Free Zero Tolerance by Claudia Mills Page B

receive a public apology. Give me a few more days, and you’re going to turn on the TV and hear, ‘Middle school principal backs down in lunch-bag-knife incident.’ Believe me.”
    â€œMaybe Sierra would like to try something different. Do you want her to continue going to a school that would suspend her, for two days already, over nothing?”
    â€œThat’s me, it’s on now,” Sierra said, grateful to have a reason to interrupt her parents. She hated when her father used that tone with her mother. But she didn’t want to switch schools; she didn’t want to try something different. She wanted her life back the way it used to be.
    Her father clicked the sound on.
    This time Mr. Besser himself appeared on the screen. He must have decided that it was better to make his case directly to the media rather than let them say whatever they wanted about him, without any reply on his part.
    Sitting behind his desk in the inner sanctum, he repeated the same justifications for zero tolerance that he had given to Sierra and her parents, in almost the exact same words. His bald head glistened beneath the bright television lights.
    â€œAm I sorry this happened? You bet I am. Would I be even sorrier if we had laxer policies and instead of covering this tiny incident you were filming the aftermath of a school massacre? Yes, I would.”
    â€œGive me a break,” Sierra’s father said. “He doesn’t even believe that crap himself.”
    Sierra’s face filled the screen next. Her blue hat did look good, she had to admit.
    Then Colin appeared, talking about the petition.
    â€œSo that’s Colin,” Sierra’s mother said.
    Sierra felt her face flushing. Yes, that was Colin.
    â€œDo you think the petition will help?” Sierra asked her dad after the segment ended.
    He gave a snort. “Not a chance.”
    So her father thought more like Luke Bishop than like Colin Beauvoir.
    â€œSo what’s going to happen?” Sierra asked. “How is it all going to turn out okay?”
    â€œLeave it to me, honey,” her father said. “And, Angie, why don’t you just forget about the fruits and nuts at Pretty Mountain?”
    He clicked off the TV. “Leave it all to me.”

 
    17
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    Sierra drifted awake toward nine o’clock on Saturday morning, suddenly aware of the utter silence of the world outside her bedroom window. She knew it was still snowing simply from the softness of the silence, broken only by the sound of Cornflake’s barely audible purr beside her in her tangle of bedcovers.
    Her mother appeared with breakfast on a tray, as if Sierra were sick rather than facing expulsion from school.
    â€œHere.”
    Sierra sat herself up against her pillows as her mother set the bed tray over her blanketed legs.
    â€œHow about some cream-cheese-stuffed waffles with fresh strawberries? And hot chocolate?”
    â€œI love you, Mom.”
    â€œI love you too, honey bun.”
    Her mother perched on the edge of the bed as Sierra ate. The waffles were light and golden, the cream-cheese filling sweet and slightly tart at the same time, the strawberries remarkably red and ripe for January.
    Sierra took a long sip of hot chocolate and wiped her mouth with the yellow-flowered cloth napkin.
    â€œHoney?” her mother said then. “Do you want to stay at Longwood Middle School? If they let you stay?”
    â€œUh-huh. I have my friends, and Leadership Club, and choir.”
    And this boy I like.
    â€œYou’d meet friends anywhere. You’re good at making friends.”
    â€œFriends aren’t like that. You don’t switch them like a pair of shoes.”
    â€œI know, sweetheart, but still, I wouldn’t choose a school just because of friends.”
    Why not? “Besides, Daddy says Longwood is the best academically.” Sierra swallowed another bite of waffle. “Do you want me to switch schools?”
    Her