“I have no idea where this is going to lead, Cade. I’m not sure what we’ll do if—” More tears roll down her cheeks. “If we lose more business. Based on what I’ve already read, there will be more people saying hateful, disgusting, and vicious things about you and Logan. Sadly, it’s just the way people are sometimes. When your dad and I got married so young, the things people said—” She cuts herself off, taps the spot above my heart, then my temple. “You’re Granite. Steel. Titanium. You don’t allow any of that hate to get through. You understand?”

I nod.

She continues. “What you said to the reporter showed tremendous dignity and respect. Let that be your guide. You and Logan must be together on this, and if you need guidance, you can turn to us.”

“What about Nana? What are we going to tell her?”

“Tell Nana what?”

Mom and I both startle.

Much to my relief, it’s Dad. His gaze shifts from Mom’s tearstained cheeks to me, then to the rumpled bed. “What’s going on?”

Chapter 32: Logan

Jesse tags me in an Instagram post. It’s a picture of the Lake Towns Journal article with the caption: CADE CRAWFORD AND @LOGANMARCHNY ATTACK MR. BARTLEY. #RIVIEREHIGHSCHOOL

In the comments, I read:

So not fair to Mr. Bartley. He’s the best teacher.

Logan thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Obviously, she thinks she can do Mr. Bartley’s job!

Can they get suspended?

Nah. Free speech. But they’ll get what they deserve. I have no sympathy for them.

That one is from the private account RHSHockey4Evr.

There’s more, lots more. I know every one of these people but RHSHockey4Evr. It could be anyone. No one, not one person, comes to our defense. Not one person says anything supportive. Lissa Chen had warned us not to respond to online comments, saying people have the right to express themselves. But it’s so much easier to ignore when they come from strangers. I pick up my pillow, plant my face in the middle, and scream. I really had hoped we would get some support from people at school. How could I have been so naive?

My skin turns ice-cold. I burrow under my covers, struggling to come to terms with this reality. What is Mr. Bartley doing right now? What is he thinking? Does he hate us? Why do I want him to like us?