“She’s had it in for me since September,” he whispered. “She wanted me to tell her who posts things about her in the class chat. I refused. She said she’d find a way to punish me.”
I wrapped an arm around him.
“She won’t hurt you.”
I pulled out my phone and searched a name I hadn’t called in years: Colonel Javier Morales. Former service colleague. Now a senior officer in the provincial police.
The line rang for a long time.
“Yes?”
“Javier, it’s Miguel García.”
“Miguel? It’s been years. Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. I’m at Alejandro’s school. He’s been accused of theft. The police are on the way. I need this handled fairly.”
A patrol car arrived twenty minutes later. Two young officers entered the classroom. Mrs. López instantly changed her tone.
“Finally! This student stole my money. His father is covering for him.”
One officer took out a notebook.
“Ma’am, please calm down. What exactly is missing?”
The door opened again.
Colonel Javier Morales stepped inside, uniform crisp, expression focused. The principal followed behind him, pale.
The officers straightened.
“At ease,” Javier said briefly, then looked at me. “What’s happening here?”
Mrs. López turned pale.