Some pages had dried with wrinkles. A few were too stained to use. I copied the notes I could still read and printed the assignments I needed again.

Uncle Jax came in from work and saw the papers spread across the table.

“Schoolwork?”

“Trying to put everything back in order.”

He set a small grocery bag beside me.

“I brought sandwiches.”

I moved my papers to make room.

He didn’t ask whether I was over it.

He didn’t ask whether Trent had apologized.

He sat down, unwrapped his sandwich, and let me tell him about my day.

For weeks, I had thought the most important thing about that afternoon was the trash can.

Then I thought it was the video.

After that, I thought it was the fact that Caleb had finally told the truth.



But the part I kept returning to was much simpler.

When I called Uncle Jax, he answered.

He didn’t ask what I had done to deserve it.

He didn’t tell me to stop making trouble.

He asked whether I was hurt, where I was, and what I needed next.

The next morning, my phone buzzed before I left for school.

It was a message from him.

You have your folders?

I looked at the repaired stack in my backpack.

Yes.

A moment later, another message appeared.

Good. Have a normal day. Call me if you need me.

I slipped the phone into my pocket and walked out the door.

For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t carrying it because I was waiting for someone to hurt me.



I was carrying it because I knew I had someone I could call if I needed help.

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