She picked up a brick from the edge of the landscaped walkway and swung it into the windshield. The glass held for a fraction of a second, then spider-webbed and caved. She hit it again. And again. The windows. The headlights. The hood. Each blow accompanied by a grunt of exertion that she seemed to mistake for power.
The other parents watched for perhaps three seconds. Then they were energized, grabbing whatever they could find. A loose paving stone. A metal thermos. A child's scooter abandoned by the gate. They swarmed the sedan like locusts, smashing with an enthusiasm that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the permission Luna had given them to destroy something beautiful.
After the windows were gone, two of them climbed inside and began slashing the leather seats with keys and nail files, tearing apart the interior panel by panel. The reinforced frame held, but everything inside it was gutted. The once-pristine vehicle was reduced to a carcass in minutes.
Then one of the women pried open the trunk and gasped.
"Look! There's expensive stuff hidden in here!"