nothing, Mrs Burridge went on. ‘Students in this school are not allowed to harass another—whether that be in person or by any other means.’ She paused, but still the Shinozakis said nothing. Mio’s cheeks tinged withred but Mrs Burridge could not tell whether this was from anger or embarrassment. Mrs Burridge blustered on, her voice growing louder and louder. ‘We at The Metropolitan School have clear and succinct policies about bullying and this,’ she waved her hand at a sheaf of emails, ‘is a blatant example of that which we are trying to stamp out. There’s been far too much of this unacceptable behaviour at our school lately. I intend to put a stop to this if it’s the last thing I do.’
Why does it have to be me who is made an example of? thought Mio. She flared on the inside. This was so unfair.
Mrs Burridge cleared her throat. The Shinozakis’ silence was unnerving. Mistaking their lack of response for guilt she reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose to fill the silence.
Another insult to her family. Mio repressed a smile. She restrained herself from leaning over to pick up the papers, even though they were the incriminating evidence against her.
At last, her father gestured to the emails and said, ‘May I?’
Mr Shinozaki began to read. Every so often he would tip his head backwards and audibly suck air in through his teeth. Not a good sign, thought Mio. She glanced at her mother who sat still, feet crossed at the ankles, her hands resting in her lap,as composed as if she were waiting for a symphony to begin.
After several minutes Mr Shinozaki placed the emails back on the desk and began to speak. Each word was chosen and delivered with care. ‘It is most unfortunate for your students to receive such disturbing emails.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Even more unfortunate for those who have received threats…’
‘What kind of threats?’ asked Mio, to which Mrs Burridge chided, ‘Now, Mio, don’t pretend you don’t know.’ Mio was imagining death threats, and was greatly relieved to learn from her father that they were vague and non-specific. Heavily accented he had read: I’m gonna get you. You’re gonna get it. That sort of thing.
Mrs Burridge then added, ‘Look at the sender address. There’s our evidence in black and white.’
Black and white. Images jumped into Mio’s head:
Suddenly, Mio couldn’t remember the word for grey. Her heart thumped as she sifted through herbrain. Midori —green. Aka —red. Kiiro —yellow. What was grey? Surely, she couldn’t be forgetting her own language already? Her father’s voice pierced her addled brain. She looked up and blinked. Everyone was looking at her as if waiting for her reply. ‘Sorry? What was the question?’
‘Who knows your email address?’
Mio was about to say, ‘No-one’, but then she remembered. ‘Clem knows it. And Darcy, of course. And Bryce and Tong.’
‘Have you had a fight with any of your friends?’ asked Mrs Burridge.
‘No!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’
Mrs Burridge’s lips morphed into a thin line. ‘They wouldn’t be foolish enough to tell anyone your email address, would they?’
‘Of course not.’ The Freewheelers weren’t stupid.
Except one!
Mio’s eyes widened. One Freewheeler was stupid. Very stupid. And that Freewheeler had handed out numerous copies of her email address in History just in case someone found out something about the stolen dog tags.
Mio’s father noticed the turmoil in her eyes. ‘Something disturbs you, Mio. What is it?’
Mio’s heart started pounding again. The last thing she wanted was to have to confess to losing Mr Lark’s dog tags.
‘Tell us. What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ Mio sat resolutely in her chair, realising that information which might help her in this situation would create another headache twice as big.
Dissatisfied by his daughter’s reluctance to explain, but accepting the situation, Mr Shinozaki turned to Mrs Burridge and
Why does it have to be me who is made an example of? thought Mio. She flared on the inside. This was so unfair.
Mrs Burridge cleared her throat. The Shinozakis’ silence was unnerving. Mistaking their lack of response for guilt she reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose to fill the silence.
Another insult to her family. Mio repressed a smile. She restrained herself from leaning over to pick up the papers, even though they were the incriminating evidence against her.
At last, her father gestured to the emails and said, ‘May I?’
Mr Shinozaki began to read. Every so often he would tip his head backwards and audibly suck air in through his teeth. Not a good sign, thought Mio. She glanced at her mother who sat still, feet crossed at the ankles, her hands resting in her lap,as composed as if she were waiting for a symphony to begin.
After several minutes Mr Shinozaki placed the emails back on the desk and began to speak. Each word was chosen and delivered with care. ‘It is most unfortunate for your students to receive such disturbing emails.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Even more unfortunate for those who have received threats…’
‘What kind of threats?’ asked Mio, to which Mrs Burridge chided, ‘Now, Mio, don’t pretend you don’t know.’ Mio was imagining death threats, and was greatly relieved to learn from her father that they were vague and non-specific. Heavily accented he had read: I’m gonna get you. You’re gonna get it. That sort of thing.
Mrs Burridge then added, ‘Look at the sender address. There’s our evidence in black and white.’
Black and white. Images jumped into Mio’s head:
Suddenly, Mio couldn’t remember the word for grey. Her heart thumped as she sifted through herbrain. Midori —green. Aka —red. Kiiro —yellow. What was grey? Surely, she couldn’t be forgetting her own language already? Her father’s voice pierced her addled brain. She looked up and blinked. Everyone was looking at her as if waiting for her reply. ‘Sorry? What was the question?’
‘Who knows your email address?’
Mio was about to say, ‘No-one’, but then she remembered. ‘Clem knows it. And Darcy, of course. And Bryce and Tong.’
‘Have you had a fight with any of your friends?’ asked Mrs Burridge.
‘No!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’
Mrs Burridge’s lips morphed into a thin line. ‘They wouldn’t be foolish enough to tell anyone your email address, would they?’
‘Of course not.’ The Freewheelers weren’t stupid.
Except one!
Mio’s eyes widened. One Freewheeler was stupid. Very stupid. And that Freewheeler had handed out numerous copies of her email address in History just in case someone found out something about the stolen dog tags.
Mio’s father noticed the turmoil in her eyes. ‘Something disturbs you, Mio. What is it?’
Mio’s heart started pounding again. The last thing she wanted was to have to confess to losing Mr Lark’s dog tags.
‘Tell us. What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ Mio sat resolutely in her chair, realising that information which might help her in this situation would create another headache twice as big.
Dissatisfied by his daughter’s reluctance to explain, but accepting the situation, Mr Shinozaki turned to Mrs Burridge and
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