The Scream of Innocence

By Michael Perez

Bella, an autistic elementary school girl, comes from a well-to-do but uncaring home. Her mother and father frequently push her off onto the school that she attends but makes it difficult for the school to provide services for her special needs. Bella, unable to communicate, struggles with everyday life and needs to be assisted with simple things such as eating, using the bathroom, and changing. Things get worse for Bella before they get better. Bella’s mother sees her child as an obstacle and as competition as she tries to seduce a newly assigned assistant principal who befriends the little girl. Now, as the new principal, he must find ways to help his little friend help herself. Bella, still unable to communicate, is being abused. The principal suspects the abuse is coming from the home but is unable to prove his accusations and has to work around Bella’s parents’ money and power that saved them from numerous litigations. The principal must overcome the obstacles placed before him and find a way to prove their guilt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640275676

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The Scream

of Innocence

Michael Perez

Copyright © 2017 Michael Perez

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

This book is purely fictional and any similarities to names

or places are coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-64027-566-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64027-567-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

The air had changed from its mildly warm temperature to a more clement one, swirling and stirring through the maples blowing in the wind. It was a signal, a welcome to a new school year. Through the wind, a buzzing sound of cars resonated, vibrating the once quieted street while maneuvering like a slow pack of jockeys vying for position, each vehicle waiting to enter the faded gray black top of the school ground. The smell of diesel exhaust wafted as school buses unhurriedly pulled up, dropping off students from one of the first of many trips to West Hedge Elementary School. The parking lot was full of eager parents, some tidying up their child, ensuring that they were ready for the first day of school, others in a rush to drop their child before heading to work. In the near distance, a wave of bodies walked up the seven granite steps into the large opened oak doors of the hundred-year-old school. Voices of a few mothers fussed, questioning if their child has brought their money for lunch. Don’t forget to call me, one mother says. Someone next to her shouted, Bring home your homework. Get to class! a third parent barked to her child as she walked away to her car. Another dragged her leg along the granite walkway while her child tightly attached to it screamed and shrieked from the first day jitters of school. A dad on his first trip to his son’s school walked through the parking lot with the look of confusion, asking his son where he thought his class would be. A child in a torn school vest dropped his lunch box, spilling the contents onto the steps, allowing an apple to roll, bouncing its way onto the sidewalk. School friends from the previous year hugged excitedly after not seeing each other for months.

A screech off in the space of the driveway and a horn blaring caused everyone to pause for just a second. A bus driver yelled at an inconsiderate parent who had just cut him off. His angry hands motioned though the glass of the windshield as if to question the other driver’s mental capacity. The wave of bodies turned toward the angry shout and then, as if nothing happened, continued to flood the school. Students with new book bags, old book bags, new school uniforms, old school uniforms, and no school uniforms continued on an ant-like wave up the steps and into the doors. The crowd coming in from outside clogged and packed the halls. Parents and students huddled in front of the main office, looking to see which teacher they were enrolled with and where their class was. Those who already had their schedules made their way to the classroom in droves. The organized chaos that filled the halls spread into the main office. The office clerks stationed by the counter ready to receive parents and their many requests were overwhelmed by the approaching crowd, the commotion, and every other office business that needed to be taken care of. The patrons with their hands and arms up calling for service swarmed the clerks drowning them with their bodies as they shoved against the barricade.

A few teachers who reported to work unprepared jammed the area behind the front counter, adding to the chaos. One of them kept bugging the two office clerks to assist them with running the copy machine. They needed to make prints of student-information forms that were expected to be handed out during class. Between the needs of the teachers and the line of parents, the two clerks struggled to manage their duties. Mrs. Jenkins rushed back and forth from one area of the counter to the other, trying to meet the demands of the pestering teachers and the office phones that rang incessantly. The other clerk ran to pick up the phone, allowing Mrs. Jenkins to take a second to punch in a code for the copy machine. The clerk was heard confirming with a caller that the first day of school had started. A parent who had been waiting in front of the line became irate and started yelling. Ms. Jenkins startled, jumped, and dropped the copies of papers on to the floor. The two exchanged words. Your child is not within our school district. And yes, you would need to register him there, she said blasting back at him. He rebutted that he lives just across the street from the school’s districted area and angrily questioned how an imaginary boundary line could keep him from a school just twenty minutes away from his residence. For him it would mean driving almost forty minutes through heavy traffic, carting his child away to a school that he did not want his child to attend.

