“Because there's a process.”
“She pulled me.”
“I know.”
“Everybody saw.”
“I know.”
“So?”
Marcus folded his hands.
“School restrictions aren't supposed to depend on me being angry.”
Nia frowned.
“You are angry.”
“Very.”
“Then what?”
“The principal documented what happened.”
“Officer Davis documented it.”
“District safety will review her earlier incidents.”
“Then they'll decide what policy allows.”
Nia stared.
“You could just tell them.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't you?”
Marcus smiled slightly.
“Because I don't want people doing whatever the superintendent wants.”
“Isn't that literally your job?”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He laughed.
“My job is to run a system.”
“Not own it.”
Nia drank juice.
“She would get banned if I wasn't your daughter?”
Marcus considered.
“She should get the same review.”
“That wasn't my question.”
She was too much like him.
He sighed.
“If the policy supports restriction, yes.”
“And if they weren't going to?”
“Then we'd have a bigger problem.”
Nia nodded.
That answer satisfied her more.
Then she asked:
“Why did she say she didn't realize?”
Marcus knew exactly what she meant.
He hated that she had noticed.
“She was scared after learning who I was.”
“But why would that change anything?”
“It shouldn't.”
“It did.”
“Yes.”
Nia looked down at her glass.
“So if Dad worked at Walmart…”
“Then she still had no right to touch your chair.”
“I know.”
“But would she have said sorry?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
Nia looked up.
“That means no.”
“I don't know.”
“You think no.”
“I think her behavior changed when she understood I had authority.”
Nia stared at the table.
“That’s gross.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“Accurate.”
She took another drink.
Then:
“I don't want everybody being nice to me now because of you.”
The sentence hurt more than the parking lot.
Marcus leaned back.
“Nia.”
“What?”
“That is one reason I never told people at school unless they needed to know.”
“Everybody knows now.”
“Probably.”
“Great.”
He smiled sadly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
He nodded.
“What do we do?”
She thought.
“Act normal.”
“Can you define that?”
“You stop showing up in a suit.”
“I work in a suit.”
“Then become less important.”
Marcus laughed.
“I'll submit the request Monday.”
Nia smiled.
Good.
Still his daughter.
Saturday morning, Principal Shaw called.
Marcus let it go to voicemail.
Not because he did not want information.
Because district safety review needed distance.
Ten minutes later, his deputy superintendent, Angela Price, called.
That he answered.
“Morning.”
“You're officially recused.”
“Good.”
“Stop asking people questions.”
“I haven't.”
“You thought about it.”
“That’s not prohibited.”
“I know you.”
Marcus sighed.
“What do you know?”
“Rebecca sent the incident history.”
“How many?”
Angela paused.
“Seven.”
Marcus sat straighter.