“What happened? Who did this?”
He wouldn’t look at me. Just stared at the floor.
“Yusef. Who did this to you?”
“They took the money.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“The camp money. They jumped me after second period. Took all of it.”
The world tilted. Eight hundred dollars. Gone. The money I’d scraped together from my emergency fund. The money that was supposed to secure his spot at music camp. The money that was supposed to give him something good, something safe.
“Who?” My voice came out sharp, harder than I meant it to. “Who took it?”
He shook his head.
“Yusef—”
“I’m not telling you. It’ll just make it worse.”
“Worse? Look at your face! How could it possibly get worse?”
“Because if I snitch, they’ll do worse than this!” His voice cracked, and I saw the tears he was fighting to hold back. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him I did understand, that I’d spent my whole life running from people who wanted to hurt me. But this wasn’t about me.
This was about him getting beaten and robbed at school, and nobody doing a damn thing to stop it.
“Where’s Principal Henderson?” I asked the nurse.
“In his office?—”
I was already out the door, Yusef calling after me, but I didn’t stop. I marched down the hall to the administrative offices, my vision tunneling, my rage building with every step.
Principal Henderson’s door was open. He was sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer, like this was just another Tuesday.
“Ms. Ali?—”
“Don’t.” I stepped into his office, my voice shaking. “Don’t you dare ‘Ms. Ali’ me. That’s the second time in two weeks my son has been jumped at this school. The second time. And what have you done about it? Nothing!”
“We’re investigating?—”
“Investigating? He has a split lip and a black eye and his glasses are broken! What is there to investigate? Kids are beating him up and stealing from him, and you’re just letting it happen!”
“Ms. Ali, please lower your voice?—”
“No! I will not lower my voice! You’re supposed to keep these kids safe! That’s your job! And you’re failing!”
“We have protocols?—”
“Your protocols aren’t working! My son is terrified to come to school! He’s getting hurt, and you’re sitting here acting like it’s not your problem!”
“If Yusef would tell us who’s responsible, we could take action?—”
“He’s twelve! He’s scared! And he shouldn’t have to be! You should have security cameras. You should have hall monitors. You should have something in place to stop this from happening!”
Principal Henderson stood, his face reddening. “I understand you’re upset, but threatening me isn’t going to?—”
