“Did anything else happen after that?” I questioned.
She placed her hand on the center of her chest.
“He told me his chest was feeling squished again.”
“Again?”
She nodded slowly while crying.
“Yes, but he told me earlier and said not to tell you because you were ill.”
I couldn’t breathe.
It seemed that Randy had been hiding his chest pains from me because he did not want to worry me.
Sarah wiped her tears.
“I told him to drink water,” she whispered. “My grandpa always says water helps when something hurts.”
I knelt carefully in front of her.
“You were trying to help him.”
“But it didn’t help.”
“No,” I answered softly. “But you were kind to him. That matters.”
Sarah told me that Randy tried putting the unicorn back into his backpack because he did not want me to see the apology note before his Mother’s Day gift.
Then Randy collapsed.
Teachers shouted. Paramedics rushed into the room. Students were hurried out of the classroom.
Through all the chaos, Randy’s backpack remained untouched beneath the table.
“Before everything happened, he told me to protect it until Mother’s Day,” Sarah said quietly. “That’s why I took it home.”