The jousting of words went back and forth until his snarls and the entrance of an individual unknown to him interrupted his gesticulating. The woman swung open the half-sized door at the end of the counter that accessed the office space. He turned to look at the determined-looking individual wearing a maroon pencil skirt suit as she walked through a path between office desks. Mrs. Romero, the administrative assistant, tried to acknowledge her with a greeting but was quickly cut off. The look, the demeanor, and the almost commanding voice confirmed it was Mrs. Carpenter, the school principal. Mrs. Carpenter turned to the parent to catch his eye then sternly questioned if he had an issue that needed addressing. He shook his head from side to side, picked up his child’s shot records, health physical, and residency declaration from the counter, then left. The principal sharply turned to look at Mrs. Romero. Have all the buses arrived? she asked. No Mrs. Carpenter, Not our special students. Mrs. Carpenter, overly concerned, quickly requested for the presence of Mrs. Stephens. Get her in here now, she demanded. Mrs. Stephens, the teacher for students with special needs, had been outside in the front of the school, waiting for her students. She is on the steps at the student arrival. Would you like me to call her? Mrs. Romero asked. As long as she is present to accept our student she will be fine, Mrs. Carpenter responded before walking away from the flood of parents still in the main office.

Mrs. Stephens, standing at the top of the granite steps, spied through the lightly tinted windows to see which of her students made it to their first day of school. The small yellow bus slowly turned the corner on its way to enter the stone-walled school grounds. It chugged through the double gates and drove up to the drop-off point. The crowd of students and noise from the droves of parents muffled Mrs. Stephen’s attempts to call her two-to-one school aides. She climbed up a step, tiptoed, then lifted her hands and waved them in the air, signaling Mrs. Janessa and Mrs. Marie. The two women were assigned to her last year to provide two-to-one student aide services. Just as she was, they too were stuck in a crowd of bodies. Carefully they pushed through the crowd, making their way to the sidewalk and patiently waited.

Air pressure from the breaks of the bus let off a hissing sound as it halted. Mr. Al, the driver, reached forward from his seat, pulling on a lever opening the two slender glass double doors, allowing Mrs. Janessa and Mrs. Marie to enter. A child strapped, harnessed to her seat, excitedly screamed, flailing her hands reached out to touch Mrs. Janessa. Wait, Bella! Mrs. Janessa says loudly. The child bounced on the bench seat, moving erratically, not allowing Mrs. Janessa to release the harnessed seat belt. The helmet she was wearing was knocked loose by the commotion and tumbled onto the floor of the bus. Bang! Her head contacted the glass window, shaking it. Mrs. Marie maneuvered herself to assist with the contorting child and held her still. Another year, Mr. Al said with slight sarcasm. The three laughed knowing what was in store for them the upcoming year. The whole time Bella had been in school, they had had concerns from the way she was dressed and sent to school to the lack of sleep and the apparent untidiness. There was no cooperation from the parents. Their pleas regarding Bella’s attire and hygiene were ignored on most occasions. They were just school aides, the persons whom no one responded to their concerns never addressed.

