“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her sleeve across her nose again. “There’s more in there.”
I found a crumpled sheet of paper folded small, like Randy had tried to hide it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
“Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I ruined the Mother’s Day wall. I know you’re sick and tired and I made more trouble.
But I promise I’m not bad.
Love, Randy.”
I found a crumpled sheet of paper.
Under it was a folded drawing, the paint spill marked in purple crayon.
For a moment, the words didn’t make sense.
Then they did.
***
“What’s this?” I asked.
Sarah stared down at her sneakers.
“Sarah. Honey?”
“Ms. Bell made him write it.”
“When?”
She looked at the backpack. “Right before.”
The words didn’t make sense.
My skin went cold. “Right before what?”
Her eyes filled so fast it looked painful.
“Right before he fell.”
The kitchen went silent.
“Tell me,” I said, though part of me wanted to cover my ears.
“He was sitting at the back table,” she whispered. “Ms. Bell gave him the paper and told him to write sorry for ruining the Mother’s Day wall. But he didn’t ruin it. Tyler did.”
“Right before what?”
“Tyler?”
