Scout shifted beside Ben’s chair.
Ben placed one hand on the dog’s harness.
Principal Alvarez reached for the documents Ben had brought.
“Staff Sergeant Reed, may I?”
“Yes.”
She opened the folder carefully. The first page contained an official letter confirming Ben’s current assignment. Another verified Scout’s certification, training history, and status as an active military working dog.
There were photographs, too.
Ben and Scout during a training exercise.
Scout standing beside a transport vehicle.
A younger Clara holding the dog’s leash in a backyard while Ben watched from behind the camera.
Clara’s drawing had captured the pale scar above Scout’s ear almost perfectly.
Principal Alvarez studied it.
“How did he get this?” she asked.
“Training accident,” Ben replied. “Nothing serious. He caught the edge of a barrier during an exercise when he was younger.”
Clara touched the drawing.
“I put it there because Daddy said every scar has a story.”
Ben looked at her.
“I said some scars do.”
She smiled faintly.
Ms. Harrow stared at the image.
“I thought the detail was too specific.”
“That’s why she remembered it,” Lauren said.
“I understand that now.”
“No,” Lauren replied, her voice still quiet. “I don’t think you do.”
The teacher looked at her.
“You saw something advanced and assumed it couldn’t belong to Clara. You didn’t consider that she might have listened carefully to someone she loved.”
Ms. Harrow’s eyes lowered.
“I was wrong.”
A knock sounded at the office door.
The school counselor, Mr. Ellis, entered carrying a thin file.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Principal Alvarez asked me to bring this.”
He placed the file on the table.
“What is it?” Lauren asked.
“Clara’s written reflection from yesterday.”
Clara’s face grew warm.
“I didn’t know there was a file.”
“It’s not a disciplinary file,” Mr. Ellis said quickly. “Your teacher asked me to
