“Press charges? For what?” Camille was dumbfounded.

“The bag is ruined.”

“It’s an actionable event,” Mrs. Marshall explained.

“So is Julie nearly drowning in gym class,” Camille pointed out, bristling, “but I’m not going to go to the police over it.”

Drake’s face reddened. “We’re here to discuss today’s incident.”

“I’ll see to it that she replaces the bag.”

“That dumb purse costs like five hundred bucks,” Julie said.

“Then you shouldn’t have destroyed it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Let’s focus on the bigger picture,” Mrs. Marshall suggested. “Julie hasn’t been getting along with other students. She’s been missing class, and her grades are slipping. We’ve spent a lot of time trying to improve the situation, but it’s only getting worse.” The counselor turned to Julie. “Can you tell us why these incidents keep happening?”

Julie gazed back at her with a completely neutral expression. “No, ma’am, I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, Jules,” Camille said, frustrated by her intractable daughter. “We’re running out of options here.”

“Regarding options,” Drake said, “have you thought about alternative schools?”

“What alternative? There’s one school in Bethany Bay—this one. If it doesn’t work, then what do you suggest?”

Mrs. Marshall handed her a glossy brochure with a business card stapled to it. “We’d all like to find a way for you to thrive and find success in school. You could start looking at other options.”

Camille frowned at the brochure, which showed a group of smiling girls in neat uniforms. “Boarding school? You mean she would live somewhere else? Away from home? Away from family?”

“Sounds awesome,” Julie said. “Where do I sign up?”

“Boarding school?” Camille’s father shook the dirt off the French breakfast radishes he’d just picked in his garden, getting ready for their usual Friday-night dinner. “Did you tell them that such a thing is out of the question?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she said. “I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that my daughter is failing in school.”

“How did this foolish notion come about?”

“Let’s have Julie explain,” Camille suggested.

Julie arrived a few minutes later, practically crashing her bike on the walkway in front of her grandfather’s house. “Papi,” she called, then apparently read the expression on Camille’s face. “So, she’s telling you about my terrible day.”

“In fact, I was suggesting that you tell Papi yourself. Because I certainly can’t explain it.”

Julie sighed. “It was during morning soccer. Jana Jacobs was being rude, so I drop-kicked her fancy purse. I didn’t think it would get ruined. It probably isn’t. She just wanted to get me in trouble.”

“Do you know what it feels like to get a call from school saying my daughter is behaving like a vandal?” Camille asked in frustration.

“Actually, I don’t,” Julie said sullenly. “I’m sorry. I said I was sorry to Jana. I’m going to work at Grammy’s shop until I earn enough to replace it. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Mon dieu, why would you do such a thing?” Henry demanded.

She hesitated. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I challenge you. Make me understand.”

“I’m a loser,” Julie said, her eyes narrowing in anger. “A big fat loser with four eyes and headgear. That’s all anybody sees when they look at me.”

Henry regarded her with a steel-steady stare. “How long has this bullying been going on?”

Julie stared back at him. “I don’t know that word—rudoyer.”

Camille switched to speaking English. “It means ‘bullying.’ But who said anything about bullying?”

“No one,” her father replied. “But I know what bullying is like, and I can see that this has happened to Julie.”

“You mean Julie’s a bully?”

“I mean she’s being bullied.”

“Is this true?” Camille demanded, turning to her daughter. Julie had never complained, had never mentioned being pushed around. If someone was harassing her, she would have spoken up. Wouldn’t she?

Camille felt a flicker of doubt. “How can this be true?”

“It’s not true,” Julie said, her gaze shifting away. “Papi, that’s ridiculous.” Her cheeks turned an angry red.

Camille felt a cold prickle of dread. It was the gut sense she sometimes felt when she knew her daughter wasn’t telling her everything. “Julie—”

“Papi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t want to discuss it, okay?” Julie lashed back.

Now Camille was worried. Why was Julie suddenly a pariah? She could no longer ignore the fact that Julie’s year had not gone well, but she had attributed it to the normal bumpy ride of adolescence. In the past, Julie had had plenty of friends. She was invited places—to birthdays, playdates, bike rides. Lately, the invitations had dwindled. When Camille would suggest calling someone, having a sleepover, going up to Rehoboth for the rides and games at Funland, Julie would decline, swiftly and unequivocally. These were symptoms, Camille realized. Dear God, how had she missed them? Why hadn’t she realized? She thought she knew everything about her daughter, but now it seemed she had a giant blind spot.

“Something’s going on,” Camille said. “Julie, I need for you to level with me.”

“I told you, it was a dumb thing over a dumb pickup game of soccer.”

“I don’t mean just today. I mean in general. What’s happening at school? You used to love school. You used to make good grades. You used to tell me everything.”

“I told you everything.”

Camille glanced at her father. He was watching Julie with the most peculiar expression—an expression she couldn’t read. The two of them locked eyes, and then Julie burst into tears—angry, frustrated tears. “I didn’t say anything because you were dating Drake Larson, and when it didn’t work out, Vanessa turned everyone against me, including stupid Jana Jacobs.”

“No.” Camille was horrified.

“You think I’m making this up? You think I wanted that to happen?” Julie swiped at her eyes.

“I thought you were friends with Vanessa.”

“She was only ever nice to me because her dad forced her to be.”

Camille felt a welling of guilt. Vanessa was beautiful, smart, and popular. She was also highly influential at the high school. Camille should have been more clued in to what was happening. “So it’s Vanessa and Jana? Jules, talk to me. I need to know what’s really been going on.”

“Forget it. If you make a big stink and start accusing people, everything will go even worse for me.”

“I need full disclosure if I’m going to help you.”

“Did I ask for help? There’s no way to help. The whole school hates me, and I hate them back.” Tears welled in her eyes again, and she pushed a hand under her glasses to swipe them away. “Can I go to boarding school, like Mrs. Marshall said?”

“You’re not leaving. No way.”

“Your answer to everything is no.” She flung herself into one of the patio chairs. “Can we just drop it and talk about something else?”

“We absolutely cannot,” Camille said, pulling out her phone.

Henry caught her hand and gently set the phone aside. “Julie is right. The more you try to intervene, the worse things will go for her. That is the way bullying works.”

“How would you know how bullying works?” She shot him an angry glare.

He set down his garden basket and sat next to Julie, motioning for Camille to join them. He took Julie’s hand in his and held it gently. She tried to take her hand back, but he gently laid it on his knee, exposing a set of stubby nails, bitten raw.