“Unused?” Denise repeated, her tone turning icy. She turned to Nia. “Did you give her permission to move you?”
“No,” Nia whispered. “And my hip hurts.”
Denise turned to Monica. “Get your son out of Nia’s wheelchair.”
“My son was exhausted—”
“Does he have a diagnosed mobility disability?” Denise interrupted.
“He may have low iron,” Monica offered weakly.
Tyler covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Nia,” he muttered as Denise helped him unbuckle his cleats from the footrest and step away.
Vice Principal Rodriguez stepped forward. “Mrs. Prescott, you will accompany me to the principal’s office.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You may not leave until we document the incident,” Rodriguez said firmly. “Or we can ask school security to hold you while police determine whether Mr. Bennett wishes to file charges for assault and theft of medical equipment.”
Panic finally flickered in Monica’s eyes. As she was escorted away, Tyler looked back at Nia one last time. “I’m sorry,” he called out.
Marcus helped Nia transfer back into her chair and loaded her into the truck. Surrounding parents offered their contact details as witnesses, with one mother confirming she had recorded the entire encounter on video.
At the urgent-care clinic, X-rays revealed no fractures, though Nia suffered severe deep bruising along her hip and shoulder strain from the improper handling.
On the drive home, Marcus looked at his daughter in the rearview mirror. “You’ve been quiet.”
“She said I was helpless,” Nia said, her voice small. “I couldn’t stop her.”
Marcus pulled the truck over, turned off the engine, and climbed into the back seat to look Nia in the eye.