Page 54 of A Little Christmas Wish

“Foster daughter,” she said.

Betsy leaned over the desk. “My. Daughter.”

“In with Principal Burns.”

Betsy marched into the office without waiting for the old bat at the desk.

“Why, I never!” Mrs. Pearson said from behind her. “I’m sorry, Principal Burns.”

The older man waved her off. Betsy actually liked him. He’d always seemed kind and fair.

Zippy turned to Betsy. “Mr. Burns, you didn’t have to bring Betsy down here.”

“Actually, I did,” the principal said. “You hit another child, Zippy. That can get you suspended, if not expelled.”

Oh hell.

Betsy walked to Zippy, crouching next to her. “Are you all right, Zippy?”

“Yeah. Eliot is all talk. He can’t punch. He had his thumb on the inside of his fist. Rookie mistake.”

“So he tried to hit you?”

“Yeah. After I told him what a jerk he was. That he was a bully and that he smelled.”

“You didn’t say he tried to punch you, Zippy,” Mr. Burns said.

“No one asked.”

“Why did you call him those things, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Because he was being mean to Grace. He called her four-eyes and said she was dumb. Grace isn’t dumb.”

No, she was very smart. And Zippy’s best friend. They were an unlikely pair. The fierce tomboy and the quiet, shy girl.

Betsy stood and turned to Mr. Burns. “This is a clear case of self-defense. It seems this Eliot started it all. If anyone should be suspended, it’s him.”

“Yes, well, he’s the one who is injured though. And I can’t have children punching each other without punishment.”

“Then I hope he’s being suspended too.”

Mr. Burns looked uncomfortable.

“Eliot’s parents are big deals. They donate lots to the school so he thinks he can get away with anything. And Grace’s family doesn’t have much so he always picks on her because he knows she won’t say anything.”

Mr. Burns gaped at Zippy.

“Well, that’s just not right. Is it, Mr. Burns?” Betsy said quietly. “My daughter shouldn’t get punished for sticking up for her friend. And because she knows how to throw a proper punch.”

The door slammed open and in walked Eliot and his parents.

“Well,” the man said. “Are you expelling this degenerate?”

“How dare you!” Betsy said.

“What’s a degenerate?” Eliot asked.

“This brat!” the woman said, glaring at Zippy. “She shouldn’t be here. A foster child!”

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