The formal disciplinary hearing was scheduled for the following Monday morning.

I hadn't seen Madison since the cafeteria.

I knew she'd been suspended for three days — the school had sent a letter — and that Chloe and Brooke had each received a formal warning and mandatory counseling sessions.

I knew because Principal Hargrove had sent my parents a written summary before five o'clock, as Dad had asked.

What I didn't know was what Madison would say when she had to say it to my face.

The hearing room was the same conference room from before.

Same dry-erase smell.

Same long table.

Mom and Dad sat on either side of me.

Madison came in with her mother — her father wasn't there.

His chair was empty and nobody mentioned it.

Madison looked different.

Not smaller, exactly.

More contained.

The performance was gone.

What was left was just a sixteen-year-old girl who had spent three days at home thinking about what a bucket of dirty water had actually cost.

Principal Hargrove read the formal summary.

The recording was referenced but not replayed.

He outlined the consequences: five-day suspension on record, mandatory conflict resolution program, a formal written apology.

Then he looked at Madison.

"Miss Blake.

You requested the opportunity to speak directly."

Madison looked at her hands for a moment.

Then she looked at me.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Not because I got caught.

Because it was cruel.

I knew it was cruel when I was doing it and I did it anyway." She paused.

"I told myself it was funny.

It wasn't.

It was just mean, and you didn't deserve it."

The room was quiet.

Her mother was looking at the table.

I waited to feel something — satisfaction, relief, the clean snap of justice landing.

Instead I felt something quieter.

Something closer to tired.

"Thank you," I said.

Madison blinked.

Like she'd expected something harder.

"That's it?" she said.

"What else would you like me to say?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I just thought you'd—"

"Be angrier?"

"Yeah."

"I was angry," I said.

"I'm not anymore.

I'd rather just be done with it."

Madison's mother looked up for the first time.

Something in her face shifted — not gratitude, exactly, but something adjacent to it.

After the hearing, in the hallway, Madison's mother stopped beside me while our parents spoke near the exit.

"My husband wanted to come today," she said quietly.

"He thought it would make things worse."

"He was probably right."

She nodded.

"For what it's worth — what Derek said in that conference room, about the contract — he's been sick about it.

He knows it was fair.

He just hates saying so."

"He doesn't have to say anything to me."

She looked at me carefully.

"You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

She almost smiled.

"Jonathan Carter's daughter."

"I am Jonathan Carter's daughter," I said.

"I just don't think that means what Madison thought it meant."

She nodded once, and walked away.

Mom appeared at my shoulder.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

We walked out into the morning.

The school grounds were quiet — classes were already in session.

A groundskeeper was raking leaves near the front path.

Somewhere across the campus, a door opened and closed.

Mom put her arm around me briefly as we walked.

"How do you feel?"

I thought about it honestly.

"Like I want to go to class," I said.

She laughed — a real one, surprised out of her.

"Then go," she said.

"I'll see you tonight."

I watched her walk to her car.

Then I turned and went back inside.