"You hear that? Trash! My son is destined for greatness, and you're nothing but dirt under his feet!" "Mess with him now—when he makes it big, you'll regret it!"
Neighbors started gathering in the hallway, whispering and pointing our way.
"Wow, Isaac's really something—neighbors and all, does he have to be so extreme?"
"Mrs. Lawrence has it hard enough on her own. She's just borrowing a little internet, saving a bit on electricity—what's the big deal?"
"Exactly. Her kid's about to take the Harvard entrance exam. This isn't holding anything up, is it?"
I listened to the chatter outside my door. My fingertips touched the ice-cold doorknob, but my heart was colder.
These people only saw Rachel crying and making a scene. They didn't see how she'd kicked my door like she owned the place. They only heard her son was Harvard-bound. They didn't hear the venom that spewed from their mouths.
In this world, the kid who cries gets the candy. And the woman who screams the loudest gets the crowd on her side.
I pulled out my phone and hit record.
Then I called the property manager.