181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 37: Tolerance and Temperance

The weekend after was a bore. Mickey had no cell phone; Amielle either. Steph wasn't replying. Sigh. In a world where technology was continuously being used, invented, and improved, I was surrounded with people who chose to ignore it.

Besides that, all our vehicles were being used for a company-wide event, so I could barely go anywhere. But what I was more disappointed about was the thought that the news didn't reach Mom. Or maybe it did. Ms. Lilian should've told her . . . unless she didn't. No, Ms. Lilian wouldn't be that careless, would she?

Ugh, adults. Why couldn't I fully trust any of them?

That in mind, if I would rank the adults I knew, Amielle's aunt Cornelia would rank the most wicked. More than Michael or Elijah Isles. The moment I met her, she had an intimidating aura that almost made want to squirm and vomit from fear, but it didn't deter me to find out the truth behind Amielle's bruises. The fact that Amielle had to change shifts every now and then was also questionable, and I wouldn't doubt if I would learn from Franco that Amielle stopped working at the café.

Did she learn about the incident the other day? I hoped not. I still wanted to know if touching Amielle would send me to another dimension—an alternate universe where Dad was still alive.

***

We lined up for the flag ceremony, but Ms. Lilian pulled me, Steph, Mickey, Margaux, and Jane out. I looked at Steph to smile, hoping she could get a hint that I didn't want to attend the flag ceremony anyway, but her eyes was set to the floor.

Something at home must have happened, I thought. When I walked beside her, she tried to scurried away from me, which made me think that the despot in the Isles clan, Michael's father Elijah, must have blackmailed her and her family.

"Quiet yourselves and your footsteps. Follow me quickly," she ordered the five of us. We arrived at the administration's office in no time, although I didn't expect that we'd go straight to the principal office instead of the academic coordinator's.

When we entered, Sister Antonia had her back turned from us, looking outside her window. Mrs. Cecilia, on the other hand, was sitting on a chair in front of the table, as if she'd be moderating a debate.

Because of curiosity, I took a quick glance at Jane. She was looking at her feet as well, guilty like a dog that kept its tail between its legs. Mickey and I were the only students who had the guts to look at the school authorities eye to eye.

"I have met the three of you last Friday, but we were cut short because we had visitors, and I apologize for that," Ms. Cecilia started.

So that was what happened.

"Besides," she continued, "we'll be more clarified about what happened since Ms. Isles here, who is related to the assailant, and the victim, Ms. Jacobs, are here."

Sister Antonia cleared her throat and faced us. She was wearing that creepy, robotic smile again. "Ms. Jacobs, you've been getting warnings here and there. What happened this time?"

My eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Sister, you mean it's my fault that I, a minor, got strangled by a grown man?"

Everyone in the roomed seemed surprised by my reply. They knew I had a point, but to those who could not stand their ground, answering Sister Antonia back was useless, and my reasoning would all be forlorn.

But what would I lose anyway? If anything, I'd lose my integrity for allowing anyone to put the blame on me whereas I wasn't at fault. I am not backing down.

"Well, maybe it meant that you said reckless things that made this man angry."

Are you sure you're a nun? I badly wanted to ask, but clinging to the respect I have for Ms. Lilian and Mrs. Cecilia, I replied, "I might have said some things that could have offended him, but don't you think it's because he said something awful first?"

"And what do you think made him say something awful?"

"For your information, Sister Antonia—and for everyone here in this room—my own mother wants me to marry this guy. But I don't want to, so I told him straightforward that I won't settle for him when I know someone who's way ahead of his level. He's a brattish boy trapped in the body of a man," I said and then breathed. "Is that a reason to strangle a minor?"

"You should have been the one to understand the situation, Ms. Jacobs, and practice the school's core values—"

"Is tolerance for abuse a core value, Sister?"

"No, but temperance is."

"Between the two of us, who showed temperance more?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be me? You know how impatient teenagers are, but I was able to control my temper. He was the one who lost it and strangled me. Look, Sister, I don't like that I have to justify why I am the victim here. Besides, why is the school protecting outsiders instead of its students? That's not a good reputation for the school, isn't it?"

It must have been my strong words said in a polite tone that irked Sister Antonia off and made her turn her back from us once again. Proud of myself, I smiled, knowing that I had won our exchange wherein she was clearly dismissing how I felt during the terrible incident.

Sensing the tension, Mrs. Cecilia interfered. "You have witnesses?"

Stupid question, I thought, but I understood that Mrs. Cecilia only wanted to add testimonies to prove my claim further and to avoid provoking Sister Antonia.

Emotionless, I spoke. "They're here in this room."

"Who'd like to go first—"

Mickey raised her hand even before Mrs. Cecilia finished speaking. "I could attest to my Maj—Maddie's temperance," she started. I inhaled as deep as I could to refrain myself from laughing at her almost unfortunate slip of the tongue. "I didn't hear what they argued about, but the moment he put his hands on her neck and talked foul about housewives, I decided to interfere."

"What housewives?" Mrs. Cecilia and Ms. Lilian both seemed confused. Even Sister Antonia slightly stepped back.

"He was bragging about his status and then telling Maddie she'd become a housewife after high school, as if being a housewife was not honorable." Mrs. Cecilia was about to speak, but Mickey didn't give her the chance and continued, "I could list four things this guy did wrong—one, he entered the school without a pass, two, he thinks men are superior over women, and three, he strangled Maddie. Oh, and four, he had no shame of showing this behavior in front of us minors and he's grown ass adult."

"Miss—what's your full name again?"

"It's Mickey. Mickey Basil."

"Ms. Basil, mind your words, please."

She really asked her name to reprimand her. Very trad. Mrs. Cecilia logic, I complained inside my head. Mickey only smiled and scratched the back of her head.

"Sorry, Mrs. Cecilia," she replied smiling before she straightened her back. "I think it's unfair that Maddie is being blamed for someone's actions. That man was obviously in the wrong. You can ask the other witnesses."

Sister Antonia faced us once again, her smile more menacing this time. It was as if Mickey touched a fragile spot of hers, putting a crack on her once cemented ego.

"Let's speak with the others," she interrupted and set her eyes on Jane. "My niece, my niece, what really happened there? When we interviewed the man, he said he was only trying to protect you from Ms. Jacobs."

"Protect from what?!" I fumed, but Sister Antonia shushed me.

"Let Jane speak. She might be afraid of speaking because your family is influential. But remember, Ms. Jacobs, we are only tolerating your attitude because of your mother's generosity. Jane here is a model student of the campus. She'll tell the truth."

"And I won't?" I couldn't believe what I heard. Jane was still looking at her feet, probably hiding a grin as wicked as her aunt's. I knew I was doomed, and Jane would lie and throw me off the cliff. Ready to walk out with Jane's lies, I balled my hands into a fist.

But what happened was something I didn't expect—Jane began to cry.