“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“In what period?”
“Fourteen months.”
He stared through the kitchen window.
“What kind?”
“I'm not giving you the full file while review is active.”
“Angela.”
“No.”
“You work for me.”
“Today I work for the district.”
Marcus almost smiled.
This was why he had hired her.
“Broad categories.”
She sighed.
“Unauthorized staff-area access.”
“Verbal confrontation with two teachers.”
“Refusal to leave a classroom after dismissal.”
“Interference with student pickup.”
“One incident involving a crossing guard.”
“And yesterday.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Any prior physical contact?”
“Nothing documented like yesterday.”
“Why wasn't she restricted earlier?”
“That is exactly what review is asking.”
He became quiet.
Angela continued.
“Rebecca handled each one.”
“Meaning?”
“Warnings.”
“Written acknowledgments.”
“One conference.”
“Temporary visitor escort once.”
“But no formal campus restriction.”
“Why?”
“Each incident looked manageable alone.”
Marcus leaned back.
There it was.
The institutional problem.
Not catastrophic failure.
Fragmentation.
Everyone saw one thing.
Nobody connected seven.
“Who owns escalation?”
“Technically principal can request district restriction after repeated conduct.”
“Technically.”
“Yes.”
“Did Rebecca request?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I haven't interviewed her yet.”
Marcus looked at the ceiling.
“Don't make this about Rebecca.”
“I won't.”
“But?”
“But we're reviewing process.”
“Good.”
Angela paused.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“The videos are getting ugly.”
“I know.”
“You need communications.”
“I'll issue something Monday.”
“Don't defend yourself.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Don't attack Whitmore.”
“I wasn't.”
“Don't mention your daughter’s medical details.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
She hung up.
Marcus sat quietly.
Then Nia rolled into the room wearing pajamas.
“You got fries?”
He looked guilty.
She stared.
“You forgot.”
“Nia…”
“You promised.”
“Emergency.”
“No.”
“Your wheelchair incident qualifies as an emergency.”
“That was yesterday.”
Marcus stood.
“Shoes.”
“Really?”
“Fries.”
She smiled.
“Extra-large.”
“Extortion.”
“Correct.”
Monday morning, Franklin Ridge felt different.
Nia hated it immediately.
Students looked.
Some smiled too much.
One girl she barely knew said:
“I’m so sorry.”
Nia replied:
“For what?”
The girl panicked.
Maya laughed afterward.
“You're evil.”
“I didn't ask her to apologize.”
“Everybody saw the video.”
“I know.”
A boy in math class whispered:
“Your dad is the superintendent?”
Nia answered:
“Unfortunately.”
The teacher tried not to laugh.