CHAPTER 15
Lila
“L ili…”
A gentle smile draws on my lips as I recognize that little voice. “Yes, Ike?”
The five-year-old boy reaches out his hand to pull at the hem of my T-shirt. “My tummy hurts.” A scared look takes over his face. “Am I pregnant?”
I try my hardest not to laugh while Melody attempts to hide her smile by writing something in her English notebook. Sitting across from me in the study room, she lets out a not-so-discreet cough when she can’t hold it in anymore.
“Little boys can’t get pregnant, Ikey. Where exactly does it hurt?”
He rubs the middle of his stomach, pouting.
Two weeks have passed since my first day, and I already feel at home. It helps that the more time I spend with them in the common room, the more kids are starting to warm up to me.
“Did you eat too much earlier? Maybe food is upsetting your stomach,” I suggest.
But he shakes his head, his eyes piercing into mine like he’s never wanted someone to take his pain away so badly. “I didn’t eat anything.”
That makes me frown. “Didn’t Mommy give you lunch?”
Ike whines. “But lunch was ages ago, Lili.”
Realization dawns on me then. I shake my head in amusement and relief. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
And when he nods, I finally let out the chuckle I’ve been holding. “You should’ve started with that, Ikey. I thought you were sick.”
His hands go back to his stomach. “I thought I had a little baby in my belly.”
I turn to the twelve-year-old across from me. “You’ll be okay if I get a snack with him? Five minutes, tops.”
She nods. “Sure. I’m still reading this. Will you help me with some big words later?”
I give her a soft smile. “Of course. You got this.”
Melody returns my smile before going back to her book, and I can’t help but feel proud of her.
After her brother’s fight with Sean, she didn’t come here for a few days, which set off Reed’s alarms because he knows Melody loves it here and benefits greatly from group therapy. His sigh of relief was palpable when Melody finally turned up with Cameron today.
Since I’m done with the report Reed asked me to go over earlier, he suggested I come to the library in case someone needed help with their homework. Melody waved at me as soon as I walked in, and I’ve been helping her for the past hour.
I’m pulled away—literally—from my thoughts by Ike’s little hand dragging me outside of the study room.
“What do you want to eat?” I ask him. “I can slice an apple for you if you want.”
But the little boy shakes his head. “I have a sandwich in my bag, but I don’t remember where it is.”
I chuckle. “So where are you dragging me to?”
“I think it’s in the art room,” he muses out loud. “But the big kids are there, and I’m scared.”
He means kids around Melody’s age, who he’s shy around. And I get it—when you’re so small, even children only a few years older than you can be as intimidating as grown adults.
We pass by a few of Ike’s friends in the hallway, who ask to go play with him in the common room. But he’s a boy on a mission, and he has no problem telling them as much.
I’m smiling at his sheer determination to find his sandwich, when we round a corner and we both bump into a big, hard body.
“Careful, buddy.”
That voice.
I come to my senses just in time to see a big hand holding onto Ike’s arm, keeping him upright as the child giggles. It takes me a second longer to realize that his other hand, warm and firm and strong, is also holding me up.
Because it’s on the small of my back.
And the muscular arm attached to it is wrapped around my body.
“Are you okay?” Reed’s raspy voice asks.
I school my features and give him what I hope is an easy smile. “Yep. Sorry we bumped into you.”
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asks again.
For some dumb reason, nerves start twisting in my stomach. “Not at all. Um, are you?”
I know it’s a stupid question the second it leaves my mouth. There’s no way a five-foot-three woman and a child can do any real damage to this tank-shaped man. I should’ve guessed that he practiced boxing sooner, given the size of those arms.
Not that I’m ogling him or anything. That would be unprofessional and a really, really bad idea.
“You’re not hurt,” Ike tells Reed. “You’re big, like a superhero!”
I tell myself my stomach doesn’t jump when he drops his hand from my back and smiles fondly at him. “Where are you two going?”
“My belly hurt, and I thought I had a baby inside, but Lili told me I was hungry, and I am, so I’m gonna get my sandwich.”
Reed’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “You…” He steals a quick glance at me, then looks back at the boy. “You thought you were pregnant.”
Ike nods, being totally serious, and my lips start twitching again. “My mommy has a baby in her belly, and she says it hurts.”
He makes a thoughtful noise at the back of his throat, following along. “Ah, I get it now. Well, I’m glad to hear it’s just hunger. I’ll let you get your sandwich, then.”
“Thanks.” He beams before grabbing my hand again. “Let’s go, Lili. I’m more hungry than before.”
I smile. “It’s hungrier , Ikey.”
“Hungrier,” he repeats. “Come on, Lili. What if someone eats my sandwich?”
Holding Ike’s hand again, I can only take a single step forward.
“Lila,” Reed starts.
His presence shouldn’t make me this nervous. I don’t feel the need to run away from him anymore, but I can’t shake off the feeling that we might have crossed some invisible line that night at the bar. What was I thinking, texting him that I was home safe? Like he would even care?
