Chapter Two
New Girl
Ethan
Age 11
I ’m still thinking about her long after I walk away. Emma. The new girl. Quiet, keeps to herself, always got her nose buried in a book. But today, she was surrounded by those jerks, and something about the way she stood there, with nothing but fear on her face and holding her book like she wished she could just jump inside and disappear, made something snap in me.
I don’t usually get in the middle of things. But seeing her like that, with her head down and those guys messing with her, twisting her braid, then throwing her book to the ground… I couldn’t just ignore it.
Now, as I head home, I can’t shake the look in her eyes. She didn’t look at me like everyone else does. She looked at me like I was actually worth something.
I take a deep breath, hands shoved in my pockets as I kick a rock along the sidewalk. It’s stupid, but I kind of want to see her again. And I have no idea why. It’s not like I know her or anything, but there’s something different about her.
I barely reach my front steps before I hear my mom’s voice calling from the kitchen. “Ethan? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Mom,” I call back, pushing the door open. I drop my bag by the door and head into the kitchen, trying to shake off the weird, buzzing feeling from walking home with Emma.
Mom glances over her shoulder, smiling. “How was school?”
“Good,” I say, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. “Met someone new.”
“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Friend?”
“Yeah…maybe,” I say, shrugging, trying to play it off like it’s nothing. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like…more. I think back to the way she smiled when we talked about The Dragon’s Secret and how it felt like she was really listening. Like she got it.
Later that Night
I toss and turn that night, staring at the shadows on my ceiling. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything. I barely know her. But tomorrow, I kind of want to see if she’ll actually bring one of her books, like she said. I wonder what other worlds she’s been escaping into while the rest of us are running around the playground.
Something about the idea of reading with her, of sharing something like that, feels…nice. It’s a weird feeling, but it’s there, and I can’t seem to ignore it.
I’m going to make sure those guys don’t mess with her again too. Not just because she’s new or because it’s the right thing to do, but because…I don’t know. I just know she deserves better.
Yeah, I think as I finally drift off to sleep. Maybe now she’s got me too.
……………………………………………………………
The next morning, I’m at the playground a little earlier than usual. It’s cooler today, mist still covering the grass, and I lean against the fence, half-watching everyone as they pile out of the buses. My eyes search the crowd, wondering if Emma will be here early too. I tell myself it’s not because I’m waiting for her. I’m just…curious, I guess.
After a few minutes, I spot her. She’s over by the edge of the playground, holding a stack of books tight to her chest, her arms wrapped around them like they’re some kind of shield. Her head is down, and she’s moving slow, like she’s trying not to get in anyone’s way. She keeps looking around, her eyes darting like she’s searching for somewhere safe, her shoulders kind of hunched, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. I don’t think anyone else even notices her, but I can’t seem to look away.
Then, her eyes meet mine. Her whole face changes, just a little, like she’s not as nervous anymore. She lifts one hand off her books and gives me this tiny wave, like she’s not sure if I’ll wave back. It’s small, almost like she’s testing the waters.
I nod at her, trying not to smile too much because I don’t want to make her feel weird, but something about that little wave makes my chest feel funny, maybe this isn’t so bad. She actually brought books, like she said she would. That’s pretty cool. I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking over, not too fast though, because I don’t want her to think I’m about to say something dumb.
When I get closer, her eyes dart down to her shoes for a second, and I feel this weird mix of nerves and something good. I just really don’t want to mess this up. She looks back up at me, her expression a little calmer now, as though maybe she’s not as nervous as she was before.
“Hey,” I say as I get close, nodding at one of her books. “Is that one from the series you told me about?”
Her eyes light up a little, and she nods. “Yeah, this one’s called The Kingdom Trials. It’s…the be st one so far.”
“You gonna tell me about it, or just keep me in suspense?” I ask, half-teasing.
She laughs a little, and it’s quiet but real. “I guess I could tell you. There’s this girl who’s trying to make it in the court, but everyone else thinks she’s not good enough. She has to solve all these puzzles and, well, she’s pretty brave.”
I listen, nodding as she talks, taking in the excitement in her voice. It’s like she’s transported to another world when she talks about her books, her face lighting up in a way I haven’t seen yet. I can’t help but grin, wondering if she even realizes how cool it is to see someone that into something.
“Sounds like you,” I say, without really thinking.
