My heart stopped. That was exactly what Lee had said to her friend that morning I’d overheard her in the back hallway at school.
If it looks like a duck and walks like one . . . . Cheerleader had added: “sometimes less is more when it comes to birthday parties. There have been tons of threads on this.” She provided a few links to other discussions, and I clicked on them.
One conversation was about group vacations, how to limit the number of families who wanted to join. Next. Another had to do with holidays and annoying family members. Not a surprise.
“Social Climbers” was certainly a common phrase. But given what I’d heard about her behavior in the New Jersey school, plus the “loser daughter” comments and Westchester location, connecting the account to Lee wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I was almost there. I could feel it. My fingers itched as I typed and searched.
What was I not seeing?
Think, Vic. Maureen had said in session that Lee got revenge. That was a good jumping off point. Thinking like the enemy would make her posts easier to find. I trawled the chat room, scrolling through current discussions and archived ones. I clicked on a link, a thread someone had started a couple of days ago, a debate about a woman down south who’d fought back when certain parents had campaigned to have her kid kicked off the cheer squad. That mom wanted blood.
Someone named “Shih Tzu Lover” disagreed. “Steer clear,” she’d counseled. “In my northeastern town, one mom took another to court over a spot in the local brownie troop. It was not worth the aggravation.” People were adding responses, weighing in as I read.
The pom-pom icon popped up with a message: “I disagree!” Cheerleader was on; my pulse began to race. “I’m plotting something that will have a tremendous impact on the community. I can do so much with so little—it’s almost too easy. I’m going to put a certain holier-than-thou mom in her place. My methods are right at my fingertips.”
My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, and I thought I’d faint. On the one hand, connecting an anonymous poster to someone I knew, even if she used similar phrases and discussed certain topics, was crazy, but I’d received a credible warning about Lee from Maureen. Truth was, she had made threats and gone after someone in the past.
And though I had no concrete proof that Cheerleader really was Lee, she did live in Westchester and use similar language. She had just bragged about putting a “holier than though mom” in her place. I’d overheard Lee say something like that about me. Saving the page on my laptop before copying and pasting it into a document, I took a screen shot on my phone, being sure to record the exact date, time, and link I’d read.
I typed furiously, searching for more clues. But the battery was drained and the laptop powered down. In the dark screen, I saw myself reflected, eyes wild, angry looking, frantically pressing buttons. Like Amy, I’d been all over the internet, trying to find out ways to get even.
I called Sharon, who made me laugh and feel more like myself again. We were about to hang up when I mentioned the upcoming Colonial Fair. She’d howled about my decision to sign up as a volunteer.
“Everyone knows that’s the worst possible gig. Lee and her nearest and dearest get all the good jobs, and the mere mortals are stuck with manual labor like moving picnic tables and hauling out the trash. You won’t get to spend a minute with Rachel. Next time, please ask me before you sign up for anything.”
I recalled an email from Lee, directing me to purchase bottles of water and serve them at 67 degrees. Hearing the directions about the temperature only made Sharon laugh harder.
I felt calmer and was even able to smile a little at the absurdity of it all. I had Sharon to guide me through the Barnum maze, just as Rachel had Maya and Neil. That was progress. Despite Lee and her machinations, our new house and school were finally starting to feel more like home.
Sharon had been so nice, I felt like confiding in her. “Why do they all follow Lee?”
“You’re the psychologist. You tell me.”
I told her my working theory. “When people are insecure, desperate even, it’s generally due to something old, a childhood wound.”
Sharon snorted. “Well, they have all known each other for years. I learned that the hard way. Back in pre-K, Neil had a few playdates with Lexi. And I’m remembering something now, although I’d done my best to block it out, I once went to Jess’s to pick him up. She offered me a cup of tea and bragged about being best friends with Audrey, the pediatrician, and Lee, their ringleader, pulling out shots from their college sorority years and bridesmaid photos. New nose, by the way.” Sharon paused for breath.
“Who?”
“Audrey. Jess kept referring to the others as her ‘dear, dear friends,’ and I was wondering how to extricate myself when she crossed the room to the baby’s bouncy seat. As she was readjusting it, I saw an old yearbook mixed in with all the albums. Would you believe, the high school photos of Jess and Audrey were like something out of that old ‘Revenge of the Nerds’ movie.”
She barreled on. “I know, I sound bitchy. It was not smooth sailing for those two growing up. Jess has worked her ass off—literally—since the yearbook days. Plus, she got contacts and lightened her hair. And Audrey has the best face that money can buy. Now they and their pals do whatever it takes to preserve their place in the Lee clique. Popularity is the most important thing to them. It’s pathetic.”
Sharon softened her voice. “I’ve wanted to tell you because they’ve been so horrible to you guys, but whenever I raise the subject, you put up a wall.”
