Chapter 3 - MAISIE'S MOTHER
Leah Carter arrived at the school wearing navy scrubs and running shoes, still carrying the smell of antiseptic from the urgent care clinic where she worked.
She entered the nurse's office angry.
Then she saw her daughter.
The anger disappeared.
"Oh, baby."
Maisie's hair had been wrapped in a towel because the nurse didn't know what else to do with it. Her eyes were red. Her hands wouldn't stop twisting together.
Leah knelt.
"Tell me what happened."
Before Maisie could answer, Kendrick appeared in the doorway.
"Mrs. Carter, I'm so sorry. Maisie had a difficult afternoon."
Leah stood slowly.
"Difficult how?"
Kendrick explained the same story she had given Bell. Scissors. Tantrum. Self-inflicted haircut. Intervention.
Maisie whispered, "No."
Kendrick kept talking.
"We've discussed emotional regulation before."
"No," Maisie said again, louder.
Leah turned.
Maisie's eyes filled.
"She made me do it."
The room went silent.
Kendrick sighed as if disappointed. "This is exactly what I mean. When Maisie feels embarrassed, she sometimes changes the story."
Leah's face hardened.
"My daughter is sitting here with half her hair on the floor, and you're calling her a liar?"
Bell stepped in. "Nobody is calling anyone a liar. We need facts."
"Then where are the cameras?"
"There are no cameras inside classrooms."
"The hallway?"
Bell hesitated.
"We'll review what is available."
Maisie suddenly gripped her mother's wrist.
"Mom. Mr. Ortiz saw."
Leah looked toward Bell.
"Where is he?"
"He's been sent home."
"Why?"
Nobody answered quickly enough.
Leah understood.
Outside the school, Rafael sat in his old pickup truck, staring at the steering wheel. His phone buzzed.
His daughter Sofia had sent one message.
Dad, I watched it.
Then another.
Do not delete anything.
Then a third.
Because Ms. Kendrick says something in the last five seconds I don't think you noticed.
Rafael opened the video again.
May you like
He turned the volume all the way up.
And heard the teacher say a name that had nothing to do with Maisie.
