Silence
Mrs. Davis's voice cut through the classroom silence as she reprimanded Sarah. Embarrassment burned through her, hot and unbearable, as tears slipped down her cheeks. She buried her face in her sleeve, hoping to hide her humiliation.
“Your mother should have taught you to eat healthier,” Mrs. Davis added, her words sharp and cutting. Sarah's gaze dropped to her lunchbox. The sweets were nearly gone, while the nutritious snacks her mom had packed lay untouched. With a flushed face and a heavy heart, Sarah closed the lid and tucked the lunchbox away. She resolved, then and there, never to eat lunch at school again.
Responsible Child
Seven-year-old Sarah Jacobs had always been a bright, responsible child. She completed her homework without complaint, submitted assignments on time, and rarely caused her mother, Clarisse, any trouble. Her natural liveliness was balanced by a sense of maturity that stood out among her peers, as she often looked out for others with genuine care.
Clarisse couldn’t help but feel fortunate to have such an admirable daughter. However, when Sarah began to struggle unexpectedly, doubts crept in. Had her luck run out? Clarisse found herself wondering if the challenges of adolescence were arriving ahead of schedule, ready to test them both.
Exceptional Student
Sarah had always been an exceptional student, excelling academically and maintaining a positive attitude. However, her first negative experience with a teacher began as minor comments she could shrug off, following her mother’s advice to ignore negativity. Over time, these comments intensified, creating a hostile environment. Sarah started to dread school, felt uneasy eating in class, and began to suspect the teacher’s issues were personal.
Her mother, Clarisse, noticed subtle changes in Sarah’s behavior, particularly around her eating habits. At first, she dismissed it as a passing phase, perhaps akin to a delayed version of the "terrible twos" Sarah never experienced. But as the changes persisted, it became clear that something deeper was troubling her daughter.
Close Bond
Clarisse cherished the close bond she shared with her daughter, Sarah. As a single mother, she felt incredibly fortunate to raise a child who brought her so little trouble. Their relationship was built on trust and laughter, with Clarisse serving as a safe haven for Sarah in every sense of the word.
They rarely argued, and when they did, it was usually followed by shared laughter within minutes. Whether gossiping, joking, or enjoying their regular movie nights, they prioritized quality time together. But when Sarah’s behavior unexpectedly shifted, Clarisse couldn’t help but worry if the harmony they had so carefully nurtured was at risk.
During Dinner
During dinner, Clarisse noticed Sarah devouring her meal with unusual urgency, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. The sight puzzled her—Sarah’s lunchbox had returned untouched, its contents uneaten. Clarisse’s concern grew as she saw her daughter barely pausing to breathe between bites.
“Didn’t you eat at school today?” Clarisse asked, carefully slicing her lasagna. Sarah, without lifting her gaze, replied with a quick “Yes.” But her answer didn’t sit right. Even the pudding cups, Sarah’s favorite treat, remained uneaten. Something was off, and the realization that Sarah might be hiding something gnawed at Clarisse.
Another Bite
“Is everything okay, sweetheart? Didn’t you like the lunch I packed?” Clarisse asked, taking another bite of the lasagna she’d grabbed from the store. Sarah paused, her expression shifting briefly, though she quickly resumed eating before Clarisse could figure out what it meant.
“No, Mom,” Sarah replied between bites of the cheesy, savory dish. “I just wasn’t very hungry today.” Clarisse raised her eyebrows at the declaration, watching as Sarah shoveled in another forkful. “Was the pudding okay?” she pressed, but Sarah only nodded absently, her focus already elsewhere. Odd, Clarisse thought, but decided not to push. Maybe her daughter’s appetite was just off.
Opened Her Lunchbox
Sarah eagerly opened her lunchbox, thrilled at the sight of her favorite leftovers. Inside were a slice of lasagna, garlic sticks, a few Babybel cheeses, and a pudding cup she had saved from the day before. To her, it was a feast fit for a queen, and she couldn’t wait to dig in.
