Jesus, she’s even pulsing a nearsmilein me.
This woman.
“We need to get down there. I signed you up for a red carpet walk with one of the children benefitting from the funds raised from last year’s Hope Gala, and the red carpet walks start in five minutes.”
My chest squeezes that I’ll be walking with a kid.
I don’t really mix with kids.
I thought I could, but when that was ripped away from me, my dreams died with it.
She turns and slides her arm through mine, and together we head down to the gala. She has no clue of the turbulence racing through me.
She has no idea that this is dredging up memories I thought I’d left in the past.
The Hope Gala raises funds for children facing illness, trauma, and hardships. I had no idea kids would even be here, let alone that I have to escort one of them in, but it’s too late for me to protest.
I draw in a breath as I see the line of kids near the lobby.
Everleigh walks up to a man with a headset and a clipboard. “Maverick Jennings is here,” she announces, and she pushes me in front of the clipboard guy. He wears a nametag that says Carl.
“Jennings, Jennings,” he says, scanning the list. “Right. You’re with Bella Brown.” He glances up at the kids. “Bella Brown?”
A little girl who can’t be older than five or six raises her hand shyly, and Carl waves me over to walk with him toward Bella. Everleigh follows behind me, and Carl stops in front of Bella, who looks like she’s going to pass out. I wonder what happened to her—to any of the long line of kids we passed to get to her. I wonder if it’s trauma, illness, or hardship—which category she falls into and how she benefitted from this gala.
She’s got dark brown eyes and nearly black hair, and her eyes won’t quite meet mine. My chest aches for this little girl and whatever it is she’s been through. Did her dad cheat on her mom and ask her not to tell the one parent she trusted…like I had to do? Something tells me whatever she’s been through was far worse than that, and my own experiences still haunt me to this day. I can’t imagine what this girl has been through.
I kneel down so we’re at eye level. “Hi, Bella. I’m Maverick. How old are you?”
Her big doe eyes move to meet mine, and she whispers, “Five.”
“Five! Wow. Are you in kindergarten?”
She nods.
“Do you like school?”
She shakes her head, and I can’t help a small laugh at that.
An actual laugh.
Holy shit.
“Why not?” I ask.
“I’m absent a lot.”
I wrinkle my nose for her benefit as I wonder why. Is she neglected? Is she sick? Is someone in her family ill? Does she even have a family? And if she misses a lot of days, does she have friends? Or is it impossible to make friends when you don’t consistently attend? “That’s hard. I’m sorry. I didn’t like school much either.”
“Why not?”
“It was hard.”
“It’s hard for me, too. Especially math,” she says.
“What are you learning in math?”
“Adding numbers.”
