The principal closed the folder in front of her with deliberate care. “I’ve seen this pattern before,” she said. “A child lashing out, a teacher provoking further, laughter filling the gaps.” Carol’s chest tightened. It was her history replayed through her daughter—and the person across the desk knew it.
“I don’t provoke her!” Diane snapped suddenly, defensive. “She hates me. Mrs. Connors. She makes me look stupid on purpose.” Her voice trembled with anger. The principal’s eyes flicked briefly toward Carol, then back to Diane. “And does that make you hate her back?” she asked softly.