I think my teeth will crumble

in my mouth like damp chalk.

Marissa laughs,

mouths, “Blubberbelly.”

I lunge forward.

Mr. Harrington steps in front of me.

“Walk away, Ellie.”

His voice booms again,

“Kortnee, principal’s office!”

A few people clap as

she struts down the aisle

and out the door.

“Best prank ev-ah.”

“No more comments!”

Mr. Harrington eyes the room.

“Let’s make that two days of detention.

Wanna make it three? Keep talkin’.”

Silence.

Does that mean they agree or

they’re afraid to defend me or

they just don’t want more detention?

I’ll never know.

“I’m disappointed in all of you,” he says.

“Even if you didn’t

remove the chair bolts,

you knew someone did,

so you’re just as responsible

for what happened.

You should have spoken up.

History books are full

of horrible things happening

because people sit back

and do and say nothing.

To you,

what happened today’s okay

because it wasn’t you

being bullied.

But one day,

it could be.

Remember that.”

NO IGNORING IT

My eyes zoom in on a picture frame

on the math teacher’s desk.

There’s a photo of Mr. Harrington,

his wife, and their little daughter,

who’s not so little,

eating watermelon and

celebrating the Fourth of July.

His daughter smashes her

whole face into the red flesh of the fruit,

juice dripping from her chin,

stray seeds sticking to her chubby cheeks.

So that’s why he stood up for me.

Mr. Harrington motions for me

to join him in the hallway.

“Call someone to pick you up.

Go home and have a good cry.

When you come back on Monday,

pretend like this never happened.

Just ignore them.”

“Mr. Harrington, you’re a math teacher.

What’s the probability of that

changing anything?”

I start to walk away, but turn back.

“And I hope you never tell your daughter

to just have a good cry and

ignore bullies.

She deserves better.”

“You’re right, Ellie,”

Mr. Harrington calls out after me.

“She does deserve better.

And so do you.

Maybe better advice might be to

spend your energy focusing on

what and who makes

you happy,

instead of focusing on the fools

who don’t like you

—for whatever reason.”

BRACE, BRACE, BRACE

Me: Today can’t get any worse.

Universe: Challenge accepted.

When I sit down to dinner,

Liam starts in as he smears butter on an ear of corn.

“Splash broke a chair in math class today.”

Of course he knows about my humiliation—

he’s friends with Marissa’s brother.

Like a passenger on a nose-diving plane,

I brace for impact.

But then I decide to speak up.

I do know my worth.

“It wasn’t like that, Liam, and you know it.”

“Were you”—

one row of corn gone, lips smacking—

“or were you not”—

second row gone, lips smacking—

“on the floor in math class?”

Third row gone, lips smacking.