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Lou looks down, shuffling her feet. “It’s nothing, Mom. I’m fine.”
Romero clears his throat. “There was an incident after school. That bully from this morning… he didn’t take kindly to being shown up.”
Angelo’s face darkens. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
Lou sighs. “After you left this morning, everything was great. But then after school, Jake Thompson—the bully—he cornered me and some other kids. He was saying mean things, pushing people around. I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing!”
Pride and worry war within me. Lou has such a strong sense of justice. “Oh, honey,” I murmur, pulling her close.
“So, what did you do?” Angelo asks, his voice carefully neutral.
Lou looks up, a hint of defiance in her eyes. “I told him to back off. He didn’t like that, so he tried to push me. But I blocked his push and he ended up falling. That’s when he got really mad and hit me.”
I look at Romero. “And where were you during all this?”
Romero has the grace to look sheepish. "I wasn’t there, Fee. By the time I got there, Lou had already laid the kid out flat.”
Despite everything, I feel a surge of pride. My little girl, standing up for herself and others. But still…
“Lou,” I say gently, “I’m proud of you for defending yourself and others. But violence isn’t always the answer. We need to find a better way to deal with bullies.”
Angelo and Romero exchange a look before scoffing.
“Come on, Fee,” Angelo says. “Sometimes, you gotta show bullies you’re not an easy target.”
Romero nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! You gotta hit ’em where it hurts.” He pantomimes throwing a punch, grinning.
I shoot Romero a withering glare. “Violence. Isn’t. Always. The. Answer,” I repeat, enunciating each word clearly for Lou’s benefit.
Angelo shakes his head. “Look, Fee, I get where you’re coming from. But bullies prey on those they perceive as weak. And Lou here” —he places a hand on her shoulder— “she’s not weak, is she?”
Lou straightens up, her chin jutting out defiantly. “I am NOT weak,” she declares, her voice filled with indignation.
“Damn right, you’re not,” Angelo agrees. “You’re a fighter. You’re strong.”
I sigh, feeling outnumbered. “That’s not what I meant, sweetie. Of course you’re not weak. I just don’t want you getting hurt or in trouble.”
“She won’t get in trouble,” Angelo retorts. “I’ll make damn sure of it. Lou, show me how you throw a punch.”
Lou’s face scrunches up in concentration as she balls her hand into a fist. She holds it up proudly for inspection.
Angelo and Romero lean in, examining her form with exaggerated seriousness.
“Hmm,” Angelo muses, stroking his chin. “Not bad, not bad at all.”
Romero nods in agreement. “Pretty good form for a beginner.”
Lou squawks in indignation. “Abeginner?”
But then Angelo gently takes Lou’s hand. “There’s just one small adjustment we need to make. See your thumb here?” He points to where Lou’s thumb is curled inside her fist. “If you hit someone like that, you could break your fingers.”
Lou’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yep,” Romero chimes in. “Gotta keep that thumb on the outside, across your fingers. Like this.” He demonstrates with his own hand.
Angelo guides Lou’s thumb into the correct position. “There you go. Now you’ve got a solid fist that won’t hurt you when you use it.”
I groan while Lou practices making fists, her face a picture of concentration. “Like this?”
