No deliberate attack.
Just a frightened boy who had tried to help and then lacked the courage to admit he’d made things worse.
Julian seemed strangely relieved.
Maybe because the truth was less frightening.
Maybe because he recognized something uncomfortable in it.
Good intentions did not automatically make decisions good.
Selling his guitar without telling me had worked out.
Caleb’s secret repair had not.
Both boys had tried to solve somebody else’s problem without involving the person whose problem it actually was.
That night, Julian told me, “Maya was right.”
“About?”
“I should’ve asked.”
I smiled.
“That’s a useful lesson.”
“Does that mean you’re going to keep mentioning it forever?”
“Absolutely.”
He groaned.
Then the phone rang.
Rebecca.
Her voice was urgent.
“Sarah, can you look at Thomas’s records again?”
“Why?”
“We were wrong about the equipment scheme.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“It wasn’t just someone replacing new wheelchairs with old ones.”
