Maya gripped her pencil. Her instinct was to shrink, to pull her arms in, to wait for it to stop. That was the prey instinct.
But she remembered the poem. I do not hunt for sport. I hunt to eat. I bite to live. venom marilyn singer
At school, there was a girl named Chloe. Chloe was bright, loud, and magnetic, the center of a solar system Maya orbited but never entered. For the past month, Chloe had turned her attention—her "venom"—onto Maya. It wasn’t physical bullying; it was worse. It was a quiet exclusion, a whispering campaign, a subtle turning of backs. It was a toxin that entered Maya’s system and paralyzed her, making her feel small, invisible, and wrong. Maya gripped her pencil
It struck a chord so deep it vibrated.
The book distinguishes between "poisonous" and "venomous" animals, explaining that while both use toxins, the primary difference lies in the : But she remembered the poem