The principal called while I was standing at the sink, rinsing out Letty’s cereal bowl, trying not to look at the empty hook where Jonathan’s keys still should have been. “Piper?” he said. His voice was wrong immediately—too tight, too controlled. My hand slipped. The bowl hit the edge of the sink and cracked clean in two. “Is Letty okay?” I asked. “She’s safe,” he said quickly. “But… you need to come to the school. Now.” There are tones of voice that don’t belong in ordinary conversations. That was one of them. And ever since Jonathan died three months earlier,...
Continues…