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Chapter 10 - THE CANE BECAME EVIDENCEGrace’s cane had scratches from being dragged across stone.

One section of reflective tape had been peeled off by students.

Her mother wanted to replace it immediately.

Grace said no.

Not yet.

The cane became evidence.

Photographs.

Measurements.

Security-video matching.

Then, after investigations were complete, Grace replaced it.

She chose a new cane with a purple grip.

Her old one stayed in a storage box.

Not displayed.

Not made into a symbol by adults without her permission.

One afternoon, she told me:

“I hate when people call it brave.”

“What?”

“Using the stairs.”

I smiled slightly.

“Why?”

“Because sighted kids use stairs and nobody writes essays about them.”

Fair.

Then:

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“I just want people to stop stealing my cane.”

Even fairer.

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