Mrs. Janessa and Mrs. Marie continued with the releasing of the seat belt until the pressure from the latch gave way, allowing the buckle to fall away. The two gingerly guided Bella out of her seat and took her off the bus. Mrs. Stephens, finally making it to the area the two school aides were standing and looked over Bella, a tall, slender, pretty girl, her hair in a rat’s nest. Mrs. Stephens shook her head. Bella, standing with her helmet in her hand, cried as the air hit her pale skin. The start of the new school year had interrupted her summer schedule. The attendance and new school year at West Hedge required her to get used to the daily routine of school. Her unhappiness was expressed well through her wailing and efforts to bite those around her. Mrs. Janessa sternly scolded Bella, who responded by hanging her body forward with her shirt, two sizes too big, drooping off her body. The school jacket she was sent with was covered in stains from last year’s school projects, dirt smudges, and food remnants. The sole of the red shoe on her left foot had found a way to detach from the top canvas, leaving a gaping hole. The manner in which she arrived to school was not a surprise but was a clear call for pity and intervention.

She was sent to school in torn short shorts again, Mrs. Stephens, Mrs. Marie said. Mrs. Stephens was not at all surprised and shook her head. She would be making yet another phone call to request for proper school attire just as she had done numerous times before. That is not all she was sent with, Mrs. Stephens responded. Bella took two steps and started walking off into the parking lot with her school vest torn, tattered, and smelling from the rotten food left on it.

Mrs. Stephens called for Bella, distracting her from her initial plan to walk off and wonder aimlessly. She called again and held out her hand, waiting for Bella to grasp it. With one foot trailing behind the other, the child sluggishly walked over, reaching for the open hand. Mr. Al seeing the three struggle with their group decided that he would park the bus to help Mrs. Janessa and Mrs. Marie take the five remaining special-needs students off the bus and up the newly installed ramp at the front of the building. It was off to the cafeteria for breakfast. Not reaching but twenty feet in the hallway, Bella had another meltdown. The color and the smell of the newly painted walls were unfamiliar to her—student work, old signs, posters, and the letters that spelled out the school name were taken down. The cork bulletin boards had been changed and decorated with the colors of fall. For Bella it was just too much she was not around the school environment to see the gradual changes it was shockingly overwhelming. It would have been easier to manage if she was present to see them as they happened and the changes explained to her. The summer break took her out of her daily school routine, causing a change in the schedule she was accustomed to.

The readjustment was going to be testing. Bella shrieked and grasped, clutching the waistline of Mrs. Stephens, her long nails digging into the teacher’s side. Mrs. Stephens struggled pulling her off and away from her body. Bella turned and rammed her head into her teacher’s stomach, trying to hide in her skin. Mrs. Stephens pulled back. Bella lunged forward and grabbed her again. It’s okay. You will be all right. This is your school, Bella. Calm down. Mrs. Stephens tried to comfort her. Bella’s viselike hug squeezed, causing Mrs. Stephens to gasp. The smell from a freshly stripped and newly waxed floor was unrecognizable. The screams of the terrified first-grade little girl were heard up and down the hallway. Doors began to open. Teachers and students popped their heads out to see who was causing the ruckus interrupting their early morning drill.

The sound of wailing in the halls crept its way into the principal’s office prompting her to investigate the noise. Mrs. Carpenter—seeing Bella, the two-to-one school aides, and the teacher—walked up and placed her hand on the child’s head, patting it in an attempt to calm her down. Startled, Bella retracted and screamed then slithered and sank to the floor as if trying to dissolve into the tiles. Mrs. Stephens pointed to the child and motioned her finger, outlining Bella’s body to get Mrs. Carpenter to notice what she was wearing. Please, Mrs. Carpenter, I need your assistance in monitoring and explaining to the parents that she is not to come to school like this. I have tried all of last school year to get the parents to conform to the school dress code. This isn’t it!

I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have someone from the front office call immediately, Mrs. Carpenter said before walking away.

Mrs. Carpenter paused in recollection of the interaction she had had with the Mr. and Mrs. Amelot. He was very vexing and made the handling of Bella—an autistic child with no speech or communication skills—very difficult. The demands he placed on the school were just too burdensome. He required the department to assign two aides to serve his one kindergarten student—the one to be his daughter’s servant, providing for her every need, the other to oversee the handling of her. It was ludicrous. Two adults, not inclusive of the five-year-old child’s teacher, were too many individuals to oversee the daily events and interactions of one student. She recollected how the school and the school district were short on one-to-one school aides, a problem that existed for years.

