When I returned, it had been moved and my wallet was empty. Only your son was in the classroom.”
She leaned closer, her perfume overpowering.
“I searched his backpack. The money wasn’t there. So he must have hidden it or passed it to someone. But it was him. You can tell. A boy without a mother, always wearing the same shirt…”
I clenched my jaw.
“You searched a minor in front of the class? Without administration present? Without police?”
“I am responsible for discipline!” she snapped.
“Either you compensate the loss right now, or I call the police. There will be a report, a mark on his record, and possibly a referral to social services. Do you want your home life reviewed?”
It was blatant blackmail. She expected me to beg.
“Call them,” I said.
“What?”
“Call the police.”
The room went still.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed as she dialed. “Police? There’s been a theft at School Number 17. Suspect: a student. Yes, a significant amount.”
She placed the phone down.
I helped Alejandro gather his belongings and we sat in the back row.