It was Jim’s helmet – the one he’d been wearing when the drunk driver hit him, the one the police had returned in a plastic bag, the one I’d hidden in the attic because I couldn’t bear to throw it away.
But it looked different now. Restored. Perfect. Like the accident had never happened.
“I don’t understand,” I said, staring at the helmet in his hands. “How did you—”
“There’s something you need to see,” Bear interrupted gently. “Something we found when we were fixing it. Jim left something inside for the boy. But Tommy needs to wear it to school to get it.”Continue reading…
