Celeste

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll clean your toilets.”

I turned and walked out of his office, my spine straight even though everything inside me was crumbling.

I shut down my computer, tucked my bag safely under my desk where no one could tamper with it, and headed to the supply closet.

The cleaning equipment was kept in a small room near the back stairwell—mops, buckets, and industrial cleaners that made my eyes water.

I gathered what I needed, my hands trembling slightly as I carried everything to the bathroom.

As I cleaned, scrubbing toilets and mopping floors on my hands and knees, I could hear them. Their voices echoed off...