Amara Suffers Betrayal

My hands shook while bile filled my mouth. Someone just killed my mother !

I drop my phone, and the incriminating photo briefly flickers as the phone hits the floor, cracking the screen in another place. The photo remained. What do I do? Who did this?

“Have a good day at school,” Mother yells. The front door opens and closes as I scoop up my phone and rush to say goodbye, but Mom has already entered her colleague’s car. I stare at her white hijab as the blue Civic merges and rushes Mother off to work.

Do I still have time? No make-up, no breakfast, I sprint to school. The bright red sun leads the way to the closed doors. Flinging them open, I sprint into the empty hall of frivolity where strange odors linger and burst into the principal's office. “Principal Campbell,” I throw my phone onto her cluttered desk. She glances at the now-dark screen and then back up to me. Frantically, I retrieve the phone and fumble to get the screen back on before abandoning my efforts and explaining in a rush, “Someone posted a photo of me on the school website.”

Her face falls. One of only a few people who know my secret, she knows the picture could kill Mother and possibly me. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

Her fingers fly across her computer keyboard as I loom over her shoulder. With agonizing slowness, she navigates and logs into the school website, deleting the photo from the archives.

“Removed,” she turns to me, eyes bright, mouth down, while her hands offer support.

“How long? Who?” I ask. I attempt to control my panic while my heart and mind race, and my hands hold each other tight.

She does more magic, “Someone posted it late last night. Using our generic teacher account. No names.”

I move around the table and slump onto a pile of papers on her guest chair. My head droops while my hands cover my face, but I refuse to cry.

“I’m sure no damage was done. An honest mistake.”

Not likely. Someone did this on purpose. If my phone received the facial recognition alert, so did Mother’s enemies. Images of serious men sitting on planes flicked through my mind.

“Amara, I’m sure things will be OK. It wasn’t up for long.”

“How?” My voice cracks. Principal Campbell knows, but she does not understand. The people who put a bounty on Mother will have the same technology as me, and they will never stop because they cannot stop - their religion, their God, demands it.

“To save money, we all share the login. Anyone could have posted it.”

“Anyone?”

“Well, only teachers, I guess.” She moves around her desk and drapes her arm around my shoulder, “Amara, your mom will be fine. You will be ok. It will all work out ok.”

“No, it will not,” I mumble and stumble out of Principal Campbell’s office to join the world of happy girls talking about unimportant things.

“Did You?” Lisa asks as she bumps me while staring at her phone.

“Yes,” I lie. The guilt twinge barely registers against my dread for Mother. My former religion has the same prescription as my new catholic one.

“Video?”

“No.”

She scowls at me before returning to her phone. I like Lisa because her well-groomed, ruthless exterior hides an old, powerful, noble heart. She knows our secret, but she would not tell. A self-centered person only acts in their best interests, and killing Mom and me would not serve Lisa.

Her father would not do it, nor would Mrs. Foley, who hands out flyers in the hall, where Lisa waves them away while Mrs. Foley turns her back to me.

The priest may have done it. He tried to block my enrollment in the school.

None of the staff know, or did one find out?

Six teachers. Who did it? Why did they do it?

“Amara, what the hell? Are you even listening?” I shake my head and focus on Lisa’s perfect pink lips.

“Jesus, if you’re not going to listen,” Lisa waves a hand in dismissal and strides away.

Morgan and Vivian slip past me, followed by Blonde Isabella. Teagan’s ramrod-straight body bumps me before entering our first class.