heard that tone from him.
“Why, Dad?”
“Anna isn’t coming back!”
I thought he was angry because she’d missed my birthday.
Then he opened his desk drawer and pulled out an empty envelope.
“Anna never came.”
“I caught her stealing from us.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Several hundred dollars were in here. Now they’re gone.”
“No.”
“George.”
“Anna wouldn’t steal!”
His face hardened.
“I’m sorry, but I fired her.”
I kept defending her until he finally told me he didn’t want her name mentioned again.
When I managed to borrow an older student’s phone at school and tried calling Anna, I found that her phone was disconnected. His name was Cliff, and he was in my class but four years older, and he drove.
Every letter I mailed to Anna came back unopened.
I then offered to write an essay for Cliff if he’d go by her
