After years of learning at home, my 10-year-old son, who has Down syndrome, was finally given the chance to go to a regular school. He was happier than I’d seen him in years. But just five days after he started, I got a phone call from the principal that left me shaken.

He looked at the screen for a long time.

Then he put down his spoon, reached out one finger, and touched the face of the tall woman in the middle of the front row.

The gold hummingbird glinted on her lapel, even in the photo.

“Her,” he whispered. “But Mom, you said grown-ups don’t lie.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d told him so many things over the years to make the world feel safe. Grown-ups will help you. If you’re lost, find a grown-up. Grown-ups tell the truth.

“Most grown-ups don’t,” I said finally. “And when one does, it’s not your fault. It’s never, ever the kid’s fault.”

“She was in the library,” he said. “She smiled at me. She said ‘Hi, sweetie.’ And then she went out.”

“What time did she go out?”

He didn’t even need to check his notebook. “10:34. Ms. Tran gave me the hall pass at 10:36. I saw her at 10:40.”