Most students barely noticed her.
Some treated her as though she were invisible.
But Vanessa had always been especially cruel.
She complained when my mother’s cleaning cart blocked a hallway. She deliberately dropped rubbish in front of her. Once, she spilled coffee and told my mother to clean it up while her friends laughed.
I had begged Mom to report her.
But she always shook her head.
“Lily, I need this job. Just finish your studies. That’s all I want.”
Yesterday afternoon, I’d gone to the auditorium to find her.
Instead, I’d heard Vanessa shouting from the storage room.
“Tell them you lost it!”
My mother stood near the doorway, pale and trembling.
“I won’t say something that isn’t true,” she answered.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Then maybe you don’t deserve to work here anymore.”
When Vanessa noticed me approaching, she immediately lowered her voice.
