The entire audience claps politely. Colby claps like she just scored the winning goal in Game Seven.
Loud.
Proud.
Completely unembarrassed.
Jillie glows.
I stare down at my lap because if I look at him too long, my face will reveal things my brain has not approved.
When the classes file offstage, a commotion starts near the side doors. One of the smaller kids begins crying behind the curtain, overwhelmed by the crowd. Teachers move toward him, but Colby is already half-standing.
Then he pauses and looks at me.
Asking.
Always asking.
I nod before I realize I’m doing it.
He moves carefully down the side aisle, crouches near the little boy, and says something too low for me to hear. The child sniffles. Colby pulls a clean tissue from his coat pocket like this is normal equipment for a professional athlete. A minute later, the boy nods, and Colby helps him rejoin his teacher.
Miss Angie mouths thank you with actual tears in her eyes.
Teachers are doomed.
Absolutely doomed.
So is half the cafeteria.
So, apparently, am I.
By the time the final song ends, Briar Cove Elementary has collectively decided Colby Reid is no longer a hockey scandal. He is a community asset.
People crowd around us afterward.
Not aggressively. Just Briar Cove aggressively, which means everyone pretends they are being casual while forming a social semicircle.
“That was kind of you,” Miss Angie tells him.
“My sister used to panic at recitals,” Colby says. “Figured he just needed someone not wearing a teacher badge.”
“You’re very good with children.”
Something flickers in his face. Soft. Almost startled. “Thanks,” he says.
Jillie bursts through the crowd before I can think too much about that expression.
“Did you see my line?”
Colby crouches instantly. “I may have witnessed the greatest delivery of winter-themed dialogue in recorded history.”
She squeals and throws herself into his arms. He catches her… one arm around her back, one hand careful behind her head…like holding her is natural. Like she belongs there.
My lungs forget their job. Around us, phones rise again.
A flash from somewhere near the cafeteria doors. Then another.
