I had seen the letter
sitting on my desk when I had walked into my office.
It was hidden right
behind the plaque that read my name, Felicia Williams, and my job title,
Assistant Principle.
It came in a plain, white
envelope. There was a stamp, and even a
postmark.
That postmark that was
only two days old.
It had to be a joke,
right?
Someone had to know about
Cherish, about what had happened to her.
Right?
“Felicia…”
My secretary was still
watching me.
“There are students you
need to meet with. From the Wheaton Prep
Prom Committee.”
Prom… Prom…
I had things to focus
on.
I crumpled up the letter
and tossed it into the trashcan.
No time for jokes.
No comments:
Post a Comment