I swallow past the lump in my throat and ignore Ike’s annoyed groan. “Yeah?”
“Meet me in my office before you leave.”
“Sure thing,” I agree with an easy smile, even though my insides are crumbling by the second.
With a dip of his stubbled chin, he disappears down the hallway. Once Ike finds his sandwich in the art room, I walk him back to the common room, where his friends are coloring pictures. When he’s settled, I head back to Melody.
Meet him at his office for what?
To tell me to delete his number, probably.
“Sorry about that.” I let out a shaky breath as I plop down into the chair across from her and wipe the sweat off my palms on my jeans. “Did you finish your reading okay?”
“I highlighted all the words I didn’t understand,” she tells me, showing me her book. Then she passes me a completed sheet. “And I answered all the questions here.”
I beam. “You’ve done so well today. Let me grab a dictionary for you so you can look up those words.”
She groans. “Do I have to?”
“Uh-huh. You need to practice how to use a dictionary.”
“But I use it on my phone just fine.”
“A physical dictionary. You know, one of those things called books ,” I tease her as I get back up. “Your teacher won’t let you use your phone in the middle of the exam.”
“Ugh. Fine. You’re lucky I like you.”
I shake my head in amusement and head over to one of the many bookshelves perched up on every wall of the library. As I search for the dictionary, a sense of belonging washes over me.
I can’t believe how quickly the kids have accepted me. Melody was the first one to show me kindness, and other kids from our group sessions, like Santiago and Sofia, soon followed suit. Then Ike, and then one of Melody’s friends, Vera.
It’s no wonder Haniyah, Reed, and everyone else work so hard to help these kids—when you meet them, they truly capture your heart.
Once I get the dictionary and remind Melody how to use it, she finds all her words in twenty minutes. After we go over a couple of questions on her worksheet she didn’t get right, I notice we still have a few minutes until her studying time is over.
So, even though I know Reed wanted to talk to her, I can’t help but ask, “Hey, Melody. Do you feel like talking about what happened with Sean and your brother?”
She visibly stiffens. “What about it?”
I lean back on my chair, attempting to sound and look casual so as to not make her anxious. It works when Reed does it, so it may be worth a try. “I just wanted to know how you’re feeling after last week.”
Her shoulders lift and fall as she puts everything back in her backpack. “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I repeat Reed’s words during the group session because they’re true. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable. “I won’t be upset.”
She places her bag on her lap to zip it up, giving me an unsure look. “Reed said he wanted to talk to me, and I’m a little nervous.”
“He only wants to make sure you’re okay,” I reassure her. “What are you nervous about?”
She bites her lower lip and looks away, debating whether to keep talking about this or not. But she finally admits, “I’m a bit angry with my brother, and because Reed is his counselor, I don’t want to get Cameron into trouble.”
“Well, if you’d feel more comfortable talking to me instead, I’m here to listen. But don’t worry about Reed. He only wants to look out for Cameron—and you. Your brother won’t get into trouble.”
“Okay.” A brief pause. Then she says, “I know Cameron loves me a lot, and I love him, but sometimes he… Sometimes he treats me like a baby.”
“Because he protects you so much?”
“Exactly! It’s like he thinks I can’t take care of myself,” she adds. “When Sean made fun of me, I told him to get lost and leave me alone. I had it under control, but Cameron yelled at him anyway, and things got messy.”
“And you don’t like that,” I point out.
She shrugs, a mask of sadness draping over her face. “I like that I can count on him if I need help, but he doesn’t let me handle things. It’s kinda annoying. Am I a bad sister for saying that?”
“Oh, sweetie, of course you’re not,” I reassure her. “You’re allowed to feel like this. Have you tried talking to him about it? Help him understand your feelings?”
“Not really. I told him once, and he didn’t listen, so.”
“All right, here’s what you can do, if you want my advice.” I wait until she nods. “The next time your brother treats you like a baby, you tell him that you’re strong and capable of dealing with things on your own—because you are. You can tell him you’ll ask for his help if you need it, but that he should let you do things on your own. But tell him firmly, with conviction. Let’s practice.”
Melody sits up on her chair, an intrigued spark in her eyes. “Okay.”
“Let’s pretend I’m your brother and you’re you.” Clearing my throat, I start, “Melody, I heard someone made fun of you at school today. Is that true?”
“Yes, but I can handle it,” she declares firmly.
“No, I don’t think you can. I’ll take care of it so it doesn’t happen again.”
She frowns. “You don’t trust me to take care of myself or what?”
“I’m just stronger than you, is all.”
“It doesn’t matter. I want to do this on my own because I’m strong, too,” she declares firmly. “I’ll ask for your help if I need it.”
My face breaks into a proud smile. “Well done. That’s how you can go about it,” I tell her. “Make sure to add something like ‘you’re a great brother, and I love you, but I want to do this on my own.’ That’ll reassure him you still count on him, and it may make it easier for him.”
