I’ve been arrested once or twice. Usually because I was up to no good.
Both times were after Dad died, and both times, I was released with gazes of pity.
Back then, I was still angry and defiant.
But now, as I sit outside the director’s office, my hands tied behind my back like some common criminal, I feel humiliated and upset.
I did nothing wrong.
I close my eyes trying to mute out Quill’s shouts, which are still echoing in my ears.
“Let her go!”
“She didn’t do anything!”
Two Level Ones had held him back as he had desperately tried to get to me and Beth, his eyes terrified.
He believed me.
And yet, I’m still here because Veronica made up lies about me, and I tried to save Beth.
The grim-faced counselor standing next to me isn’t telling me anything. I’ve tried to ask about Beth
