The meeting room was oppressively quiet, the air thick with unspoken concerns.
Across the table, the principal sat, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his notebook.
The district’s safety officer, a stern woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, was already leafing through a stack of papers.
I cleared my throat, the sound echoing too loud in the silence.
“So, what do we know so far?” she asked, her eyes shifting from the papers to us.
The principal offered a tight smile, one that never quite reached his eyes.
“We’ve addressed the immediate concerns,” he replied, his tone carefully even.
But the officer wasn’t satisfied, her gaze piercing through his words.
“And the child?” she pressed.
“We’re still waiting for a full report from her family,” he admitted, his voice faltering ever so slightly.
