Page 31 of Church Girl
“No, it is not. It’s a matter of the truth. There are no two sides to it.”
“Gia is saying one thing while the other student tells a different story—”
“And she’s lying, but you don’t want to acknowledge that. You’d rather cover your own a—” She bit off the sentence before she cursed, and I blink at her near uttering of profanity. She sucks in a deep breath and slowly releases it before continuing. “You’d rather cover your own behind,” she amends, “rather than admit you didn’t listen and protect Gia when she asked for help. You’d rather give the message to a child that even when she goes through all the right avenues, even when she follows the rules, she’ll be punished by the adults who failed her in the first place.”
Holy. Shit.
Who is this and what happened to my nanny?
She’s reading the fuck outta him, and all the principal can do is sit there, taking it.
Shaking my head, I tear my gaze from this...soun-Disneyversion of Aaliyah and focus back on Principal Hutchinson. “What is she talking about you failed to protect Gia? From what?” I growl.
What the hell does my daughter need protection from, and why is this the first I’m hearing of it? Whew. Anger flashes inside me like a lighter flaring to life. Somebody better have some answers. I don’t, and will never, play about Gia.
“Ms. Montgomery claims that Gia has been bullied,” he says, an edge to his voice.
“Claims?” Aaliyah barks out a sharp laugh, her fingers curling around the arms of the chair. “Why don’t you just come on out and call both of us liars? But here’s the thing, sir, I don’t need to lie. Not when I have proof.”
She removes a phone from the purse slung across her body, taps on the screen and passes it to me.
At first, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m looking at. But then I realize it’s a piece of blue paper and a rough drawing of a girl with squiggly lines for hair and a pig’s face. Above it is scrawled Piggy Gia.
Pure fury roars inside my head. I swear to God, I’m sweating, and my pulse drowns out everything. Deliberately, I pass the phone back to Aaliyah when I feel like throwing it across the room to smash against the wall.
The. Fuck.
I glance behind me at Gia, and she stares down at her clasped hands. Battling the urge to flip a desk—and the man sitting behind it—I softly call her name. And truthfully, it ain’t all that soft. But it’s the best I can do with this rage riding me.
“You okay, G?”
She nods her head.
“Look at me, baby girl,” I gently order. And when she lifts her head and meets my gaze, I ask again, “You okay?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. And my heart aches.
Pain radiates behind my ribs. I want to pick her up, hug her close and run out of this office, this school. Want to shield her from the shitty people in the world. Somehow, I forgot that kids can be just as horrible as adults. And I hate that I couldn’t protect my baby from that ugliness, from that hurt. Hate that it even touched her.
“Okay, do me a favor? Go outside and sit with Mrs. Terrance.”
“Okay.”
As soon as she leaves and the door closes behind her, I return my focus to the principal. He flinches before he straightens his shoulders and tries to appear like he’s the one in control. He can kill that. I got something for him.
“Did you see that?” I jab a finger toward Aaliyah’s phone.
“Yes, I did,” he says. “And like I told Ms. Montgomery, that’s not necessarily proof. Anyone could’ve drawn that, not the other stud—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I seethe. “As a principal, a fucking man, you’re really gon’ sit here and defend that shit?”
“Mr. Howard, I understand you’re upset, but I won’t condone that language.”
“Oh, so you have standards.” I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees and clasping my fingers between my spread thighs. It’s either that or wrap them around his neck. “A little girl being harassed doesn’t offend you, but my language does?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Get the fuck outta here with that, bruh.”
“Now, wait just a—”
Throwing up a hand toward him, I turn to Aaliyah. “What happened? Since I’m obviously not going to get the full truth out of him.”
