Not angry.
Not scared.
Just completely still.
“Daniel?”
I ran.
The next day, she asked me to stay after class.
She closed the door.
“You saw something yesterday that you misunderstood.”
I told her I had seen her putting school money in her purse.
Her smile disappeared.
Then she told me something that terrified me.
She said Grandma could get in trouble if I started telling lies.
She knew Grandma was the person raising me.
She said adults could lose custody of children when children caused problems.
I believed her.
I was eight.
And she was my teacher.
From that day on, she started keeping me after school.
At first, she only questioned me.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Did you tell your grandmother?”
“Did you tell another teacher?”
Every day, I said no.
But she still wouldn’t let me leave.
A week later, I tried to open the classroom door while she was in the hallway.
