We needed an adult. A trustworthy one. But who?
Luna provided the answer. As we argued, she was staring at the forged permits, her eyes fixed on a name signed at the bottom of the real one: the head of the environmental board at the time.
"Ms. Liza," she said softly.
We both turned to her. "What?"
"Her mother," Luna said. "Before she married, her name was Liza Dimaculangan. That's her mother's signature."
Our kind, gentle History teacher was the daughter of the woman who had legitimately approved the original permits? The woman whose signature had been forged?
It was a thread, thin but strong. Ms. Liza had chosen to teach history. She valued truth. And she had a very personal stake in this.
We had to trust someone. She was our only choice.