I didn’t feel proud of what I was doing.
I felt like a mother who had run out of options.
I drove around the block and parked where I could see the bus stop without being noticed.
A few minutes later, the school bus arrived.
Emily climbed aboard.
I followed it from a distance, trying not to look like the kind of person who belonged in a detective movie.
When the bus finally stopped in front of the high school, dozens of teenagers poured onto the sidewalk.
Emily stepped down with the others.
For a moment, I thought I had been foolish to doubt her.
She was wearing her backpack. She was standing among students her age. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Then something happened.
Instead of following the crowd toward the school entrance, Emily stepped away from the other students.
She walked toward the bus stop sign and stood there, her hands buried inside the pockets of her hoodie.
