Defending My Daughter
The books inside the box spilled out.
At the top of the spilled books was a painting by my daughter, one that had won an award, now marred by a clear, muddy shoe print.
"Can't leave anything behind. Our school believes in finishing what you started," she said, her mouth twisted with heavy mockery.
"Furthermore, we wanted to 'communicate' with you in person."
She casually adjusted her scarf.
"We're sorry your daughter has been expelled, but you need to reflect on yourself for faking injuries and threatening the school. Now you've even lost your job… People like you who break the rules will be outcasts everywhere."