Three months later, Vanessa was still attending college under strict disciplinary conditions. She had begun volunteering with the student support program and, according to Dr. Brooks, was making an effort to repair the harm she’d caused.
As for my mother, she continued working because she wanted to, but the college offered her a better-paid position coordinating facilities staff.
And I finally understood something my father used to tell me.
A person’s worth isn’t measured by their clothes, their job, their appearance, or how loudly they can intimidate others.
Sometimes the person everyone overlooks is the one holding an entire community together.
And sometimes the people who laugh the loudest are hiding something they desperately don’t want anyone to discover.
I still wear my bright yellow hair.
I still remember Vanessa’s laughter echoing through that bathroom.
But whenever I think about that morning, I don’t remember the humiliation first.
