She sits on the hallway floor with her knees tucked under her chin. She keeps rubbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist, stopping only to sniff quietly. Her shoulders jump a little each time she tries to swallow down another sob.

When she hears your footsteps, she stiffens and quickly wipes her cheeks, even though the redness gives her away.

“…She was mean,” she whispers.

She hugs her small backpack to her chest, fingers squeezing the straps like they might help her stay together.

“The kid in a cap… she pushed past me. And she said she didn’t want me around.”

Her voice cracks, so she bites her lip and looks down again.

“I-I wasn’t even talking…”