The parents of the bullies were seated in the chairs inside the principal's office. They had arrived rather quickly, probably the first ones called. The principal was seated behind his desk, his demeanour completely different from the enthusiastic welcome he had given me earlier that morning. He exchanged a glance with the Walsh parents and the Dante parents before speaking.
"Erica Sinclair, today is only your first day of school, and you have beaten up your classmates in front of the entire school. This behaviour cannot be tolerated. Aggression has serious consequences. Clearly, you are not as emotionally mature as your classmates, or you would have acted responsibly," the principal declared, already prepared to give me a severe punishment.
The room quickly became chaotic as soon as he finished speaking. The boys all started talking at once, their voices overlapping as explanations and excuses spilled out. The principal raised a hand, trying to regain control as the noise filled the office.
"Quiet down, boys," the principal ordered, but he was completely ignored. They only spoke louder, desperately trying to defend me. How cute of them, but unnecessary.
"Shut up."
I didn't raise my voice, but the effect was immediate. The boys stopped mid-sentence.
"Continue, Principal," I said calmly. "Let me understand your stance on the situation."
The principal launched into a lecture about how violence was never the answer and how students should treat each other with kindness.
He cleared his throat and continued, clearly irritated. "As I was saying, violence is never the answer. Because of your actions, I have no choice but to issue you a serious disciplinary record that will remain on your file. You will also be suspended. As for the boys who assisted you, they will receive two weeks of detention each. I hope this teaches you all a valuable lesson."
I stared at him for a moment, then let out a small breath.
"Finished?" I asked sarcastically.
He frowned. "Excuse me?"
"I asked if you were finished," I repeated. "Because at no point did you ask for our side of the story. You made your decision before we even stepped into this office. You didn't ask the students who witnessed what happened, and you certainly didn't ask us."
I gestured lightly toward the other side of the room.
"From the looks on their faces, it seems the outcome was decided long before we arrived. You already chose who was guilty."
The principal's expression hardened immediately.
"That is a very serious accusation, Miss Sinclair," he snapped. "You are not in a position to make claims about the integrity of this school or the intentions of these parents."
Mr Walsh scoffed, crossing his arms. "This is ridiculous. Our sons are the ones who were attacked."
"Yes," Mrs Dante added sharply. "They were assaulted. In public. By her."
I didn't flinch.
"I'm just stating facts," I replied calmly. "If someone feels targeted by that, then maybe it's because they recognise themselves in what I said."
The room went still.
The principal's jaw tightened. "Watch your tone."
"Or what?" I asked quietly. "You'll punish me more?"
That was when the boys spoke.
Lucas stepped forward first, his hands clenched at his sides. "They weren't defending themselves," he said, his voice shaking but firm. "They've been doing this for a long time."
Dustin nodded quickly. "Yeah. They pick on us all the time. They call us names, shove us around, steal our stuff. Today wasn't different."
Will swallowed hard before speaking. "They poured food on my head," he said softly. "They do it a lot. We just… don't say anything."
Mike took a breath, then stepped forward too. "She didn't attack them for no reason," he said, his voice tight but steady. "They were hurting us. She only stepped in because they wouldn't stop."
The room shifted.
A sharp scoff cut through the room.
"That's a lie."
Everyone turned toward Mrs Walsh. Her arms were crossed tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"My son would never do that," she said sharply. "They're exaggerating because they got caught. Kids lie when they're scared."
Mr Dante nodded in agreement. "Exactly. They're trying to shift the blame. My son has never bullied anyone. This is just an excuse."
The room went quiet again, heavier this time.
Lucas stiffened. "That's not true," he said, his voice shaking. "They—"
"Oh please," Mrs Walsh interrupted. "You expect us to believe this story? That two boys just randomly attacked a group of students for no reason?"
"They've done it before," Dustin snapped, his voice cracking. "They've been doing it for years."
The principal raised a hand. "Enough."
I stepped forward before anyone else could speak.
"They're not lying," I said evenly. "And if you want proof, ask the students who were watching. Ask the ones who laughed. Ask the ones who looked away. There's a whole cafeteria full of witnesses. There are plenty of people willing to give their testimony. Or better yet, call the so-called victims in here."
The room went still.
Mr Walsh's jaw tightened. "You're making very serious accusations, young lady."
"I know," I replied calmly. "That's why I'm making them."
The principal had no choice but to agree, so he picked up the phone on his desk and instructed the secretary to bring the boys in.
