Chapter 10

Hi, I wanna preface this by saying the actions and opinions expressed within are solely those of the individuals enacting them, not me. I'll remind you this was the sixth grade, and my friends and I were stupid children. We did stupid things, said stupid stuff. We were twelve. So if you have any issues with the things we did, that's on them, not on me. I'm just here to report on it. I don't approve of it, nor did I try and stop any of it. Granted, they never stopped me from doing dumb shit either, so... Don't sue me.

June 5th, 2000

Lunchtime.

And with one of my favourite lunchtime foods, or indeed anytime foods, is Winter's famous Macaroni and Cheese. The best mac and cheese. You have one bite and you want to just eat the entire dish all by yourself. Kraft Dinner ain't got shit on Winter's homemade stuff. In fact, I would blame the creamy, buttery mess of noodles and sauce for my serious addiction that lasted from ages ten to, well, now.

The mac n' chee phase.

Because her recipe is one of a kind. It started out as another Betty Crocker cookbook recipe, simple to make and simple to cook. It only took about an hour total, and even at the young age of twelve I had no issues making it myself. Winter even encouraged me to do so on some nights. But when I made it with Betty's help, it wasn't quite as good as my sister's. The recipe goes as follows:

2 cups elbow macaroni

¼ cup butter

¼ cup flower

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

¼ teaspoon mustard powder

1 dash Worcestershire sauce

2 cups milk

2 cups shredded old cheddar.

Preheat oven to three-fifty, cook macaroni as directed on package and set aside. Melt butter in a three-quart saucepan on low heat. Stir in flour, salt, mustard, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. Cook on medium, stirring constantly until mixture is smooth and bubbly. Remove from heat, add milk and bring to boil, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in cheese until mixture is smooth and all the cheese is melted. Add noodles to cheese mix and blend together until all shells are coated with cheese. Pour into casserole dish and put in oven for twenty to twenty-five minutes or until bubbly. Let sit for five minutes or serve lava-hot if desired.

And boom, mac n' cheese. I encourage you to try this.

But here's where the family secrets come in. First off, you have to use more than the desired amount of butter. You take the block of butter, and you cut off a whole inch from the block. It's probably closer to a third of a cup of butter, maybe more. We go by inches.

Then you gotta use a bit extra flour, like maybe another eighth of a cup or something. And don't bother with exact measurements for the seasonings, just use dashes or shakes of the wrist. Two shakes of Worcestershire sauce, three shakes of mustard powder, and three pinches of salt and pepper each. And use three and a quarter percent homogenized milk instead of the two percent regular stuff. Oh, and fuck skim milk. Nobody likes skim milk. I would rather drink drink orange juice after just brushing my teeth than drink skim milk.

But that's not the only addition. If you use extra cheese, specifically an entire Ikea cheese-grater's worth, you'll get an even cheesier and gooey creation. I should point out that if you're watching your calories, this is not the recipe for you. And if you're lactose intolerant, this is not the recipe for you. And then, you add the bacon. That's right. Bacon. Right at the end when you're mixing the noodles into the cheese sauce, mix in about half a package of bacon bits, normally reserved for Caesar salad. And let me tell ya. The finished product is full of protein and so amazingly good for you. If you like cheese. Which I do.

So on this day, I had brought myself a thermos full of of Mac N' Chee for lunch time.

But I was having a serious case of the Mondays.

It had started out early in the morning, when, while brushing my teeth, the toothpaste blob destined for my mouth fell off the brush and landed in the sink before I had even had a chance to use it. Not really a huge deal by any means, but I was disappointed and I had already put the Crest tube away in the drawer. So I had to get it out again and open it again and squeeze out a pea-sized drop again, and it really just was an inconvenience.

