When Diane returned, she slumped into her chair, expectant smirk half-formed. But the principal’s gaze silenced it. “You’re staying,” she said evenly. “But only if you learn.” Diane frowned, confused. The lesson was clear: the laughter she thought harmless was no longer a game. It was a warning carved into her future.
The principal’s gaze fixed her in place. “You’ll not be expelled,” she said, voice steady. “But you must understand: cruelty isn’t clever. It wounds. And when you wound enough, you create another version of yourself you won’t like.” Saying this, she sat back in her chair.