My Teacher Threw My Report About My Marine Dad’s Dog in the Trash and Made Me Apologize—Then Scout Walked Into Our Classroom
“Then we’ll leave it there for now.”
Clara smiled.
That evening, the kitchen smelled of warm bread and tomato sauce.
The grocery receipt for forty-six dollars and eighteen cents still lay near the counter.
Lauren stirred a pot while Clara opened a clear plastic sleeve.
She slipped her colored-pencil drawing of Scout inside.
The edges fit neatly.
The gray scar remained visible above one ear.