Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  For the rest of the day, I thought of the bullying. After work, I managed to grab a quick drink with Jim. We were at his favorite place again, the sports bar near his apartment. We sat side-by-side in the booth, legs touching and hands intertwined. “Work was so crazy, I didn’t even get a break this afternoon. Be right back,” he said, striding toward the restroom. Watching him walk off, I thought again about how handsome he was. I settled into the booth, anticipating a happy ending to the evening, when his phone lit up with a text from Lee.

  The good feelings disappeared. How often did she write to him, and what if the text was about me? I’d have to be careful so she couldn’t sabotage my relationship with Jim.

  While he was gone, the image of Lee’s name lighting up on his phone kept running through my mind. I sat, staring at the titles on the jukebox, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. Finally Jim appeared in my line of vision.

  He slid in next to me and I pointed to his phone. “I think you have a text.”

  “Oh, Lee.” I’ll read it later. I have other things on my mind now.” He pulled me close and kissed me, right there in the center booth in front of all the regular customers.

  I stroked him under the table. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered, putting an arm around me. “Can you come over?”

  Five minutes later, we were in his bed, moving together. It was only the two of us and the heat of our bodies. After we’d made love, I had to pry myself away so there’d be time to see Rachel before she went to sleep.

  As I drove I asked myself over and over why a married woman was busy texting my boyfriend. Playing by the rules hadn’t helped my daughter. Taking the high road hadn’t allowed her to make friends or afforded me access to Lee’s modus operandi. There had to be something I was missing.

  I was on Mayfair’s main drag near the post office when an idea popped into my head. It was twilight and there were a few minutes left before the skies went dark. Pulling the car over and taking a few deep breaths, I grabbed my phone from its place in the console between the front seats, and scrolled through the school directory, plugging an address into the mapping app and driving.

  I felt a strange tingling as I passed CVS on my left and made my way up the long hill to the modular homes. Dusk had settled in and there was no better time for gathering info. I could see well enough, while still blending in.

  The rest of the ride was smooth. Passing tree-lined streets and a small park, I took in my surroundings until my phone began to flash with the red stickpin icon.

  Turn back. This is a bad idea. No way. Lee had toured my home, put Rachel on the spot, and excluded her. I wasn’t sure exactly how, but it seemed like gathering information would help me find ways to level the playing field.

  The cul-de-sac was bursting with outsize Tudors and stately Colonials. My eyes followed the street to the end, settling on a home so large and modern, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  My heart was beating as I stared at the monstrous house, imagining Lee inside, and wondering what she was doing.

  The place was certainly distinctive: jagged corners, a slanting roof on one side, flat along the back, no two walls the same size, just as Maureen had said. I recalled the PTA chair mentioning it was all her design. Don’t quit your day job, Lee.

  There were several cars parked on the side of the home in front of a white stable-like edifice, each stall fronted by a separate driveway. The first two enclosures housed matching sports cars. I couldn’t quite see the plates, but they were custom, something like LDV and JDV. There was a footpath leading to the garage. It was lined with small white rocks.

  The front of the home was flat, and immediately behind it, stood a mile-high structure, rectangular with long glass windows. There were short, separate wings leading to the back of the home, where a light illuminated one of the rooms as an enormous chandelier dangled and shone through the windows of the rectangular part of the house. A staircase ascended from behind the entranceway, remaining visible through the tall set of windows. I idled outside, watching as a woman in a uniform raced up and down, carrying trays from one level to the next.

  Suddenly the lights popped on, illuminating the rooms in front. Before I knew it, the front door was opening. I panicked and started the car, driving off before anyone could spot me.

  My heart raced as I sped away. Fortunately I’d made it out of there. I’d be more careful next time I checked up on Lee.

  The next day Rachel went to Neil’s for dinner, and Jim and I met at the same sports bar, sliding into a booth just like last time. Once we’d ordered a round of drinks, he put his arm around me.

  I was happy to see him, but he seemed off. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but there’s nothing more annoying than that question.”

  Jim’s smile was preoccupied. I ruffled my hand through his hair. “You look a little tired. Have you been up all night texting and snap-chatting with your middle school students?”

  He shook his head. “Thankfully, no. They have to make an appointment if they want to speak to me. There are other things I like to do at night.” He squeezed my hand and I moved into nibble his ear. That usually got a response, but he sat quietly, giving my shoulder a squeeze as I slid closer. “What’s going on in there?” I asked massaging his temples with the tips of my fingers.

  He shook his head and smiled. “Just tired.” He wasn’t usually this distant. Was there something wrong?

  I took off a shoe, put my bare foot on his, and worked my way up his leg. He stroked my hand and told me my foot felt “nice.”

  Jim was speaking more softly than usual, and his vibe was distant, reminding me of his guardedness in bed when the subject of his ex had come up. I’d never gotten to the bottom of that either.

  I must have looked concerned. Jim gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “I have a lot going on with work,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “You know how that is.”

  I didn’t know, but wished he’d enlighten me.

  We decided to go to Jim’s place, but his reticence was confusing. I’d thought about inviting him to the house and having him meet Rachel, but tabled that idea.

