"Alex?"
"I don't get the homework," he says quietly. "The math. I tried, but—" His voice cracks.
My heart breaks a little.
"Let me see."
He pulls out his worksheet, and I see the problem immediately. Long addition with carrying. We covered it last week, but Alex was absent two days for a dentist appointment his mom couldn't reschedule.
"Okay, this is totally fixable," I tell him. "It's just a small thing you missed. Want me to show you?"
He nods, relief flooding his face.
I walk him through it step by step—how to line up the numbers, when to carry, how to check his work. He catches on quickly because he's smart, but he needs someone to explain it slowly. Patiently.
Someone who has time. Something his mother doesn’t have while trying to put food on their table.
"Does that make sense?" I ask when we're done.
"Yeah." He looks up at me, and there's something in his expression that makes my chest tight. Trust. Pure, unconditional trust. "Thanks, Miss Mancini."
"Anytime, sweetheart." I ruffle his hair. "And listen—if you get stuck on homework again, tell your mom she can call me, okay? I gave her my number at the beginning of the year. I'm always happy to help."
"Okay," he says quietly, then adds, "She works a lot though."
"I know, buddy." My throat tightens. "That's why I'm here. To help however I can."
He nods, gives me that sunshine smile, and heads to his seat.
I watch him go, then turn back to my desk and take a slow breath.
This is all I want to be.
To kids like Alex who need someone to see them. To care. To be the constant in a world that keeps shifting under their feet.
No matter what else is happening in my life—no matter who owns my debt or controls where I sleep—I can still be that for them.
I have to be.
CHAPTER TEN
Bianca
The classroom is quiet except for the sound of me stacking papers and wiping down desks. It's 4:00 pm, and most of the staff left an hour ago, but I've been dragging my feet. Organizing supplies that don't need organizing. Rearranging the reading corner. Anything to avoid going back to that house.
Back to Dante and his control and those skimpy clothes he thinks I'm going to wear.
A knock on the door makes me look up.
"Come in," I call, expecting Mrs. Chen or maybe the janitor asking if I'm done so he can lock up.
The door opens.
Adrian steps inside.
My entire body goes rigid.
He looks worse than he did two days ago—unshaven, eyes hollow, clothes rumpled like he slept in them. There's a bandage wrapped around his left hand.
