The Insiders: Chapter 34–Epilogue

“Yes, you could’ve just asked me,” said Ms. Pérez, who then fixed her gaze on Héctor. “There was no need to try something so elaborate. Sometimes, you can just ask.’’

Abuela had just had a nasty sprain, and it wasn't anything serious. Yet being here, in a place so clean and boring and clinical...it made him nervous. What if it got worse? What if the doctors had missed something?

He had helped Juliana stand up to her principal; he had helped Sal orchestrate a return of their library.

He stole supplies, he sabotaged my classes, he said terrible things about me behind my back to other teachers.

“That’s probably what it is. People can sometimes be afraid of difference. And rather than try to understand it, they just lash out and hurt people, hoping they’ll change. Or conform.”

She stood and smoothed out her red tulle skirt.

“Sure,” said Héctor, and he dropped his head and made a beeline for the gym.

Soon, a light-brown liquid was pouring into a white mug, and Héctor smelled something... earthy. And a little sweet. It certainly didn’t smell as strong as the coffee his parents had.

There was a terrible irony in it all. Ms. Heath was supposed to be the person he could go to for protection. Instead, she was targeting him, too.

Rage boiled in him, not just because he knew Mike didn't care about going to class, but because of how horrific this performance was. This was an affront to the truth and to the art of acting.

All of them said nothing. No one came to his defense, either, but could he blame them? Who dared to contradict Ms. Heath?

Her face had softened and she gestured for him to leave the closet. He did, his face flushed with embarrassment, his head ringing from all the adrenaline.

Then she gave a curt smile and strolled off.

Mrs. Caroline commented that his sketches lately almost seemed unfinished. “Are you sure you don’t want to add more?” she said, tapping the still life of a bowl of fruit they’d been assigned that day.

He felt a hand on his arm, and he looked down to see Aishah staring up at him, imploring him to sit back down.

And Taylor was doing his best approximation of the heart eye emoji.

There were three majestic upholstered chairs in the middle of the Room, and two of them were occupied, one by Sal, who was eating some savory-smelling noodles in a flower-patterned blouse, and the other by Juliana, who had her nose buried in a graphic novel, her hair now in a set of box braids.

There was some of it that was new to Sal, too: How Héctor had told the truth to Ms. Heath—twice—and how it had backfired.

“I don’t know that there’s anything you all can do. I think I just have to ignore him until he finds a new target.”
Juliana gave him a skeptical look. “And then just let them get bullied?”

“It’s perfect. Mike will be so easy to rile up.”

Steps pounded up the stairs on stage left near Frank, and Vice Principal Giles stormed into view, burly like a linebacker, the light from the auditorium shining off the dark skin on his shaved head.

Mike finally stood up, and he sputtered out a few guttural sounds.

The applause was scattered, then haphazard, then thunderous.

What had they done? Infiltrated each other’s schools.

While Héctor had appreciated Ms. Heath’s consistent style, she had nothing on Ms. Clayton.

When the bell signifying the end of lunch rang, Héctor felt calm.

She just wants to be herself, but the people in her rural school do not understand her. They call her names. They ask her demeaning questions.

It is ornate, made of some sort of dark wood, etched with a ridiculous pattern.

Before she can get there, though, someone yells something crude at her, and she picks up the pace, trying to outrun the comments about how it looks like she rolled in mud, and she is so flustered that she pulls open the wrong door.

DeShawn shoves his way past his teacher, past the other kids who are yelling at him, their voices grating in his head. How can a sound hurt so much?