There was a short pause on the other end.
“No,” Mrs. Carter said gently. “She hasn’t attended any classes since Monday. I wanted to reach out before this became a bigger issue with the attendance office.”
⸻
My stomach dropped straight through the kitchen floor.
⸻
That evening, when Sienna got home at her usual time, she acted completely normal. Complained about a history assignment. Asked what was for dinner. Rolled her eyes at me twice during a completely unrelated conversation about laundry.
I studied her carefully, searching for some crack in the performance, and found absolutely nothing.
⸻
The next morning, I didn’t confront her. I didn’t call the school back either.
I waited.
I let her leave the house exactly the way she always did, backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds already in before she’d even reached the front porch.
⸻
Then I got in my own car and drove ahead of her usual route, parking far enough away from the bus stop that I could watch without being noticed, my hands already tight on the steering wheel.
