The Oleander Reborn

“You’re this young and already starting fires? Keep this up, and you’ll be saying hello to delicious prison meals!”

I looked utterly aggrieved but held my head high, refusing to apologize.

“I did nothing wrong. I was just making money. What’s so wrong with that?”

He exploded with rage, cursing immediately, “Making money? Is this how you f*cking make money?

“You set the principal’s office on fire and still claim you did nothing wrong?”

I remained stubborn. “I did nothing wrong. But if you want to punish me, I’ll take it.”

“You burned the principal’s office. And that’s still not wrong?”

“Yes, I did that. But I did it to make more money.”

My father’s eyelid twitched, and a sudden sense of dread crept in.

“Pray tell. What does making money have to do with burning down the principal’s office?”

“Dad, if you were in business and did something others wanted to do but were too afraid to, what would happen?”

He jolted upright from his chair, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Who taught you this?”

“Did you forget? You taught me.

“You said that to make others respect you, you have to do something that scares them. That way, they’ll fear me. The best way to make others obey is to make them afraid of you.

“So I burned down the principal’s office. Now every student in the school knows who’s the most powerful here. If I dare to burn the principal’s office, then dealing with them is a piece of cake.”

If an adult committed such radical acts, they’d either be branded a psychopath or locked up in a mental institution.

When such extremity appeared in a seven-year-old girl, though, no one would think the child was troubled. Everyone assumed the problem lay with the child’s upbringing.

When a child became a problem, the child would be the least of a problem among her entire family.

Mr. Stone, who dominated the business world, was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of helplessness and slumped back into his chair.

“What’s next then? You’ve burned down the principal’s office. What do you plan to do now?”

My face radiated with absolute confidence as I said, “Start collecting money, of course.

“Tomorrow onward, everyone in the school pays me a dollar. It doesn’t sound like much, but there are over five hundred students. That’s five hundred dollars a day! No more rummaging through trash bins, no more selling scraps!

“Anyone who doesn’t pay, gets beaten. Any class that doesn’t pay, gets burned down. And if anyone tries to defy me…”

I pulled out several more switchblades from my backpack.

“I’ll stab their parents after school. Whenever they pay, I’ll let them go.

“I’m a minor anyway. There’s a law protecting minors. I bet the law won’t dare stab me back.”

I looked at my father’s ashen face and smiled as if seeking praise.

“Tonight after school, a brawl at the gate, parents dying. Doesn’t that sound delightful?

“Keep track of who paid and who didn’t. Those who paid are on our side. Everyone else… stab them all!”