“Well, I would never allow bullying to take place in my classroom,” I say, unable to bite my tongue on this one.
“Neither would I. There has been no bullying in my classroom,” she says defensively.
“So what you’re saying is that Isla is making it up?”
Her eyes narrow. “Some kids just like the attention.”
The voice in my head goes apeshit. You absolute f*****g b***h! You snobby, arrogant, inadequate little—
But I manage to rein myself in. Instead, I give Heather a tight smile. “You call it attention; I call it a cry for help. But I suppose our teaching styles are just very different.”
Then, before she can say anything else, I walk away.
I find Isla waiting for me in the courtyard outside. She’s hunched over her sketchpad with a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree crick in her neck that is
