SPEAK

Chapter 8: Stolen innocence II

"Asha, please report to the principal's office." My heart raced with anxiety. Was this about yesterday? Calm down, Asha. Everything's going to be okay. Just tell them everything, don't leave out any details. I knocked on the door three times and counted to ten before opening it. As I stepped inside, I saw the principal, the vice principal, and a few other teachers. This was going to be tough.

"Your mother called last night and explained things to us," the principal began, looking around at everyone in the room. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?" He asked. After taking a few deep breaths, I recounted the events just as I had told my mother.

"Are you certain this happened?" the vice principal asked. I looked away from her intense gaze and nodded.

"But... what were you wearing?" he demanded, staring me down as if this question had any fucking relevance. When I hesitated, he repeated it, "What were you wearing?"

"A b-blue dress," I stammered, "one... umm that fell right above my knees." He scoffed, and everyone looked at me like I was the one at fault.

"Did your mother ever tell you not to dress like that?" His question felt like a slap. No, my mother never sat me down at fourteen and told me that wearing a blue dress was a "welcome in" sign for a man to do with me as he pleased. She never told me that the length of my dress served as compensation for the word no.

"No, she didn't tell me that," I said, staring defiantly into the eyes of the monster before me. My voice trembled, but I held my ground, swallowing up the tears that threatened to pour. I wanted them to feel my pain, to understand the injustice of what they were implying. This wasn't my fault, and no dress would ever make it so.

"You could have come to the teachers to explain what had happened," a teacher with a seemingly kind voice said. But I didn't trust nice people; they were always the ones setting traps. "Aren't you supposed to be afraid of your mother?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Afraid of my mother? What kind of twisted logic was this?

"You should have told us before the matter escalated..." Escalated? What were they talking about? Ah, now I saw where this was heading. "Don't tell any of your friends or classmates. It'll just give you a bad reputation." Bingo. There it was. I stood there, my body frozen, my throat tight as I fought back the tears.

"That'll be all. You can take your leave," the principal dismissed me. God knows I wanted to slap every single person sitting there, to make them feel even a fraction of my pain. I turned to leave, reaching for the door.

"Wait..." I stopped, turning back around. "Please tell Mr. Davis to come to this office. The public address system is acting funny again." Really? This entire system is messed up!

I walked out, my heart a storm of anger and hurt. They didn't care about what happened to me; they just wanted to keep their precious reputation intact. Tears burned my eyes, but I held them back. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

When I got to class, I spotted him immediately and felt my stomach churn. I turned back, took a few deep breaths to calm myself, then walked over to him. "The principal needs to see you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Later that day, the announcement calling me back to the principal's office echoed through the school, the public address system working perfectly this time. Convenient, right?

I opened the door and found the same set of judgmental eyes glaring at me. "Even if you didn't like Mr. Davis, you didn't have to lie," the vice principal began, her face twisted in disgust. "Mr. Davis is a very good man, I can't believe I doubted him for a moment there," I stood there, confused and hurt, unable to comprehend her words. "Mr. Davis said there was something in your hair and he was trying to remove it," she continued. And they believed him? Deep breaths, Asha.