Law breathes heavy, snapping out of whatever trance he’s disappeared into. He stares down at a knocked out and bloody Mr. Sullivan and then back at me. “He swung first.” His words aren’t defensive but more unsure than anything else. Like he doesn’t believe them himself.
I purse my lips, because Law doesn’t have a mark on him. Even if it’s true, the cops aren’t going to believe him. “I have to call an ambulance … and the cops.”
His mouth drops open to protest, but he knows he can’t. “Okay.” Law rolls off Mr. Sullivan and sinks to the floor beside him.
“Is that … Is that my dad?” Davis asks from the doorway. Other students flank him. I should’ve known better than to tell a group of teenagers Don’t look over there!
“Get back in the dojo,” I order, and something about my rigid voice makes them obey me, no questions asked. I never lose my cool with the kids—not even when they hounded me about my sexuality. I stand guard at the bamboo partition between the reception area and the classroom.
Law and I don’t speak as we wait for the cops and ambulance to show up. Mr. Sullivan regains consciousness, mumbles something about faggots, and then closes his eyes again. He hasn’t passed out though. He groans and carries on in pain. His face is purple and swelling more by the minute, and blood drips from his presumably broken nose. Yeah, it’s bad, but he’s acting as if he’s dying. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to milk this for everything it’s worth.
My fears are confirmed when the police walk in and the first thing Mr. Sullivan says is “I want to press charges.”
Fuck.
14
Reed
Brief statements are taken when the police arrive, but because of the class of students in the other room—who I inform the cops saw nothing—the officers tell me to go to the station to make a proper statement after the kids are picked up by their parents.
When Mr. Sullivan is taken out on a stretcher, and handcuffs are slapped on Law’s wrists, I call out to the students. “Let’s go. Back to the bus.”
All I want to do is chase after Law and make sure he’s okay. Surely they’ll see Law was acting in self-defence. Davis’s dad has a restraining order against him. Law was protecting his student. I run what happened over in my mind several times. It’s highly probable that Mr. Sullivan threw the first punch. He’s drunk and a violent person. But with no one there to see it, and the physical damage only on him, Law could be in a lot of trouble.
“Mr. Garvey?” Davis says, and I snap out of my worried trance. “What was my dad doing here?”
The other kids have filed out of the dojo and onto the street. I need to go with them, but I trust them not to do something insanely stupid in the five minutes I need to talk to Davis. “He wanted to see you. We told him he couldn’t because of the restraining order. When I came to grab Law’s phone, your dad tried to attack him. Law defended himself.”
“But why was my dad here? Why did he want to see me?”
“He didn’t say. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should get your hopes up. He was drunk and argumentative. He might’ve been here to yell at you or … I don’t know, try to attack you again.”
Davis nods, but it breaks my heart to see the glimmer of hope still shining in his eyes. Maybe his dad was here to make amends, but we all know statistics aren’t on his side on that one.
I direct Davis and the kids back to the school bus, and as soon as I get there, I grab my phone out of the driver’s side door so I can send a quick text to Brody.
Reed: Need you at Carindale Police Station. ASAP.
My phone pings on the way back to the school, but I force myself not to check it while I’m driving. The parents have gathered in a group by the time we make it back to campus. The clock on the bus dashboard says we’re twenty minutes late. After waiting for the cops and the ambulance and then giving quick statements, I didn’t realise time had slipped away.
Shit.
The kids disperse, no doubt filling the parents in about the day’s events. This whole thing is a mess. There’ll be reports to fill out, parents given an official statement, and a whole lot more other stuff I’m going to have to deal with, but I just don’t have the time now. I’m going to get in trouble for not staying and talking to each parent individually, but there’s a more pressing matter, and I don’t care about the repercussions.