I dashed to her room—empty. The bathroom—empty too.
My pulse raced faster. As I headed for the backyard, I heard the back door open.
Sofia came in from outside, smiling, holding her pink ball. Mud streaked her knees and elbows, and her clothes were dirty.
Her smile turned guilty when she saw me.
"Mom? You're back already?"
I rushed over, knelt down, grabbed her shoulders, and looked her over to make sure she was unhurt.
"Where were you?" My voice trembled. "I called several times. Why didn't you answer? And look at your clothes—they're filthy!"
"I... I was playing outside," she said, lowering her head, fidgeting with the ball. "I didn't hear the phone..."
"Outside?" My stomach sank as I noticed the mud on her knees. "You were crawling on the ground? Sofia, where exactly did you go? You promised Mommy you'd stay inside!"
She bit her lip, saying nothing.
"Sofia," I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but my voice still shook. "Tell Mommy where you went."
She looked up, tears filling her brown eyes. "I... I went to Alex's house..."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
"I heard... he sounded really bad," Sofia said, tears streaming down. "Like when you cry at night sometimes. So I... I squeezed under the fence..."
"Under the fence?" My voice rose, connecting the dots from her dirty knees and elbows. "Sofia, how? What did you do?"
"There's a hole under it," she whispered. "The board's loose. I can fit through. I was careful, no injuries..."
"Oh God!" I felt like I might pass out. "You crawled on the ground? Sofia, do you know how dangerous that is? What if the board collapsed? What if you got stuck?"
"I didn't get stuck," she said, sounding aggrieved. "I measured it. I can fit..."
"Measured?" I could hardly believe it. "You mean... you've done this before?"
She looked down, silent—that was admission enough.
I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths to keep from breaking down. My five-year-old daughter had been digging holes under the fence, crawling on her belly to visit her father—a man she didn't know was her dad.
"Sofia, listen to me," I said, holding her hands tightly, my knuckles turning white. "You can't go to Alex's house anymore. Absolutely not. No climbing the fence, no crawling under it—nothing. It's for your own good."
"Why?" she sobbed. "I just wanted to help him. He was hurting, Mom. He was holding his head, breathing all funny—like he was going to die. I touched his face, and he felt better. Mom, I have magic, remember? I can make people happy."
My heart clenched. Was he sick? From her description, it sounded like he was in pain... clutching his head, breathing rapidly. Maybe a migraine? Or some other health problem?
The idea of him suffering stirred an unexpected worry in me. I'd been avoiding him, terrified he'd disrupt our lives, but hearing he might be hurting... itpained me too.
Maybe that's why Sofia went. Kids have sharp instincts; she must have sensed he needed help.
But regardless, I couldn't let her get involved. Whatever health issues Alexander had, they weren't our responsibility.
"Sofia," I took a deep breath. "No matter how nice he is to you, you can't go there again. And when you're home alone, you stay inside—no running around, and definitely no crawling on the ground! Do you know how dirty and dangerous that is?"
"I don't understand!" she cried out, bursting into tears. "Why, Mom? Alex didn't do anything wrong. He just... he just needs a friend. He says I'm special, a good kid... he says I saved him..."
