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I’d have applaud if it were true—she was still alive.
Her parents,only caring when she was near death,marched into the school,demanding answers.
In the principal’s office,the counselor explained she’d contacted them,but they’d shirked their responsibility.
Sarah’s dad wasn’t buying it.“You’re the teacher!We trusted you with our kid,and she’s nearly beaten to death.If you don’t act,I’ll call the press.Your school’s obsessed with foreigners—none of this would’ve happened without them.You’re responsible!”
Sarah’s mom wailed,“My poor girl!We’ll sue!You failed her!”
The next day,reporters flooded the campus.
Under pressure,the school promised to handle it.
Fresh from surgery,Sarah,hearing about her parents’chaos,didn’t text me.
She was alone.
I called,asking about her condition,pretending to be a caring friend.She sobbed,spilling Jamal’s crimes.
I felt no pity—she brought it on herself.
I’d begged her to save me,and she stayed silent to save her skin.
“Sarah,your parents escalated things.If Jamal’s punished,you’ll have a tough time on campus.”
Terrified,she clung to me.“What do I do?I don’t want to die!”
The doctor arrived,announcing Sarah had HIV.She nearly fainted.
I informed her parents.