But then I missed the bus to school. And that meant the day was pretty much a write-off since I was late by about fifteen minutes to class, and by that time I had already been marked absent. I had to go to the office and explain that no, I was not a truant and yes, I would try my hardest to be on time for detention after school. That's right. Detention. For missing the goddamn bus. By probably thirty seconds. This school had it in for me. Like, I was the only student who had to take a city bus to school in the mornings because I lived too far away from any school bus routes, they could at least cut me some slack once in a while. OC Transpo is not a reliable source of transportation. The TTC is barely better, mind you.

AND THEN at second period math, I realized I had forgotten to do the homework over the weekend, so class was a scramble of not listening to the teacher to finish it in time. I really didn't care what I got, what were they gonna do anyways? Fail me for one day of not doing the work? I'd like to've seen them try. Not with the amount of Angry Mothering™ Winter was capable of.

But we're only at second period. I still had two to go before lunch. How could I mess those up, you ask? Well, because I'm a clumsy idiot, actually. See, then we had gym. And gym class in elementary school generally only consists of three things; dodgeball, kickball, and 'dancing' in groups. Which isn't really dancing it's twenty-five miserably twelve-year-olds and one overly enthusiastic teacher trying to show why they deserve tenure and higher pay for demonstrating control over their students. But today was dodgeball day. And I had... messed up. I accidentally beaned the shit out of some kid in the face, and then proceeded to get pelted until I couldn't stand and cried for desperate mercy. Which wasn't given. I stand by what I always said. Sixth graders are the fucking worst.

And of course, the teacher just stood around and watched. I wasn't exactly the favourite student of anyone. Not because of a sour demeanor or because I bullied people, no no. Because I was free-thinking. And I questioned everything. So when the opportunity arose to silence me, albeit painfully and with vinyl dodgeballs, no action was taken against the perpetrators. I dislike this mindset.

And then fourth period. Social studies. To think I'd spent the first three hours of the day socially studying why my life sucked only to be dropped into the next smelly vat of suck was an even worse time. We were supposed to be focusing on how 'people as a society evolved' and all that but instead they all decided to make it about how students who are from other countries never fit in properly with the society already at large. Basically it was Miss Elderman's mildly racist lecture on how I still had egg on my sweater from breakfast. I'd wanted to smash someone over the head with a table by about the fifth 'failure of societal co-existence'.

And now this shit.

I was staring down at the floor.

At my mac and cheese.

And a broken thermos, glass everywhere.

And my orange juice box, leaking the sweet vitamin c-y goodness all over the classroom floor.

I seethed, breathing in and out with silent force. At that moment, I hated everyone and everything and I wanted it all to die horrific, painful, and multiple deaths all at once. This had been the last portion of cheesy goodness from the dish, and I was so excited for it that I was able to put all the terrible things that had happened to me from the morning. I was willing to let it all go, just by the sumptuous, beautiful wonderment that the Mac brought forth.

But I'd been forsaken by my most immutable and pervasive of foes. Gravity. And, also, my overencumbering clumsiness, but this time I blamed it solely on gravity. Unfortunately, like many of my classmates and associates who can be defeated with fists and clever wordplay, gravity cannot. Gravity can never be defeated, not even with a doctorate in advanced physics and city-sized particle accelerators that hadn't even been remotely finished yet. This made me considerably less than happy. I wanted to punch the earth for what it had done to me. To my precious lunch.

"You okay?" Russel asked, a little ridiculously.

"Dude, shut up." Emerald smacked him on the back of the head. "Don't… don't say anything."

"Ow, what the hell?"

"Shut. Up. She's in mourning. Can't you see she's lost her lunch?"

It wasn't just my lunch. It was my day's redemption. It was the shining light at the end of the sewer tunnel that was the shitty horribleness of my life. I was done. Done, I tell you. Nothing could possibly make it worse. Nothing.

"I mean… she can have some of mine."

"Russ, you don't have anything she'd want, don't engage her. She'll probably kill you."

I probably would have.

"C'mon, I'm trying to be nice. Back off."

"No, you back off. I'm trying to save your life."

"Weiss, do you want anything from my lunchbox?"

As he tried to show me the inside of his lunch, Em smacked it away, across the table and away from me. I closed my eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath.

