Chapter 3 - Seven Students
By lunchtime, everyone knew.
Not the full story.
Middle school never required the full story.
Only pieces.
Olivia’s teacher tried to kick her out of honors.
Olivia’s mom can’t read.
Ms. Walsh got in trouble.
Olivia secretly recorded her.
That last part was not even true.
But truth moved slowly.
Rumor sprinted.
Olivia sat at the end of a cafeteria table with her best friend, Jasmine Lee.
Jasmine pushed a carton of milk toward her.
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“Not today.”
Two boys from another honors class walked past.
One whispered something.
The other laughed.
Olivia stared at her tray.
Jasmine turned around.
“You want me to throw applesauce at them?”
“No.”
“I would.”
“I know.”
Jasmine leaned closer.
“My mom says Ms. Walsh has always been intense.”
“That’s not the same as lying.”
“No.”
Olivia picked apart a sandwich.
“Did you know Theo Martinez left honors?”
Jasmine frowned.
“Theo?”
“He was in our class in September.”
“I thought he transferred electives.”
“So did I.”
Olivia remembered him now.
Theo had sat near the windows.
Fast with equations.
Terrible handwriting.
One Monday his desk was empty.
Ms. Walsh said he had decided the course was not “the right fit.”
No one questioned it.
Olivia opened her school tablet and searched the class roster archived from the first week.
Twenty-nine students.
Current roster: twenty-two before Olivia’s attempted removal.
Seven gone.
Exactly what Ms. Walsh had said.
The names bothered her.
Theo Martinez.
Amara Jackson.
Henry Doyle.
Sofia Nguyen.
Callum Reed.
Nia Price.
Evan Castillo.
Olivia recognized most.
Not the top students.
Not the bottom either.
Kids somewhere in the middle.
Students who occasionally needed help.
Students Ms. Walsh might call “uncertain.”
“Don’t investigate this yourself,” Jasmine warned.
Olivia looked at her.
“I’m not.”
“You have your detective face.”
“I don’t have a detective face.”
“You absolutely do.”
After school, Olivia went to Counselor Patel’s office.
Ms. Patel invited her inside.
“Before you ask,” she said, “I can’t discuss other students’ records.”
Olivia stopped.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Olivia sat.
“I just want to know if they actually wanted to leave.”
“So do I.”
That surprised her.
Ms. Patel leaned back.
“Your job is not to prove what happened to anyone else.”
“What if no one else asks?”
“Adults are asking now.”
Olivia stared at the floor.
“Adults were in charge before.”
The words came out sharper than intended.
Ms. Patel did not seem offended.
“You’re right.”
Olivia looked up.
The counselor continued.
“That is exactly why adults need to take responsibility for fixing it.”
“Will Ms. Walsh be fired?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe my mom?”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
Olivia swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because the voicemail supports what she said.”
“That means Ms. Walsh lied.”
“It means the information communicated to your mother did not accurately describe the document.”
“That sounds like counselor language.”
“It is.”
Olivia almost smiled.
Ms. Patel added, “Investigations work better when we say only what evidence proves.”
That sentence stayed with Olivia.
After the meeting, Rebecca picked her up from school.
She was still in her diner uniform.
“You okay?”
“Everybody knows.”
Rebecca winced.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Rebecca kept both hands on the steering wheel.
“You don’t have to protect me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Olivia looked out the window.
Rebecca drove three blocks before speaking again.
“I’m thinking about taking a reading class.”
Olivia turned so quickly the seat belt caught.
“What?”
“There’s an adult learning center near the library.”
“Because of today?”
“Because of twenty years.”
Olivia did not know what to say.
Rebecca laughed nervously.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I just…”
Olivia struggled.
Rebecca had always presented herself as finished.
Not educated, maybe.
But complete.
The idea that her mother could begin school again made Olivia realize how unfairly children sometimes imagined adults.
As though parents had already become everything they would ever be.
“I think you should.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I’m scared.”
That shocked Olivia more than the announcement.
Rebecca rarely admitted fear.
“What are you scared of?”
“Walking in and having someone hand me a paper I can’t read.”
Olivia looked at her.
Then Rebecca smiled.
“But apparently I’m getting tired of papers deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
At home, a message waited from Principal Harris.
The district had opened a formal review.
Ms. Walsh would temporarily remain out of Olivia’s class.
An interim teacher would cover honors mathematics.
Rebecca read the first line slowly.
Then stopped.
“Can you read the rest?”
Olivia took the phone.
She did.
When she reached the final paragraph, she paused.
“What?”
Rebecca asked.
Olivia reread it.
The district would contact families of all students withdrawn from honors mathematics during the current year to confirm whether informed consent had been obtained.
Rebecca sat at the kitchen table.
“So they’re calling the others.”
“Yes.”
Olivia thought of Theo.
Amara.
Sofia.
Seven students.
Then Rebecca’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice spoke rapidly enough that Olivia could hear it across the table.
Rebecca’s expression changed.
She put the phone on speaker.
“Can you say that again?”
The woman’s voice trembled.
“My son is Theo Martinez.”
Olivia sat straighter.
“I just got a call from the district.”
Rebecca glanced at Olivia.
Theo’s mother continued.
“Ms. Walsh told me I was signing permission for him to get extra help too.”
The kitchen became very quiet.
Then Mrs. Martinez said something that turned seven questionable forms into something much larger.
May you like
“I speak English,” she whispered, “but I don’t read it very well.”
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