My hands trembled.
I typed:
I understand. I’m still not coming.
Then I turned the phone facedown.
Upstairs, I found a soft blue dress Emily had picked out for me at Target two summers earlier.
“You look like a mom in that,” she had told me.
I hadn’t worn it since.
I put it on.
My phone buzzed again downstairs.
I ignored it.
Then I carefully folded the threatening note, slipped it into my purse, and drove to Emily’s school.
The auditorium lights were already dimming when I arrived.
I quietly entered and searched the stage.
There she was.
Third row.
Second from the left.
Emily stood beneath the stage lights in her white choir shirt.
Her short hair looked completely different.
I found an empty seat in the back.
Then I noticed the girl beside her.
Maya.
Near the side aisle, three older girls were whispering and laughing.
