I held the money in my hand, that thick wad of money. I could hear dad's voice in my head, 'no hard feelings,' Whatever. Emma walked by, fell with the stack of books in her arms. She went flying, the books went flying. I jumped up to help her pick everything up. She looked embarrassed that she fell, then she smiled at me as I picked up her books. Then she frowned. I didn't know why, but then I saw that my shirt had lifted up and she saw that bruise, that awful scraped raw bruise from all those kicks. I just looked at her wide eyed. Shit. What was I supposed to do?

"Craig, what happened?" she said, and I ran through the list of things I could tell her. Fell off my bike, skateboard, fight with some kid, something. But she was looking at me like she was figuring things out.

"Did your dad do that because you saw Joey and Angela?" she said, and I winced. Shit, how did she know? Well, it was pretty close. But I shook my head.

"No, no, of course not. I, uh, I fell off my bike-"

"C'mon, Craig. Fell off your bike? I overheard Joey say your dad didn't want you to see him or Angela. I heard Joey say that your dad had gone down to the car lot to tell him that. He did that to you, didn't he?"

I wanted to cry. Things were that obvious? But I couldn't just tell her, admit to her that my dad beat the shit out of me. I couldn't.

"No, Emma, he didn't, okay? It was an accident, that's all,"

"Yeah, well, Craig, I don't believe you, okay? Because you wouldn't look so guilty if it was some bike accident,"

It was like some war. It was my first taste of the crusader side of Emma Nelson. But why did her crusade have to involve me?

"C'mon," she said, grabbing my hand, pulling me down the hall. I was too dazed to resist. I just let her pull me and I tried to breathe around the pain in my ribs. She pulled me to the office and held tight to my hand, actually she held my wrist.

"We need to see Ms. Suave," she said to the secretary and I just stared at her. She had this voice of authority, and it was kind of amazing in a 13 year old girl. I started to pull away, I was going to run. But she held my wrist tight and jerked me back.

"Now," she said to the secretary. The secretary didn't look all that hurried, probably she was used to Emma coming in and demanding things. But then she looked at me and I don't know what she saw that made her interrupt Ms. Suave.

"Who's Ms. Suave?" I whispered to Emma, and I felt her hand tighten up on my wrist. A little girl's hand and still I didn't like that pressure, that feeling of someone forcing me to do things.

"She's the counselor," she said, and I didn't say anything. Didn't move, either. I'm sure I could have. I could have ripped my hand out of her grasp and just ran.

"Emma," It had to be this Ms. Suave. Tall, jet black straight as silk hair, dark eyes. Kind eyes. They were filled with a type of sympathy I usually avoided.

"We have to talk to you in your office," Emma said, and Ms. Suave opened the door to her office, opened it wide. Emma pulled me inside and only when the door was shut did she let me go. I rubbed my wrist, and I could see the bruises that were on it from my dad. Just faint purple bruises.

"What is it, Emma?" Ms. Suave said in this calm voice. I liked her voice. I was looking down and glancing at the door, but Ms. Suave stood in front of it, effectively trapping me.

"His father hits him, beats him, and I think we should call Children's Aid," Emma did not pull any punches. I kept looking down but I felt my cheeks burning red. And then they were talking so softly to each other, like I couldn't even hear them. They whispered, 'what's his name?' and the whispered answer, "Craig. Craig Manning,'

"Is this true, Craig?" Ms. Suave said, and I could feel her looking at me. I couldn't take my eyes off this spot on the floor I had chosen to focus on. I couldn't answer.

"Yeah, it's true!" Emma said, indignant, self-righteous, "show her the bruises, Craig,"

Looking down, shaking my head. I wanted to die. But I was so sick of lying about it, about this. I'd been lying for so long. I just didn't think I had the energy to do it anymore. I lifted up my shirt, looking away, looking out the window at the bright blue day as they gasped. Tears came to my eyes and spilled down my cheeks and I let my shirt fall from my hand so that it covered everything again.