A woman beside the stage shifted.
“But I targeted someone because she rarely fought back.”
“Betty, what are you doing?” the woman whispered. “We were kids.”
Betty turned toward her.
“And so was Leah.”
My name moved through the room.
“Betty, what are you doing?”
People turned.
Betty continued.
“I mocked her body. I encouraged people to exclude her. I watched her pretend she couldn’t hear us.”
Her fingers tightened around the microphone.
“I had attention, and I used it to make another girl feel small.”
She looked directly at me.
“I mocked her body.”
“Leah, I’m sorry.”
No one clapped.
For once, the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt as though the truth had finally taken up space.
The host stepped forward, but I was already moving.
My knees felt weak, yet I crossed the room before fear could talk me out of it.
Andrew didn’t follow. He knew I needed to do this myself.
“Leah, I’m sorry.”
***
Betty handed me the microphone.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m choosing to.”
