Page 33 of Property of Booker

“You ready for this, son?” she asks, trying to blink back the mist blurring her vision.

Kolter’s eyes are practically glowing. “I’ve been ready since the sun came up!” he shouts, vibrating with enough energy to power the whole compound. “I’m gonna learn it all. Reading, math, maybe even history. Real school stuff.” He takes another little leap, his excitement catching like wildfire. It’s wild to see him like this. A few days ago, he was a ball of fear hiding from the world. Now, he’s practically leaping out of his skin.

“He’s a whole different kid today,” I mutter to Kendall, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“He’s just a child,” she whispers back, her gaze locked on him. “Finally.” We enter the converted double-wide. The place has been scrubbed within an inch of its life, smelling of lemon cleaner and fresh paint. It’s a clean scent that has nothing to do with the stale rot of the catacombs I usually visit.

He looks back one last time, a grin plastered on his face. “See you guys later!” He yells it over his shoulder and vanishes into the hallway before we can even get a word out.

“I don’t think so, mister!” Kendall shouts, letting go of my hand to chase after him.

I throw my head back and let out a roar of laughter as I follow them inside. Kendall is a few steps ahead, catching Kolter just as he hits the main corridor. She reaches out and settles a hand on his shoulder, slowing him down, but she doesn't stop him. She just wants him to know she’s there.

The hallway is quiet, and I notice it’s a tight squeeze with my shoulders. Kolter stands tall in the silence. He doesn't shrink away like he used to. He just stands there, soaking in the peace of a place that finally belongs to him. Kendall whispers something private to him, and he nods, his face full of quiet, steady determination.

Jersey is leaning against the counter in the small kitchen area. She doesn't move, but she keeps a sharp eye on Kolter at the fold-out table where she set up an activity for him to start on while she prepares for the day’s lessons.

“So, while I get today’s lessons together for you, I thought you’d like to do a little experiment,” Jersey says, walking over to Kolter. “You’re going to be making a volcano erupt!”

“Show me what to do, please,” Kolter replies. She quickly explains what he needs to do, and informs him that he has to pour the liquid into the top fast or the experiment won’t work and there won’t be any lava.

Kolter’s now hunched over a clay mountain on a plastic tray. He’s holding a cup of white vinegar like it’s liquid gold, his expression full of the intense focus only a child can muster. He’s staring at the red-stained baking soda, mesmerized. His fingers are twitching, like he’s dying to touch the mess.

He steadies his breathing, centering himself over the clay mound, picking the cup up with both hands. “Is it going to get on the floor?” he asks, his voice small but curious as he checks the edge of the tray, making sure the plastic will catch the overflow just like he was told.

“If it does, we’ve got a mop,” Jersey tells him.

Kolter tilts the cup, pouring the vinegar right over the powder. A second later, red foam erupts, fizzing down the clay with a steady hiss. A gasp of pure surprise leaves him. In that moment, the shadow of the boy we pulled from that basement vanishes. He’s just a five-year-old captivated by the magic of science.

In the doorway, Kendall finally lets go of the frame. She isn't scanning for exits or danger anymore—her focus is entirely on her son. I step up behind her, resting a palm on the small of her back. The heat radiating through her shirt steadies me. It feels like we can finally breathe, the smoke and fear finally clearing out of our lungs.

I look at Kolter. He’s leaning over the table, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he waits for the last of the foam to stop. “Can I do it again?” he asks, the pitch of his voice making my chest ache.

Jersey pushes off the counter, her footsteps soft on the linoleum. “Do it as many times as you’d like, Kolter, while I work on getting the lessons for today sorted.” She looks at us and says, “Based on how excited he is, I suspect he’ll be locked in on this project for quite some time. Glad to see he’s taking the lesson seriously.”

“He’s got a good teacher,” I say, giving her a nod for everything she’s done to prepare this space for him.

Jersey offers a thin, knowing smile. “It helps that he wants to be here. The structure is good for him.” She looks at Kolter, her eyes softening. “The kids, both he and Elodie, aren’t just learning the basics. I can’t wait to see how they are when they’re together. I expect as bright as they both are, they’ll challenge one another. We’re going to make sure that they both know how to just be kids.”

Kendall rests her hand on my arm, her grip solid and warm. I feel the tension melt out of her, her shoulders dropping with an ease I haven't seen since we rescued her. She’s finally letting herself believe this is real.

“He looks like he belongs,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath.

“He does,” I declare, stepping closer. “It’s a good setup. Jersey made sure of it.”

We stand there for a long moment, just watching our boy play. It’s quiet in here—a hell of a contrast to the noise and danger that used to be their whole world.

Kendall shifts against me and walks slowly toward the table. She isn't hiding from him seeing her anymore, her own curiosity getting the best of her. She stops a few feet away, watching as Kolter refills the clay mound. She isn’t hovering—she’s just there, being present.

“How’s the project coming along?” Kendall asks, her voice light.

Kolter looks up, his grin wider than I’ve ever seen it. “It’s awesome, Mom! The instructions say I can use a different food coloring next time.”

“Is that so?” Kendall smiles, a genuine, soft expression that lights up her face. “I think that sounds perfect.”

Jersey leans against the wall next to me. “I’m glad you got them out,” she says, her tone blunt but honest. “This place will keep them safe. The gates are solid, and the perimeter is guarded. You don't have to worry while they’re here.”

“I know,” I say, a wave of gratitude hitting me. “It means everything.”