Then she reached slowly into the front pocket of her backpack and removed a folded, crumpled sheet of paper.
PART THREE — FOUR WORDS
My hands were trembling when I accepted the note.
I expected to find a teacher’s explanation, a forced apology, or perhaps the name of the child responsible.
Before I could unfold it, Maya whispered four words.
“He shouldn’t feel alone.”
Felix stopped moving.
“Who shouldn’t?” he asked.
I opened the page.
The writing was uneven and clearly belonged to a child.
Dear Maya’s parents,
My name is Liam. I am new in Maya’s class. I wanted to tell you that your daughter is my best friend.
I had cancer, and the medicine made my hair fall out. Some children laugh at my head. Maya sits with me every day and tells them to stop.
Today I told her that my parents are collecting donated hair because an organization may be able to make me a real-hair wig. We still need more hair that matches.
Maya said she wanted to give me hers. I told her she did not have to, but she said she wanted to help.
Please do not be angry with her.
She is the kindest person in our class.
Liam
I read it once.
Then I read it again because tears blurred the final lines.
Felix took the paper from me. As his eyes traveled down the page, the rage left his face little by little. His shoulders sank. The phone slipped to his side.
Maya stood between us, crying silently.
I looked at her uneven hair and finally understood.
“You cut it yourself?”
She nodded.
“At school?”
Another nod.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked.
Her answer came in a whisper. “I thought you would say no.”
“We might have asked questions,” Felix said carefully. “We might have taken you to a salon so it could be done safely.”
“I wanted to do it today.”
“Why today?”
She glanced toward Liam’s note.
“Because they made him cry again.”
The words broke something open inside me.
Until that moment, I had been staring at what Maya had lost. I had not yet understood what she had been trying to give.
