My 12-year-old son carried his wheelchair-bound friend on his back during a camping trip so he wouldn’t feel excluded—then the next day, the principal called me and said, “You need to come to school right away.”

“We talked about what Leo did, and we agreed on something. We wanted to recognize what you did for our late general’s son.”

Leo looked up, cautious now, but no longer afraid.

Carlson held out a small box.

“We’ve set up a scholarship fund in your name. It’ll be there when you’re ready. Any college you choose.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard.

“What?” I whispered.