Chapter 5
The next morning Mom said I didn't have to go to school, but I wanted to. She walked me in herself instead of letting me ride the bus. She held my hand the whole way across the parking lot and kept her thumb over the bear sticker on my elbow like she was protecting it.
My classroom smelled like crayons and cleaner. Mrs. Jensen was at the door. She smiled when she saw me, then saw Mom and her smile changed a little.
"Lily, honey, how's your arm?" she asked. She knelt down so we were the same height. I showed her the sticker.
"It itches a little," I said.
Mom stepped to the side and talked quietly with Mrs. Jensen while I went to my cubby. I could hear them but I pretended I couldn't.
Mom said, "The doctor said it's just irritation. But the glitter glue was from a dollar store. We're waiting on the lab."
Mrs. Jensen said, "Oh, we don't use that brand here. We order through the district. Parents sometimes bring things in for projects, though."
Mom asked, "Did Lily mention a birthday craft? A boxed glitter set?"
Mrs. Jensen shook her head. "Not to me. Next week's art project is watercolors. Washable Crayola, that's all. If someone brought something else in, I'd have noticed."
That made Mom frown. She looked over at me. I was putting my plush toy in my cubby even though we weren't supposed to bring toys from home. Mrs. Jensen had said it was okay, just for today.
Later, during art time, Mrs. Jensen came to my table. She put a cup of water and a tray of watercolors in front of me. No glitter. No tubes.
"Lily, can you tell me where you got those sparkly colors on your hands yesterday?" she asked gently. "Were they from school?"
I shook my head. "From home. The box on the counter. It had purple and red and green and orange and yellow. I wanted to make a card."
"Did anyone at school give you glitter to bring home?" she asked.
"No," I said.
She touched my wrist where the paint had been. "Okay, sweetie. Thank you for telling me."
At pick-up time, Mom was waiting early by the fence. She talked again to Mrs. Jensen while I stood there swinging my lunchbox. Mrs. Jensen said the same thing, that she hadn't seen or handed out any dollar-store glitter, and that her classroom was all washable watercolors.
In the car, Mom was quiet until we got to the stoplight. Then she said, almost to herself, "So it wasn't from school at all."
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I hugged my toy tighter. The light turned green. Mom didn't drive right away. She sat for a second, watching the kids pour out of the school doors, and I saw her eyes go to the highway where Grandma's dollar store was, just past the gas station.
When we got home, there was a message on the answering machine. A woman's voice said she was calling from the county, a social worker, and she would like to come by tomorrow morning to see how I was doing. Mom played it twice and wrote the name down on the back of Dr. Patel's paper. Her handwriting was small and pressed hard.
