"I just don't know how to make them stop," Faith finally said. "I tell them to shut up, and they laugh. I ignore them, and they laugh. They ask if Brody trained me good. They make faces at me, like I look stupid, and then laugh."
"And what do you do when that happens?" I asked.
"Last year, I told a teacher, just like Dad told me to, but it made it worse."
I reached my arm around her back to rub her far shoulder. "Yeah. I can see that. I am sorry, Faith. We looked at other schools, but there's nothing around here."
"I know," she admitted. "And I have to go to school because the state says so. That's what Cessily told me. I just feel like the harder I try, the more they laugh."
"So stop trying," I told her. "When they say you did something, tell them they're right. Don't do it like they're honestly right. Do it as if they're so wrong that you don't even care anymore."
"Like how?" she asked.
"Well, say something to me that they tell you."
Her brow creased, but she turned on the bed to face me. "You think those clothes make you look like anything but dog shit?"
"No, but I'm rocking the dog shit look, don't you think?" I replied.
Faith giggled. "How do you think it up that fast?"
"Years of practice," I assured her. "There will always be someone who wants to cut you down. So, for the next month or so, when they say something to you, come up with a good comeback. Even if it's just in your head. Something that agrees with them but makes their point invalid. And when you get it, write it down, and then your comeback beneath it, ok?" I tilted my head to look at her. "We should get you a journal for that, hm?"
"I have one," she promised. "Mom got it for me. She called it a diary, but it'd work. And if I can go a whole month, then I get a dog?"
"A whole month without getting into trouble at school," I clarified. "That means you can't listen to Ash. I know he told you to pick a fight, but if you do, then you might have to live with your mom."
"I can do it," she promised. "Maybe a puppy?"
"We'll go to the pound," I promised. "We'll find a dog that no one else loves, and then you can pick. Not just any one, though, because it has to be a good dog, and we do get a little veto power here, since we have to live with it too."
"Does it have to be little?" she asked.
"We were thinking something bigger, so the horses won't hurt it."
The girl's grin made that worth it. "Like a blue heeler?"
"Or something," I said. "Probably a mutt that deserves a lot of love. You'll have to take it to training classes, learn how to make it sit and stay, but if you can hold on until the custody is settled, and you're honestly living with us for good, then we will put in the work to make sure you can have a dog. It'll probably take us the whole time to do it, too."
Faith threw her arms around me in a big hug. "Thank you, Violet. Today was better than last year because I knew you and Ash would talk to me. I didn't feel so alone."
"Hey," I said softly, hugging her back, "we'll always do what we can to help. It's what family's supposed to do. Just a little bit longer, and then it will get better, Faith. I promise. But you can't get into fights, and no cutting. If you want to, then you come and talk to me, no matter what time it is."
She nodded, pulling back to look at me. "I swear. And my dog can live inside?"
"Where else would it live?" I asked. "And while you're at school, we'll all pitch in to take care of it. We just have to make sure that there's no reason for the court to prevent you from living with your dad."
"But I get to pick," she said.
I murmured and canted my head, making it clear that wasn't completely true. "They can rule that he's not fit to raise you. That's what we're so worried about, and if you start getting in trouble now, that's how it will look. You move in with your dad and go off the rails? Means he's not a good parent."
"But it's because he believes me about my bullies," she insisted.
"The court doesn't care. That's why you have to hold out for thirty-seven more days."
"That long? I thought you said a month. That's like a month and a half!"
"A month and about a week," I corrected. "Cessily said they pushed the court date back to September twenty-ninth. That's thirty-seven days from now. Tomorrow, it'll be thirty-six. The day after, thirty-five."