Several times West Hedge had to wait for a whole school year to fill a one-to-one position. The districts department of education had an unwritten policy, and it seemed that only the parents who screamed the loudest and made the most threats of taking a school through due process were heard and taken care of first. The parents who were understanding, patient, and quiet were made to wait. The department quickly gave in to his demand promptly to keep Mr. Amelot a confusingly obsessive father and his lawyers at bay. It was a stark contrast from the mother who oftentimes could never be reached, especially in times of need. The uncaring yet overly accusing mother was not to be counted on. Being that she was usually at the local boutique, pampering herself, she did not like to be bothered. A few times, she scolded the front office, telling them she was too busy to care for an imbecilic little child. If she was not at the boutique, she was at the spa, soaking her feet before a pedicure, or was out buying pricy high-end products adorning herself with the money she spent while she sent her daughter to school with filthy rags. The school tried several times all of last year, but it was never an easy task to get her to come to the phone. When the school’s number showed up on her cell, she would either ignore it or blast the person on the line. It never mattered if Bella was sick or she needed clean clothes. Her response was always the same: You take care of it.

This was only the second year of attendance for Bella. She had grown physically since kinder but was still far behind in other developmental aspects, and now as a first grade student, she continued her attendance, with five years to go at West Hedge. The school year will not be any easier than the last after experiencing the irrational and illogical demands Mr. Amelot placed on the department during Bella’s individualized-educational-plan meeting. The lawyers he brought everywhere with him were always out for blood. Mrs. Carpenter recollected how last year Mr. Amelot threatened the school and the school district with a major lawsuit. He had alleged that the school failed to provide his daughter with a free and appropriate education protected under federal law. The team that was present tried to show him that even though they were short of a therapist, she was still being serviced by the teacher and the two-to-ones. He wouldn’t have it. The documents he signed specifically identified service providers. He pointed out that even though it said that persons responsible were everyone under the sun, they were still short a therapist, services were not delivered by a trained service provider he contended. The school, the department of special education, and the district caved in, not wanting to be dragged through the courts. Things were settled before the due process hearing was scheduled.

After seeing Bella, Mrs. Carpenter turned and walked back to the main office, making her way to the administrative center and into her room. The books she had read were stacked up on the shelf. Titles from Marzano, Dufore, Blooms, Web, Piaget, and others with their tattered and used pages stood tall. Notes and posted tabs marked ideas and theories that became a repertoire of her well-developed educational philosophy. A display case of the school’s accomplishments and pictures of the many years Mrs. Carpenter had been at the school collected dust as it aged in the seasonal sun. The pictures told tales of a once-young Mrs. Carpenter through a transformation of a now-silver-haired elderly woman. She had years of experience behind her; it told her that she needed to handle the incident carefully and pick her words wisely as she prepared herself for the anticipated conversation.

She stepped to her desk, reaching for the phone, but was suddenly held back, becoming motionless. She thought to herself, only fifteen months separated her from retirement. If only she could continue to keep Mr. Amelot out of her hair and off her back, then she would be fine. Any misstep would cost her the pension she had been waiting for. It had been thirty-three years and seven months since she first started as a young woman moving up, conquering the educational world, acquiring the position she had kept for so long. The accomplishments of the school she fostered would be lost in infamy if she couldn’t keep him appeased. Retirement was just within reach. To foul the chance of cashing in on a total of thirty-five years would be wasted. She had plans after retirement. There were places she wanted to go, time she wanted to spend with her now-adult children that her job often took her away from. She had always wanted to spend time with her grandchildren but almost never had the chance. Nothing was going to keep her from her goals.

