Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Then tell us who did it,” Felix said.
The anger in his voice frightened her.
Every incident from the previous year rushed through my mind.
The braid pulling.
The whispers.
The mornings she pleaded not to go to school.
The meetings where adults promised us the situation had been resolved.
I imagined my daughter trapped in a bathroom while someone hacked away the hair she had protected since she was old enough to speak.
Her eyes filled again.
Then she slowly reached inside her backpack.
She opened the small front pocket and removed a crumpled sheet of paper folded twice.
My hands trembled as she gave it to me.
I expected a note from the school.
Or perhaps the name of the child responsible.
Instead, I saw handwriting that clearly belonged to another student.
Before I could read the first sentence, Maya whispered four words.
“He shouldn’t feel alone.”
Felix lowered his phone.
I unfolded the paper.
“To Maya’s parents,”
“My name is Liam. I am new in Maya’s class.”
“I wanted to thank you for your daughter.”
“I had cancer, and the medicine made all my hair fall out.”
“Maya is the only person who sits with me every day and tells them to stop.”
“Today I told her my mom and dad are trying to collect enough hair so I can get a real-hair wig.”
“They do not have enough hairpieces yet.”
“Maya said she wanted to give me hers.”
“I told her she did not have to.”
“Please do not be mad at her.”
“She is the kindest person in our class.”
“Liam.”
I read the note twice.
By the second time, tears blurred every word.
Felix took the paper from my hands.
Maya stood between us, crying silently.
I stared at her mangled haircut.
“You did this yourself?”
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