I even get a few nods.
Then I hear it.
Laughter. Bigger. Warmer.
From the next room.
I wrap up quickly and follow the noise.
And there he is.
Jav Kuraken, six feet plus of red-scaled charm, surrounded by a circle of captivated five-year-olds. He’s kneeling on the floor, arms spread, a cardboard raygun holstered at his hip.
“These plushies,” he says solemnly, holding up one shaped like a very cuddly gangster, “are from rival crews. But today, we’re gonna teach them how tonegotiate. Without vaporizing anyone. Deal?”
“Deal!” the kids shout.
“Step one,” Jav continues, “you gottalisten. Step two: offer snacks. Step three: sign the glitter treaty.”
They giggle, reaching for cookies and crayons.
One boy frowns. “But what if they try totrickyou?”
Jav nods sagely. “Then you bring in your lawyer. Or your nana. Or Principal Jennings with her detention paddle.”
More laughter.
I lean in the doorway, arms crossed.
He’s ridiculous.
He’s brilliant.
He’s… working.
Ben passes him a cookie like it’s a sacred offering. Jav doesn’t miss a beat—he gives Ben a mock salute and hands over a sticker badge that says “Negotiation Officer.”
My chest tightens.
He’s not pretending.
He’s not acting like he belongs here.
Hedoesbelong here.
And for the first time in years, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—some things that break aren’t meant to stay broken.
Some things… they’re worth fighting for.
Even if you have to start with glitter glue and cookies.
CHAPTER 18
JAV
The classroom is quiet now—too quiet, except for the hum of the overhead lights and the soft whistle of a draft sneaking through the vent. The streamers from Kindness Week droop like tired flags, glitter still sticky under my boots. I’m on the floor with one knee bent, picking up plush “mobster negotiators” and crushing frosting-crumbs into the trash. My claws tap against the metal bin again and again, like code forcleanup in progress.
The air smells faintly of burnt marshmallow and stale syrup from earlier when the kids had raided the snack table. I breathe in the sweetness and remind myself this cleanliness is temporary—but maybe what I’m going for now is less about trash and more about truth.
