It starts with tears.
I ask her why she’s crying.
She shrugs, “I don’t know. “
“Are you nervous or afraid?” I ask.
“Do you feel safe?”
“Good, because I love you and there’s nothing here to be afraid of here.”
She begins to tell me about her troubles at school; how she is made to feels like an outcast.
Her best friend is no longer her friend. She’s lost trust. He has used something against her that was private. Something about her mother.
“They whisper while staring at me as if I don’t know they are talking about me… Why are they so mean?”
I offer my opinions on human negativity and let that settle.
This morning I dropped her off a samosa at school and told her I enjoyed our talk.
She told me it felt good to get it off her chest.