Three girls, cutting through the tables with a purpose. They were not smiling. They were headed straight for my daughter, Anna. I watched, my hand frozen halfway to the door. The leader, a tall girl with her hair pulled back tight, slammed a hand on Annaâs table. My daughter flinched. I saw her mouth the word âPlease.â The cafeteria roar just⌠dissolved. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my own ears. The second girl grabbed Annaâs lunch tray and flipped it. Ketchup and milk exploded across my daughterâs chest.
Anna tried to stand, to escape. But the third girl was faster. She grabbed the back of Annaâs collar and yanked. Hard. Anna stumbled backward, held up only by the fistful of fabric in the girlâs hand.
They were laughing. They were trying to throw her to the floor âŚ
