Chapter 4 - The Numbers
Kendra’s parents hired an attorney before she finished her statement.
That slowed everything down.
It did not stop it.
By evening, Daniel Mercer knew three facts.
Naomi Bell had copied student survey data.
Taylor Prescott knew about those copies.
Vanessa Prescott had told Taylor to “get them back.”
The question was why.
Kendra sat between her parents in the district office.
Her lawyer said:
“Kendra did not understand the significance of any documents.”
Mercer asked:
“Did she help Taylor search Naomi’s locker?”
The lawyer stopped talking.
Kendra whispered, “Yes.”
Grace felt Monica’s hand tighten around hers.
“When?”
“The day before Naomi left.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“What were you looking for?”
“A flash drive.”
“What was on it?”
“I didn’t know.”
Mercer waited.
Kendra began crying again.
“Taylor said it was stuff Naomi stole.”
“From whom?”
“Her mom.”
Vanessa Prescott.
Kendra continued.
“Taylor said if Naomi turned it in, the state could take money away from the school.”
Grace frowned.
“Why would Taylor care?”
Kendra laughed weakly.
“Because her mother cared.”
That answer said more than the rest.
Taylor had lived inside Vanessa’s approval.
Winning mattered.
Image mattered.
Briarwood’s reputation mattered.
If Vanessa called Naomi dangerous, Taylor treated her like an enemy.
Not because Taylor understood grant reporting.
Because she understood loyalty as obedience.
Mercer requested the wellness-grant files.
The district finance office resisted.
Then state auditors became involved.
Within forty-eight hours, newspapers were asking why Briarwood’s bullying reports had dropped while anonymous student surveys showed increasing harassment.
Grace’s restroom video leaked.
She didn’t know who posted it.
She hated whoever did.
By Saturday morning, millions of strangers could watch her on her knees.
Comments filled every social platform.
Some defended her.
Some mocked Taylor.
Some mocked Grace.
One wrote:
Why does she keep picking up the trash? Stand up for yourself.
Grace stared at that one longest.
As though surviving humiliation correctly was now another test.
Monica took her phone.
“Stop reading.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Monica put the phone down.
“Grace.”
“What?”
“You’re allowed to not be fine.”
That broke something.
Grace started crying.
Not because of Taylor.
Because the video had turned one of the worst moments of her life into content.
Monica sat beside her.
“I hate that everyone saw.”
“I know.”
“Somebody slowed it down.”
“I know.”
“They made reaction videos.”
“I know.”
Grace wiped her face.
“I don’t want to be the trash girl.”
“You aren’t.”
“That’s what they call me.”
“For now.”
Monica touched her cheek.
“People online get bored. You still get to decide who you are after they do.”
On Monday, Grace returned to Briarwood.
She considered staying home.
Then decided she hated the idea of Taylor’s cruelty changing where she could walk.
Students stared.
A few apologized.
Some avoided her.
Mrs. Williams met her near the front entrance.
“You came.”
“So did you.”
The custodian smiled.
“Bills are powerful motivation.”
Grace laughed despite herself.
Then Mrs. Williams’s expression became serious.
“My hours got changed.”
Grace stopped.
“What?”
“Night shift.”
“Why?”
“They said staffing.”
“Because you recorded Taylor?”
“Can’t prove that.”
Grace had learned enough from Mercer to understand the sentence.
Suspicion was not proof.
Still, the timing was ugly.
“Who changed it?”
“Facilities director.”
“Who does he report to?”
Mrs. Williams gave her a look.
Grace answered herself.
“The district.”
“Yep.”
“Does Vanessa control him too?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we find out.”
Mrs. Williams laughed.
“You sound like Naomi.”
The comparison hurt.
Because Naomi was still gone.
That afternoon Grace entered the student newspaper room.
She had never joined.
She barely knew editor Eli Navarro.
But Eli had been publishing careful updates about the audit without showing Grace’s restroom video.
That alone earned her respect.
“I need help.”
Eli closed his laptop.
“With?”
“Public records.”
His eyes lit up.
“Finally.”
They searched grant documents.
The state had awarded Briarwood $620,000 over three years for its Student Climate Improvement Initiative.
A requirement for renewal:
Documented improvement in bullying incidents and absenteeism.
Grace stared.
“If bullying went up…”
“Renewal could be at risk,” Eli said.
Then he found consulting payments.
$84,000 to Prescott Community Strategies.
Company owner:
Vanessa Prescott.
Grace felt cold.
“She was paid to run the program measuring whether bullying went down?”
“Apparently.”
“That seems insane.”
“Conflict-of-interest forms say she recused herself from data validation.”
“Did she?”
“Good question.”
Another line showed $46,000 paid to a district administrative consultant.
Name:
Curtis Hale.
Assistant Principal Hale.
Grace sat back.
“This is why Naomi mattered.”
Eli nodded.
“She had numbers that could show the grant outcomes were false.”
Grace’s phone buzzed.
Anonymous again.
Naomi didn’t disappear because Taylor scared her. She disappeared because her mother signed something. Ask who paid Andrea Bell.
Grace stared.
Eli read over her shoulder.
“Whoever this is knows a lot.”
Grace thought of Naomi’s mother.
Andrea Bell.
A cafeteria employee.
Probably not wealthy.
Probably scared.
Like Monica.
“Can we find payments?”
Eli nodded slowly.
“Maybe not legally from bank records.”
“But?”
“Foundation tax filings.”
Twenty minutes later, they found a line.
Family Transition Assistance — $25,000
Recipient hidden under confidentiality rules.
Date:
Three days before Naomi stopped attending.
Grace looked at Eli.
“Transition.”
“That could mean anything.”
“It could mean Naomi.”
He nodded.
“But we need proof.”
Then the newspaper-room door opened.
Taylor Prescott stood there.
No makeup.
No friends.
No mother.
She looked at the screen.
Then at Grace.
“You found the payment.”
Grace stood.
“You know who got it?”
Taylor swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Naomi’s family?”
Taylor nodded.
“And?”
Taylor’s voice dropped.
May you like
“My mom told me it was the price of making the problem go away.”
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