Because how could I not?
It was unfair, how effortlessly attractive he was. He didn’t even have to try. He was in athletic sweats and an old hoodie that said Waterloo Black Hawks on the front, his hair disheveled beneath his beanie like he hadn’t cared to even run a comb through it. But he wore his confidence and swagger like an accessory, and he just looked so…
Cozy.
Like he would be the perfect place to curl up and rest.
• • •
Inside Girls Inc, the bright chatter of afterschool chaos met us at the door, along with a smiling staff coordinator who quickly split us up. Shane got waved toward the gym, where a group of girls were setting up for a basketball scrimmage, while I was sent to the art room.
The art room smelled faintly of glue and paint, the long tables littered with paper, scissors, and half-finished collages. I slid into an empty seat beside a pair of girls bent over a poster. They glanced at me with the wary curiosity reserved for strangers, but it didn’t take long before their chatter carried me along.
One girl talked about her dream of designing clothes, her voice sharp with certainty. Another shrugged like she wasn’t sure when I asked what she thought she wanted to do when she grew up, then admitted she wanted to be a lawyer because her cousin said she’d be good at arguing. They asked me questions in return, but I kept my answers clipped, redirecting them back to themselves.
And as I listened, I couldn’t stop the ghosts that rose.
It was hard not to think about me at twelve years old, at a table like this, looking at the clock and wishing the hours would slow down. I knew once my mom showed up, the warmth of this room would evaporate. At Girls Inc, I wasn’t the girl from the broken house. I wasn’t defined by where I lived or who I lived with or what money I did or didn’t have. I was just… me.
And I had a chance at a future.
Still, in my mind, the credit didn’t belong to the program. It was the kids themselves who clawed their way forward. Just like I’d answered Professor Reid when he asked, the girls beside me weren’t thriving because someone gave them crayons and a safe building. They were thriving because they had grit, because they were strong enough to keep going even when it seemed impossible to do.
At the end of the day, all of them had to go home.
And that was where true resilience was born.
When our time wrapped, I found Shane in the lobby, hair damp with sweat, his grin easy as the girls he’d been with clung to his arms to say goodbye. I felt myself bristle at how natural it was for him, how much they clearly adored him already.
“So,” he asked once we stepped outside, “what’d you get?”
I hugged my arms around my notebook, even as Shane took my bag again. “They’re really smart and driven. They have dreams. Even though they go home to who knows what… they find a way to look to the future with positivity and light. That’s what stuck out to me.”
He nodded. “Yeah. But what I heard most was how much they leaned on each other — on the mentors, the program, the whole community. One girl said she never would have stayed in school if it weren’t for the people here.”
I shook my head. “Well, maybe that’s what she said, but that’s not entirely it. It was stillherwho had to stay in school, you know? It was her who had to stick with it.”
Shane pulled us to a stop in the parking lot. “You don’t think she had help?”
“She succeeded because she didn’t quit. She kept going no matter what. It’s about resilience — what’s inside her, inside all of them. Not what’s around them.”
Shane tilted his head. “You used to go to a Girls Inc, right? That’s what you said.”
The air in my lungs thinned. “Well… yeah.”
“Do you not think they helped you?”
The question hit like a slap — not because it wasn’t valid, but because he had no right to ask it. He didn’t know what I went home to every night. He didn’t know the way my stomach sank when my mom’s headlights pulled into the parking lot, or how I’d count the hours until I could come back.
My throat tightened. “You don’t know me, Shane McCabe, and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped acting like you did.”
I snapped the words, and then I grabbed the strap of my bag off his shoulder and yanked until he released it.
I stormed toward the car, heat flooding my chest, fingers shaking. I felt sort of stupid once I got there, seeing as how it washiscar, and I didn’t have the keys. I was half-tempted to catch a bus back to campus when I heard his footsteps behind me, steady and unhurried.
Wordlessly, he opened my door for me.
I didn’t look at him as I slipped inside.
