He looked up. “What do you mean?”
“He’s gentle. The kind of kid who apologizes when someone bumps into him in a hallway.”
The officer offered a polite smile. “We’ll file the report, ma’am.”
But I could see in his eyes that he thought I was just another frightened parent who didn’t truly understand their child.
I never imagined how complicated the truth would be.
The next morning I went straight to Ethan’s school.
The principal kindly allowed me to review the security footage from the cameras near the front gate.
I sat in a small office watching the recording from the afternoon before.
Students streamed out of the building in loud groups, laughing, pushing each other, checking their phones.
Then I saw Ethan.
He was walking beside a girl.
At first I didn’t recognize her. Then she glanced over her shoulder and I saw her face clearly.
“Lily,” I whispered.
Lily had been to our house a few times. Quiet, polite, always careful with her words.
In the video, Ethan and Lily walked through the gate together and headed toward the bus stop. A city bus arrived. They stepped on and disappeared from the frame.
“I need to talk to Lily,” I said quickly, turning to the principal.
She hesitated.