Marcus Vega Doesn't Speak Spanish: Chapters 5–7

My knuckle hurts a little. I can feel it pulsating. I didn’t know punching someone could hurt so much. I’ve never punched anyone before.

Principal Jenkins seems a little irked at being called by his first name, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll talk about it,” Stephen’s mom says, interrupting. “That brute of a boy assaulted my son! He broke his jaw. We are demanding the severest possible punishment from the school. Once we take Stephen to the hospital, we’ll see how much the medical damages will be.”

“I’ll talk about it,” Stephen’s mom says, interrupting. “That brute of a boy assaulted my son! He broke his jaw. We are demanding the severest possible punishment from the school. Once we take Stephen to the hospital, we’ll see how much the medical damages will be.”

He says I walk around intimidating everyone at school.

Then he says that he saw me picking on a sixth grader today and decided to intervene. According to him, I pushed him then punched him in the face when he told me to leave the kid alone.

“Marcus, we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying at this school. Stephen is saying a whole lot of stuff here that troubles me. And the fact that he’s injured isn’t helping your cause. If you don’t answer, I’m going to assume this is how the events transpired. Is what Stephen has said true?”

“Well, ask your perfect son if he’s taking money from kids,” Stephen’s mom scoffs.

“Marcus, why did you hit Stephen?”
“Because he’s a bully!” Stephen’s mom interjects again.

“I was right next to the plaintiff when this incident occurred,” Danny says, standing next to me.

“I was standing right next to the defendant,” Danny corrects, “when the incident occurred. The plaintiff did indeed use a derogatory word to speak about the defendant’s brother and myself.”

“I was standing right next to the defendant,” Danny corrects, “when the incident occurred. The plaintiff did indeed use a derogatory word to speak about the defendant’s brother and myself.”

“Okay,” he says. “This is what’s going to happen. Marcus, you are suspended until further notice. We will look at the details of this incident and consider all punishments, including expulsion.”

Stephen’s mom gives a weird standing ovation. “Finally, some justice.”

“And, Mr. Hobert,” the principal says to Stephen, “it sounds like you’ve been harassing younger students at this school. You will serve detention and community service for one week. We do not tolerate hateful language.”

“And, Mr. Hobert,” the principal says to Stephen, “it sounds like you’ve been harassing younger students at this school. You will serve detention and community service for one week. We do not tolerate hateful language.”

"I worry,” he says, “that Marcus’s need to protect his brother may cause him to jeopardize his own schooling.”

“I know Marcus is a good kid, Ms. Vega,” he says to my mom. “I know it can’t be easy raising two boys.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” my mom says, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I just thought you should see that there are options out there for Charlie that would allow both children to thrive individually.”

"You’re not a grown man, Marcus. You’re a kid. And I don’t want you to get into more trouble, trying to be your brother’s savior.”

My room doesn’t have a lot of stuff in it. Honestly, clutter bothers me. I have a desk. A chair. A computer. That’s about it.

“Marcus, did you hear anything that Principal Jenkins said yesterday? No more business ventures.”

“Mom, these kids paid through the end of the week. That’s today,” I tell her. “I have to fulfill my obligation to them.”

“Expulsions stay on your permanent record, Marcus.” I can tell that she’s trying to stall.

“You know what? I’m going to start looking into our family trip,” she declares. “I think there might be a silver lining to all of this.”

“Hey,” Danny says, almost jogging to keep up. “I started a petition after you left yesterday to get you back into school. All the sixth graders signed it.”

“We’re connecting through Miami and then to San Juan. Cool, huh?”
Charlie studies the itinerary a few more times. “Flight 1836,” he says.

He tells me about the sustainable farms that are beginning to pop up in parts of the countryside. Danny’s a smart kid.

“Take pictures,” he says.
"I don’t have a camera or a phone with a camera.” He ponders this for a moment.

My father is about the same height as me. We have the same eyes. Wide brown ovals. We have the same skin that darkens in the sun. Not like my brother. He got my mom’s fair complexion.