Chapter 2

I frowned, worried she'd twist things later, so I secretly turned on the recording. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?

"I bought these oranges with my own money for my parents. You dropped them, and I haven't asked you to pay me back."

Not satisfied with my answer, Dorothy put one hand on her hip and kept filming with the other, her voice growing louder. "You're sitting in a job doing nothing and still acting so arrogant.

"You're bullying seniors. Everyone, come see. She's stealing supplies from elderly people."

I'd never seen someone twist things like this before. I was so mad.

As I was about to grab the oranges and leave, Dorothy suddenly spun around and shoved me hard. "Don't you think about taking what belongs to me."

She shoved me hard.

I stumbled back into the cabinet behind me, pain shooting through my lower back.

"Stop. This is illegal," I yelled.

However, Dorothy ignored me and kept going, furious. "I'm telling you, I'm taking these oranges, whether you give them or not."

The pain made all my frustration surge up at once. "Are you trying to rob me?"

"Robbing you?" She laughed without backing down. "I've lived in this community for twenty years. I have more right to these things than you do."

The pain made me bend over. I squatted on the ground and couldn't get up, barely managing to call Andrew Jensen, the man in charge.

However, Dorothy turned around and immediately started shouting into the street. "Hey, everyone, come see this. The community worker is bullying an old lady.

"Who's got Andrew's number? Get him over here to settle this properly."

Dorothy was so loud that nearby seniors came over to check out the situation.

Dorothy said, "I've lived in this community for over twenty years. Now I can't get a bit of supplies. This is unacceptable. Aren't these roles supposed to serve people like us? How can she behave like this?"

These were all seniors I'd been taking care of this past month.

Ruth Lewis, who was close to me, spotted me right away and grabbed my hand, her face full of concern. "I know her. She's always nice. What did she do?"

"Yeah, why would she steal anything? She always takes good care of everyone. Maybe you got it wrong," another senior jumped in.

More and more seniors started standing up for me.

With everyone supporting me, I said calmly, "Ma'am, if you're really unhappy, you can call the police."

Andrew hurried over, and after listening to both sides, he quickly figured out what was happening.

He said, "Looks like there's been a mix-up. These oranges aren't from the community center. They belong to Sadie."

The whole place went quiet and tense.

Seeing everyone take my side, Dorothy looked worse and became more convinced I got in through connections. "So what? She's slacking off at work and treating me badly. Am I not allowed to complain?"

After several failed attempts to reason with her, Andrew sighed and walked inside to grab a supply pack. "Sadie, I know this isn't your fault, but it's getting out of hand. Apologize, and let's end it.

"I'll still give you your volunteer certificate tomorrow. This won't affect you."

Seeing the pleading look in Andrew's eyes, I hesitated.

Andrew had always looked out for us students and was usually very polite.

If this escalated and ended up online, people who didn't know the full story would instinctively side with whoever looked weaker.

I tried to steady myself. It was my last day anyway. Once I got the certificate tomorrow, I would be done and leave it all behind.

"Alright, I'll apologize. I hope this is the end of it," I said.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again, swallowing my frustration as I walked over to Dorothy and bowed to her, though she still looked superior.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Dorothy snorted lightly, glanced at the supplies, and smiled smugly. "Too late. I don't accept your apology.

"You guys are so snobbish. You only get scared when someone complains. I want ten times the supplies as compensation."

Dorothy shoved me with so much force that I fell to the ground and hit my head on the table corner.

I felt the blood on my head and was instantly filled with rage.

I had always treated her with respect as an elder and tried to explain things politely.

During my volunteer work, I didn't earn a single cent. I paid out of my own pocket to buy food for the seniors, simply because I wanted to.

She not only smashed my oranges and shoved me, but now she was demanding ten times the compensation. It was unreasonable.

I thought enduring it would bring peace, but it only proved that some people became more demanding when one gave in.

I didn't want to keep fighting with her; it would only ruin my mood.

"Hey, 911? I need to report an incident," I said.

"Go ahead and report it. You got in through connections. Let's see who the police believe," Dorothy said.

When the crowd saw blood trickling down my forehead, everyone sucked in a breath. "Dorothy, stop it. You're not in the right here. Let it go."

A few seniors tugged on Dorothy's sleeve, trying to calm her down.

Dorothy looked down at my angry face, and for a second, she seemed a bit scared. "What are you doing? You actually called the police?"

She rushed over, reaching out to grab my phone.

I dodged to the side.

Dorothy missed and staggered forward, instantly furious from embarrassment. "You've gone too far."

Dorothy yanked my head toward the wall, snarling, "I'm telling you, if you dare call the police, you'll never survive in this job again."

My phone almost slipped out of my hand in the scuffle, but I gripped it tightly.

I was on the verge of losing control.

My head was spinning, and all I could hear was everyone around me urging, "Let it go."

No, I couldn't let it slide.