Page 39 of Colt
“I’m Principal Hernandez.” She folded her hands on her desk. “Thank you for coming in on short notice. I understand Luca’s mother and grandmother weren’t available.”
“His mother’s at work. His grandmother has a doctor’s appointment.” I met her eyes directly. “I’m his father, Colt Spencer.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn’t comment. “I see. Well, Mr. Spencer, I’m afraid Luca was involved in a physical altercation today during recess. He threw the first punch.”
“At who?”
“A fourth-grader named Tyler Morrison. Tyler required ice for his nose, and his parents are… understandably upset.”
I looked at Luca. “This Tyler kid—he’s older than you?”
Luca shrugged one shoulder.
“Three years older,” Principal Hernandez confirmed. “Which is part of what concerns us. Luca is typically a well-behaved student. This is very out of character.”
“Did anyone ask why he threw the punch?”
The principal hesitated. “Tyler claims he was just talking to Luca and his brother when Luca attacked him without provocation.”
“That’s a lie!” Luca’s composure cracked. He sat up straight, his eyes blazing. “He was saying stuff about mama. Bad stuff.”
My hands curled into fists on my thighs. “What kind of stuff?”
“He said bad words. Really bad ones.” Luca’s voice shook. He looked at the principal, then at me, his face reddening. “He saidMama was a biker’s…” He struggled with the word, his jaw tight. “…a biker’s whore.”
Principal Hernandez went quiet for a moment. “Regardless,” she said, “Luca will be suspended for two days, starting tomorrow.”
I nodded slowly, keeping my voice even. “And Tyler? What’s his punishment for bullying a kid three years younger than him?”
“Tyler will also receive consequences. But, Luca threw the first punch—”
“After being provoked with slurs about his mama.” I gestured to Luca’s face. “And my son’s got a bruise on his cheek, which means Tyler hit back. So this wasn’t a one-sided attack. It was a fight.” I leaned forward. “Ma’am, I understand you have rules. I’m not saying Luca should have hit him. But maybe next time you should get the full story before you label a six-year-old the aggressor.”
Principal Hernandez’s expression tightened, but she didn’t argue. “You can take Luca home now.”
I stood and looked down at my son. “Let’s go.”
Before I got in the truck, I pulled out my phone and texted Lilac:Done at school. Taking him to Betty’s.Her reply came back before I’d pocketed it:On my way.
We were in my truck before either of us spoke. Luca sat in the back, buckled into one of the two booster seats bolted behind the cab, staring out the window, his jaw set at that stubborn angle I was starting to recognize as pure Spencer genetics.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” I said finally.
Luca’s head whipped around. “You’re takinghisside?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m stating a fact.” I pulled out of the parking lot, heading toward Betty’s house. “You shouldn’t have hit him. But I understand why you did.”
“He called my mama a—”
“I know what he called her. And if I’d been there, I probably would have hit him too.” I glanced at Luca. “Which is the problem.”
He frowned, confused. “You would have hit him?”
“When I was your age, I punched a kid who said something about my mom. Broke his nose. Got suspended for a week.” I kept my eyes on the road. “Felt good for about thirty seconds. Then I had to explain to my mom why I was in trouble, and she cried. Not because she was mad at me, but because she felt like it was her fault.”
Luca was quiet for a moment. “Did she blame you?”
“No. She hugged me and told me she was proud that I wanted to defend her. But she also said—” I paused, remembering my mom’s voice, soft and sad. “She said that defending someone doesn’t have to mean fighting them. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk away and let stupid people be stupid.”
