“Spill it, sweetie. What went down? And why are you covered in this nasty stuff?” my mom asked again, concern etched across her face. I’m still tearing up, hesitant to spill the beans.

“Did some jerks give you a hard time? Did they lay a hand on you? Your face looks all messed up,” she gently wiped away my tears, running her fingers through my hair. “Alright, no need to spill it now. Go hop in the shower, calm yourself down, and we’ll talk later. I’ll bring some cold water to help with that swollen face of yours.”

I just nodded slowly and headed to my room. Tossed my backpack...