I looked through the window at my niece, who was showing her certificate to anyone with eyes.
“Yes,” I said.
Elowen exhaled like she had been holding her breath for years.
That was how we began.
Not with a dramatic hug.
Not with a full repair.
With reading night.
With small yeses that did not cost me my future.
With noes that did not require cruelty.
Summer arrived hot and heavy.
I passed my next set of exams.
Mr. Gideon pretended he had never doubted me, though I caught him placing a congratulatory cupcake on my desk with a note that said, “Acceptable performance.”
The diner manager gave me fewer graveyard shifts after I nearly fell asleep standing up by the coffee machine.
Elowen kept her job at a laundry service and started taking evening classes in bookkeeping through the housing program.
Sylas came around less and less.
When he did, the kids acted excited but cautious.
