People who had heard what happened.
People who could no longer pretend that Brandon’s behavior was just a joke.
And standing there, with my backpack hanging from one shoulder and the afternoon slipping away, I finally understood something I wished all those other freshmen could have heard before their money was taken.
Being unable to stop someone by yourself doesn’t mean what they’re doing is right.
Brandon had counted on our silence.
He had counted on our fear.
He had counted on everyone believing that five dollars was too small an amount to matter.
But fourteen hundred and thirty dollars had begun with small amounts taken from students who were too frightened to object.
And my own five dollars had become the moment when someone finally did.
I raised my eyes from the storm drain.
The guard was still standing with the boys.
The evidence was no longer hidden.
And the largest senior at Northfield High, the boy who had said nobody ever stopped him, was finally learning that there was a limit to what fear could protect.
I still had a long way to go before I reached home.
But I no longer felt as though I was standing there alone.
THE END