Without thinking for another second, she figured the answer was easy—don’t make the call. Instead, clothes were taken from a closet of donated and unwanted school uniforms from previous students who had come and moved on. They had the smell of mothballs, but still, they were cleaner than what Bella was wearing, and one could be found that fit her properly. Mrs. Carpenter rationalized that this would save the clerks from the daunting task of trying to reach Mrs. Amelot. Her cell phone was probably off anyway. The other, Mr. Amelot, would not have to be bothered either. He could continue with whatever new real estate development he was working on. Besides, she took no pleasure in hearing his condescending remarks as he would remind everyone that he was working and as always was busy and didn’t want to be bothered—as if no one else had a job that needed to be accomplished. The story he gave, she figured, would not be any different from last school year.

After gathering a uniform set for Bella, Mrs. Carpenter asked Mrs. Jenkins to call the special-needs teacher. A voice requesting for Mrs. Stephens was heard over the school intercom, with the instruction for her to report to the main office. Hearing the call, Mrs. Stephens left the dining hall, Bella, the two-to-one school aides, and the other special-needs students and paced to meet the summon. Once there, she was given the set of clothes and was instructed to change Bella. The look of frustration crept from her brow, distorting her face. Once again, the school was giving into the money and the influence of Mr. Amelot. He was getting away with his parental duties and was leaving the child’s care derelict. For 180 school days plus four weeks of summer school, his child was dumped at the doorsteps of West Hedge Elementary. The district and the school are just too afraid to take a stand for a child in need, she thought.

Disgusted, Mrs. Stephens marched into the school dining hall and tossed the strong-scented clothing to Ms. Janessa. Uneasily, Ms. Janessa tilted her head upward to Mrs. Stephen. Are these from Mr. Amelot? she asked. No, Mrs. Carpenter probably did not want to bother either of the two. Same as last year after the big threat, she snapped. Ms. Marie stood up from the cafeteria bench, exasperated. Does this mean that we are going to have to pretend not to see how this child is repetitively sent to school? How many times is she allowed come to school with clothes either two sizes too big or one size too small, torn, and always untidy?

We will do what we can with what we can, Ms. Marie, same as always, Mrs. Stephens replies. Having completed breakfast, the students were gathered and walked over to the scullery to dump their breakfast trays and then taken to wash their hands and faces before heading to the classroom.

Three weeks into the school year passes without any incident concerning Bella. She had not had a meltdown, concerns about the way she was sent to school had lessened, and her parents had not caused any problems. The office clerks, the two-to-ones, and Mrs. Stephens were just beginning to think the school year would be peaceful and continue smoothly. This was to end. Twenty minutes after the school tardy bell had already rung for the morning session, Mr. Al was seen abnormally driving the bus up the street and toward the school. The bus maneuvered sharply around the corner before making an abrupt stop at the front of the steps leading to the opened doors of the school. The bus doors swung open. Mr. Al, leaving the key still in the ignition, walked out visibly upset. Mrs. Stephens saw the commotion and walked down the flight of steps and questioned the conduct. Mr. Al explained that he understood he was late but had had an argument with Mrs. Amelot. She did not want him to have high school and middle school special-needs students on the bus with her daughter. She forcefully gave him a directive to drop all the students on the street and only take her daughter. She told him that it was in Bella’s transportation modifications of the individualized education plan that was signed and agreed to by all the members of the consulting team, which included her attorneys and the school principal. She reiterated that it was agreed by all parties that when transporting Bella, there could be no other students on the bus, especially middle and high school students. He explained to Mrs. Stephens that he was quick to inform Mrs. Amelot that the bus sat twenty-five students comfortably, there were only ten students on the bus, and no one was allowed to sit next to Bella. She needn’t worry. All the students were safely put in seat belts, and none of them were able to work the release to walk about the bus. Furthermore, all the students on the bus were supposed to be there, and before any student was allowed on the bus, proper paperwork must be reviewed and signed off by him. The documents included the transportation modifications, so he knew what was on Bella’s transportation checklist. And finally, he was unaware of such a superfluous request. It was illogical. Mrs. Amelot gave him an ultimatum, either phone for another driver to come and transport the other students or she would have his head. I had to make a call to bus operations. That lady threatened to sic her lawyers on me. I don’t have no money or anything of good that she could take from me for doing my job! I have kids and a family! What does she want the thirty thousand that I don’t make? Mr. Al stood shaking, trying not to erupt. She had made him wait for an additional forty minutes before a small van and a car came to take the nine students. The lag caused a domino effect. The students from other schools had to wait; some would be late for an hour.

