Lila
I parked my car outside the Whispering Falls Community Center the next day.
After Bronson had told me what the three of them did, I wanted to help in my own way.
Therefore, a few weeks ago I called and asked about volunteering.
And got the approval.
I shut my door, strode across the packed pavement, and then opened the door.
A man in a security uniform stood there, and I smiled at Kline.
He winked, “Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?”
I smiled.
Kline retired from the force a few years ago and started volunteering here.
“Doing good. How about you?” I asked.
He winked, “Can’t complain.”
Then he grabbed a visitor badge and handed it to me, and then he whispered, “Good luck. They can get rowdy.”
I snickered.
Then I walked through the entryway and took in the kids.
They ranged from six weeks old to eighteen.
But it was a little boy in the corner who caught my attention the moment I entered the room.
It was an hour later; I sat there as I watched the boy struggle with his math homework.
I was silently wondering why no one was helping him.
Then I saw his shirt and smiled. It had Bronson on the front.
Then, hesitantly, I walked over to him.
His little head came up, then he tensed.
I slowed my approach, and the moment I reached the table, I said, “Hi, I’m Lila. I love your shirt.”
He lifted a small dark brow.
He couldn’t be more than ten or so.
I nodded, “Really. I do. Would you believe me if I said I know him?”
Was it a sucky move to use Bronson this way... probably. But if it got my foot in the door so I could help him... I’d take it.
Slowly, he shook his head.
I grinned, “I can prove it. Can I sit down?”
He narrowed his eyes, then he nodded.
