chewed her lip. "I don't hate them…my parents, I mean. I just get so angry sometimes because they left me, because everything changed and got so hard. I'm sorry, I said those things. I did not mean to hurt you or make you feel badly."
Melinda shifted and pulled the little girl into her arms then leaned both of them into Phil. "It's okay to be angry, Jemma. We understand and even being angry at your parents is normal. You won't always feel that way, but you can't keep everything all bottled up inside. You need to come to us when you feel bad or you have a problem. We will listen, we will talk and we'll find an answer."
"But, I don't want to be a burden." The little girl sighed.
"Never," Phil assured her. "You are never a burden, princess."
Again the room fell silent for a few moments. Jemma took a very deep breath and let it out. "Are you going to punish me. I certainly did cause a lot of difficulties and truly deserve it."
Phil and Melinda exchanged glances. He shrugged as she rolled her eyes. "I suppose there will be some consequences for your actions." Melinda replied. "Da and I will have to discuss it a little bit."
Jemma frowned and shook her head. "I think I would sleep a lot better tonight not having to worry about what might happen tomorrow. If you're going to tan my bum, I'd rather have it done now than to spend the night in anticipation."
Melinda stifled a laugh and turned her head as Phil replied. "I think we can take bum tanning off the table. What'd ya say, mom?"
"I think in this case it is officially ruled out, although I believe Fitz is going to put up a cry of preferential treatment. But, we'll pacific him." Melinda chuckled.
Phil turned to meet his daughter's gaze. "What you did today was not something to take on by yourself, Jemma." He furrowed brow. His tone became firm and serious. "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again, because if you do, tan will be the least likely color your bum will sport, understood?" At her wide eyed quick nod he smiled and added. "We love you Jemma, we will always be here for you." He pulled her and Melinda into a tight hug then kissed them both.
xx
Melinda, Phil and Jemma emerged from the office almost tiptoeing into the quiet of their home. Melinda let her head drop back and sighed, looking at the time. It was already after nine and getting Skye and Fitz from Gram's apartment then into the tub and settled enough to sleep would take the better part of an hour. They'd both be up well after ten and be grumpy trolls when she had to roust them from bed before seven the next morning. A slight sound from the kitchen caught everyone's attention.
In the soft glow of the range hood light she could just make out Trip, seated at the table with a text book and paper spread before him. She flicked on the overhead light causing the boy to jump in surprise.
"You're going to ruin your eyes," she grinned as Phil and Jemma stepped around her.
Phil looked around expecting to find the other two into something they shouldn't be in the overwhelming quiet of the room. "Where's Pinky and the Brain?" He joked, earning a giggle from Jemma.
Trip set down his pencil and grinned. "Put them to bed about an hour ago. Just checked on 'em too, they're both down for the count." He beamed with pride.
"Both of them?" Melinda was shocked.
"I'm impressed." Phil smiled, giving the boy a thumb's up.
"Well, gram helped. You know Skye and all that 'unnerwears' stuff. Wouldn't let me even run the bath water." He chuckled at his little sister's insistence he never see her underwear but had no problem streaking from the bath to her bedroom in plain view.
"You bathed them too!?" Melinda was almost flabbergasted. The boy merely shrugged.
"Fitz put up a fight, but finally gave in. He held out the longest but like I said, he's out cold now." The boy stood and carried the empty glass, he held, from the table to the sink. "Gram sang a couple church songs to Skye and she was out too." He smiled with a distant memory. "Used to put me out when I was that little." He turned back toward his parents. "She was going to just keep them for the night but thought it would be a little hard with all the morning stuff and school and all." He shrugged again and nodded toward the table. "I still have a little algebra to finish. Wasn't easy getting homework done and playing referee at the same time, so I saved math for last."
"Need some help?" Jemma offered.
"Only two more problems and I'm done." He shook his head.
"And I think you've done enough for one day, xiǎo gūniáng. Let's get you tucked in, too." Melinda took Jemma's hand and led her toward the stairs. "Not too long, Trip. You have to get up early tomorrow." He reminded him.
He nodded toward her. "Almost done," he repeated.
Phil waited until he knew his wife and daughter were out of ear shot and sat down next to his son. "Trip you a good man," he smiled as he patted the boy's back. "I'm proud of you."
The boy smiled an embarrassed smile. "No problem, Da…ya know anything about algebra? These last two problems are murder." Phil smiled and gave a quick nod. He turned the book toward him and read through the problems before starting to explain.
Trip cocked an ear and listened as his father explained….
xx
Two days later Brandon Coxton, Stephanie Thornton and Camilla Blake spent more than an hour in the dean's office with their parents and the Coulsons. All three teens were suspended for the week and given written warnings that included mandatory counseling three times per week at least until the end of the school term. The counselor would determine if further sessions were necessary. In addition the trio was to have direct supervision at all times while on campus.
The senior students were also told that their intimidation of younger children could be considered criminal and if in was repeated or continued in any way the local authorities would be involved. The Dean then sentenced them to his version of community service. They would all work as cafeteria aids with the elementary levels for the remainder of the school year.
The following Monday morning Brandon arrived at school sporting a nasty black eye, for which he offered no explanation.
Antoine Triplett was just as tight lipped about the bruises on his knuckles.