Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  Twenty-Four

  Working It

  Running on only a couple of hours’ sleep would normally bother me, but today I was bolstered, secure in Jim’s love. I felt energized. It was Friday, my Westchester day, and I was working locally, then heading to school in the evening for the cyberbullying workshop.

  At drop off, I spotted the poster out in front. My name was on it with the other presenters. I’d been waffling, but knew in my heart I’d go through with my plan to exact revenge on Lee. Rachel didn’t want me to antagonize her, but I felt as though I had to act. In the talk, I’d allude to how awful she had been, hosting parties that excluded, shaping carpools, and forming closed sports practices. If nothing else, I’d cast a shadow over her reputation—that was all she cared about anyway. I’d also explain the psychological effects of bullying, cyber and otherwise, then close with the statement that this new breed of “bully moms” was indicative of a depressing cultural trend.

  Calling attention to the cliques and social aggression would send Lee the message that I wasn’t a pushover and bullying wouldn’t be tolerated. And while I’d vacillated about being divisive, I still burned with rage any time I thought of Lee and the Juul, how she’d targeted my poor kid. I was ready to execute phase two of my plan.

  I headed home, waving to Rachel, who was in the living room watching TV, before stealing away to the small home office. I grabbed my phone and hit the “print command,” smiling as the pages slid out.

  They were scans of the photos I’d taken at the hotel. I’d enlarged them before printing. The images clearly showed Lee and Jess’s husband smiling at one another, leaning toward each other, embracing and entering the hotel elevator.

  Lee certainly had it coming. Placing the pictures into a manila envelope and stashing them in my tote bag, I knew what I had to do: corner her alone at the back of the auditorium and tell her to stop messing with Rachel or else. The photos would wipe the smirk off her face, that I knew. For months I’d been polite and tried to set firm limits, but nothing had stopped her bullying. Now I was in the position to show her I meant business; it was the only way she’d leave Rachel alone.

  It was almost time to go. I gave Rachel an early dinner, and we chatted between bites. “Neil and I are entering the science fair together. We’re building a volcano. Last night when I was at his house, we managed to get some lava to flow out of the bowl we were using. His cat jumped on the counter and licked the stuff. His dad thought that was hysterical, but I don’t think Sharon would have found it funny.”

  “Glad you had fun. Was the cat okay?” She laughed. “The experiment came in a box that said ‘organic.’”

  “If this were a cartoon, that cat would be glowing in the dark,” I said hoping for a giggle, but Rachel didn’t like my joke. “Neil’s very nice,” I said, trying again as we put our dishes in the sink, grabbed our jackets, and headed for the car.

  “Are you nervous to present?” she asked after we’d backed out of the driveway. “Not really,” I said, glancing over at her. “Well, maybe a little.” She smiled as I added an afterthought. “The other night I went to an outing with a lot of women from town, including Neil’s mom . . . and guess who else was there? Jim.”

  Rachel stared and waited. “So anyway, I took your advice about giving him a second chance—”

  “That’s good. He was nice. And you were always moping around after the two of you broke up.”

  There was nothing like preteen pearls to spice up a conversation. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, sweetheart.”

  “I know.”

  We’d arrived at school and secured a spot in the lot, which was nearly full. Tonight’s presentations would be well attended. “So what are you going to talk about?” Rachel asked as we were walking up the path.

  No need to make her nervous by revealing details of my plan. “Just explain some of the dangers inherent in cyberbullying. I’ll quickly outline the different social sites and provide examples of how they’ve been misused. And I’ll outline social media safety—don’t worry, I’ll be brief.”

  “Doubt it,” Rachel smiled.

  We made our way through the lobby and down the long hallway to the auditorium. I looked around at the familiar faces that were heading down the hall alongside me, and waved at Mrs. Franklin and a couple of moms I recognized from pick-up. In the distance, I spotted Ellen. She was walking briskly and finishing up a call, with Maya at her heels.

  The auditorium was large, shaped like a giant clamshell. There was a stage in front with a thick velvet curtain hanging down the back, and three sections of seating, two aisles and middle. Rachel and I took seats on an aisle toward the middle of the room.

