“Is that for me?”
“Is that for me?”
“Your class sent
it.”
Inside was a note.
“Whenever you’re ready, your seat is waiting.”
Alice read it twice.
Then she looked at me.
“Your class sent it.”
“Not tomorrow. Not all day at first. And not without a plan. But yes. We can start talking about getting you back there. When you’re ready, we’ll make sure the school has the medical guidance it needs.”
Alice turned toward me.
Her whole face lit up.
Mine must not have because her smile faded.
On the drive home, she talked almost nonstop.
Was the class hamster still alive?
Would she have the same cubby?
Could she go to recess?
“You don’t want me to go.”
She talked almost nonstop.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You haven’t said anything.”
“We need to plan it properly, honey.”
“Does that mean yes?”
