At first, I didn’t understand. Then another parent, Jill, came over and filled in the rest.
She told me the trail was six miles long and difficult. It had steep climbs, loose ground, and narrow paths where every step mattered. That all sounded reasonable… until she added, “Leo carried Sam on his back the entire way!”
My stomach dropped as I tried to imagine it.
“According to my daughter, Sam said Leo kept telling him, ‘Hold on, I’ve got you,’” Jill continued. “He kept shifting his weight and refused to stop.”
I looked at my son again. His legs were still trembling.
Then Leo’s teacher, Mr. Dunn, approached us, his expression tight.
“Sarah, your son broke protocol by taking a different route. It was dangerous! We had clear instructions. Students who couldn’t complete the trail were to remain at the campsite!”
“I understand, and I’m so sorry,” I replied quickly, even as my hands began to shake.
But beneath that, something else rose. Pride.
Dunn wasn’t the only one upset. From the way the other teachers looked at us, I could tell they weren’t impressed with Leo.
Since no one had been hurt, I thought that was the end of it.
Again, I was wrong.
