“Mr. Harmon,” I said. “No. It was worth way more than that. I owe you at least a hundred and eighty.”
Walt shook his head.
“You know what this shop is called?” he said.
“Second Chances,” Nolan said.
“That’s right,” Walt said. “And this young man stood up in a courtroom and told the truth when every grown-up in the room was lying. I’d say that’s worth a second chance.”
Nolan turned around and held up the locket.
“Mom,” he said. “Can I give it to you on Mother’s Day? It’s in three weeks. I want to wrap it.”
I knelt down on the pawn shop floor and hugged him so hard he squeaked.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, you can.”
Part Twelve: The Secret Pocket
On Mother’s Day, Nolan gave me a small box wrapped in blue paper with silver stars he’d drawn himself.
Inside was my grandmother’s locket. He’d polished it with my mother’s jewelry cloth until it shone.
When I opened it, the two old wedding photographs were still there. My grandparents in 1952. Young and smiling and holding on to each other.
But he’d added something else. Tucked into the tiny space behind the photographs was a small folded piece of paper.
I unfolded it carefully.
It was a strip of notebook paper, cut very small. In Nolan’s careful second-grade handwriting, it said:
Mom loves me more than all the stars. That’s the truth. I checked.
I read it three times. Then I folded it back up and tucked it behind the photographs, and I closed the locket and put it around my neck.
I haven’t taken it off since.
It’s been a year now.