Jim had said something similar. I was obviously telegraphing a “stay away” vibe. Well, no more. “I’m glad you’re going into all this, Sharon. I didn’t mean to act like I was holding back, or keeping you at arm’s length. It’s not easy to talk about, but these women have been awful to us. And it makes sense that if they felt ugly and unpopular, they’d need to feel their children weren’t flawed in any way. But they must have a sense of the harm they do—”
She barely let me get the question out. “Look at Francesca’s mom, Emily. Since Lee froze them out, Francesca has no friends, is constantly being picked on, and Emily is off all the PTA committees. I heard she’s even worried about losing her club membership. Jack is on that board too, of course.”
Sharon paused. “Why don’t you stick up for yourself, Vic? I know you did that one time, but these people have been walking all over you.”
“Sometimes I want to tell Lee that I think she’s a total asshole. I did call her out for laughing at basketball, and at the turf, I told her to stay away from Rachel. But I can’t go around arguing with people, making a spectacle. There’s my practice to consider.” Sharon agreed and we decided to talk later that day. After hanging up, I went downstairs to look for Rachel.
It had been a week since BucketBeast had struck, and more than six months since the first day of school. Spring had almost arrived. I smelled the buds that were blooming on the bushes at the side of the house, and listened as cicadas buzzed, splitting the silence in two.
I was at the office, looking forward to a weekend off when Amy came in with fresh stories of bullying. The school called as the session was ending. I closed the door behind her and answered the phone.
“Dr. Bryant? This is Principal Burke. There’s been an incident. We need you to come in. Rachel wasn’t harmed, but we are concerned.”
What had happened? My heart thumped inside my chest. “I can’t get there for another forty-five minutes. I’ll leave now. But can you tell me more?”
“We found something in her backpack; actually the gym teacher noticed it as your daughter was changing into her sneakers. It fell out. He cleared his throat. “It’s a Juul.” He was referring to the small device for smoking all kinds of substances; the kind that didn’t give off smoke or odors.
There was no way. I was angry now. I’d know if Rachel were using substances. The whole thing was ridiculous. “Put her on please.”
“Mom?�
� She sounded upset, though it was difficult to hear. We’d both spoken at the same time. “What’s going on?”
“One of the teachers saw this silver thing fall out of my backpack. She picked it up and told me to come with her and we went to the principal’s office. It isn’t mine.” She sounded scared.
“What is it?”
“A flash drive. You know, the thing that looks like a pen. For the computer, extra memory.
“Stay where you are, and explain to the principal what you just told me. Then put him on.”
“Yes?” He was saying as I spoke, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Rachel doesn’t have a Juul. She thinks the device is a memory stick for the computer. I’d like you to have her teacher there when we meet today so we can all discuss this.” We hung up.
It was all I could do to stop myself from vomiting. Rachel was being accused of carrying illicit paraphernalia. I locked up without even turning off the lights and called my scheduled patients as I walked to the car, apologizing for the inconvenience. I had an emergency and would make time to see them over the next couple of days.
I could barely concentrate on the road, I was so worried about Rachel. While I didn’t think she was using tobacco or worse, I was concerned about a smoking device making its way into her backpack. That was “the how,” and it was confusing. There was also “the who,” and I had my suspicions.
Forty-five minutes later, the principal and I were sitting down in his office along with Rachel and her teacher, Ms. Franklin. Principal Burke was tall and balding, lanky, with a pallid complexion. There was a wood desk with a few papers and a gold nameplate, along with a matching chair. A coatrack and wall calendar were the only things in the room.
The air was tense. When Ms. Franklin put a hand on my shoulder, I smiled, grateful for her kindness. Rachel was on the other side of the teacher, red-eyed and quiet. She’d been crying. I blew her a kiss.
The principal got up and closed the door before sitting back down.
“Some things are very unpleasant.” I waited.
“This is what the gym teacher found.” He held up a three-inch long object; it was silver and shaped like a stick, but thicker. I looked over at Rachel, who was starting to cry again, and at the teacher, who put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a tissue.
“Did you ask Rachel about this?”
“I did. And she has said that it’s not hers.” I was furious that an educator would be so left-footed, putting my fifth grader through this, like she was a criminal on the witness stand. “Anything else?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“This is what I mean.” I was working hard to control my anger at the way he was accusing my daughter. “Rachel, is this yours?” She shook her head violently. “What is it? Can you tell us?”
“I told you before; it’s something for the computer. A flash drive, extra memory.”
I glared at the principal. “My daughter doesn’t even know what it is. She’s ten-and-a-half years old. Do you realize how over the top this is, accusing her?”
Ms. Franklin chimed in: “Robert, I agree. Rachel has no idea what this is, and says it isn’t hers. I believe her.” My chest expelled a rush of air. The teacher’s words were a huge relief. “And she’s had a rough time since moving in last summer. So who knows what even happened here.”
I’d been thinking the same thing.
The principal was speaking again. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask these questions. Juuls are not allowed at school. We normally suspend a child for bringing one in.”
Rachel let out a piteous cry. “Am I being suspended?”
I was so angry I’d been grinding my teeth. Was this guy serious? The kid thought it was a flash drive. We all waited for him to speak. “Have you ever heard of a Juul?” he asked.
Rachel shook her head. “I’ve heard of jewels, like in a crown or something.” I felt my anger rise. She was telling the truth, cooperating, and he was treating this like a major narcotics investigation.