"Dude!"

I appreciated his offer, I really did. I would have probably taken something small from him if it wasn't all strewn across the table in the other direction. I don't know what was up Emmy's ass today, but apparently it was painful. Although whether that was because she had a bad weekend or because the plastic brace in her hijab was digging into her face again wasn't really a problem. I mean, they made more comfortable braces made of spandex and silk, and I had shown her a place downtown that sold them pretty cheap, but she was intent on making it difficult for herself.

"After all I've done for you this week."

"Just don't make any sudden movements. We all know what she's capable of."

She was right. I was very nearly close to gouging eyes. I even had my fork still in my hand. Emmy was right to take precautions, I was a loose cannon.

And then Jaune came in.

"Hey guys, what's going o—oh damn."

Oh damn was right.

"Well that sucks."

"You think?" I seethed back at him. My patience was thin enough to be used for the Geiger-Marsden experiment.

"It does. I know how good that stuff is."

"It's not just that." I whispered, closing my eyes. "I'm not… I'm not having a good day."

Anyone else at this moment would have had their wrist broken and their teeth mashed in, but not Jaune. He put his hand gently on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hey, don't even worry about it." he said with a chuckle. "I have a solution."

"I don't see how you could."

"Come with me." he stood from his chair and grabbed my hand. If I was any less furious, I might have blushed. I stood up as well, letting him guide me around my mess on the floor. "You two, too. C'mon."

We left the reasonably empty classroom. Lucky for us, the teacher wasn't back yet so we were free to come and go as we pleased. So we went, as it pleased at least one of us. The hallway was still rife with other students milling around and getting their own lunches from their lockers and gossiping. We were receiving a few weird glares from the other students since Jaune was technically holding my hand as we walked through the long hallway to the far off land that was his lonely locker. No, seriously, his locker was inconveniently on the other end of the school building from the rest of our class for some stupid reason that no one wanted to give us.

"Here, wait just a moment."

I did as I was instructed as he fiddled with his lock. I knew his combo, as it was conveniently an easy one. Twenty-one, thirty-three, twenty. Dudley locks were notoriously unreliable and would break their tumblers so easily that they should have been reclassified as permanent locks instead of removable combo locks. The key to unlocking a Dudley lock was and always will be a set of bolt cutters. But somehow Jaune's lock always worked without fail. I think he kept the stupid thing through university even. How, I don't know. I bet he sold his soul to a mystic in exchange for an indestructible lock. Would explain a few other things about him as well.

"Take this," he said, shoving his other lunchbox into my arms. "I want you to have this."

I nearly stumbled backwards. With a careful movement of my still-shaking hands, I unzipped his lunchbox and looked inside. I pulled out the blue plastic container down at the bottom and popped the lid. A whole Montreal-Style smoked meat sandwich stared back up at me, and I was almost punched in the nose by the smell of mustard and rye.

"Wait, why do you have a second lunch, Jaune?" Emmy asked, leaning over my shoulder and resting her chin in the crook of my neck. It would have been ticklish if I wasn't so upset.

"Second recess, second lunch. I get hungry more than once a day." he answered with a shrug. "And my mom always packs two lunches because she thinks I'm in danger of getting mugged for my first lunch."

I re-lidded the 'wich and put it back in the bag, pulling out the other little box. Down with his ice pack in the bottom of the bag was a box of apple juice, but I was more interested in this little green square plastic container. Because inside was the actual gateway to heaven. One of Ines' famous chuncky chocolate brownies. My heart skipped.

"Aaaand I'll be taking this." Emmy said, lifting it out of my fingers.

"No, you will not be." Russ finished, snagging it back and putting it back in my hands. The two moves happened so quickly I didn't even have time to register them. But now I had the brownie back and all was good in the world.

"Th-thank you, Jaune." I said, looking up at him innocently. "This is too much."

"Mom thinks I need extra food, and now I think you need it more than me. It's nothing, really."