Her excitement quickly turned sour when Mrs. Thompson’s voice cut through the air. “Whose lunch smells so bad?” she exclaimed, dramatically fanning her nose. The class erupted in laughter, all eyes turning to Sarah and her garlic sticks. Embarrassed, Sarah closed her lunchbox as instructed, but the damage was done. The taunts of “stinky” followed her for the rest of the day, echoing in her mind long after the classroom had quieted.
The Dining Table
Sarah dropped her backpack onto the dining table with a heavy thud and immediately dove into her dinner. Hours of soccer practice had left her ravenous, and this was the first real meal she’d had all day. The food, though ordinary, tasted divine after the hunger she had endured.
Her mother’s voice broke the silence. “You didn’t eat your lunch again?” she asked, holding up the still-full lunchbox. Sarah didn’t look up, her fork pausing mid-air. “I wasn’t hungry,” she lied, even as her stomach grumbled in protest. She couldn’t admit the truth—not about the cruel “Stinky Sarah” chants at school or the fear that kept her from eating in front of her classmates.
The Next Day
The next day at work, Clarisse couldn’t shake her growing concern about Sarah’s eating habits. She recalled the odd pattern of Sarah’s untouched lunchbox returning home, even though her daughter had afternoon sports and needed the energy. It was unlike Sarah, who never had issues with food before.
Her worry deepened as she thought about how ravenously Sarah devoured dinner each night, as though she hadn’t eaten in days. Something didn’t add up. While Clarisse wanted to chalk it up to a phase, a nagging feeling told her there was more to the story. Determined to uncover the truth, she resolved to investigate. But before she could take action, her phone buzzed. The news on the other end left her seething.
Echoes
Her heels echoed through the hallway with a sharp, threatening click as she stormed toward the office where Sarah was waiting. Her anger simmered, nearly boiling over, and her cheeks burned with fury.
Entering the office, Clarisse's eyes immediately landed on Sarah, sitting with tears staining her face across from a boy with a bloody nose. Frowning, she moved straight to the front desk. "I’m here to see the principal," she said curtly, offering no smile to the gray-haired woman behind the desk. "I was told he needed to speak with me."
First Rodeo
The lady typed a few things on the keyboard and then called ahead to let the principal know she was there. Clarisse immediately turned to Sarah then and crouched to her level. Her face was swollen and red, and her cheeks were tear-stained.
“What happened?” she asked, wiping a tissue down her daughter’s face. Sarah winced when she rubbed too close to her swollen cheekbone and shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. “Did that boy hit you?” Clarisse’s voice echoed through the office, the anger like a potent virus spreading through the silence that suddenly descended. It was not her first rodeo with this school, and judging by their anticipation, she supposed they hadn’t forgotten what happened.
Please Explain
Sarah just cried harder then, but they were interrupted by the lady summoning them into the office. Clarisse wiped her daughter’s tears, “We’ll finish this later.” Sarah sniffled and was barely able to compose herself before they were called into the principal’s office. “Good day, Miss. Thompson, please take a seat.” The man said, motioning towards the two chairs across from his desk. He was round and short, with a balding head and small eyes that looked like he could barely see out of them.
Clarisse folded her hands into her lap and sat forward, “May I ask what this is about? My daughter just defended herself?” she was on edge and irritated, and by the looks of his face, he was very aware. Mr. Spalding cleared his throat, and rested his hands on his desk. “It seems there has been an incident,” he said, and Clarisse had to swallow her snort. It seemed he was Captain Obvious today. “And we do not tolerate bullying, Miss Thompson. That is something we feel very strongly about.”
Misplaced Anger
Clarisse smiled viciously, “I am relieved to hear that because I want to know what is to be done about the boy who hit my daughter in the face.” The color drained from the man’s face as he realized she’d caught his implication and was deflecting it. “Well, it has been brought to our attention that Sarah is here,” he gestured to her daughter, who was still wiping the tears from her face. “Was the one who started the fight between them.” Clarisse had expected this, and even so, her blood still boiled.
She knew her daughter, knew her limits and her capabilities, and she knew that this was far from the truth. Sarah had only once started a fight, and that was because of a My Little Pony sticker that a friend had stolen from her.
