They stop at the stop sign, but don’t move forward. I’m about to call out to them and ask if everything is okay, when another engine fires up and Griffin exits their garage.
Of course, they both have bikes.
When Griffin pulls up next to Knox and Noah, Griffin holds out his fist to the side, and Noah meets it with his own, giving Griffin a fist bump. Griffin whoops, and they all take off.
Standing there, dumbfounded, I realize that Noah is going to ask for rides every day for the rest of his life, and if we move, there won’t be anyone to do that with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRIFFIN
All eyes are on us as we pull up to Mystic River Elementary. Knox and I are used to people staring. We’ve grown immune to the judgment. But Noah fidgets under the pressure of all the watching people.
Coming to a stop side by side, Knox and I kill the engines. Knox helps Noah remove his helmet and guides him off the bike. Knox pulls out a luggage net, securing Noah’s helmet to the back of the saddle.
“Thank you for bringing me to school,” Noah articulates while looking at his feet. When we rise from the saddles of our motorcycles, Noah’s head rears back slightly. “Are you coming to school too?”
Knox and I bend down on one knee in front of Noah. I straighten his backpack on his shoulders as I ask, “Noah, do you know what it means to be brave?”
Noah raises his chin. “It means you don’t have nightmares because you’re not afraid of anything.”
A sad smile curves Knox’s mouth. “Kind of. You don’t have to be fearless to be brave. Being brave means you stand up to the things that scare you, even when you feel afraid.”
Noah rocks back and forth on his feet. “I’m not brave.”
“Yes, you are,” Knox refutes.
“No, I’m not,” Noah opposes in a low voice, his eyes cast downward.
“Hey.” I wait for Noah to look at us again. “You are. I promise you are. And I need you to be brave right now.”
Noah’s chest expands on an inhale, and he nods as he releases the air from his lungs.
I raise my brows. “I know there’s a kid here who hasn’t been nice. Could you look around and let me know if you see him?”
His eyes scan the people milling about. Instead of using his voice, Noah points to a kid who is talking to his dad. Knox and I recognize the father right away.
“Thanks, Bud. That was very brave,” Knox praises. We stand back up together, and Knox directs Noah. “Let’s go inside.”
“My mom usually just drops me off here and leaves.”
Knox’s voice deepens maliciously. “We need to have a little chat with your teacher.”
“Mrs. Burke?” Noah blinks repeatedly like he can’t believe anyone would want to talk to that grumpy woman, and I don’t blame him.
Shrugging, he doesn’t ask any more questions and leads us to the doors. We check in with the receptionist, and Noah guides us to his classroom.
I feel like a giant monster amongst all these mini humans. Some scurry away from Knox and me like they’re afraid we’re going to stomp all over them, and some stop and openly gape at us. And honestly, I’m scared I’m going to accidentally step on one of them.
“It’s that one.” Noah points to a door at the end of the hall decorated with cutout paper traffic signs that say things like “learning zone” and “do your best.”
As we approach the room, Noah grabs mine and Knox’s hands. Knox and I make eye contact over Noah’s head. His expression matches my own.
I grip Noah’s hand, infusing the connection with all the care my heart can muster. The more I give, the more my chest tightens.
Noah’s tenderness is going to break me.
He releases our hands, ducking into the classroom and starting his morning routine. The bell rings as the last of the kids remaining in the hallway scurry into their respective classrooms.
