My parents have this way of talking to me that makes them sound like they care what I think, when in fact, the exact opposite is true. It's like when we moved here from New York. My parents sat me down over dinner and asked me how I felt about moving.

"I don't want to leave New York," I said. "My whole life is here."

They nodded and made sympathetic gestures, but then they said, "we're moving."

Then what was the point of asking me how I felt about it? It sounded great to ask about my feelings, but it turned out that my feelings were never part of the equation. 

It's the same thing with the nut punch fallout. Mom says she's "very disappointed" in me.

"Didn't we teach you that violence is never the answer?" she asks.

It's a rhetorical question, of course. Mom firmly believes that violence isn't the answer, but she doesn't want to hear the truth, which in this case is that violence works. I mean, Nick tore off my pants in front of the entire school, and nobody did anything. He shoved my face into my locker, and Coach Krieger blamed me. I could explain this to my Mom, but I've known her my entire life, and so I know what she'll say: you should've used your words, Peter.

Dad nods in agreement and says, "Violence isn't the answer, Peter."

He always agrees with Mom. Sometimes I think he disagrees with Mom, but for whatever reason, he never disagrees with her in front of me. But in this case, Dad has something to add.

"You realize that if you get expelled, you'll never get into college."

I didn't realize that, and truth be told, my heart sinks at that comment. I've fantasized about college since we moved here. It's my chance to leave Texas and go back to New York. College is my escape plan. Kind of like joining the rebellion was for Luke, except I'm pretty sure I'll just have to write an essay and take the SATs to get in, instead of rescuing a princess. But now that college hangs in the balance my escape plan suddenly feels as impossible as an attack on the Death Star. 

"People who get expelled from high school end up working dead-end jobs, Peter."

Dad has this way of saying my name like it's an accusation. Like this whole mess is my fault. Not just because I punched a bully in the nuts, but because I got bullied in the first place. Or maybe it's my fault for being born. I can never tell with Dad, but sometimes I think the fact that I exist annoys him.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Peter?"

I look down at my dinner, as if there's an answer in the chicken cutlet and green beans. I want to tell my parents what happened. Not just what happened today, but what's been happening ever since "the incident." And maybe I would tell them if the bullying was about my haircut, or the way I talked, or some other stupid thing kids bully each other about every day. 

But my case is different. And there's no explaining my story without talking about my tiny dick, and that's just not something I want to discuss with my parents. I mean, we haven't even had "the talk" yet about the birds and the bees, and something tells me that we never will. So how am I supposed to explain to them that the reason I got in a fight and that Dad had to leave work to come get me is because I was born with the world's smallest pecker?

"Peter, your father asked you a question. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I know I have to say something, so I look up at my parents. I feel a tear form in my eye and then begin to run down my cheek. I really would like to explain this mess to them, but I just don't know where to start, or how to talk about my little problem. And even if I did know, they wouldn't understand. They just wouldn't. So I say the only thing I can.

"I'm sorry."

As it turns out, I don't need to think of anything else to say because I just burst into tears right there at the dinner table. It feels good to let all that emotion out. Not as good as letting it out by punching Nick Spears in the nuts, but good in a different way, like I've been holding in something terrible and now I can just let it go. I actually feel lighter. 

Mom gets up from her seat and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Dad grabs me a box of tissues. For a few minutes, we don't talk. We just exist together in the moment, sharing the same space, holding each other close, like a family. 

But eventually, my tears stop. Mom returns to her seat and pours herself another glass of white wine. Dad pushes his plate away, pulls out a yellow pad of paper and a pen, and switches to lawyer mode. 

"You're not going to get expelled, Peter. I talked to Principal Boone, and he's agreed to let you return to school."

The thought of going back makes me want to cry, but I can't seem to find anymore tears in my body.

"But you're going to have to do something for me," Dad says. "Actually, what you're going to have to do is for yourself."

"What do I have to do?"

"Peter, you're going to have to apologize to the boy you punched," Dad says. "Principal Boone insists upon it, and frankly I think it's a good idea. I spoke with this boy's parents, and they've promised not to sue, if you apologize. You apologize and avoid expulsion and a lawsuit. It's a win-win."

"Apologize? To Nick the dick Spears."

"Peter, language," Mom snaps.

"It's all right," Dad says. "Peter is upset, and when we get upset, we sometimes choose words that don't suit our best interest."

God I hate it when Dad is in lawyer mode.

"Obviously, the Nick the dick Spears stuff doesn't go beyond this dinner table," Dad says. "Circle of trust here. Am I right?"

Mom nods.

"But Peter, and I think this is important, I want you to remember how you feel at this moment. Because you're going to have to apologize to Nick at a special assembly. So I think it's important that Nick, along with all of your classmates, see that your apology is from the heart. Make it genuine, Peter. That's the only way to put this behind you and make a fresh start."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Not only do I have to apologize to Nick, I have to do it in front of the entire school!?

"Can you do this, Peter?" Dad asks.

I want to scream no. I want to scream hell no. I want to run out the door and keep running until I reach New York. But I also know that what I want doesn't matter. Just like with moving here, my feelings don't count.

"Do I have a choice?" I ask.

"Not really," Dad says. "So, what do you say, Peter? Can you apologize?"

"Fine."

"That's the spirit," Dad says. "But like I said, make sure it feels, you know, from the heart."

👏Thanks for reading!❤️

🙏Please don't forget to vote!🙏

Peter's Dad is happy with the win-win. No lawsuit for whatever damage Peter caused to Nick's nuts and no expulsion. What do you think of Peter's Dad's solution? 

Do Peter a favor and help him with his apology. Leave a suggested apology for Peter to use in the comments. 👇