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“Hey, everybody. This is my friend Hannah.” Nathan finally drops his arms, and the two little climbers tumble off in a mad chorus of giggles.
“Hannah rhymes with banana!”
Through a wild mass of curly red hair, I make out a freckled face and a mouth with one tooth prominently missing.
“That’s right, Chelsea.” Nathan’s praise makes the girl’s spotty grin grow wider. He glances back at me then, his smile nowhere near as innocent as the carrottop’s.
“Don’t you dare, Lucy,” I mutter under my breath, shorting his normal nickname to its more kid-friendly version.
Still, should’ve known that you can’t get anything past kids.
“Lucy is a girl’s name. He’s not Lucy. He’s Nafan.” The child, who so astutely pointed out my name sounds like a yellow fruit, tries her best to correct me. Unfortunately, the lack of all the necessary incisors means herthcomes out as anfsound.
“Of course. You’re right. Silly me.”
The two of us girls share a smile, and I’m forgiven for nicknaming her hero.
Nathan takes pity on me, probably noticing how out of my element I am.
“Why don’t you read a book to whoever wants to listen? This is really just free play until the parents get here.” With two children still wrapped around his ankles, Nathan can’t walk me over to the bookshelf, but he places a hand on my shoulder and turns me until I catch sight of a display of colorful covers.
“I can do that,” I say as I slip away to a quieter corner of the room.
The little redhead, Chelsea, follows after me. Without prompting, she pulls out a thin paperback and pushes it into my hands.
“Dat one. Please.” Her curls bounce as she sits cross-legged on a rug in front of a low stool.
Guess I have my orders.
The next hour consists of me reading book after book to a group of quieter kids while Nathan pretends to be various forms of monsters, chasing the higher-energy students around the room. The other people in the club claim activities like crafts and puppet shows. All the kids are entertained, and I have never been more in awe of teachers and parents.
They do this forhours.
By the time we all pile back into the van, every club member wilts in exhaustion.
Everyone, except for Nathan. If anything, it’s like he absorbed all the energy the kids were wearing off.
“That was fun, right? I think Chelsea liked you. And she’s a hard customer. Took me three weeks to get on her good side. Before that, she’d insisted I had cooties. Now, we’re cool though,” he rambles, facing me, hopefulness radiating from his eyes.
The sight breaks my heart, just a little.
I know what he wanted today to be. This was his attempt at finding a place for me. Making me want to stay.
Problem is, even though Kid Kare is a great club, it’s notmyclub.
I lean in close, keeping my voice low so we don’t disturb the few people in our group who’ve been lulled to sleep by the rumble of the van. “I can see why you love it. Those kids are obsessed with you.”
Nathan follows my lead, losing some of his enthusiasm. “But you didn’t love it … did you?” he asks, not a hint of annoyance in his voice, but definitely a shadow of sadness.
For a moment, I can’t meet his eyes, seeing that disappointment and knowing I could easily get rid of it.
Just say you’ll stay. You don’t have to go.
The traitorous thoughts pound away in my skull, making me ache to give in to them.
But I can’t let myself. I’ve known Nathan for less than a month. Staying just for him would be setting myself up for a painful fall with nothing to cushion my landing.
“It’s okay, Shorty.”
