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That night, Leo shut himself in his room.
The story spread through town.
For three days, that was where he stayed.
He came out to use the bathroom, refill water, grab toast, and go right back in. I heard typing at all hours. Fast, relentless, mechanical.
I knocked once and asked if he wanted soup. He said no. I asked if he was sleeping. He said enough.
On the third night, the door opened.
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He held out a small USB drive.
For three days, that was where he stayed.
“Mom. Take this to the bake sale. Everyone will be… surprised by what’s on there.”
I stared at it. “What is this?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
He met my gaze, and for the first time all week, I saw anger there.
“Of everything.”
“What is this?”
The Spring Bake Sale filled the gym wall to wall.
Kids ran between folding tables covered in brownies, cupcakes, lemon bars, and pies. Someone had strung paper flowers around the basketball hoops.
At the front of the room stood Rhonda, holding a microphone.
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