I Packed My Son’s Lunch Every Morning – It Led the Police Straight to My Door

Safe.

That word should have calmed me, but it didn’t. I kept replaying every possible worst-case scenario in my mind.

Had something happened at school? Did he get into trouble? Did I miss something?

Then they pulled into the school parking lot, and my stomach dropped.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I murmured.

“Why didn’t someone call me first?”

“You’re not in trouble, Meredith,” one of them said. I’d insisted on them calling me by my first name; it felt more… human.

Inside the building, Andrew’s teacher, Mr.

Gellar, stood near the entrance beside a woman I vaguely remembered from the back-to-school meeting. She wore a name badge that read Ms. Whitman — Guidance Counselor, and she smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring but didn’t quite land.

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