Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
What? I look at the teacher. She pales.
“And I didn’t do it,” Kennedy says. “Why would I steal a cupcake? If I’m hungry, I have ten bucks in my backpack, and there’s a vending machine in the atrium.”
“Why did you think it was her?” I ask the teacher, still holding on to Kennedy’s hand.
“Because the wrapper was at her feet.”
“Because Frankie threw it there, and you know it,” Kennedy fires back.
“Now, let’s settle down,” the principal says.
Mrs. Falconbury sighs again.
“You’re always blaming me for stuff,” Kennedy says, tears wetting her cheeks. “You always say that everything is me. I took your cupcake. I left my computer at home on purpose because I’m thinking of you when I get up in the morning, which would mean that I choose to make my day harder to spite you. You said I shared my notes with Hope so she could pass the test. I’ll be honest—I didn’t even take notes. I don’t even like Hope! But you didn’t care about that.”
In. Out. I focus on my breathing.
“I’m already a bad person to you,” Kennedy says through tears. “You just give me detentions left and right.”
“Because you don’t come to class.”
“Why would I want to? You say stuff and have everyone laughing at me.”
Excuse fucking me?
“Kennedy,” Mrs. Falconbury says, fiddling with the edge of her skirt. “That’s not true. We have fun in class. I don’t treat you any differently than I do anyone else.”
Yeah, no. I scoot to the edge of my seat, gripping the armrests so I don’t launch myself across the room.
“If you’re making any kid feel uncomfortable or accusing them of things or making a joke out of them—that’s not having fun in class,” I say, pinning her to the chair with my gaze.
“She’s being dramatic.”
“Really? What was it today?” Kennedy asks, wiping her nose with the back of her free hand. “If I had a mother, maybe I would know how to behave?”
My blood boils so hot that I think it will spew out of me. “You said that to her?”
Mrs. Falconbury flinches.
“Ms. Kramer, I’m going to need you to settle down,” Principal Walding says.
I get to my feet and pull Kennedy into me. Her head buries in my chest. Her shoulders shake from the force of her tears, and it’s all I can do not to cry too.
“Did you say that to this little girl?” I ask the teacher.
She dares to wave a hand through the air like she’s discussing the weather. “This is getting ugly for no reason.”
“I asked you a question,” I say pointedly.
“I have serious doubts that it came out of my mouth. It was probably one of her classmates,” she says. “But the shoe does fit.”
My shoe will fit up your ass, too, lady. I don’t say that, but I think she reads my mind. She leans away from me with a hand on her throat.
“So you don’t argue with what Kennedy’s saying?” I ask. “You’re admitting that her version of events is correct, just that she’s too … what? Sensitive?”
Mrs. Falconbury pales.
“We send this child to school every day for a safe place to learn,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “Not to be ridiculed by an adult who should know better.”
Her eyes go wide.
I turn to the principal. “And you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Ma’am, I hear you. Some of this is new information to me.”
“Have you ever asked?” I ask, my voice rising. “Have you ever listened to Kennedy to see what was happening? Have you ever done your job and thought that maybe it wasn’t normal for a child to be written up constantly? It didn’t trigger something in you that something may be amiss?”
He looks down at his desk.
“Kennedy isn’t perfect,” I say, running my hand over her head. “She’s a teenager who is going to make mistakes. That’s how she’ll learn. That’s what will teach her to be a responsible, strong, empathetic adult—something the two of you aren’t.”
“Ma’am …” Principal Walding looks at me warily.
“I’m not sending her to school every morning so she has to sit in front of this woman,” I say, jamming a thumb toward my new nemesis, “and be belittled. Not happening. I’ll happily take her home for the next three days. That should give you time to figure out how you will fix your staffing issue.”
Mrs. Falconbury snorts.
“Janice, please …” Mr. Walding says to her.
“Oh, look at you. You made a little girl cry.” I grit my teeth. “You bully her so badly that she doesn’t want to come to your class, and then you get another power trip when you give her detention. She either gets detention or is humiliated. That’s so big of you. Do you feel like you won?” I glare at her. “She may feel helpless. I, however, do not.”