There was nothing left inside.
“I used all my birthday money.”
“All of it?”
He nodded.
“And I sold my PlayStation with the games.”
I stared at him.
The wheelchair had cost $1,400.
To pay for it, my thirteen-year-old had sacrificed his favorite guitar, his entire savings, and his gaming console.
“Julian, why would you give up so much?”
His answer brought tears to my eyes.
“Someday I can get another guitar. But Maya needs a wheelchair that works today.”
Later that evening, he told me he’d already purchased the chair and scheduled its delivery.
He wanted Maya and her family to be surprised.
I went to bed feeling proud of the boy I was raising.
I assumed nothing else that week could surprise me more.
I was wrong.
At exactly seven the next morning, someone knocked firmly on our door.
Two uniformed police officers stood outside beside a patrol car.
