Page 43 of Halo

I may have had something to do with Grady’s retaliation. Thankfully, both Mr. Torres and Leah found the misunderstanding amusing.

Note to self: be careful what you say around this kid.

Once the meeting concludes, Leah slips out to attend her teaching duties as the vice principal escorts us to the front office.

His secretary interrupts us again. “Mr. Torres, the principal needs a hand with something.”

“Never a dull moment.” He chuckles. “Excuse me.”

Grady and I make our way toward the front doors, but then he stops me with an outstretched hand.

My eyebrows furrow. “What's this for?”

“We're supposed to hold hands when we walk outside.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” I take his tiny hand in mine before continuing toward the front doors. At this rate, this kid is going to have me wrapped around his little finger by the time we leave the parking lot.

“Alright, partner.” I adjust my grip. “Let's get you some lunch and back to your mommy.”

We start down the hallway together, but an abrupt clatter causes both of us to stop and look back. Leah stands frozen in the middle of the hallway, her arms overloaded with books, folders, and paperwork, while a box of crayons has spilled across the floor at her feet.

Grady lets go of my hand, dropping to his knees to collect the crayons. I follow suit, slipping the broken pieces back into the flimsy box.

“Do you need some help?” I ask, gesturing to the massive amount of supplies in her hands.

Leah chuckles. “If you don't mind just tossing the box of crayons on top.”

“Are you sure?”

“I've got it.”

“Do you?”

She huffs out a laugh. “I promise, I’m good. It's a short walk. I normally have a rolling chair with me when I'm making a lot of copies like this, but today—” she looks down at Grady, picking up the last crayon—“today had a lot of excitement.”

I wrestle with the lid as I cram another crayon in the box. “That box has seen better days.”

“School supplies have this remarkable feature of growing legs and disappearing.” She chuckles. “I keep my eyes peeled in the lost and found for stray crayons and markers and try to rehome them.”

“What happens if a kid comes looking for—” I hold up the last color—“neon carrots?”

She shrugs. “Snitches get stitches, Mr. Crawford.”

My cheeks ache from my smile as I finish packing up the last crayon and set it on top of her papers.

“Thank you, guys. Grady, that was so helpful.”

He beams a shy smile.

“Y'all have a good afternoon.”

She disappears down the hallway, somehow managing to keep her entire paper skyscraper from collapsing.

“She likes dinosaurs, too,” Grady announces.

I chuckle. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” He holds his hand out for me again. “She's really nice. I like her.”