As the conversation carried on, the two-to-ones entered the bus. Bella, screaming at the top of her lungs, was unharnessed by both Ms. Janessa and Ms. Marie and taken to the cafeteria for a late breakfast. Mrs. Stephens wanted Mrs. Carpenter to hear what Mr. Al had told her. The two walked to the main office to speak with her. Mrs. Jenkins, the school attendance clerk, seeing that there was a visible concern, rushed to retrieve Mrs. Carpenter. The principal made her way through the maze of desks used by the office clerks then turned toward Mr. Al. She was curious to see what the commotion was and why it put a stop to busy tapping of fingers on keyboards, the hum of the copy machine, and unusual time it took to answer the incessant ringing of the phone. Mr. Al started on his rant. Frustrated, he repeated the event that had just taken place. Something had to be done. It was only the beginning of the school year, and so far, everyone who had dealt with the Amelots expressed the need for someone to put them in their place.

Those who provided services for Bella were almost always treated poorly. It didn’t matter who it was—a teacher, a school aide who provided for Bella’s welfare while at school, or the therapist who had serviced her for the year. It was very confusing. Both Mr. and Mrs. Amelot had always articulated the need for Bella to have the best access to education that was, in their mind, owed to her by the public school system. They had money, yet they relied on public school and its lack of resources to provide her with everything they demanded. It was easy for them to place her in a private school equipped with the latest technology, psychologist, speech therapist, counselors for the autistic, an army of one-to-one school aides, and everything else that they may have required. The problem was that there was a cost. Neither of them wanted to spend money on her and only did so when they benefitted from it. Anything extra would take away from Mrs. Amelot’s expensive wardrobe that costs more than an entire years salary of even the principal. She wouldn’t be able to change her designer bags that she switched out every two weeks. The additional cost that she would incur would mean she would have to wait eighteen months to get a new car instead of having a new one yearly. Seeing from the way Bella was sent to school, it was evident that a facade was created to make it look like the Amelots were genuinely concerned for Bella. They couldn’t and didn’t want to be reached when the school needed assistance. It didn’t matter if she needed clean clothes, food for lunch, or even the request for her to be picked up when ill. It was not their problem. They had made it known to the office clerks, the two-to-ones, and even the teacher that once she was on the bus and sent to school, she becomes the school’s problem.

Mrs. Stephens walked out of the office after seeing that Mr. Al’s concern was being addressed, and started on her way to her students. In the time it took Mrs. Stephens to take Mr. Al to see the principal, the two ladies had taken the student to cafeteria, washed her up, and then took her to the classroom. They all waited patiently for their teacher, Mrs. Marie and Mrs. Janessa, curious about the conversation between the bus driver and Mrs. Amelot, went on talking about the many senseless things that had been said or done. They didn’t get to hear the latest thing that happened with the Amelots, and wanted in on the details of the newest drama. The interaction between the Amelots and the school reminded them of a real-life drama, a soap opera that came on midmorning. The two kidded. It was Days of Our Lives at West Hedge.

