Chapter 2

The Facebook thread exploded. Karen Thompson wasn't just letting it be about a missed email.

"She must be giving private tutoring to some students! For money, I bet!" another parent chimed in.

"Or maybe other 'gifts'!" Karen added, a sly dig I understood immediately.

The "certain students" Karen hinted at were a few boys I'd offered extra help to after school. They were struggling, genuinely trying, and I stayed late, unpaid, to explain concepts. The girls in my class, for the most part, were already excelling. It was about need, not gender, not favoritism.

But Karen twisted it. "She only helps the boys! What is she getting in return?"

My explanation that the packet went to everyone, that after-school help was for anyone struggling, was buried under an avalanche of outrage.

Then, Kevin Davis, one of the boys I'd helped, posted. My stomach dropped.

"Yeah, Ms. Miller did give us special coaching before the exam. It was really helpful."

Betrayal. Sharp and cold. Kevin knew I'd just re-explained topics we' d already covered. There was no "special coaching" on new exam material. Was he trying to impress Brittany? Or just caving to pressure?

Karen seized on it. "See! Proof! And I bet she's been paid well for it!"

She then posted, "I remember Mrs. Davis trying to give Ms. Miller a gift card last semester! Ms. Miller probably takes all sorts of things!"

My face burned. Mrs. Davis, Kevin' s mother, had offered me a twenty-five-dollar coffee shop gift card after a parent-teacher conference. I had politely declined it, explaining school policy. I even bought some extra whiteboard markers for the classroom that week with my own money, feeling awkward about the declined gift, as if to "repay" the gesture of goodwill with a general classroom benefit.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Mrs. Davis.

"Sarah, I am so, so sorry about what Kevin wrote. He' s... he' s just confused. I' ll talk to him." She sounded genuinely apologetic.

A tiny sliver of relief. "Thank you, Mrs. Davis. I appreciate that. It' s all a misunderstanding."

"I know you' d never do anything wrong, Sarah."

We hung up. I took a shaky breath. Maybe this could be contained.

Then I refreshed the Facebook page.

A new post from Mrs. Davis.

"Ms. Miller just called me! She was trying to pressure me to get Kevin to change his story! She threatened him! This teacher is a menace!"

The world tilted. The apology, the understanding – all lies. She had twisted my call, my relief, into something monstrous. The group went wild.

I was drowning.