A new chapter from the new book. New new new. (Patreon)

Frank and Jonah sat opposite the school principal and the counselor. Their nephew, Simon, so small and mute, was at home with his sister Sunday, his arm in a cast.

"Violence is never acceptable," the counselor said. "Obviously. And the boys will be reprimanded. But Simon… draws attention to himself. He doesn't talk. He doesn't nod, or write notes. He doesn't use sign language. How are we supposed to accommodate him? He just stares at you." He paused. "AT you," he repeated under his breath, unsure of the preposition. "Sunday doesn't talk either. They aren't actually mute. Everyone knows they aren't actually mute."

"He does his work," Frank said. "He brings home his tests. Perfect marks. He's a good student. What, he doesn't chat up his teachers enough? He's here to learn, not to make small talk. He listens, he learns."

"That isn't the-"

"That is EXACTLY-" Jonah put his hand on Frank's thigh.

"Why are we here." Jonah said softly. "Simon's arm is broken in two places. That goes beyond bullying. Beyond mere negligence. If an apology isn't your purpose, what is? Are you going to suggest we find a better school more suited to Simon's 'needs' - perhaps one that doesn't allow its students to gather in a crowd around a small boy chanting fight fight fight?"

"You know that-"

"Was that a fight?" Jonah asked, still calm and quiet.

"What?"

"Would you describe this incident as a fight? Pardon my English. It isn't always the best. But, fight. The word seems wrong."

"A schoolyard fight, yes. Your English is fine."

"Only it wasn't in the schoolyard, was it? It was inside the building. In the gym. And the participants weren't all the same age or size, were they. Three older boys. Big. Big, but they must have been scared for some reason. Stomping Simon on the ground to keep him down, while the other students cheered. I am only grateful that your employee intervened when he did. If he had watched from the sidelines any longer, our nephew might be in even worse-"

"He didn't watch from the sidelines, he was assessing the-"

The principal cut him off.

"The fact is- this school might not be the best place for your children. We aren't equipped to deal with the complications of mental illness."

Jonah turned his attention to the smaller of the two men. He wore glasses with classic horned rims. The kind of physical memory that belonged in a college, someplace somewhere else. Someplace that enjoyed remembering. This school was not the place for him, either. But it wasn't empathy he felt for outsiders.

Frank shifted forward in his seat, and Jonah could sense the rising anger in his husband. He squeezed Frank's hand to reign it in.

"Mental illness used to be treated by pulling teeth. Did you know that? They thought it was caused by untreated infection in the body, most often in the teeth. So they pulled them out. There was no proof, no scientific evidence. They wanted to make people normal, and they thought violence was the answer," Jonah said. "When we tried to talk to some of your teachers, nobody would talk to us. Except the math teacher, who told us Simon was his favourite student. And that we had to admit, this was a long time coming."

--