"Ugh, just get married already." Emmy rubbed my hair. I stuck my tongue out at her and frowned.

"Never. Just because you want it."

We found a staircase to hide in to eat. Well, less 'hide in' and more 'get out of the way in', since elementary school hallways and staircases are extra wide so that any for of delinquency can be seen from all angles. So we were stood out of the way in the stairs just around the corner from Jaune's locker, and I was finally able to enjoy some lunch. I bit into the sandwich.

"Mmmff. Muh god." I managed out through a mouthful of mustard. This is why I trust Jaune and Jaune only to make roast beef and smoked meat sandwiches. He's like, Jewish Mafia-levels of skilled with the mustard and rye. Maybe once I had a sandwich this good at a restaurant, but I remember having to bow to the Don and it was like, thirty bucks for just the sandwich. No fries, no drink.

"Well I'm glad you like it."

"Can I have a bite?" Russ asked, smiling. He was amused by how pleased I must've looked. I frowned at him, chewing, and holding the sandwich the other direction.

"Mno."

"Awe, c'mon. It looks good."

"Kiff my aff."

Emmy snorted through her juice box. I finished one half of my sandwich in maybe three bites total. And goddamn it was excellent.

"Ugh, I need more of this."

"You have another half, silly." Jaune chimed, grinning at me with his hands in his pockets. I rolled my eyes.

"No, I need another five of six sandwiches. I could live entirely on this."

I shoved the next piece in my mouth while the three of them laughed at me. They could bite me, this was my life now.

"Hey, you guys wanna see something cool?" Emmy asked, poking me in the ribs for some reason.

"Yeah, of course." Jaune said, nodding and eating his cold spaghetti.

She looked around nervously, peering down the long hallway. "Kay, let me know if you see any of my cousins around, they'll tell on me if they see this."

"We've got sharp eyes." I said through the smoked meat.

"You wear glasses, I don't trust yours."

"Affhap."

"We've got you covered." Russ finished, poking me in the cheek.

With a flourish, she brought her hands up to her face, and hooked her fingers inside the ridges of her hijab and pulled it back and let it fall down her back like a hood. As soon as it did, both Jaune and Russ dropped their eyes to the floor and looked away. I, on the other hand, stared awestruck.

"...Your hair..."

"Yep. Hey, you guys can look, it's fine."

"It's so green." I gushed, wanting to reach out and touch the beautiful silky-smooth curtains that surrounded her face. "How did you get it such a perfect colour?"

"Russel helped me, and by the way, is allowed to look." She said, kicking him in the feet.

"It's not allowed."

"You were the one who rubbed the dye in! You sat in the bathroom with me and did this!"

"It's not allowed. We're respecting your privacy."

"Ugh, you two are so stupid. Jaune, look at my sweet-ass hair." She demanded.

"You're sure?" he asked, timidly.

"This is an act of rebellion, yes, that's the point. I'm not allowed to dye my hair says my dad, so I compromised and dyed my hair."

"Can you do that?"

"I can do whatever I want. Now look at the locks. Besides, the rule is that I have to be modest except when in the presence of my family."

"But we're not-" Jaune started.

"Oh, yes you are, shut your loser hole."

Jaune chuckled and returned his gaze back upward. I watched his eyes take in the majesty that was the beautifully cropped and dyed green 'do.

"Oh my, the green really suits you."

"Doesn't it, though? Russ's a magician with the Clairol."

"What can I say, I've got taste," he reached over and rubbed my hair. "I could touch up yours and get all the whites more uniform if you like?"

"Nah, it's cool. I like my hair the way it is. It's unique."

Emmy laughed and shook out her hair. "So's mine. I'm never changing this."

I went to laugh as well.

But I was suddenly unable. My laugh caught in my throat. Somehow, my friends were suddenly accelerating away from me with a force. And the back of my head was suddenly overwhelmed with pain. Not nearly as bad as I had experienced when I broke my leg, but darn close. I think it was the surprise of it, really. I shrieked as my body went horizontal.