Defense Or Offense
“I will stop you right there, Mr. Spalding,” she held her hand up, effectively gaining the attention she wanted so that he might understand what would happen. “While I admit that my daughter does have self-defense lessons that might be helping her to do more harm than she intended, I can assure you that she was not the one who started this fight. And you, as her principal who knows her from our last interaction, should also know that this is not true. So I want to know what the steps are from here on, without my daughter being subject to any reprimand where I am not present.”
Clarisse scooted forward and kept the man’s eye contact, forcing him to make a decision. The previous encounter had been similar, and they had yet again tried to blame it on Sarah, only to realize that the girl she’d hit had been stealing things from other children as well. “I cannot reprimand another child who was a victim of Sarah's outburst, Miss Thompson. It would reflect badly on my ability to govern this school.” his face was flushed red now, and Clarisse was about to make him blow his gasket.
Outburst
“Sarah, did you hit that boy in the face unprovoked?” Clarisse asked, turning to her child. Sarah’s cheek was still swelling, and was now the size of a golf ball. “Be honest.” Sarah looked up at her mom, tears in her eyes, and shook her head. Clarisse shrugged and turned back to the man, “There you have it. I want to know what will be done, and I will be informed directly.”
Clarisse grabbed her coat and bag and stood. Taking Sarah’s hand in hers, she turned back to the principal, “I have work to do, and I cannot sit here any longer. Please call my work number with updates. Do not speak to my child without my presence.”
Lunch Loser
“What happened?” her mother asked, barely buckled into the seat before the interrogation began. Sarah fiddled her thumbs, trying desperately not to cry again as she recalled what he’d said to her before she’d hit him. “Sarah?” She looked at her mom, who was still bright red in the face and fuming, “They keep making fun of me.” she cried, covering her swollen face with her hands. The lump in her cheek from the soap bar he’d thrown was throbbing and hurt even more when she scrunched her face.
“About what?” Clarisse asked, her voice soft and lined with concern. But how could Sarah ever tell her mom without hurting her feelings? She put so much time and effort into every lunch; how could she ever throw that back in her mom’s face?
Confession
“You can tell me anything, honey. You know that,” Clarisse said, “Whatever it is.” And while Sarah was inclined to keep it to herself, the swell of emotion and sadness she felt pressing on her chest finally made her blurt it out. “They keep making fun of me for my lunches,” Sarah whimpered; her tears were hot streaks on her face. “They say my lunches stink. And that I stink.” There was a small gasp of shock, and then her mother put a hand on her bowed back.
“That’s just nonsense,” her mother rubbed her back, “It’s just food? How can they find something worth laughing about in food? I’m so sorry sweetie.” But Sarah just sobbed, and when she started, she couldn’t stop. She remembered the ring of kids that had made fun of her, thrown soap at her, kicked sand at her. Sarah was heartbroken.
Normal Lunch
When they got home, Clarisse made Sarah a bubble bath of her dreams and sat with her for a while. She had stopped crying, but every time she bumped her cheek—caused by a bar of soap, Clarisse had learned—she would tear up again. It was safe to say she was completely knocked out when she got in bed. Clarisse used the quiet time to pack Sarah’s lunch—a very neutral-smelling lunch of cucumbers, carrots, a sandwich, and some sweets. She couldn’t believe how cruel kids could be and over something like food, too. It boggled her brain, to say the least.
She supposed it explained why Sarah hadn’t been eating her lunches, and why she felt like she couldn’t. Clarisse felt horrible that she didn’t realize how her lunch might become a target for bullying, especially when she packed such unusual things like garlic sticks and lasagna, and whatever else the bland kids never got. But she hoped this would fix things.
The Naughty Corner
The next day, when Sarah awoke from her deep sleep, the swelling on her cheek was significantly less, which was already a sign of a good day. She ate breakfast with her mom who apologized and explained that she would pack less-weird lunches, and then she was off to school.
