Parentage 1

“I'm nearly there” Olivia Benson spoke into her phone. She hung up and pulled the car into an available parking spot. She exhaled a puff of breath and willed herself to calm down.
As she strode  down the hallway, she mentally replayed all the times she'd worried about this sort of thing. As a toddler, Noah had pushed down other children or snatched toys, and Olivia had worried about his true parentage, namely the genes from Johnny Drake, pimp and sex trafficker whose penchant for violence had resulted in his death.
But today, oh today, was something different entirely. It wasn't a shove in the sandbox or grabbing a toy from another preschooler. This was something that had plagued her since the day the infant had entered her life.
“I'm glad we could meet again” the woman smiled at Olivia. “I'm sorry it had to be under such circumstances”
Olivia nodded in response to Noah's teacher. It was all she could do right now, given what had transpired today.
“I know that Noah's a special boy” the teacher went on, “He talks about you a lot”
Olivia smiled
“On the kindergarten level, we try to emphasize the three C's: Caring, courtesy and courage”
“Of course” Olivia agreed, “But I don't see what that has to do with today. It must've been a mistake, he's not usually like this”
“No, he's not” the teacher smiled sadly, “Has anything been going on at home?”
“I don't know what you're getting at” Olivia put up her defenses.
“Ms. Benson, Noah punched another student. We're lucky that he didn't give the other boy a black eye”
“He's nearly five” Olivia defended her son
“Yes” the teacher agreed, “and that's why we want to tackle this right now”
“I noticed you didn't ask the other child's parents in for a meeting”
“That's because your son seems to be the aggressor here”
There was a beat of a moment, then two. Finally, the teacher spoke again, “I know you care about Noah a great deal. You're right, he's usually a very sweet boy and wouldn't hurt a fly. I wanted to talk with you because I was concerned that perhaps something was troubling, something that he might've spoken with you about, but felt that he couldn't talk about it at school”
"Maybe he'll speak to me," Olivia sighed, "I'd like to pick him now"
"Of course" the teacher led her down the hallway where Noah sat outside the principal's office. He looked so small, clutching his blue backpack.
"Mommy!" he jumped up and ran to her.
"Hey, my sweet boy" Olivia smiled, "Let's get you home"
"Am I in trouble?" he looked up at her.
Olivia glanced at the teacher, "I don't think so"
"This is a first offense" the teacher admitted, "and the school does take a strong anti bullying stance"
"His first offense" Olivia turned towards the teacher. Noah clung to her hand, "He's barely five" she frowned
"And that's why the school is taking this so seriously" the teacher finished
"I see" Olivia huffed and turned toward the door. She grasped Noah's hand and they walked down the hallway. No further words were needed.
As she buckled Noah into his booster seat, Olivia looked at him with caring eyes, "What's going on, Noah? You don't usually go around hitting kids"
"Nothing" he sighed and looked down at his sneakers.
"Ok" she nodded, leaving him some space.
The car ride home was uneventful. Olivia put the radio on and mother and son listened to various songs on the soft rock station that played.
The next number came on, "Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go away and leave you all alone? Oh yeah" the singer crooned.
“How come I don't have a Daddy?” Noah piped up from the backseat.
Olivia nearly ran into the curb, so surprised she was to hear him ask that.
"Is that what happened today at school?" she ventured, "Did the other little boy ask you that?"
"Anthony Wilhelm said it to me during quiet time" Noah explained, "So I punched him to take it back"
"Noah" Olivia felt both sorry for her son and irritated that he used his fists instead of his words, and told him so, "You've got to speak up, to say something when somebody's hurting you"
“He said I wasn't a real kid, that I was adopted” Noah finally blurted out, “What does that mean, Mommy?”