"Wha-!"

Then the back of my head hit the floor. I bounced, curling up and grabbing the back of my head. Oh my fucking god did it hurt. It felt like my skull was on fire. I'd bumped my head plenty of times before falling off play structures and rocks and stuff, but this was different. It felt deliberate. Like I'd been pulled. By my hair.

"Ughhhhhh fuck!" I yelled, curling up on the floor and writhing in pain. I rolled over onto my back and tried to look up at whoever or whatever had done this to me, but my vision was a little hazy from the impact. Did you know the vision centre of the brain is at the back? I figured it would be like, right behind the eyes for easier internal nervous wiring or whatever, but no it's stuck way at the back. That's why you can go blind if you get hit too hard in the back of the skull.

Some things were starting to get clear again through the ringing of my head. My friends were kneeling around me, Emerald's long, beautiful green hair had been tucked away out of sight again in what looked like a hurry, Russ and Jaune had their attentions and two very angry glares pointed in another direction.

"Nnnnghh..."

I turned my head to look over as well. And that's when I saw him. I bared my teeth, seething.

I am always right. Sixth graders are the worst. Excuse the fact that I was one at the time of the incident, of course. But this, this was no regular sixth grader. This was one of the top of the line bullies. And you know what? I don't know if it was a built-in sensory protection of some kind, like some way to wipe this memory from my head, but I cannot for the life of me remember his name. I know that the guy he hung out with , currently leaned against the wall and snickering was named Kyle, but this guy? No clue. For the sake of the story I'm going to call him Dummy.

I'd been pulled to the floor. By my hair.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I demanded, trying to not tear up.

"Oh, what's the matter, grandma?" he taunted hopping backwards conveniently out of arms reach. "You gonna call Life Alert? Can't get up?"

How fucking dare.

"You pulled my hair!"

"It's falling out anyways, you old hag!"

Emmy helped me to my feet as I cradled my head with one hand, tears streaming down my cheeks. I'd tried to keep them back, but not succeeded. I think the reason Jaune or Russ hadn't immediately knocked Dummy's teeth down his throat was the sheer shock and awe of watching him yank me down by my hair.

I was proud of my hair. Damn proud. The stark white colouration gave me a beautiful contrast to Emmy's formerly dark brown, my sister's mixed brown and Jaune's yellow blonde. I didn't just look like every other kid and that was normally okay. Most of my classmates thought the white locks were a cool look since literally no other student looked the way I did. But Dummy saw it as a way to bring me down, since his logic was that only old people had white hair and therefore I was old and weak. Frail, even. If this was the way he treated his grandmother, he was going to grow up to be a serial killer or something.

He would always tease me about my hair. My eyebrows. The pale, patchy skin on my palms. Because I was visually different. Hey, at least he was picking on another white person. I'd have had to kill him if it was Emmy he was picking on for being a different colour. I could generally tolerate my hair being picked on. But not today. Today, he'd taken it physical. That was so not fucking alright.

"You gigantic asshole!" I yelled. I think at this point a teacher must've heard.

"Whatever, lady. Just don't fall over again. You might break your hip!"

He laughed and turned away, walking lazily down the hallway. None of us had moved yet. My heart was racing. My head was pounding. My breathing had become erratic. I wanted to do something drastic, and I wanted to do it now. So I did. I pushed out of Em's grip.

"Hey!" I yelled.

I marched down the hall after him.

"HEY!"

He turned to look over his shoulder, but didn't stop walking. I broke into a run.

"DUMMY!"

He stopped and turned around. That was his mistake. I planted my foot against the wall and jumped up and towards him. My fist came around.

No one ever prepares you for how much punching someone actually hurts. You always forget to factor in the fact that whatever force you put into hitting someone, the same amount of force is sent back through your hand and into your body. As described by Newton's third law of motion, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If you hit an object with a thousand newtons of force, one thousand newtons is also forced back down your hand.

