Wyler stepped up to the chair and shoved the head of the microphone within three inches of Matty’s mouth.

“Say what you just said again, so all three hundred students can hear,” Wyler said.

Matty reached up and took off his round plastic wire-rimmed glasses.

He pulled up the hem of his cotton shirt and carefully wiped both lenses.

At our kitchen table on Thursday evening, I’d told him the truth doesn’t need to shout to be real.

He slid the glasses back over his ears and settled the bridge on his nose.

He looked straight at the microphone grille.