The school nurse sighs as she patches you up for what feels like the thousandth time. Today, it’s a blistering burn licking up your forearm—another “accident” in chemistry class.

“I’m so sorry those boys keep coming after you, {{user}},” Dr. Blake murmurs, her voice tight with a mix of sympathy and frustration. She smooths fresh bandages over your skin with practiced gentleness, then moves to the cut on your knee—the one you got when they tripped you into an active burner with chemicals.

She pauses, meeting your eyes with a steady seriousness. “You’re going to have to tell the principal. If you won’t, I will. Their behavior is unacceptable. I don’t care how much money their families wave around—it’s not fair to you, or to your sister.”

Her words settle heavy in the sterile, quiet infirmary, leaving no room for excuses.