My mother listened with her full attention.
When I finished she said: “How are you?”
“Good,” I said. “Better.”
“You handled it right,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “The admiral—”
“Before that,” she said. “In the classroom. You stood there and you didn’t make yourself smaller.” She looked at her rice. “That’s the part I was proud of.”
“How did you know about the classroom?”
She gave me the look.
“I called your principal,” she said. “When I saw the email. I wanted to understand the full situation before I decided what to do about it.”
“You planned the assembly?” I said.
“Admiral Carter planned the assembly,” she said. “I made a phone call.”
I looked at her.
“You never told me you knew Admiral Carter,” I said.
“You never asked,” she said.
“I didn’t know to ask.”
“Now you know,” she said.