She looks at me, surprised. “Me?”
“Yeah, you know,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “New kid, having to deal with all the jerks who don’t think you’re tough. But you didn’t let them see you were scared.”
She glances down, her fingers brushing over the edges of her book like it’s something she can hide behind. Her voice is quiet when she finally says, “Well, I wasn’t really… that brave.”
“Sure you were,” I say, my tone firmer now. “You didn’t run. You were holding your ground. That’s pretty brave. ”
She shifts a little, her shoulders curling inward, like she doesn’t quite believe me. But I can see it—how the words hit her, the way she glances up for just a second before looking down again. I can tell she’s not used to hearing someone say something good about her.
For a second, we just stand there, the air between us kind of heavy but not in a bad way. I can tell she’s not used to someone saying stuff like that to her, but I mean every word. I know plenty of kids who would’ve just dropped their book and run, but she didn’t. She stood there, clutching it like it was some kind of armor, and that’s pretty brave if you ask me.
“You’re tougher than you think,” I say after a beat, and her eyes flick up to mine. There’s this tiny spark in them, as if she’s starting to believe it too. Or at least, like she wants to.
The bell rings, breaking the moment. She gives me a small smile, and I find myself hoping it won’t be the last one. As we head inside, I walk beside her, making sure we’re shoulder-to-shoulder as we step into the hallway. I spot a few of the boys from yesterday down the hall, but they barely look at her, their eyes shifting away when they see me. I don’t know why, but I feel this little spark of pride, like I’m protecting something valuable.
When we get to class, she heads to her desk, giving me one last shy smile before she sits down. I settle into my seat, glancing over a few times to see her already lost in her book, her brow furrowed with concentration.
I can’t help but think that maybe this is the start of something new, something I didn’t even know I was looking for.
……………………………………………………………
Lunchtime rolls around, and I spot Emma sitting under the big maple tree at the edge of the playground, knees pulled up to her chest, her book open in front of her. She doesn’t look up, too absorbed in whatever story has her attention, and for a second, I think about leaving her to it. But something pulls me forward anyway.
I walk over, sitting down beside her without a word, just close enough that our elbows almost brush. She glances over, surprised, and I see that same little spark of uncertainty in her eyes, like she’s still getting used to having someone around.
“Hey,” I say, nodding at her book. “What part are you at?”
Her face lights up again, and she closes the book enough to show me the cover. “The princess just found a map hidden in her father’s journal. She thinks it’s going to lead her to a treasure that’ll prove she deserves to be part of the court.”
“Sounds pretty intense,” I say, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Think she’ll find it?”
“I hope so,” she says, sounding completely earnest. “But if she doesn’t, I think she’ll be okay. She’s already proved a lot just by trying.”
I nod, genuinely impressed. “You really like this stuff, don’t you?”
She shrugs, her gaze dropping to the book in her lap. “It’s just…different. When I’m reading, I don’t have to worry about…well, anything, I guess. It’s like the world goes quiet for a while.”
Her voice is so soft, like she’s afraid to admit it out loud. But there’s something in the way she talks about books, the way her fingers trace the edges of the pages like they hold something precious, that makes me see her in a new light. She’s not just quiet—she’s thinking, feeling, in ways most people probably don’t bother to understand.
I get that in a way I didn’t expect. I may not be as big a reader as she is, but I know what it’s like to want to escape for a while. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just floating through my days, not really part of anything, just…there. But sitting here with Emma, it feels different, maybe I’ve found something—or someone—worth sticking around for. She makes the quiet feel less lonely, as if there’s a kind of magic in just… being here.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the other kids run around, their laughter and shouts blending into the background. A few pass by, glancing our way, but none of them say anything. Maybe they already know better. Or maybe they just don’t care. Either way, I notice the way the space around us feels different, like there’s a kind of invisible barrier keeping the chaos out. I wonder if she notices it too—or if it’s just me.
She adjusts her grip on the book, her fingers brushing against the cover almost nervously, and I can’t help but glance over. There’s a stillness to her now, like she’s thinking about something she won’t say out loud. And for some reason, I hope she knows she doesn’t have to say it—not to me. I’d sit here with her like this every day if it meant she didn’t have to worry so much about the noise.
