Then he saved the message.
He didn't know whether Dad finally believed him.
But he knew something had changed.
For the first time, our father had asked him to report a problem without going through our stepmother.
That small opening would save me three days later.
The night before the confrontation, I saw the documents myself.
I wasn't searching for them.
I'd gone downstairs because I couldn't find the stuffed rabbit I slept with every night.
My stepmother had taken it from my bedroom earlier, saying I was too old to need a comfort toy.
I thought she might have put it in her office.
The house was quiet.
Dad was upstairs preparing for an early meeting.
My brother was in his room.
I walked down the hallway and found the office door partly open.
The light was on.
A folder lay on the desk.
Its cover had my name written across it.
I knew I shouldn't touch anything.
But I saw a photograph of myself clipped to the first page.
I moved closer.
The photograph had been taken at school.
I was smiling.
Beneath it were several printed documents.
I recognized the name of the residential school from the brochure.
Then I saw my father's signature at the bottom of a page.
It looked like the signature he put on birthday cards and school forms.
But something about the writing seemed strange.
My father usually made the final letter of his signature with a long line.
This one stopped abruptly.
I didn't know what that meant.
Then I noticed another page.
It contained a date.
The following day.
Beside the date was a time and a notation about arrival arrangements.
I became frightened.
Then I heard footsteps.
My stepmother appeared in the doorway.
Her expression changed instantly.
"What are you doing?"
I froze.
"I was looking for my bunny."
She walked toward me.
Then she saw the folder.
Her face hardened.
"Did you touch those papers?"
I shook my head.
She grabbed the folder.
"You're not allowed in here."
"I'm sorry."
She stepped closer.
"Did you read anything?"
I started crying.
"I don't know."
She stared at me.
Then she knelt until her face was close to mine.
"Listen carefully."
I nodded.
"Those are adult documents. If you tell your father you were snooping, he'll be very disappointed."
I swallowed.
She continued.
"And if you mention that school again, I'll make sure you go there sooner."
I began sobbing.