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enemies Manhattan island, but I’ve never regretted that decision and I certainly don’t regret it now. The girls filing into Olivia’s school look like they’re strutting down an invisible runway. Their clothes are designer, their diamonds are real—and most of their noses are not. Olivia should consider herself lucky. Violence is rare at ritzy schools, and the principals are terrified of bad publicity. Whenever I take a case on the Upper East Side, it’s usually the clients who end up posing the problems. They don’t understand that I can stop the bullying—but I’ll never make their snooty classmates accept them.
    I skipped school so I could be here this morning when Olivia arrives. I have my hair pulled back, and dark sunglasses hide half my face. I doubt the disguise will be necessary, though. I’ve grown up a lot since Olivia and I last crossed paths. When I see her coming down the block, I realize that she hasn’t grown at all. Back in the eighth grade, Olivia was the same height as the rest of us. That must have been the end of her growth spurt. She’s still five foot one, flat chested, and scrawny. She doesn’t look like a pixie anymore. She looks like a little girl.
    No one so much as glances in Olivia’s direction as she heads toward the building. Too many parents on the street, I suppose, most delivering their precious spawn to the grade schools nearby. According to Olivia’s e-mail, a group of older girls ambushes her during lunch hour, when juniors and seniors are allowed to leave campus. Olivia claims the abuse has gotten so bad that she now eats her PB&Js while hiding in one of the school’s less-frequented girls’ rooms. I wonder if she got the idea from me. I guess her bullies don’t waste their time ransacking the whole building. The way Olivia used to.
    I snap a picture right before Olivia disappears into her school. It keeps me smiling for the next four hours.
    At noon, I’m sitting in a café on the Upper East Side. Olivia said she’d be here just after the hour, and she’s certain the bullies will follow. As soon as I see them, I’ll hide in the narrow hall that leads to the ladies’ room. Once Olivia and her companions have settled, I’ll make my grand appearance and grab a good seat for the show. I won’t be wearing a disguise. I want to watch everything that goes down today, and I want Olivia to know that I’ve seen it. And before I leave, I’ll make sure she knows that no one is ever going to come to her rescue.
    When I spot Olivia crossing the avenue, I let the waitress know I’m heading to the ladies’. I don’t want her to think I’ve skipped out on the bill. Then I slink around the corner to wait. Olivia chooses a table close to mine. I hear the waitress inquire if she’ll be dining alone. The voice that answers doesn’t belong to Olivia.
    â€œWe need three more menus. The four of us are together.”
    I hear the waitress’s footsteps fade away. “Hello, hobbit,” the same girl sneers. “Who said you could crawl out from under your rock?” I have to clap a hand over my mouth to muffle my giggle.
    I peek around the corner and see three girls have joined Olivia at her table. She seems so tiny sitting next to them. She stays silent and still. Like a porcelain doll taking part in a make-believe tea party.
    â€œThey shouldn’t let you eat in restaurants. No one will be able to keep their food down if they’re forced to look at you,” a second adds.
    The third girl just snickers. There’s always one dunce in the bunch.
    â€œPlease. I just want to have lunch,” Olivia pleads. She sounds so numb and exhausted. I’m enjoying this far less than I should.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter how much you eat. You’ll always be a short, hairy little hobbit.”
    â€œI heard your mother has to buy your clothes from