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Greyson
Then...
Right before the class ends, I fire off a quick text to Sanford:Meet me at the music room during recess.I promise it won’t take me the entire hour.
Once the bell rings, I run to my locker to grab lunch and scurry through the crowded hallways toward the art building.
As I arrive, I spot Sanford.His shoulders press against the wall.“You’re late,” he teases me.
My eyes rove over his basketball shorts, and I quip, “You had gym class.That’s practically next door.”
He releases a laugh.“Come on, kid, show me what you got.”
Though his nickname could be dismissive, it never was.He’s only a few years older and one of my cousin Grace’s best friends.Technically, he could be like an older cousin like her, but he’s a friend.His nickname for me is endearing.
Drawing in a breath that tastes like anticipation, I tap my temple lightly.“There’s a melody stuck in here,” I confess.My words come out fast with anticipation.“It’s caught, desperate for release.If I don’t do it now, I’ll be too distracted for my test.”
“What kind of test?”he asks, as if that’s more important than the notes dancing inside my head.
“History.”
He rolls his eyes, a flicker of humor returning.“You’ll ace it, but let’s get this done fast.”
I nod and reach for the handle, pushing the door open.Creating music is one of my favorite things, but there’s something about having Sanford help me that makes everything unique.
“Let me search for music sheets before we start,” Sanford suggests, his voice echoing softly.But then we freeze.There, nestled in a corner, is a tiny figure hunched over a book, her presence almost invisible.
She’s just a girl, but how old is she?Her hair is an onyx waterfall pulled back in a subdued ponytail.Her hands cradle the book like it’s her most precious possession, her eyes reflecting the stories dancing within its pages.
From this distance, she seems delicate, even fragile.She reminds me of an exquisitely crafted doll pushed into a corner like a forgotten relic.
“Hi,” Sanford calls softly, not wanting to scare her.She peeks at us over the worn cover of her book, apprehension swimming in her dark, wide eyes.
“Why’re you here?”I ask, keeping my voice low, threading it with an undercurrent of warmth.
She stares at us, and I notice her hands trembling.
“It’s okay,” San assures her.“We’re just here to play music.I’m just wondering why you’re not in the library since you have a book and not an instrument.”
Her gaze flickers toward the book.A small smile graces her lips.“It’s a long story.”
Closing the gap between us, I sit on the cold hardwood floor.“Well, we have all recess to hear it.”
“We do.”Sanford follows suit, settling next to me.
She swallows, her words barely above a whisper.“I ...I didn’t bring any lunch.The last time they provided food and called my mom.They scolded her, made her pay ...”Her voice trails off.
“So you don’t want anyone to know,” Sanford concludes, his voice a mix of understanding and frustration.She nods, her silence more poignant than any words she could utter.
She nods.“They’ll call Mom and upset her,” she finally says.“I’d rather save her the hassle.”
Her confession hangs heavy, tugging at the strings of my heart.There’s an inherent plea in her wide eyes, a silent request that both scares and moves me.I want to save her, do anything to ensure that she doesn’t hurt, that no one breaks her.
“Would you like something to eat?”I ask at the same time Sanford offers, “We won’t tell, but why don’t you let us help you?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip.After a few moments says, “But I don’t have money to repay you.”
Sanford springs to his feet.“I’ll be right back.”I shoot him a questioning glance.“I know where to get enough food for the three of us.You stay with her, okay?”
