“No, sir.”
“Good. That’s a score in your favor. Have a seat.”
Raymond perched uncomfortably on the edge of a hard wooden chair. It had no arms, so Raymond had no clue what to do with his own.
Just like the old days, he thought.
The principal seemed to be watching him try to settle his body. With some interest, as though he couldn’t imagine how it felt to have to tame one’s own limbs on a daily basis. Then he stared at his computer monitor for a time, but Raymond had no idea whether his life was any part of what the man was reading.
“Now what can I do for you?” Mr. Landucci asked at last.
“I want to talk to you about an absence.”
“All right. How long were you absent and how recently?”
“No. Not a past absence. A future one. I want to do something that will make me miss some school. But I feel like it would be educational. This thing I want to do.”
“I’ll need a note from your mother.”
Raymond sat stunned a moment, feeling his ears tingle.
“My mother?”
“Yes. Your mother.”
“Why didn’t you say ‘my parents’？”
“Because it says here you have a joint custody arrangement. That you live with your mother and spend every other weekend with your father.”
“Oh,” Raymond said. “It says all that? Why does it say all that?”
“This is information we need to know. If a student is late on certain days, he might be coming to school from farther away. Or if a student is more distracted or shows signs of abuse . . . well, it’s just helpful information. But back to the question at hand. Is your mother in favor of your taking this time off school?”
“My father said he would write me a note.”
“I see.”
Raymond figured the principal did see. Probably far too much. More than Raymond had meant to reveal.
“So let me tell you about this thing I want to do. Please. It’s about me learning more about our criminal justice system. Firsthand. Well, not literally firsthand. I’m not on trial or anything. But hands-on. And I’d get my assignments from my teachers and do the work at home at night. I won’t fall behind. I won’t let my grades slip. I never let my grades slip. You can probably see that. Since you’re looking at my whole life there on your screen.”
At first, no reply. Mr. Landucci was not looking at Raymond. He was reading on his computer monitor. It struck Raymond that the principal hadn’t looked at him since that moment when Raymond had been trying to sort out his limbs. The man seemed to have lost interest after that.
“Yes,” Mr. Landucci said suddenly, startling Raymond. “You’re a good student. Wish we had more like you. But I’ll need a note from your mother. And after you went and made it ever so clear that you hope to bypass her, I’ll probably call her and verify. But beyond that I have no issues with what you propose, providing you keep up with the work.”
Raymond sat a moment. He knew he was supposed to get up and leave now. But for an awkward length of time, he didn’t.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“What don’t you understand? You seem like a smart young man, and none of this is complicated.”
“My father is just as much my parent as my mother is.”
“But she’s your primary caregiver. And he’s the secondary.”
“Oh,” Raymond said, reminding himself briefly of his dad. The man of few words. Oh.
“So I’ll see you again when you get that note from her.”
It was the principal’s polite way of saying the meeting was over now, and Raymond knew it.
He walked down the street with Mrs. G, his arm hooked through hers, on their way to the bank to deposit her two monthly checks. They were hurrying slightly, to get there before it closed for the day. Still, their version of hurrying was hard for Raymond because it felt so slow.
“So what did you find out about going?” she asked as they stood waiting for a light to change.
“Not sure yet,” he said. “I’m still working on it.”
She seemed to pick up on his discouragement. She seemed to pick up on everything, Raymond thought. He waited for her to ask more about it, but she never did. They crossed the street in silence.
“For myself, I think I’m putting too much on it,” she said. “Investing too much.”
“I don’t follow.”
He watched her white-and-red cane sweep back and forth in front of them as they walked. He was never sure why she used it in that way, since he would have told her if she was about to trip on—or walk into—something. But maybe that was easy for Raymond to think. He’d never had to walk down a busy Manhattan street wondering what he might be just about to run into.