By the time lunch rolled around, her stomach was a knot of nerves, and even if she had known what might happen, it still could not have prepared her for the moment when it came. Her lunch was almost identical to all the other kids, but what set her apart from them was when the teacher suddenly berated her. “Sarah Thompson! If you cannot chew with your mouth closed, then you can stand in the corner and eat!” her head snapped up from where she’d gazed at the carrots that seemed to be frowning at her. Embarrassed, she quickly swallowed and looked around.
Picking On Her
When Sarah didn’t immediately react, the teacher smacked her hand on the desk. “Go stand in the corner!” tears pricking her eyes again, she grabbed her lunch and moved to the corner marked in red, the same color that stained her cheeks. As she ate, her throat started to close up with emotion, and the food turned to ash in her mouth. Her peers were snickering, and every so often, she felt a paper ball hit her back. It was only after everyone had eaten and packed their lunches away that she was allowed to sit.
“You didn’t even eat your vegetables?’ Mrs. Davis said, her nose pointed up in the air, and her eyes wide with what Sarah guessed was craziness. “How can you eat your sweets but not your veggies? Didn’t your mom teach you about healthy eating?”
Reprimand
The rest of her peers were silent as Mrs. Davis reprimanded her. Humiliation, hot and excruciating, made tears spill down Sarah’s cheeks, and she tried desperately to hide her tears in her sleeve. “Your mother should’ve taught you the importance of eating good food—healthy food—but I guess from the looks of you, she didn’t.” Mrs. Davis said, her eyes feeling like they were shooting daggers through Sarah.
“If you only eat sweets, you won’t be healthy and strong, and your teeth will rot.” Sarah had taken a seat now and shoved her lunch box deep into her bag. But the teacher wiggled her finger, “No, take your lunch box out. You are not allowed to leave class until your veggies are finished.”
Overstepping
Clarisse glanced at her watch, the car below her rumbling every so often as the AC let out a burst of cool air. It had already been fifteen minutes, most of the children had departed, and Sarah still hadn’t come out of the school. She checked her phone for emails and messages, made a few calls, and finally, after an hour, Sarah came walking out of the doors. Clarisse threw her hands up in question, “Where were you?” But at the sight of her daughter’s red-and-tear-streaked face, she immediately jumped out of the car.
“What happened?” she grasped Sarah’s face, her nose and mouth full of snot. “My teacher wouldn’t let me leave if I didn’t eat all my veggies.” her daughter sobbed in her arms, little shoulders shaking with sadness.
Outrage
“What do you mean she’s been mean to you? Is she bullying you?” Clarisse yelled in outrage, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” It explained her strange behavior, her poor eating at school, and why the kids were suddenly bullying her about her lunch. It all made sense now. They followed the example of their educator. Sarah told her everything on the way home after having to convince her mom not to do anything right then and there. The teacher had been bullying her needlessly for the past few weeks and without a reason.
Sarah shrugged as she answered, “I don’t know. I thought I was being bad in class.” But Clarisse wasn’t too convinced about that, “No, I think you were scared I was going to say something to her.”
Sharing Is Caring
Apparently, Sarah has been reprimanded for eating too much or too little, too many sweets and too little veggies, too loudly, and then she wasn’t sharing enough. Some days, she’d have to give her entire lunch to the class, especially when she brought sweets. This boiled Clarisse’s blood. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me sooner, sweetie. I wouldn’t have embarrassed you.” But Clarisse knew it was because of the way she handled things. She had never been one for subtlety, and she supposed that might be undesirable for her daughter, especially with a teacher.
But she would not let this go. She’d promised Sarah that she wouldn’t confront the teacher directly. However, she hadn’t promised that she wouldn’t do anything at all. And no one got away with bullying her child, much less a full-grown adult.
Revenge Poppers
Apparently the teacher was lactose intolerant, and also had an aversion to spicy foods due to her stomach lining not accommodating it. So Clarisse conjured up a plan—one that would get her off Sarah’s back, and get the revenge Clarisse so desperately craved for that teacher messing with her daughter.
