Brianna laughed behind me.
"She thinks she can give orders now."
Tessa lifted the carton.
I pushed my chair back, but Brianna held it in place.
The milk poured over my head.
It ran through my curls, down my cheeks, across my shirt, and onto the open book in front of me. The pages stuck together. Cold milk dripped from my chin onto the desk.
The room went silent for half a second.
Then Tessa laughed.
Brianna laughed louder.
My hands remained flat on the desk. I could hear the milk hitting the floor in slow, ugly drops.
Nobody moved.
Not the students near the windows. Not the boy in the front row. Not the teacher who had just entered the hallway outside.
Everyone saw what happened.
And still, for one terrible moment, I felt completely alone.
Tessa leaned closer.
"Enjoy the milk bath," she said. "Maybe it'll make you prettier."
I stared at the puddle spreading over my history book. The ink blurred beneath the milk until the words became dark streaks.
My mother's note was in my backpack.
You've got this, sweetheart.
I thought about the nights she came home with aching feet and still made sure I had something warm to eat. I thought about the science project in the trash. I thought about Mr. Alvarez telling me to focus on my grades while someone kept teaching me that silence had no protection.
Then Tessa tapped one finger against my desk.
"Say thank you."
My throat tightened.