The Wrong Girl — Episode 3

Shut your mouth, Emma! The facts are clear. You hurt her on purpose. purpose. She dragged me into the hallway by the arm. I don't want another word! Then she yanked my phone out, then slammed

it against my face. Now! Call your parents. Tell them to get down here and pay. The hallway filled up. Teachers. Students. Phones out. Curious. Delighted. I held the phone. My contacts list was right there, to the bottom, but I couldn't dial. I have 108 dads, but every one of them has a

record. Sal, my oldest dad, ran the Falcone family. Papa Enzo moved guns. Papa Nico ran ran the loans. Papa Vito ran the back rooms. They always came home late, covered in blood and scars, laughing about how close the feds got. I thought task force, indictments. I couldn't let them risk their lives. I looked up and tried once more. Mrs. Vaughn, my dad worked far away. They can't

come. I'll write an apology. Suspend me anything. Please just don't call them. Ms. Vaughn let out a cold laugh. A blue car family? No wonder you have no manners. No, No! Call them! Claire scans her therapy, her pain and suffering.

You think a kid pays for that? I said, How much? I can.

After all, the untouched black cards from my dad's could easily cover this. Richard walked out and handed her a card. Mrs. Vaughn, there's $500,000 in there. Call it a donation.

All I want is her parents down here, on their knees, paying.