“How about vaping? Do you know what that is?”
Rachel shook her head again.
“Is that satisfactory, Mr. Burke?” I really wanted the meeting to be over so I could comfort my child.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but things like this happen from time to time. We’ll have to look into them when they do. Electronic cigarettes are against school rules. Thank you for coming in.”
Fortunately, it was well after three. The halls were deserted. I took Rachel by the hand and led her down the hall and to the car.
“Are you okay, honey?”
She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he believe me? I don’t smoke! No one does!”
My heart broke again. She was so innocent and really didn’t deserve this harassment.
As we drove home, I thought about this latest infuriating development and how it fit in with all the other pieces. It had to be Lee; she had motive and access. I was dying to use the dirt I had on her and get even. Maybe obtaining records from the school in New Jersey, proving she’d been asked to withdraw her older daughter for bullying another girl, was the way to go. Then I wouldn’t be violating Maureen’s confidentiality. I still had the copy of the chat room discussion where “Cheerleader” had bragged about “getting even when threatened.” And then there was what Amy had said about Francesca’s mother describing how that child had been cutting, after Lee got the girls all lathered up and they kicked her out of Collette’s clique, although I wouldn’t reveal what had been told to me in session.
Lee was making life impossible for Rachel. At points, she’d been isolated and restricted food intake. Would she get depressed like the kid in New Jersey? My head was spinning the entire way home. There had to be a way to put it all together without violating confidentiality and make sure Lee got what she deserved.
After we’d gotten into the house, I heated up some leftovers. Rachel was quiet, eating a couple of bites of chicken before heading into the shower. Poor kid. The stress was getting to her. First, there had been the BucketBeast incident—what if it were Amy?—and now, days later the Juul affair.
I’d thought the targeting and cruelty was bad when it was the girls excluding her as their moms looked the other way; likewise when Lee provoked me, and served as the catalyst in my breakup with Jim. But this?! Lee hiding the Juul in Rachel’s backpack felt much worse.
The following morning, I woke Rachel up early so I could see if she was okay and we could spend a few minutes together before school. Her eyes were sleepy and she had pillow creases on her cheeks, at least she’d slept. That made one of us.
After we ate breakfast together, I walked around the table to kiss her head. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Ms. Franklin was really nice to stick up for me. You too.”
“Honey, it was ridiculous. People use substances, as we’ve discussed, but the principal was barking up the wrong tree with you. We all knew it. Probably even him.” Rachel looked like she was thinking. “At least no one saw. The gym teacher brought me to the office, but didn’t make a thing about it.”
It was time for school. “You’ll be okay, right?”
“Yes. Maya and I feed the turtle on Thursdays. I want to go.”
I parked on the street behind the school, so Rachel and I could take the short cut. She let me hold her hand. Spring had almost arrived. I smelled the buds that were blooming on the bushes at the side of the house, and listened as cicadas buzzed. As we walked around to the front, I noticed Lee, standing in front of the school, checking her messages, hanging out in what looked like skintight white leggings, furry boots, and a white puffy jacket with fox-trimmed hood. Was it my imagination or did she seem surprised to see Rachel?
I pulled Rachel along, willing her to walk faster. As we made our way up the path and brushed by Lee, I was furious. She only looked away. My kid was called into the principal, and this woman got to stand around, planning workshops and school events, and act like the queen of it all? I asked myself again: How was it that we a
ll rolled around in the muck while she was above reproach?
I kissed my daughter on top of her head and watched her walk into the building. I was disgusted by Lee’s selfishness and unabashed bullying, and after the Juul incident, was blinded by hatred.
It was time to use the photos. I’d show them to Lee in private, and let her know I was onto her. Then maybe she’d leave Rachel alone once and for all.
Another idea popped into my head. Since the principal had treated Rachel like a drug kingpin, he owed me one. I wrote to him, mentioning that I was a psychologist. I asked whether I might present on internet safety at Lee’s upcoming Cyber Crimes Workshop. I’d figure out a way to mention her bullying during my talk. Since the administration, local police, PTA moms, and rest of the town’s parents and students would be there, it would be a great chance to let the community know about Lee. People deserved to know the kind of person she really was.
The principal responded immediately that he’d be glad to have me speak at the workshop, and I felt excited for the first time in a while.
Fasten your seat belt, Lee. You’ve messed with the wrong psychologist.
Twenty-Two
Beasts of Burden
A few days after I’d contacted the principal, Rachel was at her desk, earbuds inserted. “Rach?”
“I’m busy now.” Her face was tense.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s nothing. I’m handling it.” That didn’t sound good. I sat down on her bed.
“Rach?”
“Okay, we had a rehearsal for the Spring Fling next month, and everyone was learning this dance. Maya and I were practicing with Neil and a couple of the boys. When the teacher wasn’t looking, Lexi and her ‘BFF,’ Katie, came over and tripped me. Some of the kids laughed when I fell on the ground.”
Did these people have nothing better to do? My pulse was picking up, but I forced myself to speak calmly. “What happened then?”
Barbarians at the PTA Page 21