She makes fun of kids who won’t fight back.”
I felt something old twist in my chest. “What happened today?”
“She took Ava’s lunchbox, opened it, and started pulling food out while Ava was telling her to stop. Then she threw Ava’s sandwich in the trash.”
“I told her to leave Ava alone.
Lucy asked if I wanted to cry with her. I told her she was being disgusting. Then she shoved me.”
“You’re sure she shoved you first?”
“Yes.
I shoved her back. Then she tried to trip me and fell. After that she started screaming that I attacked her.
Ms. Grant believed her right away.”
I exhaled slowly. “Nines.”
A chill ran through me.
That name was rare. I had only ever heard it once before. When I was in school, a girl named Heather Nines made my life miserable.
She stole my lunch because she knew I didn’t always have extra. She cut the ribbon off a new dress my aunt bought me. She shoved gum into my hair on the bus and laughed while I cried.
Adults called it “mean girl stuff.” I called it survival. Now my daughter was sitting at my table after being accused of the same thing Heather used to do to me. “We’re going to school tomorrow,” I said.
“And I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”
Before bed, I asked Stella to write down every incident she could remember involving Lucy. Names. Dates.
Details. I also texted Ava’s mother. We had only spoken a few times, but she replied almost immediately: “Lucy has been tormenting Ava for months.”
The next morning, Stella and I walked into the school office together.
Ms. Grant was already there, sitting stiffly with a folder on her desk. The principal, Mr.
Bennett, stood by the window. Ms. Grant folded her hands.
“I hope Stella is prepared to apologize.”
I looked at her. “I hope we’re prepared to discuss why multiple kids say Lucy has been bullying them.”
Her mouth tightened. “That is not what happened.”
The office door opened.
And in walked Heather, holding the hand of a girl who looked exactly like her. I recognized her instantly. Older, of course.
Better dressed. Same expression. Same polished cruelty.
Beside her stood Lucy, with the same sharp chin and smug little mouth. Heather took one look at me and smiled. It was not a nice smile.
“Well,” she said. “I thought that face looked familiar.”
Stella glanced at me. Lucy smirked at her.
“Mom, that’s the girl,” Lucy said.
