In the end, it wasn’t even close. Of the four faculty members and two student representatives of the ad board, only one voted in my favor—Emma.
It gives me some comfort that Emma Lau, of all people, chose to believe me, and I cling to it. That it wasn’t unanimous. That I was able to go into a room, stare into the eyes of my assailant, and tell him that what he did to me was not okay. And the sky did not collapse. That’s something, isn’t it? All this I remind myself, even as the pangs of regret cramp my stomach. The ad board was not a path to justice. Rational, impartial adults did not believe me. And tomorrow when I go to school again, I’ll still have to see him.
I unlock the door to my apartment and plummet on the couch as the phone rings. It’s my mom calling.
“Claire, guess what? We got you a place at another school,” my mom announces. “Your dad and I just gave a donation to Terry Grove High and now you have a spot!”
I lower my head back against the couch. “Oh, Mom, you won’t believe the shitty day I’ve just had,” I exhale into the phone as I tell her the verdict.
She mutters a curse word in Chinese. “I know you’re hurting, honey, and I’m so sorry. That’s why I didn’t want you to go to the ad board. But just think, you could have a fresh start!” my mom says.
How do I tell my mom I need more than a fresh start? More than a spot? More than something money can buy? I need her. Tears fall down my neck.
“Your father pulled a lot of strings to get you in this late in the school year,” she continues. “If you transfer now, you can put all this behind you. No one ever has to know about this.”
As my mom talks, I put the couch cushion over my eyes, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as she makes plans to, once again, airbrush my past.