……………………………………………………………
As the final bell rings, I spot her glancing my way, her hand lifting in a small, shy wave. It’s just a little thing, but it makes me grin without thinking. I grab my stuff, stuffing my notebook into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder before heading toward the door where she’s waiting.
“Walk home together?” I ask, keeping my tone casual.
She nods, that soft smile returning. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
We fall into step, side by side, neither of us in a rush to get home. We talk about the book some more, about how she thinks the princess will outsmart her enemies and how she wishes she could be as brave as her .
“You know you’re brave, right?” I say, before I can stop myself, glancing over at her as we walk. She stops mid-step, looking at me like she’s not sure if I’m joking.
“I don’t feel brave,” she says quietly, her fingers tightening around her book.
“Well, you are,” I say firmly, meeting her eyes. “You stood up to those guys yesterday, even if you were scared. That’s what being brave is. Just… don’t forget that, okay?”
She looks down, like she’s trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, but I can tell she’s thinking about it.
We keep walking in silence, but it’s not the awkward kind. It’s the kind where you don’t need to say much because just being there feels right.
As we get closer to her street, she slows down a little, and I do too. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to get home either. Walking with her feels different— not everything has to be about football or who’s the fastest on the playground. It’s just…nice. Maybe having someone to talk to makes things a little better.
“Well, see you tomorrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.
She nods, her face lighting up. “Yeah. Tomorrow. ”
I watch her walk away, clutching her book to her chest, her steps lighter than when I first saw her at the playground. I don’t know why, but I feel a strange sense of pride, like I helped put that smile on her face. And as I head home, I realize that I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.
……………………………………………………………
The last day of school feels different this year. Everyone’s loud and excited, ready to start summer, talking about vacations and sleepovers, but I’m not really listening. My mind’s on Emma, even though I haven’t seen her since this morning. She’s not with the other kids—she’s somewhere else, probably reading or just hiding out on the edge of everything, like she does when she’s trying not to be noticed.
I wander around the playground, looking for her, and finally spot her under the big maple tree near the fence. She’s sitting with her knees pulled up, her head down, a book open on her lap, but she’s not reading it. She’s just…staring at it, as if she’s somewhere far away.
I head over, careful not to make too much noise. I don’t want to spook her, but I also want her to know she doesn’t have to sit there alone.
“Hey,” I say, settling down beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. “You okay?”
She glances up, and for a second, I see something in her eyes—a kind of sadness that doesn’t belong there, especially not on a day like this. She nods, but it’s not convincing, and I wait, giving her space. If she wants to talk, she knows I’m here. If she doesn’t, that’s okay too.
Finally, she sighs, her voice barely a whisper. “My mom lost her job…again.”
I don’t say anything, but my chest tightens. I knew things weren’t easy for her and her mom—they moved here to start fresh, but I guess it hasn’t worked out the way they hoped. And now, hearing the worry in her voice, I feel this anger that I don’t really understand. It’s not fair. She shouldn’t have to carry this kind of stuff.
“That’s rough,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry, Em.”
She just shrugs, looking down at her book. “It just feels…like maybe we came here for nothing? Like no matter what she does, nothing gets better.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know how to make it better, but I wish I could. I just want her to feel happy again, even a little, so she doesn’t think everything is hopeless. I hate seeing her look so sad—it’s like she’s carrying something too heavy, and I want to help, even if I don’t know how.
“You’re not alone, you know?” I say, my voice steady. “You’ve got me.”
She glances up, and for a second, she just stares at me, as if she’s trying to figure out if I really mean it. Then she nods, her face softening. “ Thanks,” she whispers. “You’re…you’re a really good friend, Ethan.”
There’s that word again. Friend. It’s true, but somehow it doesn’t feel big enough for what I feel. I don’t know if I can explain it, but sitting here with her, I feel like I’d do anything to make sure she’s okay. She’s not just my friend. She’s more than that, even if I can’t put it into words.
I shift a little closer, so our shoulders are touching now, and I feel her relax a little. I hope she knows I’m serious, that I’m not going anywhere.
The other kids start to leave, their laughter and voices fading as they head home for the summer. We stay there in silence, just watching the empty playground, and I think about how this is the best place to be, right here with her, no words needed.
As the shadows grow longer, I make a promise to myself. No matter what happens, no matter what life throws at her, I’ll be here. She’s got me, and I’m not going anywhere.