Ethan Hastings was sitting in a chair in the proverbial corner. He looked up when Jason entered, and for a moment, it appeared as if he might launch a fresh attack.

Jason decided to remain standing.

“I have called Ethan’s parents,” the principal announced crisply. “As well as the police. An assault by a student is a very serious matter. I have already informed Ethan’s parents that he will be suspended for the next five days, while an expulsion hearing is scheduled in front of the superintendent. Naturally, Mr. Jones may pursue criminal charges with the police.”

Ethan blanched, then fisted his hands mutinously and stared down at the carpet.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Jason said.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” Phil asked dryly.

Jason shrugged. “I understand how high emotions might be running at a time like this. For Ethan and for myself.”

If he was hoping for a relationship with the red-headed boy, it wasn’t happening. Ethan shot him another threatening look, then the office door opened and Adele stuck her head in.

“Police are here.”

“Send them in.”

The door opened wider, and Jason had the unpleasant shock of seeing Sergeant D.D. Warren and her sidekick, Detective Miller, enter. Wouldn’t uniformed officers normally respond to this kind of petty incident? Unless, of course, the detectives heard about it on the radio and connected their own dots.

Jason glanced ruefully at Ethan Hastings, understanding now that the pummeling had been nothing compared to the damage the boy was about to inflict.

“Sergeant D.D. Warren,” the female detective introduced herself, then Miller. They shook Phil’s hand, nodded at Ethan, then regarded Jason with the kind of flinty stares most cops reserved for gang-bangers or serial killers.

Grieving husband, he reminded himself, but didn’t really feel like playing anymore today.

“Heard you had an incident,” Warren stated.

Phil gestured to Ethan, whose head was ducked between his bony shoulders. “Ethan?” he asked quietly.

“It’s his fault,” the boy exploded, head coming up, finger stabbing at Jason. “Mrs. Sandra warned me about him. She warned me.”

D.D. gave Jason a look, still cool, but with an element of smug. “What did Mrs. Sandra say, Ethan?”

“She married young,” the boy said earnestly. “She was eighteen. That’s not that much older than me, you know.”

The adults didn’t say anything.

“But she didn’t love him anymore.” The boy sneered, staring boldly at Jason. “She told me she didn’t love you anymore.”

Did the words hurt? Jason didn’t know. He was in his zone, and when he was in his zone, nothing could hurt him. That was the point of the zone. The whole reason he had developed it when he had been too young and too weak to do anything else to stop the pain.