Mr. Murphy keeps his gaze leveled at a random spot on the wall, looking terribly uncomfortable. When Baba takes a short break from his yelling to breathe, I muster all the courage I have left and whisper, “Baba, can we please—please—talk about this somewhere else? Everyone’s listening—”

But this is the wrong thing to say.

An awful, unforgiving look flashes over Baba’s face. “Do you only live for other people?” he demands. “Why do you care so much what they think?”

I don’t know how to reply without enraging him further, so I keep quiet. Pray this will all be over soon.

“Sun Yan. I’m talking to you.”

Then he reaches down for his shoe, and I recoil, certain it’s going to come flying my way, but Mama quickly intervenes.

“Laogong, now’s probably not the best time for this,” she murmurs to Baba in Mandarin, with a pointed look at Mr. Murphy.

“Fine.” Baba grabs my wrist—not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to hurt. “Let’s go.”

I dig my heels in, wrenching my arm away with difficulty. “W-Where are you taking me?” I blurt out. There’s a low buzz building in my ears, a painful pressure rising up my chest and throat like bile. “I still have class—”

Baba barks out a laugh. “Class?” Without warning, he slams his hand down on the desk with a hard thud. Everyone jumps, including Mr. Murphy. Then Baba switches abruptly to English, and his already-disjointed words jumble together further in his rage. “Do you know what education for, huh? Why school charge 350,000 RMB—”

Mr. Murphy clears his throat. “Well, actually, it’s 360,000 RMB now—a reasonable price, if you consider our new state-of-the-art facilities—”

Baba ignores him. “It help you grow, form connection, see the world, one day give back to society. Not worship money. What your Mama always say? If you not good person, you’re nothing. Nothing.”

Heavy silence falls in the wake of his words like the drop of an axe. I’m trembling uncontrollably, my teeth chattering in a loud staccato. I think I’m going to die, or throw up, or both.

Then Baba shakes his head, eyes fluttering closed. Heaves a sigh. When he looks back up at me, he seems to have aged ten years in the span of ten seconds. It’s in Mandarin that he says, “No matter what happened, your Mama and I always felt so proud to have raised a daughter like you. But now...” He trails off.

My skin burns with shame.

“I—I’m sorry,” I choke out, and once the words have left my lips, I can’t stop repeating them. “I’m so, so sorry, Baba—I really am—I didn’t want it to be like this either...”

But Baba’s expression doesn’t soften. “We are leaving.”

Mr. Murphy chooses this moment to speak up. “Actually, given the current circumstances...a short break from school may be best for Alice.” He catches my look of horror, and quickly adds, “Not saying that she’s expelled, of course—it’ll likely be a while until Peter’s parents and the school board reach a decision. But until then...well.” His eyes flicker to the window, as if he, too, knows the entire Year Twelve cohort is eavesdropping on our conversation. He sighs. “I believe some distance would be beneficial. Give us all time to reflect and potentially make amends. What do you think, Alice?”