The attorney leaned back.
"That's a good place to start."
The following afternoon, the school counselor called.
The father was standing beside a delivery truck at a construction site when his phone rang.
He stepped away from the noise.
The counselor introduced herself and thanked him for reaching out.
Then she explained that the school had noticed several changes during the previous semester.
His daughter had become unusually quiet.
She rarely volunteered answers despite performing well academically.
She sometimes declined classroom snacks.
On two occasions, she had appeared upset after receiving messages about forgotten homework or school materials.
The counselor was careful not to assume a cause.
But there was something else.
"Has your daughter mentioned lunch at home?"
The father frowned.
"No. Why?"
The counselor hesitated.
"She has been asking teachers whether they have leftover food."
He felt his stomach drop.
"How often?"
"Not every day. But enough that we noticed."
He leaned against the truck.
"Was she not getting lunch?"
"She was offered school meals, and we need to review exactly what occurred. Sometimes she brought food from home. Sometimes she used the cafeteria. The pattern wasn't consistent."
He rubbed his forehead.
The counselor continued.
"A teacher reported that she occasionally saved packaged items rather than eating them."
The father closed his eyes.
"What kind of items?"
"Crackers. Granola bars. Fruit."
He remembered the container beneath his daughter's desk.
The counselor's voice softened.
"I'm glad you contacted us. We'd like to meet with you and discuss how best to support her."
He nodded.
"Yes."
They arranged an appointment.
After hanging up, the father remained beside the truck.
A construction worker called his name from across the parking lot.
He waved to acknowledge him.
But he couldn't move immediately.
He thought about his daughter sitting in a school cafeteria, looking at food and wondering whether she should save it for later.
He thought about the boy sharing snacks with her.
He thought about every evening he'd asked, "Did you have a good day?"
And every time she'd answered, "Yes, Daddy."