“Mrs. Davison…” I started, but the older woman was already recoiling, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Davison breathed. “Lily… what is that?”

Lily’s hands flew up to her neck, trying to pull the collar back up, but her fingers were shaking so badly she couldn’t grasp the wool. Tears spilled over her lashes, silent and hot.

I knelt beside her, ignoring the murmurs rippling through the line of students behind her. “Lily,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the adrenaline flooding my veins. “Did someone put that on you?”

She flinched away from me, her eyes squeezed shut. “I have to go,” she whimpered. “Please. If I eat, I’ll get fat. And if I get fat, the lock won’t fit. And then… then he’ll be angry.”

The horror of it hit me with the force of a physical blow. Starvation. Control. The lock wasn’t a fashion statement; it was a measuring device. A cage.

“We need Mrs. Morales,” I told Mrs. Davison, my voice steel. “Call the principal. Now.”

As Mrs. Davison scrambled toward the kitchen phone, I gently blocked Lily’s path. “You’re safe here, Lily. You aren’t in trouble.”