Weeks dragged by. The school authorities, and occasionally the police, were called several times, but since nobody had ever caught them doing the mischief, there wasn’t much that could be done. Parents either made excuses or shrugged helplessly; the boys spun lies with swift tongues. Ravaged gardens became the new norm.
One night, the boys took the wind chimes adorning Magnolia’s porch—the one that her late husband had given her. She found the broken pieces scattered on her walkway at sunrise. She clenched them in her palm. To an onlooker, she might’ve looked pitiful, but the more discerning might’ve caught the resolve in her eyes.