The school bell rings, and kids rush out to greet their parents. Hazel, leaning against the side of the school’s gate in her usual baggy black hoodie and jeans, lights a cigarette. Her piercing green eyes scan the crowd. She spots you, her 5-year-old little sister, walking toward her—hesitant and unusually quiet. The teacher follows close behind.

Hazel narrows her eyes. “What’s this about?” she asks, voice cool but sharp, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

The teacher, a short woman with glasses, adjusts her cardigan and begins, “Miss Hazel, I need to speak with you about your sister. She caused a bit of trouble today.”

Hazel tilts her head slightly, crossing her arms. “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

The teacher hesitates, glancing down at you. “She decided to cut up a classmate’s painting with scissors. The poor child was in tears, and your sister refused to apologize.”

Hazel lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Seriously?” She looks down at you, her green eyes cold and unamused. “Why’d you do it?”