Chapter 4

My mom arrived at school quickly. As soon as she saw me, she gave a slight smile, as if to say, “Well done.”

In the office, Ms. Rosetta was venting her frustrations to my mom, complaining about how disobedient I was.

“All I did was reprimand her, and she dared to hit me? In all my years of teaching, I’ve never seen a student so disrespectful!”

My mom tilted her head slightly, casting an indifferent glance at the teacher, her gaze filled with deep disgust. “Ms. Rosetta, don’t you think you might be the problem here? Why did Naomi hit you and not the other teachers?”

The words struck a familiar chord. I chuckled.

The teacher was rendered speechless by my mom’s half-smiling face. Finally, she blurted out, “Let’s go see the principal. Let’s see if they’ll keep this worthless student or me!”

“Sure,” my mom agreed.

The moment we saw the principal, my mom rushed forward, shaking his hand eagerly. “This little incident shouldn’t bother the principal. Naomi’s so thoughtless. How about this: my husband and I have decided that as long as the student comes from a poor but honest family, we will sponsor them through graduation.”

The principal’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

My mom nodded, then glanced at Ms. Rosetta with a challenging look in her eyes. “We wouldn’t joke about something this important.”

“That’s great, that’s great. This really isn’t a big deal. Kids will be kids, sometimes a bit naughty. Naomi just accidentally hit Ms. Rosetta. Ms. Rosetta has taught here for so long, she’s seen all kinds of students. Naomi’s just a little mischievous, nothing more. Right, Ms. Rosetta?”

The teacher trembled with rage, her mouth twitching, but eventually nodded.

The words she had planned to use to get me expelled got stuck in her throat. She couldn’t swallow them, nor could she spit them out. Her face turned ashen.

I smiled lightly. This was only the beginning.

I was sure that my sister had once reached out to the teacher, hoping she would help pull her out of the mire. But she hadn’t lifted a finger, instead aiding and abetting the bullies.

My poor sister, did you see? Sometimes the methods you despise are the ones that truly work.

Even when she was driven to the point of suicide, she never told me or our parents about what was happening at school. When we asked, she always brushed it off, saying that the teachers were good and that her classmates were nice.

Even now, she still protected those demons. She knew that if they fell into our hands, death would be a mercy.