Tristan sits back, angered, and I wince . . . jeez. Here we go. “Is that so?” He smirks. “I would like this assignment independently graded.”
“No, that’s not possible, and why would you want to do that?”
“Because Harrison Anderson is being victimized by you because you have a personality clash with him.”
“Oh please,” Mrs. Henderson huffs. “I try and teach him, but there is nothing in his head.”
The principal lets out an audible gasp.
Tristan smiles. “And there it is.” He turns to the receptionist. “Did you get that?”
The receptionist nods nervously.
“You’ve just signed your termination letter, Mrs. Henderson.” He smiles sweetly.
She glares at Harry.
“I’ve personally checked this assignment, and it is not a thirty—perhaps an eighty at worst. You grade him low on every test on some personal power trip.”
“Oh, that is rubbish,” she scoffs.
Tristan pulls out a folder from his briefcase. “I have every single test of Harrison’s right here, and I would like an independent grader.”
“He’s rude, and he needs to repeat.”
“He’s gifted and tired of being discriminated against. Tell me, Mrs. Henderson, have you ever had his IQ tested?”
“No . . . but—”
“Do you think it’s possible that you are intimidated by this child, and you purposely try and get him sent out of class so that he doesn’t activate your own inferiority complex?”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Mrs. Smithers retorts. “You are very rude, Mr. Miles.”
Tristan turns his attention to her. “On another topic, Mrs. Smithers, I would like a report on what you are doing to help Patrick Anderson.”
Her eyes widen. “For what?”
“He has dyslexia, and under state law your school receives special funding for extra help for him. Where is it?”
Oh, he’s good.
“I don’t appreciate you coming in here and slinging your accusations around,” Mrs. Smithers snaps.
Tristan glares at her. “And I don’t appreciate incompetence.” He stands. “You will be hearing from the education board with regard to this matter.” He takes Harry’s hand. “Harrison won’t be back. Nor Patrick, for that matter.”
My eyes widen . . . what?
“And where are you going to send him?” Mrs. Henderson smirks sarcastically.
“They’ll be attending Trinity School.”
“Ha,” Mrs. Smithers laughs. “He won’t get in there. They won’t take him with his behavior record.”
“We’ll see.” He smiles at the people in the room with an eerie confidence. “You know, intelligent people scare stupid people.” He turns to the woman taking notes. “Did you get that?”
She glares at him.
“What does that supposed to mean?” Mrs. Henderson snaps.