Two tense minutes passed before the door opened again. The bullies were escorted into the room by the nurse and the secretary. They entered hesitantly at first, but the moment they spotted their parents, their posture changed. They straightened up and walked confidently toward them.
"Mom. Dad. It hurts," one of them whined.
Mrs Walsh rushed forward immediately, pulling her son into her arms. "Oh, sweetheart, look at your face," she said, shooting a glare across the room. "This is exactly what I was talking about."
Mr Dante crossed his arms beside her, his jaw tight. "This is unacceptable. My son comes to school to learn, not to be attacked."
The boys leaned into it instantly.
"They just jumped us," Troy said, pressing a hand dramatically to his nose. "We didn't even do anything."
James nodded quickly. "Yeah, they just went crazy. We were just talking."
I let out a quiet scoff through my nose.
"That's not true," Mike said, stepping forward again. "You're the one lying. Look at Will's hair and clothes. They're covered in porridge. How could he have done that to himself?"
"Enough," Mr Walsh snapped. "You expect us to believe that? The boy looks so weak he probably fell into his plate by himself."
"So that's where the boys get it," I said coldly, directing my gaze at the parents. "If an adult can be this cruel to a child, it's no wonder their sons turned out the same. All that behaviour had to be learned somewhere."
"The truth is, you bullied my brother and his friends, so I stepped in and beat you both after you refused to stop, even after my warnings. And stop being dramatic. I held back," I stated coldly, my tone sharp enough to cut through the room.
The bullies flinched when I looked at them.
The room fell silent again.
The bullies shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, suddenly far less confident than they had been moments ago. Troy avoided looking at me altogether, staring at the floor as if it might swallow him whole. James swallowed hard, his earlier bravado completely gone.
The mothers hugged their children, but their expressions were tight with anger. They clearly didn't like the idea of their sons being publicly beaten by a younger girl.
The fathers stiffened as the reality of the situation settled in.
Clearly, they had assumed their sons had been outnumbered, that they had been jumped, humiliated unfairly. But now, faced with the truth, something darker flickered in their expressions.
Their sons hadn't lost to a group. They had lost to one girl. And, unfortunately, in the 1980s that made a huge difference.
The shift was immediate.
Mr Walsh's jaw tightened, his pride cracking visibly. "You're telling me," he said slowly, "that the two of you couldn't handle her?"
Troy flinched.
Mr Dante scoffed, rubbing his temples. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "You embarrassed yourselves. In front of the whole school."
The boys shrank under their fathers' gazes.
"You were supposed to be stronger than this," Mr Walsh snapped. "Instead, you let yourselves get humiliated."
One of the fathers stepped closer, his voice low and sharp. "I didn't raise a weak child," he said coldly. "I didn't raise someone who lets himself get beaten by a girl."
I ignored the comments and focused on what mattered, because this was the behaviour the boys had chosen to replicate.
"There's a whole cafeteria full of witnesses," I said calmly. "Stop lying. Even if we just ask around, the truth will come out."
The boys started talking over each other in a rush, as if they finally realised that they could no longer lie their way out of it.
"It was just a joke!" Troy blurted out, his voice cracking. "We were messing around, that's all!"
"Yeah," James added quickly. "We didn't mean anything by it. It was just a joke. Everyone jokes like that."
Their voices grew louder, more frantic, as if volume alone could rewrite what had happened.
"We didn't think it was a big deal," Troy said, looking desperately between his parents and the principal. "We didn't think she'd take it so seriously."
I let out a quiet breath through my nose.
"A joke," I repeated. "Funny how only you were laughing."
The room went still again.
"Principal," I said, my voice steady, "these are the boys you decided to protect. How much were you paid to look the other way?"
Lucas immediately tried to pull me back.
"Stop antagonising the principal," he whispered urgently.
"My sister didn't mean that," he added quickly. "It was just a joke, like Troy and James were joking with us. Nothing really happened. They were just messing around, and the fight was only us playing together. My sister only won because they let her. They're older. They were being nice."
"Lucas, stop. This isn't necessary," I said firmly. "You don't need to agree with them to protect me. They're the ones who should be punished."
"But you'll be punished too, Erica!" he said desperately. "It's fine. We're used to it. You don't need to get in trouble for us!"
I looked at the boys. Not one of them disagreed. Not one of them spoke up. They all stood there, silently agreeing that it was easier to let it go.
That was what hurt the most.
"This isn't right," I said quietly.
I turned back to them. "Everything will be alright, okay? Trust me. We're not bowing our heads to people like them. You're the victims here. They're the ones in the wrong."
"Reality isn't a dream," Lucas said softly. "It doesn't work like that. You need to let it go, Erica."
