It had been written to June.
The girls responsible for the gum had apparently slipped it into June’s locker afterward.
Tessa had taken it because June was terrified her parents would see it.
By the time I reached the hallway, two sets of parents had been called, and the school was already discussing suspensions.
I found Nadine standing near a vending machine.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I said, “I thought you were taking my place.”
She looked surprised.
“What?”
“For years.”
My throat tightened.
“I’d see how much she told you. How she called you. How you knew every little thing happening at school.”
Nadine’s face softened.
“I wasn’t trying to take your place, Marla.”
“I know.”
“I was just trying to make sure someone was there.”
That hurt.
Because there was no cruelty in it.
Only truth.
I nodded.
“I’ve missed too much.”
Nadine touched my arm.
“You can stop missing it.”
We found Tessa outside the music room.
When she saw me, she froze.
“Mom?”
Just that.
One word.
But there was surprise in it.
“You came.”
I had imagined apologizing all evening.
I had imagined saying something beautiful enough to repair years of hurried dinners, missed concerts, and promises that ended with, “Something came up at work.”
