"Maya? Kathleen has been saving that girl a seat since she arrived. She invited her into the group when nobody else would. That doesn't make sense."
"I know," Mr. Paulson said gently. "But it's what happened. And from what the counselors pieced together, Brenda was actually the one who told Maya to delete it. When Maya refused, Brenda stopped speaking to her. That's the argument the girls had."
I actually laughed.
I sat back. The chair suddenly felt too small.
Every conversation I'd had with my daughter over the last week rearranged itself in my head.
- The "argued with a friend over one photo."
- The tight little smile.
- The sketchbook laying untouched on her nightstand.
I had painted the loud girl as the villain and completely missed the quiet one.
The chair suddenly felt too small.
"She's been carrying this alone," I said, more to myself than to him.
Mr. Paulson nodded. "I'd like to set up a meeting tomorrow morning. Maya, her mother, Kathleen, you, and I. If your daughter's willing."
