Carly didn't say anything.
"In May of 1996," Mrs. Fjelstad said, "the Lakeview Field Day was on a Friday, like today. The stars were given at the end, like today. That morning your mother came to pick you up at about eleven-thirty, because your sister had a regional skating competition in the Cities that weekend and they wanted to get on the road. I remember because your mother came into the classroom to sign you out, and she had a box of cupcakes from the Super One with her. Pink ones. They were for the skating club. There was a send-off party at the rink before they all drove down in a caravan." She paused. "You asked her if you could stay until the end. She said no. You asked her if you could stay until two, then, just until the stars. She said no. Then you asked her if you could have one of the cupcakes, because you'd seen them, and she said they were for the team and she'd counted, and that you needed to stop thinking about yourself for once because this was your sister's big weekend. And you said okay."
Carly made a small sound.
"I was standing at that window," Mrs. Fjelstad said, and pointed. "I watched you walk out to the car behind her. You were carrying your own backpack and your sister's skate bag. I had your star in my pocket. I'd been going to give it to you in front of everybody. I thought about running out to the parking lot. I thought about it for a long time afterward. But I was twenty-nine, and it was my sixth year teaching, and I told myself it wasn't my place. I told myself I'd give it to you on Monday. And on Monday you were sick, and then it was the last week, and I mailed a note home asking if your mother could come in, and she never did. And then you were gone."
"I don't remember that," Carly said. Her voice was flat. "I don't remember any of that."
"No," said Mrs. Fjelstad. "I don't expect you do. You were seven. But I remembered it. I've had a lot of children in thirty-six years, and you'd be surprised which ones stay with you. You stayed with me. I used to look for you. I'd see a girl in the grocery store who was about the right age and I'd wonder." She rocked a little. "And then last September I looked at my class list and saw Elsie's emergency contact form, and there was your name, and your mother's maiden name written underneath it, because the form asks for it. And I thought, well. There she is."
"Did you know that the whole year?" I said. "That it was Carly?"
"I knew."
"Why didn't you say something?"