My mother pulled me out of that memory with a tug at my sleeve.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re done here.”
“I’m staying until Nina checks.”
She looked at me as if I’d embarrassed her. “You’re making this about yourself.”
“No,” I said. “I’m making it about Eli.”
My brother had moved to the edge of the gym, near the door to the hallway. He was picking at the paper label on a water bottle.
“Say something,” my mother told him.
Eli lifted his eyes. “I didn’t take the money.”
“You had access,” she said. “You carried things in and out all afternoon.”
“I didn’t touch the cash,” he said, shaking his head.
I watched him, trying to make myself doubt what I saw. Maybe he was lying. Maybe I was letting my own past decide for me. I hated that I couldn’t be sure just by looking at his face.
My mother turned back to me. “Stop interfering.”
The hallway door swung closed behind a parent carrying a tray. On the other side was the school office, where Nina had gone to check the records. I kept my place between my mother and Eli.
“I’m not asking you to believe me,” I said. “I’m asking you to wait for the facts.”
For a moment, nobody answered. Then a child came running past with a roll of tickets, and my mother stepped aside to let him through.
Eli stayed where he was. So did I.
Nina came back with a ring of keys in one hand and a clipboard tucked against her side. The fundraiser noise followed her through the hallway: folding chairs scraping, a child calling for his father, the microphone giving a dry pop.
“Can I see the count sheet?” I asked.
She kept the clipboard turned toward her. “I can check it. The records stay with staff.”
“I understand. I’m not asking to take anything.”
Nina glanced at my mother, then at Eli. “I’ll review the cash count and the safe log. I told you I’d check before I filed anything.”
My mother folded her arms. “There’s nothing to check. The money was there, and now it isn’t.”
Nina unlocked the office door. “I still have to follow the count process.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
My mother watched the small window in the door. “This is ridiculous.”
I wanted to agree just to stop the feeling in my chest. I wanted the whole thing to be a misunderstanding that could be put away with the folding chairs. But Eli was still rubbing the paper label on his bottle until it tore.
My father had been quiet since the gym. He stood by the trophy case, his hands deep in his coat pockets. I had not expected him to come. I had not expected him to say anything at all.
He looked at me. “You know why we thought it was you.”
The hallway seemed to narrow around us. “I know what you thought.”
“The rent envelope was short,” he said, “and you came home late that night.”
“I came home late. That doesn’t tell you what happened to the money.”
His gaze dropped to the tile. “It made you the obvious suspect.”
I could hear the gym door thudding open and shut behind us. For years, I had imagined what I might say if he ever admitted that much. In my head, I had always said it cleanly. In the hallway, my tongue felt thick.
“You never asked me where I’d been,” I said.
“I remember.”
“You told me to leave.”
My mother snapped her head toward us. “Daniel, don’t do this here.”
