“The stylist tried everything, but Maya’s hair had to be cut really short.”
Emily looked at her friend.
“Maya asked me if I would cut mine too.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“She said she was scared to come back to school looking different.”
Emily touched the hair above her ear.
“So I told her yes.”
Maya reached for Emily’s hand.
Suddenly, the note made sense.
It had never been meant for Emily.
The cruelty had been directed at Maya.
My daughter had not lost her hair because someone forced her.
She had given it up because her friend was frightened of standing alone.
Then Emily looked toward the audience.
“I want to thank my grandma because when we called her, she came.”
That sentence went straight through me.
Linda came.
Not later.
Not after work.
Not when it was convenient.
She came.
I cried through the rest of Emily’s speech.
When the lights came up, the three girls near the side aisle tried slipping toward the exit.
The principal was already waiting.
Afterward, I stood quietly in his office while Emily and Maya explained everything.
The gum.
The note.
The bullying.
The names.
For the first time, what had happened was no longer something two frightened girls were carrying alone.
