“What’s happening here?” His father shot him a squinty-eyed look before scowling Principal Lopez’s way. “Why is mysonhere?”
“He’s listed as Leif’s secondary guardian, Mr. Knudson.” Mrs. Lopez didn’t bat an eye. “This wasn’t a situation that could wait.”
“They tried to call you.” Dane ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I tried to call you. I tried to find you. I went to the hunting cabin—”
“I was there.” His father cut him off and sat in the chair beside him. He was still scowling as he spoke to the principal. “Leif’s been beaten up? By that Dwyer boy out there? I won’t stand by and do nothing. That sort of behavior isn’t called for—not one bit.”
Dane took a slow, deep breath. “Leif wasn’t the victim here. It was a fight.”
“Oh?” His father perked up. “He was fighting? I hope he gave as good as he got.”
“That’s why we’re here, Dad.” Dane nodded at Principal Lopez. “They broke some things, caused a ruckus.Bothboys are in trouble.”
His father crossed his arms over his chest. “Aren’t there supposed to be teachers watching out for this sort of thing?”
“It started in the locker room, Mr. Knudson—right before the class bell rang. The coaches separated them and the boys assured them it was over. Once they were in the hallway, the fight resumed but it was broken up as soon as possible.” If Principal Lopez was offended over his father’s not-so-subtle accusation, she hid it well.
“Hmm.” His father had gone back to scowling, only this time it was at Dane. “You can go. Whatever decisions need to be made, they’re mine to make.”
Dane didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be Leif’s secondary guardian—hell, he had no business being anyone’s guardian. But his father’s haphazard parenting gave him no choice.
It was Dane who had attended more parent nights, counselor meetings and principal meetings. Through their combined effort, Leif had been making progress with his schoolwork and his behavior issues. It was a sad fact that the principal and teachers knew he was the go-to reliable one not Harald Knudson. Even sadder? At the end of the day, their father could undo all the progress they’d made—it was his right.
Andthen I’ll have to do damage control once Dad flakesout againanyway.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Lopez.” He stood, giving her a nod.
She stood, offering Dane her hand. “I appreciate you coming in, Mr. Knudson.”
Dane closed the principal’s door behind him and surveyed the main office. The school secretary, Mrs. Corliss Ogden, was a tiny bulldog of a woman with white hair piled so high it added a good six inches to her height. An assortment of pens and pencils and neon highlighters protruded from her hair, one pencil on the verge of slipping free. Mrs. Ogden had been the school secretary back when he was a student here. She stopped munching on what looked like honey brittle long enough to give him a pinched smile. “Want some?” She held out her tin.
“I’m good, thank you.” He recognized the Honey Hill Farms sticker on the lid.
“Suit yourself.” She went back to clicking away on her keyboard at a glacial pace.
He grinned and turned.
There, below a large array of more motivational posters and a massive copy machine, was Leif. He sat on a bench, with a swollen bottom lip and cotton shoved up both nostrils. He slumped, staring at his backpack on the ground between his feet. On the opposite bench sat Clay Dwyer—who was sporting one hell of a puffy red right eye. The boy was a couple of years older than Leif, bigger and taller and, from the looks of it, ready to start throwing punches at the slightest provocation.
Which was probably why Leif was staring down at his backpack.
Since Mrs. Ogden wasn’t physically equipped to break up any potential brawl that might commence, Dane sat beside his brother. He didn’t like the side-eye the Dwyer kid was shooting Leif’s way so he leaned back against the bench, stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. Dane liked weight training and it showed. While he’d never been tempted to raise a hand toanyone—especially not some hotheaded kid—he had no problem staring down Clay Dwyer until the boy’s head drooped forward and his clenched fists relaxed.
The minute Jed Dwyer stepped into the front office, Dane was reminded of where Clay’s hostility and attitude came from. Jed was the best mechanic in town but there wasn’t much else to commend the man. The single father was big and gruff and mean and made no bones about it. After a long string of not-so-discreet domestic disturbances, his wife had run off and never looked back. Now he and his three boys lived on the outskirts of town in an old pier and beam house that should be condemned.
“What now?” Jed barked, staring down at his son.
“Mrs. Lopez would like to speak with you, Mr. Dwyer.” The ancient, diminutive Mrs. Ogden peered over the glasses on the tip of her nose. By all appearances, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Jed’s narrow-eyed glare or the tightness of his jaw. “She’ll be with you in a minute, so have a seat.” She nodded at the bench beside Clay.
Jed didn’t move.
“Suit yourself.” Mrs. Ogden went back to loudly munching brittle and click-clacking away on her keyboard.
There was something wrong with the office clock, Dane was sure of it. The second hand was dragging. One minute felt more like an hour. By the time Principal Lopez’s door opened, the tension level in the room had Dane on edge and itching to leave—he could only imagine how Leif felt.
Dane stood. “Get your stuff,” he murmured to Leif.
“I appreciate you coming in,” Mrs. Lopez said as she shook his father’s hand.
