The board would likely frown upon the endorsement for liability reasons, but I had to connect these two women. Memories of police tape and CPS workers kept tapping on my nerves, and I needed to get out of there before I broke.
My expression must have said as much, because Julia grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’ve got this, Mercy. You should get back to the party.”
I couldn’t leave her alone with Sheila, but thankfully, I didn’t have to. Havoc had shown up and was hovering nearby, ready to step in if he was needed.
Hurrying to the staff bathroom, I splashed water on my face and wiped away any smeared makeup before finding Landon waiting outside the door.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “I will be.”
Lunch ended shortly after we returned, so we followed the kids back to the gym for the last leg of the party. Julia was waiting by the gym door, and she and I stepped away from the group to speak privately.
“She gave me her contact information,” Julia said. “And it’s not a fake number. That’s usually a good sign.”
“Thank you.”
She wrapped me in a hug. “This is what we do, my friend. Now let’s go see my big, sexy Santa.”
When we reached the gym, all the stations had been removed, but the North Pole decorations still sparkled. Havoc had fully committed to the Santa persona and sat on a throne-like chair in the center of the room. An aisle leading up to him was roped off, and two bikers directed traffic, calling kids up alphabetically.
One by one, Santa handed out presents. Each kid was then ushered to a growing semi-circle on the floor. When the last gift was handed out, Havoc gave the signal.
The room exploded.
Wrapping paper flew like confetti, kids shrieked in delight, and the gym filled with breathless, joyful chaos as they compared their treasures.
Havoc, the big softie, swiped at a rogue tear, and Wasp had to take over, explaining what would happen next. The bikers had set up a giant closet filled with coats and shoes, and the students were to line up so everyone could go in and get help finding their sizes.
The kids were lining up when someone tugged on my jacket.
“Ms. Mercy!”
I looked down to find Randall, one of the four-year-olds, grinning at me. He wore a hand-me-down coat that had belonged to his big brother two years ago, when he’d been a student here. “You should be in line for the closet.”
“First, you gotta see this.” He was wearing his new Spiderman beanie. He pulled down the front, so the painted mask eyes covered his, and struck a web-slinging pose.
My hand flew up. “Whoa, Randall. Your fit is drippin’.”
He dissolved into giggles, as did every other kid near enough to hear us.
“Nobody says that anymore,” a blonde little girl named Gabby told me.
“What? You guys were just saying that last week. How am I supposed to tell him he looks cool now?” I asked.
“Can you tell us apart?” Randall asked, obviously frustrated with me for missing his point.
I looked around, confused. “Who?”
He flipped up his beanie, located the errant child he was looking for, and rolled his eyes. “Hold, please.”
I fought back a smile. These kids were too much.
Randall stomped over and grabbed his painfully shy best friend, Samuel, by the arm, towing him back to me. Randall tugged Samuel’s matching beanie down over his friend’s eyes before mirroring the action with his own. From the cheekbones up, they were superheroes. Possibly the most adorable crime-fighting duo on the planet.
“Betchu can’t tell us apart,” Randall said, peeking at me from beneath his beanie.
