“Bring me to him,” my mom ordered.


“To what’s-his-face.”

“O—okay,” I stuttered.

I grabbed her hand as hard as a rock and brought her to Chad’s after-school program. I pointed to him and she walked up to him with her braids bouncing to the beat of her steps.

“I have heard that you have been bullying my daughter,” she said.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

“What have you been calling her? She-Man? Or was it . . . ?”


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