Gathering the ingredients, Clarisse got to work on her jalapeno-cream-cheese-filled fried poppers. She put extra love into the recipe with an additional helping of cream cheese in each popper, making sure the teacher would appreciate the gift. She could only hope that Sarah didn’t end up eating them, so she made herself a serving of her own without the heaps of jalapeno. She would teach this woman a lesson about bullying her child, and if she wasn’t allowed to do it her way, then she’d get creative.
Gift For Mrs. Davis
Sarah woke up the next morning with swollen eyes and breakfast in bed. Her mom handed her a tray of her favorite chocolate chip pancakes, strawberries with whipped cream, and orange juice with pulp. It was a breakfast conjured from her dream.
“I need you to listen to me,” her mom said, taking a seat on the edge of her pink bed as she ate. “Don’t mind what your teacher says today, okay? She’s nothing but a bully with nothing better to do in her life. Finish your breakfast and get dressed.” Downstairs, dressed in her favorite pink one-piece and white boots with braided hair, Sarah grabbed her unicorn lunchbox and started for the door, but her mom called her back, “There’s a gift in there for your teacher. Just make sure you give it to her.”
Unexpected Kindness
During lunchtime, just as Mrs. Davis was about to take her seat, Sarah decided it was time to give her the gift. It was so strange for the young girl to see her mother acting so calmly about the situation, and she was glad that her begging her mom not to do anything had worked. Her mom thought she loved the woman and tended to be slightly overprotective, and sometimes, it got Sarah into even more trouble. But somehow, she’d gotten the message through to her mom, and she was so relieved.
“Hi, Mrs. Davis. My mommy made this gift for you,” Sarah said, smiling brightly, and handed her the blue lunchbox. She’d peeked earlier, and it was a few of the poppers she’d made for Sarah for lunch, which were her absolute favorite. The teacher grasped the case, her mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise. “Why, thank you so much, Sarah. Hopefully, it’s a bit healthier than yours!”
A Gift That Keeps On Giving
When she opened the lunchbox and gazed inside, Sarah frowned at the comment she’d made. It was strange; she thought that someone who had received a gift would still be unhappy. But when her teacher looked disappointed, especially after her mom’s hard work, she was truly angry.
“Are you going to taste it?” Sarah asked, twiddling her thumbs in impatience. Mrs. Davis glanced at her, her eyes flickering with discomfort before she nodded. The teacher popped one whole popper into her mouth, her eyes widening with what Sarah guessed was surprised at the deliciousness. But then her cheeks turned red, and she coughed. “Tell your mommy thank you,” she coughed, slurping up some of her coffee. “I’m going to leave the rest for later, okay?” but Sarah was so disappointed that she had only taken one bite.
A Bite Together
Sarah went to fetch her own lunchbox and carried it all the way to her teacher, “We can do a bite together if you want?” Mrs. Davis's eyes widened, but she finally relented. She nodded quickly, her eyes flicking over the classroom and closed briefly before she popped another in her mouth.
“Thank you, Sarah. What a kind gift,” she coughed again and slammed the lid shut. Smiling, Sarah happily chewed along until she swallowed her food and made her way to her seat. The kids around her were laughing, pointing at Mrs. Davis’s blood-red face. She’d known the teacher had been embarrassed to like something unhealthy, but she didn’t know it was that bad for her. A few moments passed, and suddenly, the teacher stood, her face still red and her eyes wide. “Don’t be naughty; I’ll be right back. I’ll know if you were naughty!”
Substitute
Clarisse pulled into the pickup line, still on the phone with an unhappy client, when she saw Sarah’s dark little head pop out from the throngs of children that exited the school building. She was smiling and happy, and her friends were laughing with her about something. The call ended just as her daughter got in the car with a purple backpack slung over the seat and into the back. “Hey, sweetie, how was your day?” Clarisse asked, turning left at the end of the lot. “It was good,” she said, her face contemplative.
“It was weird, but Mrs. Davis had to go home in the middle of the day, so we got a substitute teacher. But she was nice, and we did some arts and crafts.” Clarisse strained to keep her smile from spreading, “You don’t say…” Clarisse was smiling all the way home.