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I stare after her, catching the paper towel.
That woman.
If we weren’t in a kindergarten class ...
Let’s just say I’d make her regret tugging my leash.
I finish wiping my face off, brush my clothing off over the trash can, and return to my seat.
I suppose I can’t give Sara an undecorated letter, so I draw a heart on the front in glitter glue and shake my hair out over it before it dries, filling it in almost completely in silver.
“Done!” Sara crows, holding her card up triumphantly. “All done! It’s for you!”
She thrusts it at me like a weapon.
The thing is soaked in glue, covered in so much glitter it bends in half, but I take it anyway and open it.
The only part that’s legible is my name, and even that’s questionable.
The rest is all squiggles, the number 3, a few hearts, a stick figure, and I think that letter might be an F.
“Great work,” I say, forcing a smile. “What does it say? It’s pretty. You did a good job.”
“It says we’re gonna be friends always, Mr. Auggie!”
She flings herself at me in a hug that almost crumples her card.
I pat her back gently, holding the card away from her so she doesn’t get glue in her hair, but the glitter was a lost cause the moment she hugged me.
She pulls back spangled. Her parents are going to murder me when she goes home like that and infects their house with the silver plague.
“Here you go.” Shaking my head, I pick up my card and offer it to her.
Another shrill, ecstatic squeal. She actually hugs the letter, crumpling it, then pets the glitter heart like she’s petting a cat. “Pretty!”
“Can you read the inside?” I ask.
She opens it sharply and shakes her head.
“I see my name,” she declares. “I know my name!”
“It’s good that you can read your name.” Even if I’m still worried about asphyxiating on glitter, I chuckle. “It says ‘Thank you for being my friend.’”
Her eyes grow round and wide.
“You really mean it?” she whispers. “You mean it, we’re friends?”
“Friends,” I answer firmly, glancing over to watch the other children.
Elle was right, I think.
She has good instincts, and she knew better than I did.
Not only are the kids trading their letters and happily interpreting their squiggles, but they’re happily tottering around to show off their letters to other friends. There might even be new friendships forming.
Writing letters really does bring people together.
Maybe Inky’s time really isn’t past just yet.
