"Yes. And before she talks to anyone official — police, board authorities — she needs legal support. Does she have a lawyer?"
"My husband is a lawyer," Lakshmi said. "He's been helping her prepare. He thinks she should go to the State Board examination authority directly — not the police, not a journalist. The Board has jurisdiction and an independent investigation mandate and they don't have any reason to protect a Pune private school."
"That's exactly right," Naina said. "When can she come back?"
"She's been ready to come back for a week," Lakshmi said. "She just — she was waiting. For what, she said she'd know when it happened." A pause. "Maybe this was what she was waiting for."
"Tell her I'm a substitute teacher from Mumbai and I have absolutely no stake in this school's reputation and I have photographs of everything in that drawer and I am very angry about what happened to her," Naina said. "Tell her I'll meet her wherever she wants, whenever she wants, and we'll figure out the rest together."
A silence. Then, faint in the background — another voice, a woman's, asking something. Lakshmi answering. The muffled consultation of two sisters.
Then Lakshmi came back. "She wants to know one thing. She wants to know how the students are."
Naina thought about thirty children, too quiet, too coordinated, managing a silence that was too heavy for them. She thought about Meera's face when she almost broke. She thought about Rohan's mouth, half-open, and Ananya at his elbow. She thought about Dev in the tea shop with his untouched chai and his adult-tired face.
"They're good kids," she said. "They're scared. But they're good kids." She paused. "Tell her they'll be okay. Tell her she should come home."
The second silence from Kavitha's end — longer this time. Then Lakshmi's voice, steady: "She's coming."