  Lee was milling around down by the stage. The principal was standing with her group, hugging his right elbow with his left arm, smiling and nodding at whatever Lee and the man to her left, the police chief I assumed, were saying. A large poster, advertising the workshop was displayed on a giant tripod at the front of the room.

  I suddenly felt like I needed to use the bathroom. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” Rachel shrugged. “Be right back.” I hung onto my bag and its precious cargo, and headed toward the exit.

  Jim was in the doorway with a tall, leggy young woman. He kissed me on the cheek. “This is Mariel.” I recalled that was the name of DeVry’s older daughter who was a senior at Guardian. “Mariel, Victoria.”

  We smiled and shook hands. Before either one of us could say anything else, Lee wedged herself in between Jim and her daughter. “Do you two need seats?”

  Mariel stiffened as Lee moved to place a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, backing away slightly.

  “Come find me later. Baiii.” Lee flitted over to the far corner of the room, where she proceeded to make a show of kissing every attendee in the vicinity.

  I smiled at Mariel. “Your mother put this whole evening together. I’m sure it was a lot of work.”

  She shook her head. “Not my mother.”

  Had I had mixed up the name of Collette’s older sister? Mariel was rolling her eyes. “I think we have an audience,” she said, raising her chin slightly to indicate Lee. She crossed her arms over her chest as Lee’s eyes darted from Jim to Mariel, and back to me. “I wish she’d stop staring.”

  Jim must have sensed my confusion. “Mariel’s mother, Jack’s first wife, is named Eva. I don’t think you’ve met her.” He pivoted quickly. “You two have something in common. Victoria’s a psychologist. Mariel told me she’s interested in studying psychology, isn’t that right?”

  She nodded. “Where do you practice?”

  “My office is on the Upper East Side.”

  “That’s where my mom works. She’s a clothing buyer at Bergdorf.”

  As I was taking that in, I looked closely at Mariel, who was almost as tall as Jim, and all legs. Her eyes were seafoam green, flecked with blue and gold, and her hair was smartly cut, skimming the tops of her shoulders. She was a beautiful girl. I could only assume her mother was equally gorgeous and statuesque. If my calculations were correct, Jack’s first wife had professional accomplishments, a lovely daughter, and was blessed with knockout looks—a combination that probably drove Lee crazy. She breezed by us again, and I thought of the photos and how she had no idea what was coming.

  Lee was now talking to two women I didn’t recognize. She glanced in our direction several times while pulling at her miniskirt and smoothing down her hair.

  “Lee keeps looking over here,” Mariel said to Jim. “Did you know she used to make digs about my mom always being at work?” Interesting, but I’d have to wrap this up; there wasn’t much time before the speeches, and I still needed to go over my notes and figure out when to confront Lee. “I was young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but I finally said, ‘Lee, you don’t need to be jealous of my mother for having a high-powered job. You’re really good at tennis.’ Lee turned beet red, and after that she stopped making nasty comments.”

  Jim and I exchange
d a glance. So under the polished veneer, Lee felt threatened by me and other women who worked outside the home in professions she perceived to be high-powered. Bullies often targeted others to deal with their own insecurities. I glanced at my watch.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” I finally said. “I’m one of the speakers tonight. It was nice meeting you, Mariel.” I blew Jim a kiss and headed for the lobby restroom.

  To my surprise, Lee was now in the hallway, her back to me, speaking to a dark-haired woman I didn’t recognize: “Well, Dana, since you’re new in town and I promised Jocelyn I’d look out for you, these are the fifth grade girls you want your daughter to be friends with. There’s Lexi, she’s adorable, and Hannah, they’re at our club . . . .”

  Ranking kids? That was shameless. I pushed past, my jaw tightening, as I thought back to the Juul. Even though Mariel had given me context for Lee’s shallow and nasty attitudes and behaviors, I couldn’t have cared less about her insecurities. Feeling threatened by my professional accomplishments didn’t give her a pass for the things she’d done.

