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Mrs. Vaspa stared at the tall stranger. She did not consider herself to be a judgmental woman; being gay but going to a catholic school growing up really gave her perspective. But she couldn’t help but judge this man.
He was just like the news said, tall, menacing even, with a deep gravelly voice.
“I have a parent-teacher meeting?” he said as he strode up to Mrs. Carper, the secretary. She blinked at him and Mrs. Vaspa was sure she was thinking the same thing as her. The Punisher has a parent-teacher conference? She had half a mind to call the cops right that second.
“I’m Pete Castiglione. Amy’s my kid. Amy Castiglione.” Mrs. Vaspa started a little. Not the Punisher. He did look like him, though now that she knew better, she was starting to see the differences. This man had a powerful stride, yes, but it had tenderness, unlike the anger that was seen in every one of Frank Castle’s steps broadcasted every other day for that summer, and then again the year after. And his face, while so similar, didn’t have hatred in it. Mrs. Vaspa remembered watching the Punisher trial, seeing his outburst with Mrs. Carper right next to her in that courtroom. No, this man had too much kindness in his eyes. He was like Frank Castle’s good twin.
“Right this way, Mr. Castiglione,” Mrs. Vaspa said, stepping forwards.
“Call me Pete,” he said as they moved into the conference room. He sat while she sent a pass for Amy to come down.
“Mr. Castiglione-”
“Pete, really,” he interrupted. “It’s a mouthful to say.”
“Okay, Mr.- Pete,” she corrected herself. “I’m worried a little bit about Amy. She doesn’t seem to be fitting in, or making any friends, despite being here for three months.”
“Yeah, the kid’s used to moving around a lot, not having a real home,” he answered. “She’d been through a lot these past few years, no stability.”
“That explains a little. Still, I would hope she’d make an effort.” Mrs. Vaspa only knew the bare details about the girl’s past, how she’d been bouncing around foster homes and in the last year, had briefly gone through some major incident that lead her to this “Pete.”
“Yeah, the kid’s been through some stuff no kid should ever see. She’s a good kid, though. She’s real tough,” he mused. Mrs. Vaspa could understand why, having a parent like Pete. Even she wanted to make him proud and she’d only known him for five minutes.
“I can see that, her grades are almost surprisingly good. But our county has a curriculum of teaching not only academics but team building and all that, so I think as a group effort, you, me, and Amy, we can get her to reach out and develop those skills for tools later on in life.”
“Kid’s not gonna like that,” he said, but he didn’t object himself. They chit chatted a little, but it wasn’t long until Amy arrived.
Mrs. Vaspa didn’t miss how she stood a little straighter when she noticed Pete. The girl had always acted tough, but now she also had a little more respect and honor in her. Mrs. Vaspa supposed Pete just had that effect on people.
“Ah, Miss Castiglione,” Mrs. Vaspa said as she entered. “Please, have a seat.” the girl slid in next to Pete.
“What’s this about?” She asked, not aggressively, simply curious, and directed at Pete.
“Amy, you are a wonderful student, really,” Mrs. Vaspa began. The girl’s eyes were suspicious, though she accepted the compliment with grace. “The thing is, we have a fairly new policy in our county.” She paused a little, gauging Amy. The girl seemed to brace herself, as if bad news were coming.
“We want you to make some friends,” Mrs. Vaspa said rather bluntly. Amy laughed.
“Really?” She glanced at Pete, then Mrs. Vaspa, then back to Pete. “You called a meeting for this?”
“Amy, really-”
“I have, like, straight A’s! One B! I’m doing fine. Besides, I have friends,” she added at the end. Pete turned on her with that last comment.
“Amy, it’s for your own good,” he said. “You need people who will be there for you when you’re like isn’t the best, like Curtis was for me.”
“I have you, and Karen, and Curtis would be there for me too!” she objected.
“You need people your age, who will get you, help you through things.”
“Get me?” she scoffed. “I don’t think many people would understand the “things” I’ve been through, let alone be able to help me.”
Mrs. Vaspa sat through this, trying to piece things together, but still not quite. All she could figure out was that Amy had seen things and it was making her put up walls against everyone except maybe Pete, “Karen,” and “Curtis,” who were probably all friends of Pete.
“Amy, it’s not just about having a shoulder to cry on,” she inserted herself back into the conversation. “Having friends, working with people builds up people skills, something you’ll need later in life.”
“I get by fine,” she said. “I work with people in class all the time.”
Mrs. Vaspa knew this wasn’t going anywhere. Really, she knew that before the meeting even began, but she had to do her job, and at least try. And this way, at least she had Pete on her side.
“I’m not saying you need to go out of your way to befriend people,” she said. “But if you do feel like reaching out, or like someone is reaching out to you, you don’t have to push that feeling away. You can let yourself live a little.” Amy didn’t roll her eyes, but Mrs. Vaspa could feel her stopping herself. Pete clapped his adopted daughter on the back.
“You heard the lady,” he said. “Just try.” She did roll her eyes at that, but Pete raised his eyebrows and she nodded.
“Is that all?” he asked, turning to Mrs. Vaspa.
“Yes,” she said, reaching her arm across the table to shake his hand. She had a strong grip and tough calluses on his hands. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castiglione.”
“Pete. And really, it was nice to meet you too. Hopefully we won’t need a follow up meeting,” he glanced down at Amy who turned innocently away to study Bubbles the fish.
Mrs. Vaspa leaned against Mrs. Carper’s desk as the pair left, chatting a little.
“That was dumb,” Amy said quietly; Mrs. Vaspa could barely hear her, but Pete’s deep gravelly voice was unmistakeable.
“Hey you gotta try, kid,” he grabbed the door. “You don’t want to have to move again, do you?”
“Frank!” she let out an exasperated cry. Mrs. Vaspa immediately shot a look at Mrs. Carper. Frank? Again, her and Mrs. Carper had the same thought. She was pretty sure she just had a meeting with The Punisher.