Chapter 2

I spent the night on a motel cot, the mattress hard as a board.

Morning came. Before first period even started, the Headmaster called me to his office.

When I pushed open the door, Evelyn was already sitting across from Mr. Harrison's desk.

Her shoulders were heaving. She had a handkerchief twisted in both hands. Her eyes were swollen almost shut.

The second she saw me walk in, she shrank back toward Mr. Harrison's chair. Just enough. Just the right amount of fear.

"Clara." Mr. Harrison's voice was flat. "Come in and tell me what you did to Evelyn yesterday."

I stayed in the doorway.

Evelyn drew a breath and started talking.

"Sir, please don't be too hard on her." Her voice was soft. Careful.

"Yesterday she cornered me in the hallway. She told me I was an interloper who stole what didn't belong to me. That she'd make sure I had no place left at this school." She paused. "I was scared. I'm still scared."

Her voice was soft. But every word landed clean, like a blade finding its mark.

Mr. Harrison's expression darkened. He reached for the phone.

"I've already called your parents. They're on their way."

The door opened a few moments later.

Mom and Dad walked in together. Mom went straight to Evelyn and took her hand. Dad's face was iron.

"Mr. Harrison. What did she do this time?"

Mr. Harrison pushed his glasses up. "According to Evelyn, Clara has repeatedly targeted her — verbal harassment, false accusations, threats to her enrollment. This kind of behavior has no place at St. Jude's."

Dad turned to look at me.

"What kind of person did you turn into out there? Are you determined to drag this family's name through the dirt?"

I tried to explain, but silence was all I had.

I raised my hands. My fingers had just started to form ‘No’ when Dad stepped forward and slapped my hands down roughly.

I looked at him. Tears came before I could stop them.

"Now you're going to cry?"

His voice was quiet. That made it worse.

"You do all of this and then you cry? You're performing again. Playing the victim."

Evelyn made a small sound across the room and pressed herself into Mom's side.

"Dad. Mom. Please stop. I don't blame her."

Mom looked at me once. Cold. Done.

"Some people are just born rotten."

The office door had drifted open. A cluster of students stood in the hallway, not even pretending to walk past.

Their voices carried.

"So she really has been going after Evelyn this whole time."

"She seemed so quiet. You never know."

"I heard her own parents didn't want her. That explains it."

I breathed through it.

I raised my hands again. Three words: I didn't do it.

Mr. Harrison frowned, his voice filled with impatience.

"Clara. Stop using these gestures to deflect. If you have something to say, say it out loud. This isn't the place for theatrics."

My hands went still in the air.

So even this — the only language I have — was just a trick to them. A performance.

Then the door opened again quietly, a girl appeared in the gap.

She was gripping the hem of her blazer with both hands. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sir. She's not performing. That's ASL."

Everyone turned.

The girl kept her eyes down but held her ground.

The girl, Sarah, swallowed. "My brother is deaf. I know what I saw. She signed 'I didn't do it.' And she's never spoken. Not once. Everyone here knows that."