All the grievance, the rage, the injustice—it was like a balloon that had been punctured. Everything just deflated.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth. I didn't argue. I didn't cry or scream. I just said, my voice hoarse:
"I'll pay."
But Stacy wouldn't let it go. She clung to Miles's arm, her voice turning coy and petulant.
"No way. She came into our home and made this huge scene—smashing things, hitting people. I was terrified."
"You can't go soft on her just because she's an old classmate! She needs to be detained. We can't just let this slide."
I looked at Miles and let out a bitter laugh. What would he choose this time?
Miles avoided my eyes. He frowned but didn't push back. He just said quietly to the officer:
"Follow standard procedure."
That one sentence pushed me over the edge into the abyss.
I thought detention would just be a simple punishment. I had no idea that walking into that holding cell would be the beginning of my nightmare.
I hadn't been inside long before a group of women surrounded me, looking me up and down, their eyes full of mockery and contempt.
One of the women—a bleached blonde with a sneer to match—looked me up and down.