Chapter 3

I remembered the Gold Star scholarship. Alex Johnson. In my past life, Tiffany's false accusation about me taking a bribe for that had ruined my career. The memory was a cold knot in my stomach. I wouldn't let that happen again.

A few days later, Tiffany wasn't alone when she approached the main office. Her father, Mr. Robert Hayes, a school board member, was with her.

Tiffany was weeping, a practiced, delicate sort of cry.

"Ms. Miller is bullying me," she sobbed to the principal, Mrs. Davis, while her father looked on, his expression a mixture of paternal concern and stern authority. "All I try to do is uphold fairness, and she attacks me."

Mr. Hayes put a comforting arm around Tiffany. He then looked at me, his eyes cold.

"My daughter is a sensitive girl, Ms. Miller. She believes in the rules. Perhaps you're being a bit... harsh on a student who only wants what's best for the school." His tone was smooth, but the threat was clear.

I stood my ground. "Mr. Hayes, Tiffany's claims are untrue. I have only ever asked her to be constructive and to stop disrupting school activities with unfounded accusations."

I mentioned her disruptive behavior in my office, and then, calmly, I brought up the AP History project sabotage again, detailing how she'd manipulated her classmates.

Some of my colleagues in the office exchanged uneasy glances. Tiffany's performance was convincing. I heard a murmur: "Maybe Sarah is being too hard on her."

Mr. Peterson, who had walked in, tried to mediate. Or perhaps Mr. Hayes subtly prompted him.

"Tiffany is clearly a driven student," Mr. Peterson said, a little too diplomatically. "Perhaps she'd benefit from a challenging environment. My AP History class, for instance. Kevin Lee, our star basketball player, is in that class. He's another very motivated student."

Tiffany, through her tear-streaked face, looked up. She feigned reluctance. "Oh, I don't know, Mr. Peterson..."

But then her eyes flicked towards the idea of being in a class with Kevin Lee, a high-achiever, an athlete. A new target.

"Well, if you think it would be good for me," she said, a small, brave smile appearing.

I saw it then. Her pattern. She targeted those who excelled, those who had something she could undermine or co-opt.