Chapter 17 - Sophie’s StorySophie Daniels became a reporter.
Of course she did.
Her first major investigation involved a county youth organization hiding complaints against a popular director.
The parallels bothered her.
She called Katherine.
“I’m scared I’m turning everybody into Hailey.”
“Then don’t.”
“Helpful.”
“Look for what is actually there.”
“What if I miss something?”
“You will.”
“That’s awful.”
“You’re human.”
Sophie sighed.
Katherine continued.
“Correct when evidence changes.”
The old lesson.
Sophie’s investigation eventually showed negligence but not the criminal conspiracy rumors suggested.
Her article was praised for restraint.
She sent Katherine the link.
Katherine replied:
Boring. Excellent.
Sophie printed the message.
At a journalism conference, Sophie met Hailey by accident.
Hailey worked for a nonprofit communications firm by then.
They recognized each other immediately.
Awkward silence.
Then Sophie said:
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Neither mentioned the video.
Eventually Hailey asked:
“Do you still have it?”
Sophie knew what she meant.
“No.”
“The school?”
“Deleted after retention expired.”
Hailey looked down.
“Good.”
Sophie waited.
Hailey added:
“I used to think the video ruined my life.”
“And now?”
“It showed what I did.”
Sophie nodded.
“That’s different.”
“Yeah.”
They had coffee.
Not friends.
Two adults with shared history.
Hailey apologized again.
Sophie stopped her.
“I wasn’t the person on the floor.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t make me your route to Ms. Reed.”
Hailey smiled sadly.
“She taught you boundaries too?”
“Unfortunately.”
They laughed.
Sophie told Katherine about the encounter months later.
“Was that okay?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know.”
Katherine smiled.
“You get to have relationships I don’t supervise.”
“That sounds suspiciously healthy.”
“Don’t spread it.”
Katherine’s life had expanded.
She and Paul traveled.
She learned to hike again, slowly.
The ankle hurt on steep descents.
She accepted trekking poles.
Equipment.
Not defeat.
At a mountain overlook, Paul took a photograph.
Katherine looked strong.
Then hated herself for thinking the photograph proved anything.
She deleted the thought, not the picture.
At Westbridge, Teacher Appreciation Day came every year.
Flowers.
Cards.
Cookies.
Katherine no longer braced for boxes.
Students knew vaguely that something happened once.
Most did not care.
Good.
One year, a student gave her a gift box containing tea.
Katherine opened it without fear.
That was when she realized the old object had finally lost its charge.
The box was gone.
May you like
The memory remained.
But memory no longer dictated the next moment.
