Lunchbox
“Hey bud. Don’t be scared,” Dad said to me.
I’d only been to the principal’s office once before. I’m not a bad kid.
“Okay, Daddy. I’m sorry again. I didn’t mean to,” I said.
I didn’t cry again.
“Son, don’t apologize, not to me, and not to that principal in there, you hear me?” Daddy sounded mad, but I don’t think he’s mad at me.
“Okay Daddy. What should I say?”
“You don’t have to say anything. Dad’s got it from here.” He patted my leg. It felt good.
“Sounds good,” I said. I tried to sound certain, just like him.
He smiled at me. “We’ll get that lunchbox back, too, don’t worry.”
I felt myself frown.
“They told me I can’t have a metal lunchbox at school.”
Daddy laughed.
“They told me too,” he said, and my frown went away. “But it’s your favorite thing, and there’s nothing wrong with having a metal lunch box.”
He paused for a moment.
“I have a metal lunchbox. So do the guys I work with. Some people don’t understand that. You know, some people have metal lunch boxes because they eat lunch with danger.”
Daddy made crazy eyes at me and I giggled, like we always did.
“I bet your mom would have used a metal lunch box too,” he said quietly. “If she needed to.”
I thought about it and agreed. It was ok.
“It’s got a dent in it now,” I said. “Right on the corner.”
“No way,” Daddy said.
“Yeah-huh! Oops— yeah-huh. I saw it before they took it!”
Daddy’s mustache smiled at me.
“Really? That kid musta had a metal plate in his head! Damn,” Daddy said kind of loud.
“Dad, don’t say that! We’re in the principal!” He was going to make it worse. Then he laughed again.
“Sorry buddy. You whacked that kid good, didn’t you?”
“Yeah… He was picking on me. I didn’t want to...”
Daddy frowned.
“The same kid as before?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do what we talked about?”
“They were blocking my way!”
I didn’t want to cry again.
Daddy frowned, then he patted my leg.
“Okay buddy. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you your lunchbox back.”
The Principal’s door opened.
“Could you come inside Jack, I’d like to talk about a few things with you privately before we bring your son in.”
“Sure Dr. Reynolds.” Then he squeezed my leg, and left me on the bench in the hallway.
I’m okay.
It won’t be long.
Mrs. Lopez keeps looking at me.
I miss class.
I hope I can get my backpack.
“Your mom wouldn’t—“
Don’t think about that.
“… even if she wanted to.”
It’s okay.
I just was getting water.
And then they got me.
And no one saw.
And they were talking to me.
And then I asked them to stop.
And then they didn’t.
And then…
Lunchbox.
And then I ran away.
I did what Daddy said.