He swallowed with difficulty; his throat was dry.

“Mason said I stole his watch,” he whispered.

“The birthday present he just got.

They found it inside my backpack.” He shook his head, and even that small motion seemed to cost him something.

“But I didn’t put it there, Mom.

I didn’t.

I don’t know how it got there.”

I stroked his damp hair back from his forehead, and I did not hesitate, not for one half of one second, because there is a thing a child needs to hear in that moment more than they need almost anything, and I was not going to make him wait for it.