Muhammad Ali was a big guy. A big, agile boxer who could throw a serious punch. Most often resulting in a knockout. The punches he could throw ranged between three and five thousand newtons of force, pretty much taking his opponents down without any more. He could do this because he could throw a fast one and create a huge impulse force, which is actually where the force of a shot comes from. It's a factor of weight and acceleration. If you have low weight, you better have high acceleration to have the same impulse as someone with a high weight and low acceleration.

But I had used my limited knowledge of physics that day to increase my chances of creating a high impulse. By using the wall, I was able to impart some of the force of gravity into my hit as I punched down and across, and likely put something in the range of fifteen hundred newtons of force directly into Dummy's cheekbone. And also right back up my arm, which stung like wildfire as all the little bones of my hand mashed together.

Seriously, I'd have kept swinging if not for Russel and Jaune jumping in at this point and grabbing me by the arms and pulling me away backwards. I know, I said some things to him I shouldn't have, but I was angry. Really goddamn angry, and I think it was reasonably justified. Even Emmy flipped him off as I was dragged away from him sitting there on the floor, clutching his face and sobbing like an infant.

Jackass.

/…/

"Okay..." She rubbed her eyes quite thoroughly. "Just… one more time. From the top."

"Mrs. Schnee, the reason you've-"

"Miss. I'm not married."

"...Right, Miss, the reason you've been called here today is because Weiss here attacked another student."

Winter sighed into her hands.

"And why do you think..." she looked up at Vice Principal McMaster and leaned back in her chair. "...she'd have done that? Just so all of our stories align."

I was trying my hardest to crush my hands between my thighs. My whole body was folded down on itself. I really didn't want to be here.

"She was being teased. And she's been told multiple times that we never resort to violence when people are picking on us. Plain and simple. She broke the rules."

Winter's face contorted into a confused, angry expression.

"See… funny thing," she sniffled and crossed her left leg over her right and crossed her arms. "Not exactly the story I have from her. See, what I'm getting… is that she was being bullied. Repeatedly. For months. And now, when she tries to show that she no longer appreciates this kind of treatment, she gets punished."

"...She punched the other student to the ground."

"Why?"

"He was teasing her."

"Why!" Winter barked. The Vice Principal visibly shrunk a little.

"I… I don't..."

"Because of her hair! Because of the unnaturally white hair she has had since she was born. He consistently calls her 'old' and 'frail', and has made her stay here miserable for the last year. Look, the reason she looks different is because of a hereditary condition called Poliosis, which is a symptom of a skin disease called Vitiligo, which we all have in this family."

She tilted her head down and pulled her hair out of the way to show off the patchy, pale skin she had around the back of her ears and the back of her neck. She righted, pulling up her sleeves and showing off the undersides of her arms, which were also a vividly depigmented pale white.

"See? We're all like this. I just dye all my hair white so it matches my sister, who has the full white hair going on anyways so she doesn't feel so alone. The lack of melanin should be no reason to bully someone, yet here we are!"

"I-I don't think that's why-"

"Really?" she bit into him. "Then I think you outta have a word with three key witnesses of the so-called attack, namely Jaune Arc, Emerald Sustrai, and Russel Thrush, since they were on scene for pretty much every instance of the bullying throughout the year."

She reached into her coat and pulled out her day planner. I wanted to disappear.

"For instance! September fourteenth, called her 'grandma' in the hallway between classes, and the teacher said 'just ignore him, sweetie'. October twenty-first, pushed passed and called 'slow moving old lady', and the teacher, once again, said 'just ignore him, sweetie'. God, one response for everything, huh?"

"Mrs. Schnee, that's not-"

"MISS!" even I recoiled a little from that one. "January eighteenth, asked if she needed help crossing the street, then had the books knocked from her hands. Once again, 'just ignore him'. Starting to see a pattern, yet?!"

"Ma'am-"

"And today! She isn't just verbally harassed for the thousandth time, she's physically assaulted by this boy, who drags her to the goddamn ground by her hair! And proceeds to continue to bully her. You know, I'd say she was one hundred percent justified."

