She then stepped onto it with her right shoe.
Not:
She hates disabled students.
Not:
She wanted to sabotage me.
Those were interpretations.
Maybe true.
Maybe not fully.
Evidence first.
The Robotics Teacher arrived twenty minutes later.
He looked furious.
Not performatively.
Quietly furious.
The Girl showed him the photographs.
He crouched beside her chair.
“Oh, June.”
The project name slipped out.
The Girl corrected him immediately.
“Don’t make it sad.”
He stopped.
She pointed at the image.
“Can we rebuild?”
He studied it.
“Some parts.”
“How long?”
He hated the question.
“Three weeks if we do it properly.”
The Girl looked away.
Qualifiers in nine days.
The Robotics Teacher added:
“But the design files are safe.”
“Yes.”
“And I have your build logs.”
Her eyes returned to him.
“Everything?”
“Every revision.”
The teacher had required team members to photograph work before and after each lab session.
Timestamped.
Cloud stored.
Controller intact two days earlier.
Eleven weeks of development.
Documentation.
Testing notes.
That meant nobody could claim the broken device had been junk.
Or already damaged.
The Girl felt the first real relief of the afternoon.
The Robotics Teacher stood.
“I’m submitting the logs.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
He did.
That was the first shift.
The second happened at 4:12 p.m.
The Finance Director entered the administration conference room carrying a thick folder.
The Parent Council President was still there.
She saw the folder.
And for the first time that day, she looked frightened.
The Girl noticed immediately.
The Finance Director sat across from the Assistant Head.
“We need to expand this meeting.”
The Parent Council President stood.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She recovered.
“I mean this is a student disciplinary matter.”
The Finance Director looked toward the Girl.
“Is she being disciplined?”
The Assistant Head hesitated.
“No decision has been made.”
“Good.”
The Finance Director placed the folder down.
The Parent Council President stared at it.
The Girl watched both of them.
She knew almost nothing about school finance.
But she recognized fear.
The Finance Director said:
“For several weeks, we have been reviewing vendor contracts connected to Parent Leadership Council events.”
The Parent Council President’s face became rigid.
“This has nothing to do with the student.”
“Maybe.”
The Finance Director opened the folder.
“Maybe not.”
The Girl looked at her Robotics Teacher.
He looked equally confused.
The Finance Director continued:
“We have multiple contracts awarded to an event company owned by a council member.”
The Parent Council President snapped:
“Those were properly disclosed.”