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Great. He didn't even give the school his private cell phone number.
After introducing myself and explaining the purpose of the call, the assistant tells me to wait for the call to be redirected to him. After another minute of standing there and staring at the drawings I hung on the wall; I hear a baritone voice filter in through the speaker.
“Sebastian Vaughn.”
I pause for a split second and then start by using my most professional tone.
“This is Paislee Donovan, Callie's art teacher.”
There is a pause on the other end of the phone. Then the next thing I hear is, “What is wrong with my daughter? Is she safe?”
There is a sense of urgency in his tone and a little bit of worry. I do completely understand why he would be worried about his child's safety. His daughter's safety is not the reason I had phoned him, but rather the safety of her classmates.
“I assure you, Mr. Vaughn, that your daughter is safe. I have a different reason for calling.”
“Okay?”
“You have to come down to the school for this. She has gotten into some trouble and I'm afraid it is not something we can discuss over the phone.”
“What is it that you can't talk about here, Mrs. er...”
I roll my eyes at the title he has just given me. How convenient of him to forget my name just minutes after introducing myself.
“Donovan.” I supply helpfully. “And Mr. Vaughn, I am unmarried; so, it's Miss.” I clarify.
“Yes, Donovan. I am very busy at the moment, but I'll assign someone to come—"
“A relative?” I ask.
“No, but—"
“I'm afraid it has to be a relative or someone Callie is more comfortable with,” I inform him.
“Are you telling me who I can send over to come pick up my daughter?” He questions in disbelief.
“The situation, Mr. Vaughn, is very delicate. Trust me; I wouldn't insist otherwise.”
I can't help but wonder if the man is unaware of his daughter's autism. From all indications, the young girl was battling with it. Although I don't think the man has spent enough time with his little girl; I would still be shocked if he was completely unaware. Indeed, Callie is the only girl in class who gets into so much trouble. And yes, I may not have graduated top of my class, but at least I understand what the girl’s recent behavior means.
After what seems like forever, Mr. Vaughn says, “I will be there in ten.”
I don't get the chance to say anything else because he hangs up before I get the opportunity. When I turn around, Callie is leaning against her desk and little Chelsea is huddled in a corner watching Callie, who is glaring daggers at her, with wide fearful eyes.
I move over to Chelsea and wrap my arms around the little girl.
“Hey, you don't have to be scared, alright?”
“She looks like she wants to pick a fight.” Chelsea confides in a soft tone.
I chuckle.
“She wouldn't,” I say to the little girl, squatting so that I am at eye level with her. “I want you to know that Callie is just a little different and likes things to be a certain way. When it isn’t, it kind of rubs her the wrong way.”
“You mean like she's a freak?”
“No, Chelsea,” I answer firmly. “Don't ever refer to someone as that.”
“It's because my grandmother talks to herself sometimes, and my dad calls her a freak, so I wondered—"