The two went on and recollected. It was last school year sometime on an early October. The temperature had dropped to forty degrees. The cold, misty morning was broken by chilly rain. The leaves from the maples and the ninebark in front of the school clogged the storm drains, causing the rainwater to come up over the sidewalk. Students in their galoshes skipped over puddles and gave a shivering shout when the cold water from the cars and buses splashed and soaked their clothes. Mostly the students were more in a hurry to get out of the rain than to play in the puddles. Just as they did every morning, Mrs. Janessa and Mrs. Marie were waiting at the top of the granite steps for the small yellow school bus to arrive with its half load of children. Only that this time Bella was not on it. The two waited hidden under their umbrellas. The thick pants the two were wearing were saturated with water at the ankles. The shoes they had on were waterlogged, and their toes became numb from the very wet cold rain. Thirty minutes had passed, and the school bell rang, signaling that everyone was supposed to be indoors. Just as the two ladies were about to turn to report to the special-needs room, a white Audi sped sliding around the corner of the entrance of the school grounds. The car took a sharp turn, swerved, then pulled up, throwing the frigid water onto the steps. Chilly water was hurled on them at the knees. The car stopped and the passenger window rolled down. The familiar demanding voice of Mrs. Amelot blared at the two ladies. Not waiting for the two to get to the car, the door opened and Bella was pushed out onto the wet sidewalk. Bella, in blankness, fell flat on the drenched pavement. Her shoes were thrown, flung out the door of the car. Mrs. Amelot spun her tires, kicking up the dirt and debris-laden water as she indecently explained she was late for coffee and didn’t have time to put shoes on her imbecilic daughter’s feet. In shock from the event, the two ladies picked Bella up and took her to the nurse to get cleaned up.

This was just one of the many things that stuck out in their minds. It bothered them that anyone could be so cruel to a child, especially their own. After seeing something so shocking, nothing should be a surprise. The little episode that Mr. Al had gone through did not compare to what they had witnessed in the past. The two continued with more stories, becoming distracted and disengaged. Mrs. Stephens decided it was enough. There was no need to relive or revive such horrible things, and reminded to focus on their children and continue with their tasks.

The sun rose and set eighty-one times. With each passing day, the absence of Bella’s therapy had accumulated. The speech therapist who was assigned to service Bella since August began the first day of what was required to be a year of ongoing year of speech-related therapy. She was several months behind students were shortened and owed time. The lack of services meant that the school was in noncompliance with a federally mandated student right under special education. The deviation to what was written in the student’s individualized education plan without prior parental consent would mean compensatory services and, at its worst, tort liability. The school was usually able to get around this requirement by providing parents with a notification that the services were not being delivered through a form that explained why, how, and when services would be rendered with compensation. The year prior, the Amelots, in their quest to drag the school district through a lawsuit, lost. They cited the fact that speech services were not delivered contrary to the educational plan. However, the school was able to save itself from noncompliance and failure to deliver speech services. It was determined by a hearing officer during due process that the school acted in good faith. A parent notice was sent home that services were not being delivered. It didn’t have a therapist to send out. In addition, the school offered to pay for speech therapy if Mr. and Mrs. Amelot were able to find a private therapist. The document continued and explained that services would resume once a therapist had been identified or hired. With no applicants, it was impossible to hire. The district could not offer such services. The school was able to show a good faith effort by having the special education teacher provide what she could and keep a log of things Bella mastered or needed to master.

It would be difficult to prove such a thing this time around. The department had a speech therapist. She was just not coming. Mrs. Carpenter had assumed that services were ongoing and didn’t take the time to monitor. The school had failed again to provide those services. Ultimately, it was Mrs. Applegate’s responsibility to provide Bella with her speech therapy, but she kept it a secret that she wasn’t. She knew that if the principal or the parents found out, they would place a price on her head. It would not be the first time she would be in trouble for failing to perform her duties. Last year Mrs. Applegate worked as a speech therapist in another school district. The story was the same. As a result of her short comings, she was eventually reprimanded for improper documentation, covering up the dereliction of duties and not servicing a group of students. She was given a choice—either resign or face termination. Wanting to keep her record clean, she resigned from that school district and was hired over the summer and assigned to four other schools that included West Hedge. The therapist reasoned that the school was just too far to drive for a thirty-minute session. It didn’t make sense to service just one individual at a single school when there were more students needing her services at a school just one hour down the road before West Hedge. Her time was better spent there, and the parents were easier to get along with.

