CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
Assistant Dean Parker stepped into the hallway to answer the call.
Through the glass, we watched him nod, smile too tightly, and lower his voice.
Tyler’s confidence returned inch by inch.
“You people have no idea what you just started,” he said.
Emily flinched.
I did not.
“Your father can make calls,” I said. “But cameras don’t have fathers.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think anyone cares what a lunch lady wrote in a notebook?”
I touched the medal at my chest.
“People cared once.”
He glanced at it again.
“What, you won some senior league thing?”
Officer James spoke from the doorway.
“That is not a senior league thing.”
He held up his phone.
On the screen was an old newspaper photo.
Los Angeles, 1984.
A younger version of me stood on a podium, hair dark, shoulders straight, a gold medal around my neck.
Margaret Elena Rodriguez.
Olympic Judo Champion.
Emily looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
“You were famous?”
“For about fifteen minutes,” I said.
Tyler swallowed.
Parker returned to the room looking strained.
“Mr. Hayes is very concerned.”
“I’m sure he is,” I said.
“He believes this situation could be resolved quietly if everyone agrees not to escalate.”
Emily’s lips parted.
The old fear returned to her face.
Quietly.
That word has protected more cruelty than any lie ever has.
I placed my notebook on the table and slid it toward Parker.
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“No?”
“No. You will not ask Emily to be quiet. You will not ask me to apologize for stopping him. You will not turn this into an inconvenience for the donor wall.”
Tyler stood.
“You’re done.”
Officer James stepped closer.
“Sit down.”
Tyler stared at him.
Then sat.
Parker looked through the notebook, his face growing heavier with each page.
Outside the conference room, students had gathered near the glass.
Phones were out.
Not recording the fight.
Recording the aftermath.
May you like
For once, Tyler was the one being watched.
And he hated it.
