“When ‘It’s Not Mine’ Isn’t Enough”

It was just another Monday morning at Salem Elementary. Lori and Linus had barely stepped through the school gates when a voice called out behind them.

“Yo! Hold up!”

Ben, the new kid, had spotted Lori’s bright pink briefcase from across the drop-off circle. Now he was jogging toward them, gripping his backpack like it might fall apart.

He’d only been at Salem a few days, but he walked like he owned the place. He was bigger than most of the fifth graders and talked like everyone should already know his name.

“Hey,” he said, nodding at her. “Can you hold something real quick? I’ve gotta drop off my tryout papers to Coach Hardaway. I heard he’s always checking bags.”

Before Lori could answer, Linus stepped in, sensing the boy was up to no good.

“My sister’s not getting in trouble for you,” he said, arms crossed. “Lori’s too smart for that.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Hold up, little man. I wasn’t even talkin’ to you.”

Lori didn’t blink. “He’s right,” she said coolly. “I don’t hold things I don’t know about.”

From behind a bike rack, Mikey Maybe leaned out with a smirk. “Looks like you asked the wrong kid.”

Ben shot him a look but didn’t argue. He shoved whatever it was deeper into his backpack and scanned the crowd for someone else.

Mikey, still watching, gave a small nod and pointed. “You want somebody who’s gonna say yes? Try her.”

Ben followed his gaze.

Amina was talking to Larry near the side entrance, smiling, her backpack halfway unzipped.

Ben adjusted his backpack and walked over. “Excuse me,” he said, sliding up beside her. “Can I ask you for a favor? Just real quick?”

She blinked, a little surprised. “Um… okay?”

“I just need you to hold something in your bag. I’ve gotta drop off my tryout papers to Coach Hardaway. I heard he’s always checking bags. If he sees it, I’m done.”

“What is it?” she asked with wide eyes.

Ben glanced around, then pulled back a flap of cloth in his hand just enough for Amina to see the pocketknife tucked inside.

Larry caught a glimpse of the knife and quickly backed away.

Amina’s eyes widened. “I don’t know…” she said slowly. “Isn’t that—like—not allowed?”

“It’s just a pocketknife,” Ben said. “My uncle gave it to me. I forgot it was in my bag. I didn’t want to toss it. You’d really help me out.”

Amina paused.

Ben gave her a half-smile. “Everyone says you’re really cool.”

Amina blushed, then slipped the pocketknife into the front pocket of her backpack.

A few minutes later, she was in class.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of pencils and the soft hum of computers.

Amina sat by the window, working on a math assignment. She reached into her backpack for her notebook when she tugged too hard on the front pocket. Something clattered to the floor.

A few heads turned. Amina froze. So did the room. It was the pocketknife.

For a second, no one moved. Then Mrs. Harrell, their teacher, walked over and picked it up carefully.

“Whose is this?” she asked, holding it by the handle.

Amina looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“It’s not mine,” she said quickly. “I—I was just holding it for someone else. He said he’d come back for it.”

Mrs. Harrell looked at her gently. “But was it in your belongings?”

Amina nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

Mrs. Harrell sighed. “I believe you, sweetie. But you know I have to send you to the office. School policy.”

The class stayed silent as the assistant principal arrived. Amina was asked to bring her things and follow. She walked out with her head down.

The assistant principal’s office smelled like pencils and floor polish. Amina sat on the edge of a chair, her backpack at her feet and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Across the desk, Mrs. McCall flipped through a clipboard of incident forms. She had a kind face but didn’t smile this time.

“I want to be clear,” she said. “The school’s policy says that bringing a weapon to school—whether it’s a knife, a toy that looks like a weapon, or anything else on the banned list—leads to automatic suspension.”

Amina swallowed hard. “But I didn’t bring it. It wasn’t mine.”

Mrs. McCall nodded. “That’s what you were telling me. That someone asked you to hold it for them?”

“Yes. His name is Ben. He’s new. He said he had to drop something off with Coach Hardaway.”

“Do you have any way to prove that?”

Amina shook her head. “No. But it’s the truth.”

“Was anyone else around who might’ve seen it?”

Amina hesitated. “Larry, but… he’s not going to say anything. That’s why everybody calls him Larry Look-the-Other-Way.”

“Let’s bring Ben down,” Mrs. McCall said as she motioned to the school resource officer. She continued questioning Amina.

A few minutes later, Ben appeared. He slid into the chair like he had better places to be.

“Did you ask Amina to hold this knife for you?” Mrs. McCall asked, showing a photo.

Ben squinted at it like he’d never seen it before. “What? No. I asked her to hold my money so I wouldn’t lose it. But she wouldn’t.”

He added, “I think her brother has one like it.”

Amina’s mouth dropped. “Wh-? I don’t even have a brother! You gave that to me right before class!”

Ben didn’t blink.

Mrs. McCall looked Ben up and down. She sighed.

“Amina, with no witness and no way to prove otherwise, the school has to follow the rules. It was in your bag.”

Amina lowered her head.

“You’ll be suspended for three days. I’ll call your parents.”

Later, Amina sat on the bench outside the office, hugging her backpack like it might still protect her. Her shirt collar was crumpled, and her eyes were red.

Lori walked by. She had heard what happened. And she knew Amina wouldn’t have brought a knife to school.

She sat down beside her, gently placing her briefcase on the floor. Amina didn’t look up.

“I didn’t even bring it to school,” she whispered. “That’s the part I don’t get. The rule says if you bring something like that, you get suspended. But I didn’t. It wasn’t even mine.”

Lori nodded slowly. “I know.”

Amina looked at her, eyes watery. “You’re always talking about fairness—but this isn’t fair, is it?”

Lori sat for a moment, thinking.

“Wait a second—let me check something.” She slid her briefcase closer, unlatched the golden scales, and pulled out her worn, dog-eared Little Book of Big Lessons. She flipped through the pages, her finger trailing down a list of scribbled notes.

“Here it is,” she said, tapping the page. “It’s what the lawyer who lives by the park once told me. He said sometimes it doesn’t matter whether something is actually yours. If you’re caught with something illegal or something that breaks the rules, you can still get in trouble, even if you were just holding it for someone else.”

“Even for a little while?” Amina asked.

Lori added more softly, “Even for a little while. It’s all about what the law calls possession. That just means if you’re holding it or if it’s in your stuff, it can count as yours.” She paused. “Grown-ups can even end up in jail for holding something bad that doesn’t belong to them.”

Amina’s eyes widened.

“I could tell Mrs. McCall Ben tried to give me something, too,” she offered. “But I didn’t see what it was.”

Amina shook her head. “It won’t matter.” She wiped her eyes. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know. You were just being nice. But my mom says being nice doesn’t mean doing something that can hurt you.”

Lori tucked her notebook back into her briefcase, then locked arms with her.

“But don’t worry. “While you’re out, I’ll stop by after school every day and tell you everything—like whatever Mikey Maybe is up to, or if Principal Todd is wearing another weird eagle tie. I’ll even bring cookies.”

Amina finally looked up. “Thanks, Lori. But I knew it was wrong. I should’ve listened to what you always say—‘Make the right choice.’ If I had, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Lori smiled. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes. My mom says we just have to learn from them.”

She placed her hand on Amina’s back. “So next time somebody asks you to hold something fishy, just say, ‘No way—I’m doing the right thing with Lori Legal!’”

Amina looked up at Lori, unsure if she was supposed to laugh. After all, she was in trouble. Then, almost against her will, a giggle slipped out as she buried her face in her hands. “You did not just say that.”

Lori grinned and leaned in. “I had to say it. It’s in my contract.” (Lori winks.)