"Never."
I turned back toward the principal, my resolve hardening. I would fight this. I would protect them.
In this life, I would not stay silent like I did in the last one. In my past life, I had reached a point where I was simply resigned to everything. I had resigned myself to life itself.
But in this life, with people I want to protect, I will never bow my head again or allow them to feel the same grievances I once did.
Even knowing how many dangerous enemies I will have to face will not make me back down. No matter what stands in my way, whether small or great, no matter how heavy the consequences, I will not yield. Even if every step forward brings another fight, I will stand my ground. I will protect them. Even if it is from things that seem small to others.
Even if it is the last thing I ever do. No one is allowed to touch my brother. No one is allowed to touch those I love.
"Principal," I said, my voice steady, "this is how things will go. These boys are the victims. How can a school punish them for defending themselves? I started the fight, so I will accept whatever punishment you decide. But Walsh and Dante will not walk away untouched."
He bristled immediately.
"And who do you think you are to order me around?" Shouted the principal. "Arrogant! So arrogant! Little girl, I have been more than kind to you. But I am still the principal here."
"Principal," I replied calmly, "do you remember that we live in a small town?"
"What is this even about?" Mrs Walsh snapped. "This girl has gone crazy. She's talking nonsense now. She was probably exaggerating earlier when she accused my son too."
"Be quiet," I said flatly. "As I was saying, this is a small town where nothing ever happens."
I paused deliberately. "A town where the biggest news is two farmers fighting over an escaped turkey. Do you really think the Hawkins local newspaper wouldn't be interested in a story about one of its principals accepting bribes and ignoring government laws?"
"Bribes?" Snapped the principal. "Do you have any proof? You're inventing accusations now. I am a patriotic man who respects and loves our government. When have I ever broken any laws?"
"Title VI, codified at 42 U.S.C. § 2000d," I replied calmly. "You can check it if you want."
"What does that even mean?" he demanded.
"The Civil Rights Act of 1964," I explained. "The boys called my brother an abomination, and the nickname they gave him was 'Midnight.' This happened at your school, under your supervision. You saw it and did nothing. Instead of punishing the bullies, the victims were blamed. This means that you support discrimination inside a public institution which is illegal."
I paused, letting my words sink in.
"Normally, something like this might be ignored. But this is a small town where nothing ever happens. A principal who ignores discrimination and allows abuse is exactly the kind of scandal people talk about for months. And all the talk about a principal taking bribes would make parents worry about the fairness of the school they send their children to. That kind of attention could damage your career."
I looked him straight in the eyes.
"And if the punishment is not fair, maybe the local newspaper will receive a small tip. Maybe they will look deeper. Maybe they will start asking where else rules were ignored, or where money went missing. They will find evidence of those bribes at least. Because judging by how confident those parents were, this does not look like the first time."
The principal's face was drained of colour.
For the first time since this had started, he didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened, his fingers curling against the edge of his desk as if grounding himself. The room felt smaller, heavier.
"That's a very serious accusation," he said at last, his voice lower now, less certain. "You should be careful with what you imply."
"I am being careful," I replied evenly. "That's why I'm saying it out loud instead of sending it straight to the press."
A sharp inhale came from behind him. Mrs Walsh stiffened, her confidence faltering. Mr Dante shifted his weight, suddenly far more interested in the floor than in meeting anyone's eyes.
"You're twisting things," Mrs Walsh snapped, though her voice lacked the certainty it had earlier. "This is outrageous."
"Is it?" I asked. "Or is it the truth? Twisting things into the only truth isn't that what you all did before?"
The principal straightened, forcing authority back into his posture to save face. "Enough," he said, more measured now. "This situation has clearly escalated beyond what it should have. We will review the incident. Mr Troy Walsh and Mr James Dante have already admitted that they bullied these four boys."
"Good," I replied. "Then review everything."
A long silence followed.
Finally, he exhaled. "For now, everyone will return to their classes. The four boys clearly did nothing wrong and even tried to stop the fight. Bullying and violence are not behaviours encouraged in this school, so both parties will receive appropriate consequences. Miss Erica Sinclair, I will take into account the noble motivation behind your actions. Wanting to protect your friends shows a kind heart, but resorting to violence is not acceptable and will not be encouraged."
The boys looked stunned.
The bullies and their parents looked furious.
"Let's go, boys. We do not want to be late. When our parents arrive, we can deal with the rest of the situation."
Then I turned and left the office like the queen I am. The boys followed me in a daze, stunned by what had just happened.