Chapter 5: Yellow Is Old

The principal's office had a window in the door and a bowl of peppermints on the desk.

The woman from the county was younger than me, in a navy fleece with a badge clipped to the zipper.

"Mrs. Ketchum," she said. "Thank you for coming in."

"I didn't know I had a choice."

"You always have a choice." She gave me a tired smile. "We got a call this morning. A concern about Posy's arms. I'm required to follow up."

"Who called?"

"I can't tell you that."

I looked through the window in the door.

Bonnie was standing in the hallway by the trophy case with her hands folded over her lanyard.

She was looking straight at me.

"You don't have to," I said.

The principal brought Posy in and set her in a little plastic chair by the peppermints.

Posy kept her coat on and her backpack on.

The caseworker crouched down to her eye level.

"Hi, Posy. I'm someone whose whole job is making sure kids are safe. You're not in trouble. Can I see your arms?"

Posy looked at me.

I nodded.

She pushed up one sleeve, just to the elbow, and then stopped.

The caseworker didn't push.

"Thank you," she said gently. "Posy, I know you don't use words right now. That's okay. Can you show me who hurt you? You can point."

Posy's eyes went to the window in the door.

To the woman in the lavender cardigan on the other side of the glass.

Bonnie lifted one finger and touched it to her own lips.

It was so small it could have been a woman checking her lipstick.

Nobody else saw it.

Posy turned back to the caseworker.

She lifted her hand and pressed it flat against her own chest.

Me.

I did it.

My throat closed up.

The caseworker wrote something down.

When she looked up at me, her face had changed.

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