Twenty-Four: Harlow

TWENTY-FOUR

HARLOW

O livia stood up the moment I stepped into the headmaster’s office.

Crying, she ran over and hugged me.

Something is definitely wrong with her.

“Finally.” An older woman pointed at a folder. “Please sign off on these papers before taking her away. As a lenient leader, I’ve decided to suspend her for only twenty-one days.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. What exactly did she do?”

“She beat up one of her classmates without provocation,” she said. “The victim suffered a black eye and is in a lot of pain. Miss Olivia is lucky the parents don’t want to pursue criminal charges.”

I stooped down to Olivia’s level, whispering, “Is that true?”

“She deserved it.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m not sorry.”

“See? That’s exactly the type of attitude we don’t need at our establishment,” the headmaster said. “I told Mr. Dawson that her unstable parenting situation made her a risky admission here, but this is the last straw.”

“Why did you hurt her, Olivia?” I kept my voice to a whisper.

“She’s so mean to me,” she said. “She makes fun of me for not having a mom, and when I told her that I do have a mom and she's an actress in L.A., she said the only 'actress' was me. She called me a delusional bitch."

“Is this the girl you write about in your poems? Sydney Lane with the Wall Street parents?”

She nodded.

“What about the Katie Lothrop girl?” I asked. “Is she still being mean to you?”

“Yes. Every day.”

“Okay.” I stood at the headmaster’s level. “Where is the so-called victim, ma’am?”

"Sydney Lane is still recovering from pain. She's inside the meeting parlor with her parents.”

“Is that the room to your left or your right?”

“My left,” she said. “After you sign off on the punishment and Olivia agrees to apologize, I’ll ask if they feel like talking to you two.”

“We feel like talking to them now.” I grabbed Olivia’s hand and pushed the twins’ stroller into the parlor.

Poor little Sydney sat between her parents, sporting a toothy smile and a thin, clear Band-Aid above her eyebrow.

“That’s not a black eye.” I stepped in front of them. “I’ve seen worse paper cuts."

“Who are you?” Her mother faced me. “Better yet, why are you in here?”

“I’m here to tell you that your daughter is a fucking bully.” I glared at them. “She’s made Olivia’s life a living hell by isolating her at every turn, and you all are too far up your daughter’s spoiled ass to see it.”

Her mother's jaw dropped.

"How dare you. " Her father stood up. "You can’t talk to my wife that way.”

“I’m talking to you , too,” I said. “You might want to go through her phone and see how your daughter talks about the students who aren't in her 'mean girls' circle. I’d hate for you to learn that you’ve raised a psychopath before it’s too late.”

“Get the hell out of my office, miss.” The headmaster fumed. “Now.”

“Gladly,” I said, turning around. “You should be ashamed of yourself, by the way. This situation has been under your nose for months, and you only took action when the real victim lashed out.”

“Whenever Mr. Dawson brings her back after the suspension, I’ll be sure to tell him how his ill-mannered nanny spoke to me.”

“Olivia is never coming back here,” I said. “Consider this her permanent withdrawal, and send her father a prorated refund check for this semester. Do it within thirty days, and I won’t insist you return all the donated money he’s given you."

Her face paled.

“That’s what I thought.” I squeezed Olivia’s hand. “Let’s go.”