I pushed through the door to the director’s office and the moment Mrs. Bashi saw me, she rose to her feet, her posture stiffening. “Ms. Amara,” she greeted, her voice dripping with false sweetness, and that too-perfect diplomatic smile spread across her face. “How is Amara?”
I didn’t spare her the usual pleasantries. I stared her down, unflinching. “In a coma,” I replied flatly, my voice cold. “And I have a hospital report right here that confirms diluted glucose was injected into her veins. That happened in your school.”
Mrs. Bashi’s eyes widened, the fake smile faltering just slightly. “Injected?” she repeated, her voice a whisper.
I took a step forward, moving so close that I was almost toe-to-toe with her. “Listen to me,” I said, my voice lowering. “I’m going to keep this brief. I h
