“I thought you might want to know somebody saw you when you needed to be seen.”

I slid it into a folder beside the algebra worksheet rescued from my backpack.

For so long the backpack had meant accusation.

Now it contained evidence of a different kind: proof that the night had not ended on the road.

PART 13

The first court hearing I attended was brief.

I sat beside Colleen while a magistrate reviewed the temporary placement arrangement.

Dad stood across the room with his attorney, wearing a dark jacket and the expression he used at parent-teacher conferences when he wanted teachers to believe any problem was the school’s fault.