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“Should we report this to Ainsley?”she asks.
I shake my head.“It’s probably a one-time thing.Though I learned her mom and Mrs.Bradley don’t get along.”
“In any case, tell your new friend that she’s always welcome here if she needs a meal,” she suggests, the stream of compassion that has always defined her clearly evident.
I receive a text from Beacon to hurry because his grandfather is almost outside my house, ready to pick me up.I gather everything I have to take to school, kiss Mom’s cheek, and say, “Thank you, Mom, I will.”
“Be good at school,” she calls after me.
The second thebell chimes for recess, I leave the classroom and head to my locker to gather the food.This time, I’m in the main building, so I have to run toward the music room.My heart pounds a steady beat in my chest.As I approach, I catch sight of Greyson leaning against the corridor wall.
“Is she there?”I pant out, taking in gulps of air as I try to recover my breathing.
Greyson gives a solemn nod, his eyes holding mine.“Yeah, I saw her slipping in a few minutes ago,” he murmurs, his fingers tapping out an anxious rhythm.“We need to approach this right.No sudden movements.”
“She’s not a puppy,” I retort, half amused, half irritated at his caution.But deep down, I know he’s right.
“Obviously,” he responds, rolling his eyes for added effect.“Mom just advised me to tread softly.”
I gasp.“You told your mom?”
“Yeah.She advised we should keep a close watch on her, and if we ever suspect she’s being mistreated or neglected, we must report it immediately.”
I nod in agreement.Our ballerina reminds me of a small bird, probably a hummingbird.Fragile and in need of extra protection.This is like a secret mission, where we guard the ballerina but also ensure that she comes out of her hidden corner and begins to make friends.
“We’re not just offering her food,” I say, my voice firm.“We’re offering her friendship and a safe space.”
His face splits into a slow, understanding grin.“Exactly what Mom and Pa said.Dad, though, was hell-bent on calling child protective services.”
My eyes snap open in surprise.“Would he really?”
“Mom convinced him to wait.She hypothesized that her mother might be going through a rough financial patch.Offering her meals might alleviate their burdens a bit.We don’t want to inadvertently heighten the family stress,” he says.
I sigh, knowing that some adults support what we’re doing, and believe she’ll be okay.
Greyson and I step into the music room.The petite figure in the corner lifts her head from her book at the sound of our entrance, her dark eyes widening with surprise.
“Hi,” I start, my voice deliberately softened.“We thought you might like to share lunch with us.”
Her gaze ping-pongs between Greyson and me, her lean shoulders hunched slightly as if bracing herself to bolt.My heart clenches at her unease.I remind myself to be patient and give her time.
“We’ve got all kinds of food,” Greyson says.A friendly smile tugs at his lips as he slides down on the floor close to her, crossing his legs.“Sanford’s mom makes the best sandwiches.You have to try them.”
The corners of her mouth stretch slightly as her eyes dance with humor.The room is suddenly brighter.She shifts, edging a tad closer to us, her eyes still awash with uncertainty but with a noticeable reduction in fear.
“And grapes,” Grey adds, pulling out a bag filled with the green tasty marbles.Her gaze flickers to the fruit and then to me, her guard lowering.
Deciding to give her more room, I walk to where they sit and spread out the food we brought as I talk.“You can choose whatever you want.We have plenty of food.Afterward, you can dance while Greyson tries to compose a song.”
Her eyes spark at the mention of music.Greyson grins at me, and I know we’ve hit the right chord.
ChapterNineteen
Greyson
Now...
By day three, we learned her name and that she loved reading even more than she did dancing.However, it wasn’t until a full three weeks of seeing her every day during recess that we were able to coax her away from the music room.
