“Are the three boys involved facing expulsion as well?”
“No, they weren’t named as the culprits.”
“But they also refused to provide a name, same as my daughter. And are these two girls accusing Tegan friends, by any chance?”
“I can’t presume to know the relationships linking each student in this school.”
I give him a flat look. “You’re telling me it’s impossible to determine whether or not those two girls are friends? Just ask the teachers, the canteen staff, and their peers, it should be a simple enough connection to investigate.”
I stare at Tegan again, forcing her to look up at me for the first time since I arrived with the intensity of my gaze. Reddened blue-gray eyes huge with fear meet mine. “Are these two girls friends?” I ask her directly.
Tegan gives me the smallest nod, but it’s enough.
“There you have it,” I say to the principal. “Mr. Wentworth, their testimony must be disregarded. It’s unreliable at best, and I’d go as far as saying intentionally fraudulent in the worst case. Both witnesses were caught red-handed, are renowned cohorts, and had a pretty obvious motive to make a scapegoat out of my daughter. Other than their word, do you have any other evidence Tegan introduced the alcohol at school?”
Mr. Wentworth’s lips are tight. “No.”
“Do you have any evidence as to where Tegan acquired the alcohol? Because I assure you I don’t keep any spirits in my house. And as you’ve pointed out, she’s underage and can’t just walk into a liquor store and buy some.”
“She could have a fake ID. You’ve no idea the things our children can hide from us, Miss Hessington.”
Oh, I’m becoming a quick study on the matter.
“Can I see the bottle in question?”
“Why?”
“I would like to examine it.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Please humor me.”
Visibly rattled, the Head of School pushes an intercom button and asks his secretary to bring in the corpus delicti.
A few tense heartbeats pass in silence before Mrs. Lewis comes into the office and deposits a bottle covered in Swarovski crystals in the center of the desk.
Any lingering doubts that Tegan really did instigate all this mayhem immediately fade from my mind. “Mr. Wentworth, I don’t know how familiar you are with expensive liquors, but that right there is a thousand-dollar bottle of vodka. My daughter doesn’t have the means to procure such a fine spirit, fake ID or not. If you want to find a culprit, I suggest you look at the size of the trust funds of the other pupils involved.”
Mr. Wentworth seems at a loss for words, so I seize the opportunity to ensure Tegan’s continued enrollment at this school. “Given what we have discussed, I’m sure we can both agree Tegan should receive an equal punishment to the other students implicated and be charged with a simple suspension.”
“Very well.” The principal’s lips have become even thinner. “Tegan will be charged with a three-day suspension which, provided no other incidents occur, will not be reported on her record. Your daughter will still be expected to complete all her coursework in these three days and turn in her homework on time. The suspension will carry over the weekend, and she also won’t be able to play in Saturday’s volleyball game against Billard.”
Tegan’s head snaps up; she’s about to protest, but I silence her with a stare of death. Missing a game will be a severe lesson and a harsher punishment than anything I may come up with.
Mr. Wentworth keeps speaking, “Also, for the following two weeks, all six students must attend an hour-long mandatory detention before first period.”
Ah, my share of the sentence for being a terrible mom has arrived. I see my already sleep-deprived self lose even more rest. If Tegan has to be up an hour early, so do I. Unless I want Mr. Wentworth dragging me in here again because of her tardiness.
The Head of School concludes his reprimand with a condescending, “And I suggest you spend some time explaining to your daughter the pitfalls of underage drinking.”
With that last jab at my poor parenting skills, Tegan and I are excused.
I march my daughter out of the school, seething with suppressed rage. It takes a full block of speed-walking before I can form coherent speech again. “You’re grounded, indefinitely. Drinking vodka at school! How could you be so irresponsible, after all the hard work you’ve put into having perfect grades? You’re lucky this won’t affect your permanent record, or you would’ve just blown up your entire life, and for what? To impress some a rich kid?”
“Mom, I didn’t even drink that much! It was only a sip.”
I stop walking and turn on her. “Are you really this naïve? Drinking alcohol at your age is illegal, Tegan, even if it’s just a sip! And especially if you do it on school grounds! Why would you do such a thing? Risk your entire future, and for what? You’re not touching another drop of alcohol until you turn twenty-one, do you hear me?”
Tegan scoffs, the demure child gone to be replaced by the surly teenager. “As if you can talk.”
“What does that mean? I’ve never had a problem with alcohol.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right,” Tegan says sarcastically. “So I should steer clear of the booze, but getting myself pregnant and dumped at nineteen is totally fine?”
That’s a low blow. I know it, she knows it, but she’s also not backing down at this point. I take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves before I give in to the urge to slap my daughter for the first time in fifteen years. The temptation is strong right now.
Instead, I outstretch my hand. “Your phone. Hand it over.”
Reluctantly, she does, smacking it in my open palm.
“I will hold on to this, also indefinitely. I’m shutting down the Wi-Fi at home, and from now on you can use your laptop only to do homework. Be this disrespectful