  I’d proceed according to plan, use my talk to hint at the bullying and cast doubt on her reputation, and later on, find a way to get her alone and show her the photos. That was the only way to make sure she left Rachel alone once and for all.

  I peeked out of the restroom. The coast was clear. I headed back into the auditorium to take my seat. The program was about to begin.

  I shuffled through papers rehearsing in my head, the hypotheticals and allusions I’d drawn to Lee’s cruelty and bullying: “Imagine a small, close-knit town with excellent schools and an active parent body where some had something to hide,” it began. I’d tried to write it like a mystery novel.

  “Mom!” Rachel had been pulling on my elbow. “Look over there. Up at the front of the room, Lexi’s mom and her friends, whispering and looking people up and down. They’re like teenagers.”

  Rachel was tugging my arm. “There’s Jim.” I waved and blew another kiss toward the rear of the room where he was seated.

  We settled in to watch the presentations. I decided to wait until the end of the evening to find Lee and show her the photos. She’d just grabbed her laptop and started walking up the small wooden staircase at the base of the stage. In a couple of minutes, she’d be standing behind the podium. I reached for my notes so I’d be ready when she called my name.

  “Well, hello everyone,” Lee said into the mic.

  She opened the laptop and plugged in a cord on the side. Her desktop screen appeared as a giant projection above the podium. She’d posted a miniature of the poster, listing the speakers on the top left and beneath it a PowerPoint with the first guest’s name and credentials. The icons of her favorite apps were displayed along the right. I saw Hermès and Harry Winston, and then stopped looking.

  “What a lovely turnout,” Lee was saying as people were filing in. “Ah’d like to thank each and every one of yew for coming out this evening to support the PTA and taking part in our workshop on cyberbullying.”

  The room was buzzing as parents shoved their way down crammed aisles and rows. Lee clapped her hands. “Let’s get started.” She began introducing the panelists, starting with the police chief, then the detective. She provided highlights of their years on the force before setting her mouth in a hard smile. “And also on the program, one of our own, Victoria Bryant . . . . Are you here, Victoria?”

  You just saw me, two seconds ago. I gritted my teeth and waved from my row in the middle of the room.

  “Victoria will speak from a psychological perspective. I’m sure everyone will be most interested in that part of the evening.” Her tone made a psychological perspective sound as interesting as the manual explaining how to program a VCR. “And now without further ado.” She motioned for the police chief to take the stage, and people began clapping as he stepped up to the podium.

  The chief outlined the law as I reviewed my notes. I glanced at my bag and spotted the envelope, and my heart skipped a beat. The evidence was at my fingertips. And I was eager to use it.

  I took the envelope out and peeked inside, and had noticed my pulse starting to quicken, when Rachel started shaking me on the shoulder. All the proof I needed to show everyone in town exactly how awful Lee was! Right here in my hands! Rachel’s insistence reminded me I’d tuned her out.

  She was speaking to me again. “Mom.” Her tone was serious. I pulled myself away from the photos and glanced up. She appeared to be deep in thought. “Why does Mrs. DeVry get to stand up there and act all important? She’s done all kinds of awful things like telling me the wrong practice day, and asking me to step out of the photo.” My stack of papers was momentarily forgotten. Where was Rachel going with this?

  I’d been convinced that after months of mind games and cruelty, it would feel good to take Lee down, hopefully even the score. What was with the questions? I fingered the envelope again.

  For every impulse that encouraged me to go ahead, there remained seeds of doubt. Part of me worried about going low. Public smackdowns were petty and risky, and not my normal modus operandi. But there was more to it. What if I didn’t act? Then Lee would go after someone else.

  I began to sweat as I glanced over at Jim. Life was pretty good now. If I stood up and started to hint at everything that had gone on, would he accuse me of being fixated? I breathed in and relaxed. After seeing Lee in action with the Facebook posting, he’d understand. I’d stick with the plan.

  Rachel was now tugging at my sleeve. I’d been too preoccupied to answer her question. “Mrs. DeVry put this whole evening together,” I whispered. “But I agree that the way she treated you was very wrong.”

