The note in June’s lunchbox is polite. That makes it worse.
Please remove your child’s face before school tomorrow. We have asked several times.
At first, her mother assumes it’s a cruel joke. Then June tells her about a classroom drill no parent was warned about: when the announcements say your name twice, leave your face on your desk.
June’s won’t come off.
As familiar faces become impossible to trust, her mother takes her and runs. But something follows them—something that knows their routines, speaks in their voices, and insists she took the wrong child.
She would recognize her own daughter anywhere.
She’s certain of it.
Until June asks how she knows she’s the right mother.