“Of course she did, baby,” I said.

Teresa stayed past closing. Between repairing my daughter’s hair and matching it with hair already saved for pediatric wigs, she managed to complete one by the next morning.

—

Before school, Letty and I picked up the wig.

“Do I look weird, Mom?”

“You look like yourself,” I said. “Just with less maintenance.”

That made her smile.

Then she lifted the box slightly. “Do you think Millie will actually wear it?”

“I’m not sure, baby. It might be uncomfortable for her. But even if she chooses not to, she’ll know how brave and kind you are.”

Two hours later, Principal Brennan called.

By the time I arrived at the school, my palms were slick against the steering wheel.

Mr. Brennan was already standing outside the office.

“What is this?” I asked. “Who are these people?”

“They came in together, Piper, all wearing plant jackets and asking for Letty by name,” he said. “My secretary panicked. Then I did.”

“Why is my daughter with them?”

His expression changed. “Because the second they said Jonathan’s name, she asked to stay.”

Then he opened the office door.

What I saw inside nearly broke me in two.

Letty was standing beside the window with both hands pressed over her mouth. Millie sat near her, wearing the wig. On her delicate face, it looked beautiful.

Her mother stood behind her, sobbing into a tissue.