Every adult in the room went still.
David’s face drained completely.
“She said what?”
Ethan
immediately looked frightened.
“She said maybe if she had a break, you guys could catch up.”
David stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“No.”
“Mr. Monroe—”
“No.”
He started pacing.
“She never said that to us.”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“She didn’t want you to know.”
David turned away.
His shoulders shook once.
I understood then why he had come to school looking furious.
It wasn’t the fundraiser.
It was the realization that his daughter had been protecting him while he thought he was protecting her.
I looked at Ethan.
“Did you tell anyone she wanted to stop treatment?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Did you use her full name?”
“Yes.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
“Diagnosis?”
“Just cancer.”
“Photos?”
“Only old ones she had already posted.”
Still not enough.
He was fourteen.
He had done something generous and dangerous at the same time.
