Everyone In Town Thinks My Friend’s Dad Is A Monster. I Just Found Out The Real Monster Is His Mother, And Now She’s Coming For Me. How Do I Stop Her?
The Compass
The Tuesday before Brian left, we sat in the park where everything had started, where his dad had saved me from bullies what felt like a lifetime ago.
“I never thanked you properly,” Brian said. “For everything.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.”
He pulled out a wrapped box.
“Dad and I got you something.”
Inside was a compass on a chain. Simple, elegant.
“So you always know the right direction,” Brian explained. “Even when everyone else is lost.”
I put it on immediately. It felt right.
Their moving day came too fast. The whole neighborhood watched as they loaded the truck. Some had the decency to look ashamed. Others just stared. Brian’s dad shook my hand.
“You saved our lives,” he said simply. “I’ll never forget that.”
“Take care of him,” I said.
“Always.”
Brian hugged me tight.
“Best friend forever?”
“Forever,” I confirmed.
I watched their truck disappear around the corner, the compass heavy against my chest. Mom put her arm around me.
“You did a good thing,” she said. “Even though it hurts now.”
That night I sat at my computer and started typing. Not another video or exposé, just a simple post.
“Sometimes the truth costs everything. Sometimes you lose your best friend to save them. Sometimes being right feels worse than being wrong. But truth matters. Justice matters. And sometimes a 12-year-old has to remind adults of that.”
I posted it and closed my laptop. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new fights probably. Catherine’s trial loomed. The community was still fractured. Some people would never forgive me for exposing their comfortable lies.
But tonight I held the compass and remembered Brian’s smile in the courthouse when the judge said he was free. That made everything worth it.
My phone buzzed. A message from Brian.
“Made it to Oregon. Dad smiling. Real smiling. Thank you.”
I smiled too. Real smiling for the first time in months.
