That night, Carol sat with Diane’s stack of warning slips spread across the kitchen table. Two schools. Two records. Two chances squandered. Her reflection in the window looked like a stranger’s—eyes hollow, shoulders hunched. She whispered, “This isn’t her fault. It’s mine,” though the silence offered no absolution.
The following morning, the school called again. “Mrs. Greene, we need you to attend a meeting. The new principal has requested it personally.” The words were polite, but Carol’s stomach twisted. The time she’d been dreading had arrived, dragging the past with it.