The Fairest Principal

The parent-teacher conference had ended. I peeked out through the back door of the classroom and waited until everyone had left before slinging my backpack over my shoulder and heading out.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our class ghost.”

Three girls emerged from around the stairwell corner. Leading them was Lindsey Parker, her arms crossed and a mocking smile plastered across her face.

Her two lackeys, Samantha Reed and Jessica Miller, followed close behind. Together, they blocked my path.

I lowered my head and tried to slip past them, but someone grabbed my backpack.

“Where’s the rush?” Lindsey yanked me backward by the hair. “Your parents didn’t show up for the conference today, did they? I knew it. You’re an orphan.”

“I’m not.” I shook my head. “I have parents.”

“Oh, really?” Lindsey sneered, her eyes filled with contempt.

“Then where are they? What are their names? What do they do for a living? Why don’t you call them over and show us?”

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue? You were so full of yourself a minute ago.”

Lindsey shoved me hard.

“I hate liars like you. If you don’t have parents, just admit it. Why pretend otherwise?”

“I really do have—”

My explanation was drowned out by their laughter.

“Take her to the bathroom and teach her a lesson,” Lindsey ordered with a cold smile.

They dragged me into the girls’ restroom. Some students passing by witnessed what was happening, but they simply lowered their heads and hurried away.

Seeing that no one would intervene, Lindsey grew even bolder. She grabbed me by the back of my neck and slammed my head into the sink.

The icy water rushed into my nose. I struggled desperately, but I felt more hands pressing down on my back.

“Lying comes with a price.

“We’re going to make sure you remember this lesson. The next time you dare lie to us, you’d better think twice, you unwanted little liar.”

I couldn’t speak. My vision grew increasingly blurry, and just when I thought I was going to suffocate, they finally let go.

I collapsed onto the floor like a limp fish, coughing violently.

“Remember this. If you dare tell anyone a single word, next time we’ll do a lot worse than dunking your head in a sink.”

Lindsey crouched down and grabbed my chin.

“We have a hundred ways to make sure you can’t stay at this school.

“But you’re just an orphan. Even if you go blabbing about this, who’s going to believe you?”

They giggled as they took pictures of me in my miserable state. Then they sauntered out of the restroom, leaving me sitting alone on the floor, drenched from head to toe.

It was already dark by the time I dragged my soaking-wet body home.

When I took out my key and unlocked the front door, I made a deliberate effort to keep quiet.

“You’re home!” Mom called from the kitchen, poking her head out. “Why are you so late?”

“I…” I hesitated, unable to bring myself to tell her that the girls had held my head underwater in the restroom and nearly drowned me. “The parent-teacher conference today…”

Dad walked out of his study and adjusted his glasses.

“You need to be more understanding. It’s not a big deal that we didn’t attend your meeting. We have to avoid any appearance of favoritism.”

“But the other teachers’ children…” My voice grew quieter with every word.

“Our positions are different.” Mom wiped her hands and came over with a sigh. “Your father and I are school administrators. We have authority, and if people find out you’re our daughter, what if they accuse us of giving you special treatment?”

“Please try to understand us,” Dad added, coming over to pat my shoulder. “It wasn’t easy for us to get where we are. We have to set an example.

“You have no idea how many people are watching us. That’s why we must treat every student fairly and impartially. We can’t show you favoritism just because you’re our daughter.”

I had heard this explanation countless times, yet I could never find a way to argue against it. All I could do was nod.

“Why are you soaking wet?” Mom finally noticed my disheveled state. “Did you fall?”

I looked into her concerned eyes, and a pang of sadness swept through me. Before I knew it, I was blaming myself instead.

They were so busy, yet they still cared enough to worry about my wet clothes. Meanwhile, I had been sulking just because they hadn’t attended my parent-teacher meeting. I was being so unreasonable.

“I’m fine. I just had a little accident…”

“Did you have a falling-out with your classmates?” Dad asked, perceptively picking up on my hesitation.

Mom crouched down and took my icy hands in hers. “Whatever happened, you need to tell us. Don’t bottle things up.”

At that moment, all the hurt I had been holding back came spilling out, and tears streamed down my face.

“I was bullied.

“They held my head in the sink in the girls’ restroom. They called me a liar and said I was an orphan…”