I expected to find a teacher’s explanation, a forced apology, or perhaps the name of the child responsible.
Before I could unfold it, Maya whispered four words.
“He shouldn’t feel alone.”
Felix stopped moving.
“Who shouldn’t?” he asked.
I opened the page.
The writing was uneven and clearly belonged to a child.
Dear Maya’s parents,
My name is Liam. I am new in Maya’s class. I wanted to tell you that your daughter is my best friend.
I had cancer, and the medicine made my hair fall out. Some children laugh at my head. Maya sits with me every day and tells them to stop.
Today I told her that my parents are collecting donated hair because an organization may be able to make me a real-hair wig. We still need more hair that matches.
Maya said she wanted to give me hers. I told her she did not have to, but she said she wanted to help.
