Whoever said words can’t hurt you has never been pegged with a dictionary.
Sara was drawn to the child’s tears. She knew that kind of crying, having done a lifetime of it herself.
“Something the matter, dear?”
“…go ‘way.”
Sara knelt. “I promise I won’t tell you that you’re overreacting if you promise not to tell me I can’t understand.”
The kid looked up. “…kay.” Tears smeared her face. “They said I’m fat an’ I gotta eat nuthin’ but chocolate 'cause I’m that colour anyway an’ I tried to tell on 'em but… m’ teacher said it was just words.”
“Hm. Anyone who says words can’t hurt you has never been smacked by a dictionary.”
A shy, wan smile lit her face. “Not 'lowed to hit 'em.”
“More’s the pity,” agreed Sara. “You have to hit them where it hurts them the most. In their egos.”
“What’s an ego?”
“It’s that part of your brain that keeps telling you that you are the sole reason the universe exists.”
This time, a giggle. Anyone telling this darling little girl that she was ugly aught to be strung up by their nether hairs.
“I’m guessing these are the mean girls of the school? Already proficient at makeup and fashion at -what- eight?”
“Nine.”
“Oof.” Sara shook her head. “Let me tell you a little something about mean girls…”
*
Sara was just about to sign out from her volunteer duties when she spotted Shanice again. Holding an ice-pack over one eye.
“You didn’t start a fight, did you?”
Shanice grinned. “Nope. They did.”
Which meant the mean girls hit first. Which meant that Shanice had won. Sara grinned and gave her a high five. “Good job. Pro tip, try not to look so smug. Act like a kitten is very sick. Makes you look like the wronged party.”
Shanice nodded and did her best to snivel.
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