The town had made him into a shadow.
Junie had made him human again in thirty seconds.
That is the power of knowing someone.
Not knowing of them.
Knowing them.
As I left the aisle, Junie called after me.
“Bus lady?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“Can you tell people my uncle is nice?”
Silas closed his eyes.
I looked at that child.
Then at him.
“I’m trying,” I said.
But trying did not feel like enough.
That evening, I sat at my kitchen table and wrote a post of my own.
I typed it.
Deleted it.
Typed it again.
Deleted half.
Added more.
Took out anything that could identify Kinsley.
Took out street names.
Took out the school name.
Took out everything that might turn a child into gossip.
Then I wrote the truth.
Not all of it.
Enough.
I wrote that a student had accidentally posted identifying information online.
