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“Really?”
“What does that mean? I used to help out with the adaptive sports football league in high school.”
“I remember,” he says with a smirk, like he’s pleased to know me as well as he does.
“And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of great at math and science, so I could be a valuable asset to this program.”
“I…” he starts, and I can sense his uneasiness.
“Sorry, if you don’t want me to come, I understand that too. I was just offering—”
“No, no.I’msorry. I’m just…not used to sharing this. It’s something I love, but it also makes me feel closer to my mom.”
He doesn’t explain what he means, but I don’t need him to, not unless he wants to share it. “I get that,” I say. “Forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want to interfere if you feel like that’s a thing that’s only between you and her.”
He hesitates, then looks at me with eyes full of conviction. “I want to share it with you…if you genuinely want to be involved, not just to spend time with me.”
“I want to be involved. It sounds like a really great cause.”
The way he beams assures me he was serious about wanting me to come. “Okay, T. But first day, I’ll just show you around, and we can work with Milo. He’s a little shy about reading around new people, so we’ll need to make sure he’s comfortable with it.”
I shrug. “If he’s not, I’ll find something else to do. I’ll stay out of the way. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m great with kids.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says before leaning in and planting another kiss.
After we finish breakfast, we get ready and drive over to the local elementary school. As Atlas leads me into a classroom, I get a whiff of paint before spotting the artwork along every wall and art supplies stacked along the counters.
He introduces me to the other volunteers and kids in the program before a kid—maybe eight or nine—with jet-black hair,a bright smile, and an X-Men tee approaches with a woman, who has the same color hair. Maybe his mom.
“Hi, Atlas,” the kid says in a soft voice, keeping close to the woman.
“Hey, Milo. How you doing?” Atlas extends his hand, and Milo eyes me uneasily before fist-bumping with him. “This is my friend Troy. Would it be okay if he works with us today?”
Milo glances around uneasily.
“Hey, Milo. Atlas was just telling me about what a cool kid you are, but he didn’t mention you liked X-Men.”
His lips curl into a broad grin.
“Gambit’s my favorite. What about you?”
“I like Gambit,” he says, “but I like Wolverine more.”
He’s still not making eye contact, and I’m a little worried my attempt might not go anywhere, when he says, “Do you like the comics or just the movies?”
“I’ve read a lot of the comics.”
“My brother reads them with me sometimes. Colossus is my favorite, but he’s not in the movies and shows as much.”
“No, he’s not. And that’s the worst. They did him wrong, didn’t they?”
His grin’s so big, I can see all his teeth. “You kind of look like Colossus.”
I laugh. “I’ll take that as a massive compliment.”
I learn the woman is, in fact, his mom, Judy, and while Milo sits with us at a worktable, she joins the other parents in the corner of the room, where refreshments have been set out by Activate Kindness volunteers. Atlas and Milo work through a puzzle and flashcards before Milo starts reading aloud. It’s a side of Atlas I’m not used to seeing. For a guy who’s so on guard, around this kid, he’s relaxed, at ease. He’s patient and thoughtful, even when he corrects Milo about a mispronounced word or explains something that seems to be tripping him up.The way he navigates the session suggests just how long he’s been doing this work.
We finish up about forty-five minutes later, and Judy and Milo head on their way.
