“That’s right. Is she around? I only need to speak with her for a moment.”
Ms. Kelly tapped her bottom lip with a nail, her gaze narrowed and yet somehow also distant. As if she were deep in thought, but Julien was caught in the center of her musings. She blinked, and the look was gone, replaced with warmth and friendliness.
It made Julien instantly suspicious.
“I am so sorry. I must have dropped my manners, but look—” she bent a little at the waist and made a scooping motion with her hand—“I’ve picked them right back up. I’m Evangeline Kelly.” She pointed to her ID. “And you are?”
He held out his hand. “Julien King, ma’am.”
Her eyes flashed. “Julien King, of course.” She gave his hand a squeeze, then turned on her heel. “Follow me. Martha’s leading a writing circle for a few of our kids right now, but she should be done soon. I’ll show you where they meet.”
Julien trailed behind Ms. Kelly, but she slowed until they walked side by side.
“So, Mr. King, you and Martha are old acquaintances, is that right?” She gave him a sideways glance as she walked.
“I’ve known her all her life, so I’d say that’s accurate.”
She nodded like she’d known the answer all along and was just getting him to admit it out loud. “What was she like as a child?”
Julien tried to think back. “Like any other kid, I guess?” What could he say? He’d sound like a complete snob if he admitted he hadn’t really paid all that much attention to the family that worked for his. In reality, they’d been like a Venn diagram, living in two separate circles with only a sliver of overlapping connection.
Ms. Kelly cast him a small smirk. “You didn’t really notice all that much back then, did you?”
“Honestly? No, not really. But in my defense, a teenage boy doesn’t normally pay all that much attention to the kindergartner living next door.”
She looked up at him. “But you aren’t a teenage boy anymore, and she’s no longer in kindergarten.”
Heat crawled into Julien’s cheeks. Hadn’t he been having those very same thoughts himself?
Ms. Kelly appeared pleased as punch. “Come on, Martha’s right over here in our community room.”
She paused outside a cracked door. It was opened enough that he could peer through without disturbing the goings-on inside. A handful of kids of various ages sat around a round table with notebooks or laptops in front of them. Martha sat among them, the top half of her own body curved over a composition notebook on the table, the pencil in her hand scribbling furiously on the page.
An alarm ripped through the silence previously only interrupted by the tapping of computer keys and the skritching of pencil on paper.
“That’s time.” Martha tapped on the screen of her phone and silenced the alarm. “Okay. Who wants to share first?”
“I’ll go.” A girl who appeared to be the youngest of the group raised her hand. She licked her lips, lifted her paper off the table, and began to read. When she was finished, everyone clapped for her.
“That was really terrific, Sam. I specifically loved your simile of comparing how Jordan thought studying for the test at the last minute was as useless as rubber lips on a woodpecker. I wanted to laugh out loud when you read that. Very clever.”
Sam blushed, but her wide smile gave away how pleased she was with the praise.
“My one critique would be to maybe add a few sentences describing the setting. I had a little bit of a hard time picturing the time and place of what was happening. But your character development?” Martha lifted both hands into fists with thumbs popped high into the air. “Two thumbs up, girl.”
They continued to go around the circle, sharing their writing and giving feedback. Every time someone had something to say about a story, they offered their comments in a compliment sandwich, softening their constructive criticism between two layers of praise. It was obvious that Martha had taught them this technique and also that their creativity was thriving because of her mentorship.
“Looks like that’s all the time we have today. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to meet again, but you all have my email and phone number. Keep writing. Send me your stories because I don’t think I’ll be able to survive if I don’t find out what happens next.” A wobbly smile curved Martha’s trembling lips.
The atmosphere in the room went from buzzing to depressed in a matter of seconds. All the kids looked at Martha with shattered expressions.
“Aw, come on, guys. We’ll still have our happily-ever-after. We just have to get through the conflict first. Pages turn, and new chapters begin.”
“But I like this chapter,” Sam grumbled.
“Me too. But remember, stories are often circular. We’ll get back here again.”
“Promise?” one of the other girls asked.
