That’s it. I’ve had enough.
I slide my attention to the woman beside Kennedy. “Right now,youare wastingmytime. I’m trying to get to the root of the problem, and you keep interrupting me. I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want her side of the story told.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I ask, piercing her with my stare. “Now, Kennedy,what happened? Ignore everyone else in the room and talk to me.”
Kennedy sits up in her chair. Her eyes are wary, and she frowns. It’s not a look I’ve seen on her before. It’s filled with suspicion and alienation as if everyone is against her. A swell of emotion I haven’t felt in a long time overcomes me and hits me right in the heart.
I reach over and take her hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. Tears form in the corner of her eyes.Oh, sweet girl.
“I can’t remember,” she whispers.
“Yes, you do. And your side of the story is just as important as Mrs. Falconbury’s.”
The teacher huffs again, and I remember that I can’t act like the fool I want to be now. I’m the role model here.Maybe the only one, it seems…
Kennedy’s chest shakes as she hiccups a breath. “She accused me of taking a cupcake—one of those little Hostess ones in the wrapper—out of her desk.”
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’realwaysblaming me for stuff,” Kennedy says, tears wetting her cheeks. “You always say that everything is me.Itook your cupcake.Ileft my computer at home on purpose because I’m thinking of you when I get up in the morning, which would mean thatIchoose to make my day harder to spite you. You saidIshared 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 nothaving 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.
