I picked one up.
Another.
Then another.
Some contained cash.
Others were empty.
Next to them was a spiral notebook.
Principal Patel opened it.
Inside were names and numbers.
Beside some names were words like:
“Lunch.”
“Calculator.”
“Uniform.”
“Field trip.”
My heart sank.
“How much money is this?”
“Several hundred dollars,” he said.
I stared at him.
“What is this?”
“That is what we’re trying to determine.”
He explained that school officials had initially feared Maya had been secretly collecting money from classmates.
There were envelopes labeled with students’ names.
There were records of amounts.
There was cash.
And no adult at the school had authorized any of it.
Then Principal Patel looked at me.
“That’s why we wanted you here.”
I could barely speak.
“Maya wouldn’t…”
He gently interrupted.
“We don’t know what happened yet.”
But I knew my daughter.
Or at least, I thought I did.
