The girls lean in again, talking over each other, but this time it sticks. Builds.
I settle back against the wall again and somewhere in the middle of it, I realize I haven’t once checked the exits. Not the door. Not the windows. Not the path out if it gets too loud.
Something I would have done before, only this time I don’t.
I’m considering whether or not that news is Dr. Hale-worthy when the door opens and a few parents filter in early, voices lower and contained. There’s a familiar shift in the room as the energy suddenly feels much more…heightened. Thicker. I look around to see what caused this feeling when I see her.
Danielle’s with them. Thankfully, no glitter today, but there is a tank top that is certainly a choice, and she’s weathering it. Look, I have a sister, and I will never tell her what to wear, but there are some lines I draw in the sand, and when I can see what’s going on under your shirt, you bet that a room full of kids can, too.
I drag my focus back to the front before my brain can wander too far down that road.
Vivian’s still with the girls, building something out of theirideas—not taking over, just guiding it into shape—and I keep watching her.
Not the whole room this time. Just…her.
The way she lets them talk it out. The way she steps in right before something falls apart and nudges it back on track like it was always heading there. Her presence isn’t just calm and grounding for me, but it works on this group, too. If she could just bottle it, she’d be a billionaire.
She claps her hands once, pulling them back in.
“Okay, everyone—bring it in for a second.”
There’s some groaning, a few last-second attempts to finish whatever they’re working on, but they listen.
“We’ve got two weeks left,” she says, looking around the group. “So next week, we’re doing something fun.”
That gets their attention.
“And the week after,” she adds, “I’ll bring in the MVP trophy design. You guys get final say. If you approve it, that’s the one we use.”
A couple of them straighten at that. One pumps a fist like they’ve already won something.
Vivian smiles. “So don’t rush it. Think about what you want it to represent.”
She steps back, giving them the release. “All right, pack it up. I’ll see you next week.”
Chairs scrape. Bags zip. The room changes from focused to loose in seconds as the girls start filing out, voices picking back up, energy spilling toward the door.
Vivian lingers near the front, saying quick goodbyes, catching a few of them on the way out, and I stay where I am, watching her finish. She’s beautiful when she throws her head back to laugh at feedback from a parent, but she’s even more gorgeous when accepting praise from them, too.
I’m so intensely pulled into her world, I’m surprised when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn, half-expecting it to be one of the girls asking if I’ll help them clean up. But it’s not.
Danielle.
She’s closer than I expected, fingers already playing with a strand of her hair. She smells unmistakably like sugar and baby powder, and I have to press my tongue against the roof of my mouth to stop myself from sneezing directly in her face.
“Hey,” she says, her voice breathy and low. “Do you have a minute?”
I straighten slightly, too aware of how too close she is. Everything about this is triggering me and I don’t like it. My eyes do a quick scan.
Door. Window. Space between the tables…the quickest path out if I need it.
I stay where I am, back against the wall, because I’m still here for a reason.
“I do,” I say, keeping my voice even. “As long as it’s about Ava, right?”
She nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
I give her a small nod to go ahead.