"She knows under no circumstances do we resort to violence-"

"Under no circumstances, eh? Then explain this to me. After numerous times of calling the school myself to demand an explanation to my sister's bullying, and every time receiving the same 'we have no record of these instances you speak of, if your child had gone to their teacher' yada yada and all that, I'm beginning to think you don't even care about your student."

"Excuse me?"

"Because having no record when every single time she'd gone to a teacher means that you're deliberately sweeping this shit under the rug!"

"We wouldn't do anything like that, don't be ridiculous."

"Then am I to believe she's been lying to me for a year? Is that it?!"

"This is a matter of simple teasing, ma'am. There's nothing we can really do to the contrary. Boys will be boys, and she needs to learn to deal with that."

Winter's voice caught in her throat. Her hands gripped down on the edges of her seat. I could hear the metal creaking under the strain of her hands.

"You… did not… just say that… to me…"

Winter stood up slowly. The principal shrunk even further into himself. My sister cut a very intimidating figure, being six-foot-three and built like a tank from five years of rugby. She breathed in an out a few times, probably to steady herself.

"Boys… will be boys?"

"It's just teasing. She attacked him."

"I'll be going to the police if you do not take that back. Weiss has been bullied for a year, and now it's gotten physical and you're turning a blind eye and that's. Not. Okay."

I shivered. I had never been so scared in my life. She'd stopped yelling, and now she was even more frightening.

"Your little game of having her suspended in the last month of school is fucking bullshit. If you do not rescind this decision, I'll be going to the police with the evidence of your neglect. Do you understand me."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

The air around her seemed to crackle.

"Good. C'mon, Weiss. We're going to get ice cream. You deserve it."

"O-okay." I said, shivering.

"If violence is the only answer you people understand, then so be it. We're leaving for today. You can think about your actions. My lawyer will be in touch."

She grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me out of the room. I obediently followed. As soon as we were clear of the building's doors and back into the June air, Winter sighed deeply and slowed down. She sniffed as she came to a stop in front of me, turning around and kneeling down.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry you had to see that."

She brought her hand to the side of my face, caressing it softly. I was still trying not to cry, but at the same time trying not to laugh that she'd just torn a strip out of the Vice Principal.

"Let me have a look at ya." she carefully turned my head so she could look at the back of it. She tutted with disappointment. "man, he really did a number on you, huh. Your scalp's all red back here. Still hurt?"

"Yeah." I nodded, somberly. I sniffled again, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "Getting my hair pulled sucks."

She chuckled dryly. "Yeah, it does."

I was pulled into a hug.

"You did the right thing. I just wish you didn't have to."

"I know."

"Those teachers are corrupt. I can't believe they'd brush that off as 'teasing'. That's not fair to you."

"I know."

She shook her head, gently stroking the sore spot where my hair'd been nearly yanked from my head. It stung like a gigantic bee sting. Winter guessed that I might have a mild concussion from the fall, but I didn't feel it. I just felt a little woozy is all.

"Just next time, please don't hit people. I understand this was extraneous circumstances, but you really need to talk to more than just your teachers sometimes. This place sucks because they didn't take the effort to help you, but do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so."

"If you ever feel uncomfortable or like you're in danger, tell multiple people. If they don't want to help you, go to whoever they answer to and complain. And if they don't help you, keep going up until someone does. And yes, that might mean the police in some instances. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

She smiled as she let me out of the embrace, rubbing my cheek with her thumb.

"I don't like getting angry, but when someone hurts my baby sister, someone's gonna get hurt. Leave it to me next time, okay?"

I nodded vigorously. "Okay, Winter."

I got a smooch on my forehead. "I love you, kiddo. Alright, lets go get some ice cream. Where would you prefer?"

I shrugged. "Zak's?"

She laughed and stood up. Zak's was our favourite diner downtown. Best milkshakes in Ottawa, and you can hold me to that.

"Alright. Zak's it is."