Chapter 16 - Senior Year
Emily entered senior year without Brooke at Westbridge.
That should have made everything easy.
It did not.
New problems arrived.
A sophomore boy was accused of harassing another student online.
The reporting system worked.
Too well, according to some students.
Rumors spread before investigators finished.
People demanded immediate expulsion.
Emily found herself defending process.
Sofia, now away at college, called her a hypocrite.
“You used to complain everything was too slow.”
“I know.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand why facts matter.”
“Growth is disgusting.”
Emily laughed.
The sophomore case turned out to be partly fabricated.
One screenshot had been edited.
Other harassment was real.
Both things mattered.
Emily wrote an editorial:
BELIEVING STUDENTS DOES NOT MEAN ABANDONING EVIDENCE. INVESTIGATING FAIRLY DOES NOT MEAN DISBELIEVING THEM.
Principal Warren asked permission to quote it at a staff meeting.
Emily agreed.
Then charged him five dollars.
He almost paid.
Sarah remained proud and terrified.
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“What?”
“Arguing with authority.”
“I inherited it.”
“From your father.”
Emily smiled.
Her father, Michael Reed, had died when Emily was ten.
Unlike Daniel in another life, Michael had not left mysterious documents or evidence.
He had been an electrician.
Funny.
Impatient.
Ordinary.
Emily sometimes worried that her year of public attention had made her story too large.
Dr. Patel challenged that.
“Your father doesn’t need to connect to the scandal to matter.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Emily thought about it.
She had spent so long explaining herself through what Brooke did that she had neglected everything unrelated.
Her father.
Her love of sketching.
Her terrible singing.
Her obsession with astronomy podcasts.
Healing began to include boredom.
That felt miraculous.
Teresa became family in all but name.
She came to Thanksgiving.
Lucia brought a pumpkin pie.
Sarah burned the turkey.
Emily documented it for “evidence.”
Teresa threatened to delete the file.
Everyone laughed.
In December, Claire Holloway sent Sarah a letter.
Not Emily.
It contained an apology and an offer to reimburse therapy costs.
Sarah called Sloan before responding.
They declined the money.
Not because accepting would be wrong.
Because Emily’s insurance covered most treatment and Sarah did not want financial connection to the Holloways.
Claire replied once.
I understand.
Nothing more.
Brooke was doing well at Lakeview.
She sent Emily occasional messages.
Mostly normal ones.
A photograph of a terrible cafeteria sandwich.
A complaint about calculus.
A link to an article Sofia wrote from college.
Their conversations remained sparse.
One night, Brooke texted:
I got into Michigan.
Emily smiled.
Congratulations.
Thanks.
Then:
My mom cried for an hour.
Emily typed:
Good cry?
Mostly. I think.
Emily paused.
Then:
You excited?
Brooke:
Terrified.
Emily:
Probably a good sign.
Brooke:
Dr. Patel?
Emily laughed.
No. Me.
By February, the district’s new reporting policies had been in place for a full year.
Formal bullying reports increased by 38 percent.
Some board members were alarmed.
One said publicly that the numbers suggested school climate had worsened.
Emily nearly exploded.
Teresa stopped her.
“Use words.”
“I have excellent words.”
“Use the printable ones.”
Emily spoke at the board meeting.
“An increase in reporting does not necessarily mean an increase in bullying.”
The board member frowned.
“It could.”
“Yes.”
Emily nodded.
“But when students previously believed complaints disappeared, more reports may mean more trust.”
Ruiz presented survey data.
Students reported greater confidence that adults would respond.
The board kept the policy.
Afterward, Principal Warren approached Emily.
“You’ve become inconvenient.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant that positively.”
“So did I.”
Then he told her something unexpected.
He would retire at the end of the year.
Emily stared.
“Because of what happened?”
“Partly.”
“You were cleared.”
“I was found not to have altered records.”
He looked toward the board room.
“That isn’t the same as leading well.”
Emily was quiet.
“I should have asked harder questions.”
“You can’t know everything.”
“No.”
Warren smiled sadly.
“But leadership is partly noticing what people are afraid to tell you.”
Emily thought about Teresa beside the restroom door.
Warren continued.
“Ruiz is applying for principal.”
Emily smiled.
“She’ll terrify everyone.”
“That’s one qualification.”
By spring, Ruiz was selected.
Teresa brought cupcakes.
Emily accused the facilities coordinator of bribery.
Everything felt stable.
Then, two weeks before graduation, Emily opened her locker.
Inside was a black trash bag.
For one second, she could not breathe.
May you like
Then she saw the note attached.
STAY DOWN.
