Chapter 1 - The Girl Who Wouldn't Cry
"That thing on your head looks ridiculous."
Nia Carter heard the words before she saw the shadow falling across her backpack.
She was sitting on a low concrete wall beside the playground at Pine Ridge Elementary School in Raleigh, North Carolina. Her math folder had slipped out of her bag during recess, and she was carefully putting everything back where it belonged.
Standing in front of her was Tessa Monroe.
Tessa had two friends behind her. Neither said anything, but both were watching closely.
Nia kept arranging her pencils.
"I'm talking to you," Tessa said.
"I heard you."
Tessa pointed at the high bun sitting on top of Nia's head.
"Who told you that hairstyle looked good?"
Nia pulled the zipper halfway across her backpack.
"Nobody had to."
Tessa gave a short laugh.
"Seriously? It looks so weird. Like you just piled all your hair up there and gave up."
One of the girls behind her covered her mouth.
Nia felt her fingers tighten around the zipper.
She had spent nearly forty minutes fixing that bun before school. It was the first time she'd managed to get every section of her thick, natural hair gathered neatly without her mother's help.
She knew it wasn't perfect.
One small curl was already escaping near her left ear.
But she liked it.
And she wasn't about to explain all that to Tessa.
"Everybody thinks it looks stupid," Tessa continued.
Nia finally raised her eyes.
"Okay."
Tessa blinked.
"Okay?"
"People can think whatever they want."
"You're not even embarrassed?"
"Why would I be?"
"Because you look like a complete weirdo."
Nia closed her backpack.
"You don't have to like my hair, Tessa."
"I'm just telling you the truth."
"And I'm telling you that you don't have to like it."
The playground continued buzzing around them. A basketball bounced against the blacktop. Somewhere behind the swings, a teacher blew a whistle.
Tessa glanced toward her friends.
She seemed to be waiting for Nia to become angry.
Or cry.
Or shout something that would draw a crowd.
Instead, Nia adjusted the strap on her backpack.
"Are you finished?"
The question came so calmly that Tessa opened her mouth without making a sound.
Nia waited.
When no answer came, she stood.
"I'm going back to my friends."
She walked past Tessa toward the four-square court, where Imani Brooks and Malik Johnson were waiting.
Behind her, Tessa said something under her breath.
Nia didn't turn around.
Imani was smiling when she approached.
"Girl, you really just walked away?"
"What was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know. Something."
Nia shrugged and set her backpack beside the painted court.
Malik bounced the rubber ball once.
"She looked mad."
"She'll be okay," Nia replied.
But Nia didn't join their game immediately.
She stayed near the edge of the court, watching the ball travel between her friends.
Her chest still felt strangely tight.
Walking away had been easy.
Pretending those words didn't hurt was something else.
By dismissal, she had almost convinced herself the moment was over.
Then Malik caught up with her at the bus stop.
"Hey, Nia."
He looked uncomfortable.
"There's something you should probably see."
He held out his phone.
On the screen was a group conversation several fifth graders used outside class.
At the top was a photograph.
Nia recognized herself instantly.
She was sitting beside the playground wall, bent over her backpack.
Her bun was perfectly visible.
Beneath the picture, Tessa had written:
"What do we even call this hairstyle?"
Several children had responded with laughing emojis.
But it was the earlier message that made Nia stop breathing for a second.
Tessa had sent it that morning, before recess.
"Watch. I'm gonna make her cry today."
Nia stared at the screen.
The words on the playground hadn't been a spontaneous joke.
May you like
Someone had planned to humiliate her.
And several classmates had known.