  By the time I got home, she’d returned from Neil’s. We watched preteen Disney, and during the commercials I asked some questions.

  “Did you have fun at Neil’s? What’s the news?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, pushing a strand of hair behind her left ear.

  “Come on, honey. You can do better than that.”

  “Not really,” she said, retreating to the tiny powder room.

  Later on while Rachel was brushing her teeth, the phone pinged.

  “Rach, someone texted you.”

  She mumbled something through a mouth full of toothpaste. I glanced as the cell buzzed a second time: “So transfer back!” It was Zoe, and the words startled me.

  I scrolled to the beginning of the exchange with Zoe, glad Rachel’s old best friend was back in the picture. “Hate school,” Rachel had texted, adding a squinting devil emoji. “It sux.”

  “Y do u hate it?” came the response.

  “Everyone is mean. Clique-yyyyy!!” I was glad Rachel could confide in her, and relieved they were still in touch. Zoe’s mom, Sam, had let me know her work schedule and custody situation were making it difficult for the girls to see each other, so at least they still texted and FaceTimed.

  I focused on the screen. “I was popular but they all ditched me.” Rachel had written. “Now I’m not friends with any of them.”

  “Ask your mom if you can transfer back here?”

  If only it were that simple.

  Just then the humming of the electric toothbrush ceased, and I returned the phone to the nightstand. Rachel came in and climbed between the sheets. I sat down on the edge of her bed.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I guess.” She bit her lip and refused to look at me.

  “It doesn’t look okay. Please talk to me.”

  “I just miss being at school with
Zoe and my other friends.” She rolled over and turned toward the wall.

  “Did something happen today?”

  Rachel wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “We were on the playground during recess. Collette asked me if I wanted to play basketball, HORSE, with Katie, Lexi, and this other girl, Chloe, so I said okay. They all passed only to each other and laughed whenever they threw the ball over my head. Chloe filmed the whole thing and sent it out to a bunch of kids.” She was crying now.

  There were seven months left of the school year. Before this pattern became ingrained, she needed to fix it. “Rachel, don’t give these kids so much power. Focus on other people, like Maya. Where was she?”

  “Absent.”

  “Let’s invite her over for a playdate.” Rachel stared at her phone. I tried again. “Please don’t look away. I just want to know how you are doing.”

  Rachel shrugged. “Okay. I just wish I had more people to hang out with.”

  It was frustrating. All my years of schooling and practice, of helping other people solve their problems, and still I didn’t have the right words for my daughter. I gave her a hug and turned out the light.

  Seeing Rachel endure months of bullying had left me drained and desperate for advice. When I got into bed, I finally broke down and called Jim.

  “Hey, was just going to text you,” he said.

  “How do you feel about free advice?” I blurted out.

  He laughed. “Is this an old joke? What’s the punch line, something about how you get what you pay for?”

  “Probably, but this time you’d be giving the advice,” I said.

  “Ah. Then I’m all for it. What’s up?”

  I didn’t want to be a downer, but squelched my insecurities. “Well . . . as I told you, things have been rough for Rachel.” There was a short silence on the other end of the phone, and I pictured him, furrowing his brow. The lines that formed there were so cute. “Some of the girls have been giving her a hard time, and she’s been eating lunch alone in the nurse’s office. I wanted to get your take on some recent goings-on.”

  “What happened?”

  “You know that game, HORSE? Well, the girls threw the ball over Rachel’s head and kept it away, stupid stuff, but they videoed and sent it around. Of course all the other kids laughed at her.” I was torn between wanting advice and being afraid to burden Jim or tip him off to the Lee situation.

  “That’s terrible.” Before I could say anything else he spoke. “You should ask for a meeting with the teacher.”

  “Thanks. You’re right.”

  “And don’t wait too long.”

  I forced myself to sound perkier than I felt. “Now that you’ve solved all my problems, tell me about you.”

  “Okay, but I want you to promise to keep me posted. As far as my day, a few years ago, a kid who’d lost a parent on 9/11 was flagged for all kinds of extra support and family meetings. And now many years later, he just got accepted to his first-choice college. That’s what I love about my job, being there for students, influencing their lives over time.”

  “That’s amazing, Jim. You’re amazing.” I suddenly felt a little shy. “And, just in case you didn’t know, you’ve had a positive influence on me.”

  “More like a long-distance influence.” Jim was teasing, but I knew he was frustrated. Me too.

  I was still worried Lee would do something to sabotage our relationship and tried, as I had in the past, to gauge his feelings about her. “Since you mention school, I think it’s great that Lee is working to address the cyber problems at Guardian.”

  “Yes.”

  “So have you known her a long time?”

  “I’d say so. More than ten years.” We sat in silence for a few moments. He clearly wasn’t one for gossip.

  “Well,” I finally said. “Miss you.”

  Jim and I had been getting along great. He’d given me no reason to doubt him. I took a leap of faith. “I know it’s been hard for us to have weekend time. If you’re still up for meeting Rachel, I’d love for us to figure something out.”

