His father had never agreed so quickly to a school event before. "Really?" Jonathan confirmed. "I think it's time I met your teacher." Malik felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
Finally, Miss Anderson would see the truth. Later that night, Jonathan made another of his mysterious phone calls from his study. This time, Malik was certain he heard his father mention Jefferson Academy and security protocols before the study door closed completely. Outside, the black SUV was back parked in the same spot as before. But now, instead of feeling frightened by its presence, Malik found it oddly reassuring.
Something was happening, something his father wasn't telling him about. But whatever it was, he was beginning to believe it might work in his favor. As he drifted off to sleep, Malik thought about the look on Miss Anderson's face when his father walked into that classroom. For the first time since the humiliating presentation, he found himself looking forward to going to school. The days leading up to parents day crawled by with agonizing slowness.
In class, Miss Anderson had been wearing a particularly smug smile whenever she glanced at Malik. Twice. She had made off-hand comments about tall tales and vivid imaginations while looking directly at him. She thinks your dad isn't coming. Ethan whispered during their Thursday math lesson.
He'll be there. Malik replied with more confidence than he felt. Though his father had promised to attend, Malik knew how unpredictable Jonathan's schedule could be. Just last month, he had missed Malik's science fair because of some emergency at work. That evening at dinner, Malik picked at his food nervously.
You're still coming tomorrow, right? Jonathan looked up from his plate. I said I would be there, didn't I? Yeah, but sometimes things come up at work. Not tomorrow, Jonathan said firmly.
I've already cleared my schedule. Malik nodded, relieved. Ms. Anderson doesn't believe you work at the Pentagon. She thinks I made it all up.
Something flashed in Jonathan's eyes, a hardness Malik rarely saw at home. "Does she now?" "She's been making fun of me for it," Malik continued. "In front of everyone." Jonathan set down his fork with deliberate calm.
"Tell me more about Ms. Anderson," Malik described his teacher, her favoritism toward the wealthy students, her subtle put downs, the way she seemed to enjoy humiliating him. Jonathan listened without interruption, his expression growing more thoughtful with each detail. When Malik finished, he simply said, "I see." Later that night, Malik noticed his father in his home office, the door partially open.
Jonathan was on his laptop, but instead of financial spreadsheets or news sites, Malik glimpsed what looked like personnel files on the screen. He caught a brief look at Ms. Anderson's photograph before Jonathan noticed him and closed the laptop. Shouldn't you be in bed? His father asked not unkindly.
Just getting some water, Malik replied, wondering what his father had been looking at and why. The next morning, Malik woke to find his father already dressed. Not in his usual work attire, but in a crisply pressed dark suit with a blue tie that seemed more formal than his everyday clothes. On the kitchen counter lay a leather portfolio and an ID badge Malik had never seen before. Is that your Pentagon ID?