As I feared, preschool was full of crying children.
But by midday, the teachers had mostly tamed the chaos. We had two main teachers and one teaching assistant, whose primary job was to escort us to the bathroom.
The classroom was fancy—big, bright, colorful. There were low tables shaped like clouds, comfy chairs, soft rugs, toys everywhere, and even a dedicated nap zone that had ambient lighting and cloud projectors. I had to admit... this was not the worst place to be held captive.
Lily and I, dressed in matching outfits, immediately attracted attention. Unlike the other kids, we were calm, followed instructions, and—crucially—we spoke to each other using sign language to keep our conversations private.
The teachers smiled at us like we were adorable little angels.
We were not.
We were spies.
At recess, I was helping Lily build a sandcastle when a boy came up, snatched the shovel from her hands, and grinned.
"That's mine now," he said, teasing. "If you want it, come get it."
Then he ran.
Lily's face crumpled, and she was about to run after him, but I caught her arm.
"Wait," I whispered. "It's a trap."
I pointed toward the path he ran down. A cluster of boys stood there, holding buckets filled with... what I assumed were water balloons.
I'd overheard them earlier—while pretending to go to the bathroom. I noticed them whispering and staring at Lily like little creeps, so I slipped into the hallway after them.
I'd heard enough to know this wasn't a game. They were planning to ruin her dress because she looked like "a little princess" and they were emotionally stunted boy-gremlins who bullied what they couldn't process.
Classic toddler toxic masculinity.
I turned to Lily and signed:
"Let's plan a counterattack."
She nodded like a true general.
The Counterstrike
We approached a teacher and said we'd lost something near the back corner of the playground.
She went with us to "help," just as planned.
Lily stayed near the front to distract the boys, talking loudly to draw them out.
Right on cue, the little gremlins sprang out and launched water balloons—directly onto the teacher.
I peeked out from behind a tree. She was soaked.
The look on her face could have curdled milk.
A few minutes later, we were all in the principal's office.
The boys were already screaming.
Of course, they blamed us.
"It was their idea!"
"They tricked us!"
Liars.
But I was ready.
When the director asked what happened, I immediately burst into tears.
Lily followed, our twin sniffles echoing through the office like tiny violins of injustice.
I told them—between hiccupping sobs—that the boys had been harassing us, following us, and had threatened us earlier. That we brought the teacher to protect ourselves.
Then, one of the boys— the ringleader —got frustrated and slapped me across the face.
Right there, in front of the principal.
The principal slammed her hand on the desk.
" Enough. "
Fifteen minutes later, the three parents of hell had arrived.
I had a red mark on my cheek and looked properly tragic. My father immediately began documenting my injury with his phone camera like he was preparing a legal case.
Aurora looked like she was about to breathe fire.
Caelum turned to the other fathers and said,
"I'll fight you. Outside. Let's go."
One of the mothers tried to defend her child with a truly idiotic statement:
"Those girls are like their mother—seducing men and manipulating people since childhood."
Silence.
Everyone froze.
Even her husband looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
She was the mother of the boy who hit me.
The one who had stared at Lily like she was cake he couldn't eat.
Dorian stood slowly and walked out of the room.
Everyone watched.
A minute later, the principal's phone buzzed. She looked down, paled, then looked up.
Dorian re-entered the room and calmly said:
"Your sons are expelled."
Gasps.
"Who are you to expel our boys?!" one of the parents shouted.
The director swallowed hard.
"He's the owner of the school. It's a private institution. He purchased it three months ago. The contracts you signed allow us to expel students for any reason, without notice."
Caelum, still typing on his phone, added:
"You might want to walk out quietly, or I'll make sure none of you can afford a lawyer."
He showed one of the fathers a video call screen—it was their company's CEO.
The man's face turned white.
Dorian and Caelum: 10. Bullies: 0.
Back in class, the boys were gone.
Forever.
That night, Lily and I curled up on the floor with Louis, our golden retriever, who licked our faces while Lily told him the whole story like it was an epic bedtime tale.
"And then Sel made the mean boy splat the teacher!" she giggled.
I looked at her glowing face, and I suddenly realized: my sister is going to attract a lot of trouble in the future.
Golden curls, big eyes, soft voice... She's basically born for love triangles. Or quadruples .
I sighed and shook my head.
"I have so much work ahead of me."