“Can’t you write me a note or something?” Isabelle begged.
Her Mum’s gaze sharpened on her. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I’m being punished for nothing!” Isabelle said heatedly.
Her Mum pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.
“You’re not being punished. They’re trying to help you and you’re being stubborn. Why haven’t you come to me or your Father about this?”
She pushed the piece of paper towards Isabelle.
Isabelle glanced down and froze. It was her poem from the stupid poetry contest she shouldn’t have even entered.
“It’s a poem, Mum,” she said flatly. “Not a diary entry.”
“The theme was raw and real, something personal to you and you wrote this,” she countered.
“So? Harry Potter is dark and raw but that doesn’t mean we have to cower from Voldemort.”
“You’re getting awf
