My daughter secretly spent months saving to buy shoes for a boy in her class. The next day, the school called and told me Emma was involved in something that sounded serious. I rushed over, but when I opened the principal’s door and saw who was waiting for me there, my whole body went cold.
The call came during my lunch break at work.
“Good afternoon,” the principal said in a tense voice. “I need you to come to school as quickly as possible.”
“Is Emma okay?”
There was a pause.
“She’s not hurt,” he said. “But something has happened, and she’s involved.”
I had already grabbed my bag by then. My keys were in my hand. “I’m leaving now.”
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