  My daughter nodded. “You know, she and some of the other PTA mothers just come to school so they can push people around. One day, Mrs. DeVry screamed at Maya’s mother at the front door because she’d bought the wrong flavor of ice cream for some teacher lunch.”

  That figured. “I didn’t know, honey.” Rachel’s whisper was conspiratorial: “I think people like Mrs. DeVry and her friends act really crazy and mean. I’m so glad you don’t.”

  I didn’t know what to appreciate first: the fact that Rachel had paid me a compliment—the rarest of occurrences nowadays—or that she saw through Lee, straight to her nasty core.

  I’d almost succumbed to the temptation to go at it with her again, and in front of everyone. What was going on with me, and what would Jim have thought?

  Rachel was still staring at the PTA moms. After watching Jess and Audrey whisper to one another, Rachel added: “I’m glad you’re not like them.”

  I was so shocked. I dropped the envelope back into my bag and froze.

  I’d been planning to be very much like them in about five minutes, but Rachel’s comments had snapped me out of it. All my doubts about exposing Lee’s cruelty and using the platform to cast light on her in-group/out-group behaviors came flooding back. It occurred to me that I’d been justifying bullying her in the guise of providing information to the community.

  Lee stood up as the police chief was concluding. Oh shit. What was I going to do? The parts about Lee’s meanness made up at least half of my prepared remarks. I couldn’t use them now. I’d rather have Rachel’s admiration than a moment of hollow satisfaction.

  I’d edit out the hypotheticals about town and go with the part of my talk that described the effects of cyberbullying on school performance and overall mental health. I had collected statistics and summarized recent research, although I hadn’t practiced reading that part aloud. My panic rose. Hopefully, I’d have enough material.

  And I’d keep the photographic evidence to myself. No need to engage with Lee on such a low level, in such a petty way. Rachel and I were on the other side of it now. My daughter was happy and had found friends; what Lee said and did no longer mattered.

  Lee was back at center stage. “Our next speaker is Victoria. Or should I say Dr. Victoria.” She bared her teeth. There was a smattering of applause. “B
ut first a quick thank you to the police chief.”

  Rachel started whispering. “Hey Mom, I bet BucketBeast is here! Whoever made up the account and sent all those messages might have shown up to see everyone talk about the stalking!”

  “Maybe.”

  I was barely paying attention to her; my thoughts were going a mile a minute. For weeks, I’d fantasized about hinting publicly that Lee had planted the Juul—I’d outed her in my mind a million times, and tonight had been a close call.

  I stood up and smoothed my pants down, still wondering exactly what the heck I’d say up there, as Rachel continued to whisper. “I blocked BucketBeast, but I can unblock and message him; Maya dared me.” I put a finger to my lips. “Shh. No phones in here.” I started to walk down the aisle.

  I was standing a few steps away from the podium when the room went wild. There were oohs and aahs and gasps.

  Not another sex video! I stepped forward and grabbed hold of the wooden stand, wondering if Lee had done something to ridicule me. But she was frantic, wild-eyed, moving her arms back and forth, and wailing. She was staring up, and my eyes followed hers to the screen above our heads.

  Her desktop was still projected onto the screen. A pink square icon was blinking in her toolbar. It was her Instachat account with a notification: “@BucketBeast, you have one new message!”

  The notification was from Rachel. My heart stopped. I knew it now for sure: Lee was BucketBeast!

  The audience had gone mad. The scene looked like one of those old newsreels reporting on the 1929 stock market crash and ensuing bank panic, with everyone gesticulating and moving their mouths all at once. I was having trouble processing and believing it all, but one thing was certain: I was furious at Lee for threatening and scaring my child with her anonymous posts. I hoped the DA got involved and hit her with every charge in the book.

  Why would she do it? For control? To maintain her popularity? I thought about her kicking Rachel out of the carpool, and her and Jess inviting everyone, but my daughter to a party. While Lee’s behavior was ridiculous and over-the-top, it was part of a larger societal problem. She and her friends were completely over-involved with their daughters.