CHAPTER 186

SKYLAR'S POV
The confrontation I'd been dreading came the next morning, delivered not through official channels but in the form of three angry parents waiting in the school parking lot as I dropped Addison off for class.
"Mrs. Mitchell," Tyler Brennan's mother called out, her voice carrying the kind of righteous indignation that came from believing she held the moral high ground. "We need to talk."
I recognized the other two parents from various school functions - Sarah Chen's mother and Marcus Williams' father. Three families who'd apparently decided that our daughter's response to bullying was a bigger problem than the bullying itself.
"Good morning," I said calmly, keeping my hand on Addison's shoulder as she pressed closer to my side. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"You can start by explaining why your daughter threatened to have our children killed," Mrs. Brennan said, her voice rising enough to attract attention from other parents in the parking lot.
"Addison didn't threaten anyone's life," I replied, feeling my protective instincts flare. "She defended her family against harassment."
"She said her parents could make people disappear permanently," Mr. Williams interjected. "That sounds like a death threat to me."
I could feel the other parents in the parking lot starting to stare, their conversations dying as they sensed drama unfolding. This was exactly the kind of public confrontation I'd hoped to avoid - our family's private business becoming school gossip.
"Mama," Addison whispered, tugging on my sleeve. "Should I go inside?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll handle this."
I watched her walk toward the school entrance, noting how she automatically scanned the area for potential threats before entering the building. Even at ten, she moved with an awareness that other children her age would never develop.
"Now then," I said, turning back to the three parents with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Let's discuss what really happened yesterday."
"What really happened is that your daughter intimidated our children with threats of violence," Mrs. Chen said. "And we want to know what kind of environment she's being raised in that makes her think that's acceptable."
"The kind of environment where children are taught to stand up for themselves and their families when faced with prejudice and harassment," I replied. "What kind of environment are your children being raised in that makes them think it's acceptable to bully a classmate about her family structure?"
"That's different," Mrs. Brennan protested. "Children ask questions. It's natural for them to be confused by unusual situations."
"Calling a family 'disgusting' isn't asking questions. It's expressing prejudice that they learned from adults."
"Are you saying we taught our children to be prejudiced?" Mr. Williams's voice was dangerous now.
"I'm saying that children don't develop strong negative opinions about things they've never been exposed to without adult influence."
The accusation hung in the air between us, and I could see the calculation in their eyes as they processed the implications. These weren't bad people, necessarily, but they were people who'd been comfortable in their assumptions about what constituted a normal family.
"Look," Mrs. Chen said, apparently trying to be the voice of reason, "we're not saying there's anything wrong with your family choices. But you have to understand that your daughter's response was concerning."
"More concerning than three children ganging up to tell my daughter that her family is wrong and disgusting?"
"She threatened them!"
"She told them that her parents were good at protecting people and stopping bad people from hurting others. If that sounds like a threat to you, perhaps you should examine why."
Mrs. Brennan stepped closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a threatening whisper. "We know who you are, Mrs. Mitchell. We've done our research. Your foundation, your work with law enforcement, the documentary about trafficking."
"And?"
"And we know that kind of work involves violence. We know you've been exposed to dangerous people and dangerous situations. We don't want our children around someone who might bring that danger into their lives."
There it was - the real issue. Not Addison's response to bullying, but fear that our family's past might somehow contaminate their safe suburban existence.
"Let me be very clear," I said, my voice carrying the authority I'd learned from years of dealing with hostile situations. "My daughter has never been exposed to violence. She's never been in danger from our work. And she certainly doesn't pose a threat to your children."
"But she knows things," Mr. Williams said. "Things that ten-year-olds shouldn't know about making people disappear."
"She knows that her parents work to protect innocent people from bad people. That's not inappropriate knowledge - that's understanding that some adults dedicate their lives to making the world safer for children."
"By any means necessary?" Mrs. Chen asked pointedly.
The question revealed how much they'd really researched our background. They knew enough to be afraid, but not enough to understand the context.
"By legal means that sometimes require personal risk," I corrected. "We work with federal agencies, international organizations, and legitimate law enforcement. Everything we do is authorized and overseen by proper authorities."
It was mostly true, though it left out the methods we'd used before going legitimate.
"We want our children transferred to different classes," Mrs. Brennan announced. "We don't want them around Addison until this situation is resolved."
"What situation? The situation where your children bullied mine and she responded by defending her family?"
"The situation where a child who's been raised around violence thinks threatening people is normal behavior."
I felt my temper beginning to slip, the protective rage that had sustained me through years of fighting for innocent lives now focused on protecting my daughter from people who should have known better.
"Mrs. Brennan, let me ask you something. If someone told your child that your family was disgusting and wrong, how would you want them to respond?"
"I'd want them to tell a teacher."
"And if the teacher didn't intervene? If the harassment continued? If other children started avoiding your child because of what the bullies were saying?"
"That's different."
"No, it's not. It's exactly the same, except that you have the luxury of conforming to social expectations while my daughter has to defend a family structure that ignorant people judge without understanding."
Mrs. Chen looked uncomfortable, perhaps realizing that their position was less morally solid than they'd assumed. "Look, maybe we can find a compromise here."
"What kind of compromise?"
"Maybe Addison could apologize for the threatening language, and our children could apologize for the hurtful comments about your family."
I considered the proposal, weighing the diplomatic solution against the principle at stake. Teaching Addison to apologize for defending herself would send exactly the wrong message about standing up to bullies.
"Here's my counter-proposal," I said. "Your children can apologize for their harassment and prejudice, and I'll make sure Addison understands that threats aren't the appropriate response to verbal bullying. But she won't apologize for defending her family."
The three parents exchanged glances, clearly not satisfied with my terms.
"We'll be speaking to Principal Martinez about this," Mrs. Brennan said finally.
"Please do. I think she'll be very interested in hearing about the organized harassment campaign your children have been conducting."
As they walked away, I realized that this confrontation was just the beginning of a larger battle. Our success in building a legitimate life hadn't erased the differences that set us apart from conventional families.
The question was whether we could protect our children from prejudice without teaching them to become the kind of people others had reason to fear.
But watching Addison through the school windows, seeing her walk confidently down the hall despite knowing she was different, I realized that maybe being feared by small-minded people wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Sometimes fear was just respect wrapped in ignorance.
And that was a lesson our children might need to learn sooner than I'd hoped.