Mr. Amelot and Mrs. Amelot were very difficult and often gave her problems. In addition to ongoing occupational therapy and physical therapy, Bella was identified as a student who needed services beyond the regular school year. She had shown signs of regression, which prompted the need for services to extend throughout the summer. It was agreed that during the summers the Amelots were to meet Mrs. Applegate at West Hedge Monday through Friday, they didn’t show. Bella was kept at home on most days, and it seemed to be for no apparent reason other than it was an inconvenience. Both of her parents had iterated that if the speech therapy didn’t fit their schedule, Bella wouldn’t come. Worst off, and outside of the originally agreed therapy time, they made the demand that if services were to be provided, it was to be at their residence, in the evening, after six o’clock and only if they were home regardless if Bella was at home with the maid. As in the past, if Mr. Amelot was at a jobsite or working at the office, he would rarely leave to drop the child to her scheduled therapy. Mrs. Amelot would always find a reason of inconvenience. She was either with friends, hosting some uppity luncheon, or just didn’t want to take Bella. If they were home, it was always after eight thirty in the evening. These experiences Mrs. Applegate had in the past only led her to believe that she could get away with not servicing Bella. No one would know if she didn’t tell. It was an inconvenience for them anyway, she decided. Mrs. Carpenter wouldn’t be informed either. The less she knew, the better it would be.

By now the leaves from red maples, basswood, poplar, and black ash scattered across the school ground. The morning recess had scenes of children playing in the piles of leaves and the school aides chasing them to a place in the playground clear of orange, red, brown, and yellow debris. The school custodians, with their gas-powered leaf blowers, struggled with an almost-losing battle of keeping the leaves off of the walkways, driveways, and pavement. Inside the doors of closed classrooms, the students prepared for the annual Thanksgiving Day performances for parents. The teachers and students went almost freely from class to class, sharing glue, scissors, colored paper, and other material that was needed. A knock on Mrs. Stephens’s door was answered with a pleasant call to enter the room. The pleasantry was soon dashed as Mrs. Wormwood entered the door. Mrs. Stephens, with an uneasy look, questioned, It must be that time of year. Mrs. Wormwood, the assigned clerk for the individualized education plan, nodded. Her presence meant that it was time for the annual meeting for Bella’s individualized education plan. If it was anything like last year, the meeting would consist of a regular classroom teacher, the principal, the special education teacher, all the therapists, both parents, and their three lawyers. The attendance of the Amlot’s attorneys made everyone feel on edge and uneasy. It was no secret that they were out for blood and like sharks; a small mistake or any misstep would be disastrous. The lawyers would have reviewed Bella’s education plan several times before the meeting, meticulously combing over it, taking notes as they continued to prepare for the IEP. The meetings usually took long as arguments over such words like and, or, suggested, and shall losing their definition, causing the meeting to be cloudy, unclear, and laborious. The process last year was stalled by the lawyers several times; they couldn’t agree on the definitions of such words, and the meeting was stopped and rescheduled twice. The teachers and the service providers thought that the Amelots were trying to prolong the meeting so that they could catch the school in a failure to hold a timely meeting. The delay would push the school into noncompliance and give the Amelots ammunition for a possible civil suit. Bella would not have her educational plan conducted or carried out before its due date.

Mrs. Wormwood, not wanting to sit through a four- or five-hour meeting, decided to start collecting evidence and documentation of all Bella’s progress. The visit to Mrs. Stephens initiated the process. The two sat down and started looking over the forms. Upon their review they had identified that two of the forms—the present levels of academic performance and the goal-setting forms—were going to cause concerns. Bella didn’t complete her summer speech therapy. In addition, Mrs. Stephens recalled not seeing Mrs. Applegate until early November. A question was raised. Was Bella serviced? If not, what was the therapist doing to correct it, and had the parents been notified? There would be no documentation of any progress regarding speech. Having not been reached, Mrs. Wormwood and Mrs. Stephens forecasted that there would be problems with Bella’s speech goals, raising questions and concerns during the meeting.

The two continued to go through the forms meticulously, becoming deeply engaged, stopping frequently, asking each other questions, predicting in anticipation the possibility of where they thought the Amelots and their attorneys might undermine the process. During their brainstorming, Bella began walking in circles around the room eventually becoming