“When ‘It’s Not Mine’ Isn’t Enough”

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Lori reads everything—even the back of cereal boxes!

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!”

Jason, 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 Lori. “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.”

Jason 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.”

Jason 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.”

Jason followed his gaze.

Kayla was talking to Larry near the side entrance, smiling. Her backpack, decorated with red hearts, was halfway unzipped.

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

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

“I just need you to hold something in your bag until I make it back. 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.

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

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

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

“It’s just a pocketknife,” Jason 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.”

Kayla paused.

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

Kayla 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.

Kayla 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. Kayla 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.

Kayla 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?”

Kayla 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. Kayla 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. Kayla 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.”

Kayla swallowed hard. “But I didn’t bring it. It isn’t mine.”

Mrs. McCall nodded. “That’s what you keep saying. That someone asked you to hold it for them?”

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

“Do you have any way to prove that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason 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 a knife like it.”

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

Jason didn’t blink.

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

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

Kayla lowered her head.

“You’ll be suspended for three days,” Mrs. McCall announced. “I’ll call your parents.”

Later, Kayla 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 Kayla wouldn’t have brought a knife to school.

She sat down beside her, gently placing her briefcase on the floor. Kayla 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.”

Kayla 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?” Kayla 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.”

Kayla’s eyes widened.

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

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

“I know. You were just being nice,” Lori agreed. “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 Kayla.

“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.”

Kayla 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 Kayla’s shoulder. “So next time somebody asks you to hold something fishy, just say, ‘No way—I’m doing the right thing with Lori Legal!’”

Kayla 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.)