So cool. But that had been over a year ago. Now it was as if Julie had stopped caring about her appearance. She didn’t look sullen or defiant as she took a seat on a folding metal chair against the wall. Just resigned. Camille scarcely recognized her.

Camille turned to her. “What’s up? Talk to me, Jules.”

“They say I did something to Jana Jacobs.”

“What do you mean, you ‘did something’?” Camille frowned. “I need a better explanation than that.”

“There was a pickup game of soccer this morning—you know, like every morning. And I knocked her purse in the mud.”

“On purpose, or by accident? And how was a purse involved in a soccer game?”

“Jana and her parents have already been in to see me,” Drake said.

Troy and Trudy Jacobs had never been Camille’s favorites. Both lawyers with a family law practice, they suffered from a superiority complex and disliked anything they deemed different. Trudy once told Camille that she couldn’t shop at Ooh-La-La anymore because the boutique’s small book section featured banned books. Camille didn’t miss her business.

“I told Jana I was sorry,” Julie said.

“The Jacobses agreed not to press charges so long as Julie keeps her distance from Jana.”

“Press charges? For what?” Camille was dumbfounded.

“The bag is ruined.”

“It’s an actionable event,” Mrs. Marshall explained.

“So is Julie nearly drowning in gym class,” Camille pointed out, bristling, “but I’m not going to go to the police over it.”

Drake’s face reddened. “We’re here to discuss today’s incident.”

“I’ll see to it that she replaces the bag.”

“That dumb purse costs like five hundred bucks,” Julie said.

“Then you shouldn’t have destroyed it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Let’s focus on the bigger picture,” Mrs. Marshall suggested. “Julie hasn’t been getting along with other students. She’s been missing class, and her grades are slipping. We’ve spent a lot of time trying to improve the situation, but it’s only getting worse.” The counselor turned to Julie. “Can you tell us why these incidents keep happening?”

Julie gazed back at her with a completely neutral expression. “No, ma’am, I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, Jules,” Camille said, frustrated by her intractable daughter. “We’re running out of options here.”

“Regarding options,” Drake said, “have you thought about alternative schools?”

“What alternative? There’s one school in Bethany Bay—this one. If it doesn’t work, then what do you suggest?”

Mrs. Marshall handed her a glossy brochure with a business card stapled to it. “We’d all like to find a way for you to thrive and find success in school. You could start looking at other options.”

Camille frowned at the brochure, which showed a group of smiling girls in neat uniforms. “Boarding school? You mean she would live somewhere else? Away from home? Away from family?”

“Sounds awesome,” Julie said. “Where do I sign up?”

“Boarding school?” Camille’s father shook the dirt off the French breakfast radishes he’d just picked in his garden, getting ready for their usual Friday-night dinner. “Did you tell them that such a thing is out of the question?”