Chapter 6
Dad sat down as though his legs could no longer hold him.
He stared at the photograph.
“I remember him now.”
Mom sat beside him.
“Marcus?”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“He came to the transportation office during a district outreach event.”
I watched his face.
“He said the school wanted to improve transportation for students attending evening programs.”
Grandma frowned.
“And you gave him your identification?”
Dad nodded miserably.
“He said it was required for the volunteer verification form.”
Angela asked for the date.
Dad tried to remember.
“Last spring. Maybe April.”
She wrote it down.
“Did you sign anything?”
Dad hesitated.
“A volunteer application.”
My stomach twisted.
“Could they have used it?”
Angela answered carefully.
“It's possible someone copied personal information or misused a signature. We need to establish what happened.”
Dad looked devastated.
“I should have been more careful.”
I moved beside him.
“Daddy, you were trying to help.”
He gave me a sad smile.
“Sounds familiar.”
For the first time in days, I almost laughed.
But the relief didn't last.
The following morning, Mrs. Caroline Price arrived at Angela's office.
She was sixty-four, with silver braids and sharp eyes.
She carried a canvas bag filled with folders.
When she saw Grandma, they embraced.
Then Caroline looked at me.
“So you're Maya.”
I nodded.
She studied my face.
“I'm sorry you've been caught in this.”
My throat tightened.
“Do you know what happened?”
She sighed.
“I know enough to be worried.”
We gathered around the conference table.
Caroline explained that she had worked in school district finance for more than two decades.
During her final years, she noticed unusual scholarship disbursements.
Payments were being issued to vendors she didn't recognize.
Some student recipients appeared in records despite no longer attending district schools.
She questioned the entries.
But her supervisor told her they had been approved by the superintendent's office.
When she requested supporting documents, she was told to stop interfering.
“Who told you that?” Angela asked.
Caroline looked directly at her.
“Richard Vale.”
My stomach dropped.
She continued.
“He was working as an outside financial consultant.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Did he have access to employee information?”
“Yes.”
“Signature records?”
“Potentially.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Caroline opened another folder.
“I kept copies of certain reports because I believed the discrepancies needed independent review.”
Angela examined the documents.
Some contained payment summaries.
Others showed vendor approval dates.
Then Caroline pointed to a highlighted entry.
“Bennett Transportation Services.”
My heart pounded.
She looked at Dad.
“That company was added after I retired.”
Dad nodded.
“I never owned it.”
Caroline sighed.
“I believe you.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
She looked at me gently.
“Because the payment pattern started before anyone had reason to use your father's name.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Caroline placed another document on the table.
There were several unfamiliar company names.
All linked to school district payments.
She explained that shell vendors might be used to hide improper transfers.
One could be abandoned if questions arose.
Another could take its place.
Angela cautioned that the records alone did not prove every company was fraudulent.
But the pattern demanded investigation.
Then Caroline said something that made me freeze.
“I believe Bennett Transportation Services was created to replace another vendor.”
“What vendor?” Dad asked.
She turned a page.
“Carter Student Support.”
Tiana's last name.
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Mom.
Then at Angela.
“Does that mean Tiana's family is involved?”
Caroline shook her head.
“Not necessarily. Someone may be using their name too.”
I thought about Denise.
Her frightened voice.
The man at her apartment.
The fabricated disciplinary records.
It all began to make a terrible kind of sense.
Someone wasn't simply stealing.
They were creating false trails leading toward innocent families.
And when those families became inconvenient, they were threatened.
Angela asked Caroline whether she would provide the records to investigators.
Caroline nodded.
“I've waited years for someone to ask.”
That afternoon, Angela arranged for Dad to report suspected identity theft.
She also helped prepare a formal complaint concerning the school's handling of my supposed confession.
The district acknowledged receipt.
An independent review was requested.
I wanted to feel relieved.
Instead, I felt more frightened.
Because every step toward the truth seemed to reveal another person who might be involved.
That evening, I sat on my bedroom floor with Tiana.
Her mother had finally allowed her to visit.
We spread school notebooks across the carpet.
For the first time in weeks, we tried to do homework.
But neither of us could concentrate.
Tiana stared at a math problem.
“I used to think the worst thing about school was chemistry.”
I laughed weakly.
“Same.”
She looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
I hesitated.
Then shook my head.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Me neither.”
We sat quietly.
Then she reached for my hand.
“I thought you were going to hate me.”
I looked up.
“Why?”
“Because I showed you the records.”
My heart tightened.
“Tiana, you didn't do anything wrong.”
“Neither did you.”
I stared at her.
It was easier to believe that about her.
Harder to believe it about myself.
She squeezed my hand.
“We were trying to help people.”
I nodded.
Then my phone buzzed.
A notification from the school district.
My student account had been suspended pending an administrative review.
I stared at the screen.
Tiana leaned closer.
“What happened?”
I showed her.
Her face changed.
“They can't do that.”
But they had.
I couldn't access assignments.
My school email stopped working.
My student portal showed an error.
And the scholarship application I had spent months preparing was no longer visible.
I felt tears rising.
“I'm losing everything.”
Tiana shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
She stood.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Your parents.”
I followed her into the living room.
Dad read the notification.
His expression hardened.
Mom immediately called Angela.
Grandma took notes.
Nobody blamed me.
Nobody told me I had caused trouble.
They simply began figuring out what to do.
It was the first time in my life I truly understood what people meant when they said family was supposed to be a team.
The next morning, Angela received a response from the district's legal office.
My suspension from the student portal was described as a temporary technical hold.
But Angela had another piece of news.
A district employee had contacted her privately.
Someone who claimed to possess additional documents.
Someone who wanted to meet without Dr. Whitmore knowing.
Angela wouldn't tell us the person's name yet.
She wanted to verify their identity first.
But that evening, as we sat together at the dining table, her phone rang.
I watched her answer.
Her expression changed.
She listened for nearly a minute.
Then she looked at Dad.
“Marcus, we have a serious development.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened?”
Angela took a breath.
“The person who contacted me works in the district's records office.”
She paused.
“And they say they have proof that Maya's confession was prepared before Maya was ever called into the principal's office.”
I stared at her.
The room went silent.
Then Dad slowly turned toward me.
May you like
His eyes filled with tears.
“Baby,” he whispered, “they planned this.”
