The call came while I’m in the middle of class. My phone, tucked away in the teachers’ lounge to avoid distractions, is useless to me now. It’s the school’s comm system that crackles to life, delivering the message in that clipped, formal tone: “Mrs. Morales, please report to the principal’s office.”
I run through every possible scenario as I gather my things. I’ve always followed the rules, never pushed boundaries. The principal has a reputation for being picky, so I make sure my earrings are modest, my clothes impeccable and modest, my conduct beyond reproach. What could she want now?
But nothing prepares me for the sight that greets me when I step inside her office. Helen sits stiffly in front of the principal’s desk, her shoulders slightly hunched. When she turns, her eyes, so full
