I knelt in front of her.
“Sarah, look at me.”
“It didn’t help.”
“No, baby. It wasn’t medicine. But it was kindness.”
Her face crumpled.
“Then he tried to put the unicorn away,” she whispered. “He said you couldn’t see the sorry note before the present. Then his chair scraped, and he fell.”
I covered my mouth.
“Everybody screamed,” Sarah said. “Ms. Bell kept saying his name really loud. Then the paramedics came.”
Her voice dropped.
“I remember their boots. They were black and shiny. One stepped on Randy’s purple yarn. I wanted to move it, but Ms. Reeves told us to stay back.”
“Is that when you took the backpack?”
Sarah nodded. “After they took him away. His backpack was still under the table. Randy told me to guard the unicorn until Mother’s Day, and the sorry note was inside.”
“So you took it.”
“I thought if the grown-ups found it, they might throw it away.”
She looked at me with scared, loyal eyes.
“So I guarded it.”
I held her while she cried into my shoulder, and the unfinished unicorn sat between us like Randy had only stepped out of the room.
When she calmed down, I asked, “Who takes care of you?”
“My grandpa. Grandpa Joe.”
“Do you know his number?”
Her hands shook, so I dialed for her.
Grandpa Joe answered breathlessly. “Sarah? Is that you, child?”
“This is Haley. Randy’s mom. Sarah is with me.”
“Oh, Lord. Ma’am, I’m sorry. She left before I woke up.”
“She didn’t bother me, Joe,” I said. “She brought my son home.”
He went quiet.
“Please come over,” I said. “And tomorrow, come to the school with me.”
Sarah looked terrified. “Ms. Bell will be mad.”
I took her hand. “Randy was scared too, but he still told you the truth. Now we tell it for him, okay?”
