I kept staring at my knees. I couldn’t look at her.

She was right. That was why I felt so bad. It was like something hadn’t been working in my brain. Hadn’t been connected. I hadn’t thought one tiny little bit about what might happen after we poured the sand. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Because I was only thinking about making Talia feel better. About making her happy.

About making her my friend.

And now here we were, waiting for our moms in Principal Lopez’s office.

“Why didn’t one of you come and tell me what had happened? With Dustin and the pictures,” asked Ms. Lopez.

“How did you—” Talia said.

“Another student saw him do it,” said Ms. Lopez. “You kids think you’re so sneaky, but we know. So why didn’t you tell us yourself?”

For a second nobody said anything. Then in a voice like a snapping turtle Talia said, “Like anyone would have cared.”

I gulped, nervous that Talia was brave enough to talk like that to a grown-up. I thought Ms. Lopez might get angry, but when I glanced up at her face, she looked sad.

Ms. Lopez leaned forward over her desk, her arms out. “Talia, are you listening to me? I need you to listen.” She put a hand flat down on her desk. “If anything has happened before, anything like this, and the adults you spoke with didn’t believe you, or didn’t take you seriously, then I want you to understand something. They were wrong. I want you to know that I will do my best to listen. I will always care.”

Talia sat very still. Her ears were red.

“You should know,” said Ms. Lopez, “that I have already spoken with Dustin and his mom, and heard his side of the story. I’ve got a letter of apology for you, Talia. He will be out of school for the next three days.”

Then there was a knock on the door. When it opened, Mom walked in along with a woman who looked exactly like a grown-up Talia.

Mom had that nervous crease along her forehead. She mumbled, “Oh my goodness,” and put a hand on my shoulder. Mrs. Latu said in a loud voice, “Now what’s going on here?”

Principal Lopez explained what had happened. She explained about the big pile of sand in the hall that the janitor was cleaning up. I hadn’t thought about the janitor having to clean up the sand. She explained about the chocolate frosting. She explained, too, about the pictures of butts in Talia’s locker and how Dustin had already been sent home.

“Girl, girl, girl,” said Mrs. Latu, shaking her head. Her voice sounded stern, but her hand was softly patting Talia’s thick, curly hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom whispered.

I didn’t know what to say. Telling Mom that I’d kept quiet because Talia had told me to sounded too much like an excuse. Like I was blaming Talia. When really the sand was all my idea.