Clara slid her notebook across the desk.
“I wrote about you for my assignment.”
The teacher looked surprised.
“May I read it?”
Clara nodded.
Ms. Harrow read the page slowly.
When she finished, her eyes were bright.
“You wrote that I taught you adults can be wrong.”
“That’s true.”
“Did I teach you anything else?”
Clara thought.
“That saying sorry can be part of fixing something. But it doesn’t fix everything.”
Ms. Harrow folded the paper carefully.
“That is also true.”
Clara packed her notebook.
As she reached the door, Ms. Harrow spoke again.
“Clara?”
She turned.
“I am going to write to that former student.”
Clara waited.
“I don’t know where he is now, or whether he’ll ever read it. But I think I owe him the apology I should have given years ago.”
Clara nodded.
“Maybe he’ll believe you.”
“Maybe,” Ms. Harrow said. “And maybe I’ll have to accept it if he doesn’t.”
That afternoon, a package arrived at the Reed house.
It was addressed to Clara from the school district office.
Inside was the original blue folder, carefully cleaned and placed in a protective sleeve. The red words had not disappeared completely, but someone had covered them with a transparent repair strip.
Beneath the folder was a small envelope.
Clara opened it.
The note inside was from Principal Alvarez.
Your project belongs to you. No one gets to decide the truth of your family for you. Keep asking questions. Keep listening carefully. Keep telling the truth with
