PART THREE — FOUR WORDS
My hands were trembling when I accepted the note.
I expected to find a teacher’s explanation, a forced apology, or perhaps the name of the child responsible.
Before I could unfold it, Maya whispered four words.
“He shouldn’t feel alone.”
Felix stopped moving.
“Who shouldn’t?” he asked.
I opened the page.
The writing was uneven and clearly belonged to a child.
Dear Maya’s parents,
My name is Liam. I am new in Maya’s class. I wanted to tell you that your daughter is my best friend.
I had cancer, and the medicine made my hair fall out. Some children laugh at my head. Maya sits with me every day and tells them to stop.
Today I told her that my parents are collecting donated hair because an organization may be able to make me a real-hair wig. We still need more hair that matches.
Maya said she wanted to give me hers. I told her she did not have to, but she said she wanted to help.
Please do not be angry with her.
She is the kindest person in our class.
Liam
I read it once.
Then I read it again because tears blurred the final lines.
Felix took the paper from me. As his eyes traveled down the page, the rage left his face little by little. His shoulders sank. The phone slipped to his side.
