Sarah looked down at her shoes.
“Ms. Bell made him write it.”
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
“When?”
“Before he fell.”
There was suddenly an awkward silence in the kitchen.
Sarah told me that yet another student, Tyler, had splattered some paint on the display for Mother’s Day, and some decorations were destroyed. Randy got blamed for it since he was holding glue to help Sarah work on her assignment.
“He kept saying he didn’t do it,” Sarah murmured. “He said you knew he wasn’t a liar.”
I looked back down at Randy’s apology letter, noting how hard he must have pressed his pencil against the page.
“He was afraid you would be disappointed in him,” Sarah continued softly.
It tore at my heart, imagining my son’s last minutes being consumed with worry over disappointing me.
