Chapter 3: What the Sick Girl Said
Millie's voice was small but it didn't waver.
"She didn't make anyone feel bad.
She made me feel like I wasn't invisible."
Nobody spoke.
The principal looked at the window.
Letty stared at the floor.
I stared at Millie — this thin, pale child in a borrowed wig, sitting up straight like she had rehearsed this moment her whole short life.
"Millie," I said carefully.
"Do you know which parent filed the complaint?"
Millie nodded once.
"It was Brooke's mom.
Mrs.
Hartwell."
The principal shifted in his chair.
"I don't think we need to—"
"Brooke told everyone at lunch that Letty only did it for attention," Millie continued.
"She said Letty wanted people to feel sorry for her because her dad d*ed.
She said it loud enough for the whole table to hear."
Letty's jaw tightened.
She still didn't look up.
"Is that true?" I asked her quietly.
"Did Brooke say that to you?"
A long pause.
"She said Dad would have wanted me to keep my hair," Letty said.
"She said he'd be embarrassed."
The room went very still.
I set the letter down on the desk.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The way you set something down when your hands are not entirely steady.
"Mr.
Okafor," I said.
"What exactly is Letty being accused of?"
The principal finally looked at me.
"The complaint states that Letty's actions created a situation where other students felt socially pressured.
That by making a public gesture, she implied that students who didn't do the same were less compassionate."
"She didn't do it publicly.
She did it in private and brought the wig in quietly."
"Mrs.
Hartwell's position is that the result was public."
"The result," I said, "is that a child with cancer felt cared for."
He didn't answer.
Millie spoke again.
"Mrs.
Hartwell came to school this morning.
Before first period.
I saw her in the hallway talking to you."
The principal's expression didn't change.
But something behind his eyes did.
"She was here," he said carefully, "to submit the formal complaint in writing."
"She was pointing at me," Millie said.
"Through the window.
While I was walking to class."
I looked at him.
He looked at his desk.
"Mr.
Okafor.
Did Mrs.
Hartwell ask you to call me in before you had reviewed the situation yourself?"
The silence that followed was its own kind of answer.
Letty finally looked up.
Not at me.
At the principal.
"Are you going to punish me?" she asked.
May you like
He opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, there was a sharp knock at the office door — and it opened without waiting for a response.