  After we hung up, I wrote to the teacher and requested a meeting. Just as my thoughts went back to Rachel’s situation, I heard something scurrying behind the plasterboard behind the headboard. “Shut up mice!” I said, punching the wall. I heard they hated noise. Well, I hated them.

  I turned off the light thinking it was ironic that the damned things sounded more robust than ever. If only I could say the same for Rachel and myself.

  At least my daughter was now knee-deep in basketball. There were frequent practices and games, each one an opportunity for her to show her stuff. Rachel was athletic, a currency that really mattered at Barnum. The jury was still out about whether that would help her socially, though she had recently been invited to spend the afternoon at Katie’s with the other girls in her class. When I picked her up, she told me all about it. “They invited everyone but Maya,” she began.

  “It makes me uncomfortable when they laugh at her or Francesca,” she told me.

  “So what do you do when you’re in it with the other girls?” I asked.

  “I try to stay clear.” She looked down at her hands. “When Maya heard everyone talking about going over to Katie’s, her face got really red and she went to use the bathroom.”

  “That situation—inviting all the girls in the class but one—you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that.”

  “It’s mean.” Rachel’s expression was thoughtful. “But a lot of this isn’t up to me. Who they invited wasn’t my choice.”

  I turned the steering wheel and headed up the hill to our house. “Couldn’t you have asked them to include Maya?”

  “I just told you! It wasn’t up to me. It was Katie’s party. And I told you, none of them like her.”

  “You don’t have to do everything the group does. You know that, right?”

  Rachel thought for a moment. “Maya can be kind of nice,” she said. “She shared her cookies with me the other day.”

  “Why don’t you invite her to come home with you one afternoon?”

  I stopped at a stop sign and glanced at Rachel. “I don’t think so,” she told me. “They’d ditch me. I want to be part of that group. They have all the sleepovers and parties.”

  I tried again. “I’ve said this before, but here goes. Why not make friends with kids in different groups?”

  Rachel shot me an annoyed look. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  I asked her if she wanted to go out for ice cream, but she said she wasn’t hungry. It was the third time I’d heard that in as many weeks.

  “No ice cream?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “You weren’t hungry the time we baked cookies either.” She didn’t meet my eye. “How ‘bout you tell me what’s up?”

  Rachel shifted uncomfortably. “What’s a makeover?”

  My anxiety rose. Was she unhappy with her appearance? I forced myself to play it cool. “Sometimes people try a new style, use different makeup, or change their hair and clothing when they want to improve how they look. And some people undergo surgical procedures. Why do you ask?”

  Rachel looked down at her hands. “Yesterday when Alva was picking me up from school, I ran back in because I’d left my jacket in the cubby. Mrs. DeVry was telling another mom that I could use a makeover.” Her face turned a bright shade of red.

  That was outrageous! “She has no idea what she’s talking about. And you’re perfect.”

  Rachel sighed. “You’re supposed to say that. You’re my mother.”

  “I say what I mean. You’re beautiful—on the outside and inside.”

  I reached over the seats, extending my hand. As she leaned forward and took it, a tear slid down her cheek. “Collette and Lexi laughed at me in gym. They said my knees were fat.” I released her hand and grabbed the steering wheel so she wouldn’t feel the tension in my body.

  My blood was boiling, and I felt like driving over to Lee’s
and telling her she needed professional help, but I curbed the impulse. “That must have really bothered you,” I said. She nodded.

  “May I say something?”

  “I guess.”

  “Comments like the ones Lee and Collette made are vicious and hurtful. You need to know that, and next time someone says something below the belt, pretend you have a little suit of armor on. Or if you prefer, think of a duck’s back.”

  Rachel’s look told me I was making no sense.

  “Let it go. Think ‘water off a duck’s back.’” I made a sliding motion with my hand.

  Rachel was smiling a little now. “That’s ridiculous.”

  We were pulling into the driveway. “I’m going to say it again: You’re perfect. Not only beautiful, but equally important, you’re a good person.”

  I got out of the car and opened the back door to hug her. “Please don’t let these kids have any power over you,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know why they’re so mean, but when people are nasty, it has more to do with them than with you.”

  Rachel was looking up and to the side, thinking. “That makes sense,” she said, meeting my eyes.

  “Let’s go inside and have some fruit and cookies.”

  “Okay.”

  Baby steps. At least I’d started the dialogue. There would be other chances to offer my prehistoric perspective on her preteen problems.

  Once we were sitting down in the kitchen, I smiled as Rachel bit into a cookie and sipped her milk, but inwardly I was still seething. Lee made a habit of walking around, bragging about her charitable work and contributions to the PTA, while behind the scenes she was terrorizing my kid.

  I still couldn’t believe what Rachel had told me. Making fun of a fifth grader’s appearance? This was war.

  Get ready, Lee, I thought. You underestimated me.

  Fourteen

  Buckets

  We were on our way to the big game, Knicks-Lakers, and even bigger occasion: Rachel’s first meeting with Jim. He had a conference day, and asked if it would be okay to get tickets during a school day. I said yes to Rachel playing hooky, and moved patients around to free up the afternoon, hoping she and Jim would connect through sports talk and stadium food.