"Some of it?"
"I don't want to be the girl who can't handle a joke."
My mother's face changed. She was not angry at me. That almost made it worse.
"Being hurt doesn't become a joke because the person hurting you laughs."
I looked down.
She continued, "You don't have to fight them, Nora. But you also don't have to keep making yourself smaller so they can feel big."
That sentence stayed with me the next morning.
So did the bruise on my shoulder.
It was not serious. Just a faint yellow mark where Madison had bumped into me. But I photographed it before school and added the picture to the notebook.
By second period, Madison had heard.
She waited until Mr. Alvarez stepped into the hall to speak with another teacher. Then she walked to my desk with Kelsey behind her.
"You told your mommy?" Madison asked.
The room went still.
I kept my eyes on the page. "Move."
Madison bent closer. "Did she call the school? Did she cry?"
Kelsey laughed. "Maybe Nora's mom is going to come fight our moms."
Madison placed both hands on my desk. Her rings clicked against the wood.
"You know what happens to people who keep records?" she whispered. "People start looking at them."
My fingers tightened around my pencil.
"I'm not afraid of you."
It was not completely true.
Madison leaned even closer. "You should be."
Then she reached for my face.
I jerked backward, but her fingers caught the arm of my glasses. The gold frames slipped from my ears.
For one terrible second, the room became a blur of pale walls and moving shapes.