“Okay.” She gives me an enthusiastic nod. “I can do that.”
“Of course you can. You’re a strong girl. He needs to realize it, too.”
The smile she gives me is nothing short of beaming. “I’m strong. I got this.”
It hits me then—how could I have ever doubted this is the right calling for me?
***
Reed
Cameron doesn’t look impressed by the book that lands on his lap at the start of our next session. He reads the title out loud. “ Thomas and the Little Bird .” Then, he frowns. “Why are you giving me a children’s book?”
I sink back into my armchair. “Because we’re going to read it together.”
“But we never read in our sessions,” he argues, not sold on the idea. “I don’t want to do homework.”
“This isn’t homework,” I explain calmly. “Sometimes, books can help with counseling. I think you’ll really like this one.”
He makes a face. I know he isn’t an avid reader, but if there’s one kid in the youth center who can benefit from the book Lila picked out, it’s him.
“Come on. Let’s start reading.”
“Reed,” he whines.
“If you finish reading the book, I’ll give you something cool at the end of the session.”
“Define cool. Because you’re old, like a dad, and dads usually think things are cool when they aren’t.”
I give him a flat look that makes him chuckle. “You’ll like it.”
“Fine.” With a dramatic sigh, he cranks the book open and starts reading.
The book is short, meant to grab the kid’s attention long enough for the message to stick without boring them to death. And it works, because Cameron doesn’t get distracted or complain as he reaches the end.
“Well?” I ask him once he’s done. “What did you think of the story?”
He drums his fingers on the hardcover. “It was okay.”
“Do you identify with the main character? Thomas?”
He frowns. “What does that mean?”
“If you see yourself in him. If you think you two are similar.”
He thinks about it. “I guess I do.”
“In what way?”
His eyes stay on the cover, his finger tracing the drawing of the little bird. “Thomas takes care of his bird like I take care of my sister.”
I hum. “Tell me how you take care of Melody.”
“I give her hugs when she’s upset,” he tells me, glancing up at me. “I want to keep her safe like Thomas with the bird.”
“I’m sure you remember what happened to the bird, though? When Thomas didn’t let it fly away because he was afraid it’d get hurt again.”
“The bird got sad, and then Thomas got sad, and it wasn’t fun anymore.”
Cameron is a bright kid. Despite his quick temper and tough exterior, I recognized his sensibility from the moment he walked into the youth center for the first time. He can connect the dots between the book and his own personal story just fine—to transform that consciousness into actual actions is the challenge here.
And I love a challenge.
“Remind me what happened when Thomas finally agreed to let the bird fly away,” I ask him.
He sits up straighter, his voice losing those sad undertones from before. “The bird came back every day to see Thomas, and he brought some friends with him sometimes.”
“It was a nice surprise, wasn’t it? Because Thomas thought he’d never see the bird again once it flew away.”
He fidgets. “Yeah.”
“Are you afraid that Melody won’t need you anymore if you stop helping her?”
Cameron snaps his head up at me in surprise—a gesture that tells me I’ve pretty much read his mind. “Something like that.”
“It’s difficult to let go of control,” I concede. “It makes us anxious, and whenever we feel anxious, our brain tells us to stop because something bad will happen. But that’s not true—we simply feel anxious because it’s something we’ve never done before. Have you ever let your sister stand up for herself?”
“No,” he admits in a quiet voice.
“Okay. The next time she’s upset, let her handle it. Stay on the sidelines and do nothing unless she asks you to. And if she needs your help, ask her first what it is that she needs from you. Maybe she doesn’t want you to pounce on anyone; maybe she just wants a hug. Does that sound like something you can do?”
When he nods, I grab a piece of paper from my folder and hand it out to him. “Here you go.”
The paper crinkles in Cameron’s fingers. “What is this?”
“A gym in town is offering free boxing lessons for the kids here who want to join,” I tell him. “Maybe it’s something you’d be interested in. That’s information for your parents. If they agree to sign you up, they need to fill in that application and give it back to me.”
“Is this the cool surprise you talked about?” He eyes the paper with intrigue. “Boxing? Like Rocky ? My dad loves that movie, and we watched it together.”
“Yes—to all those questions.”
“But you always say punching people is bad.”
“And I stand by that.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “But boxing isn’t about punching people—it’s about discipline and managing stress. It’ll help you feel less angry too.”
“Really?” he asks me like he doesn’t buy any of it.
“Really. I’d know it—I practice boxing at that same gym.”
“No way.” His eyes almost bug out of his skull. He sits upright, intrigued. “So that’s why you’re so big? Now I want to do boxing, too.”
“Think about it. There’s no rush,” I say. “If you sign up, your boxing instructors will be my closest friends, and I know them well. Which is why I also know they won’t teach you how to get into fights. That’s not what boxing is about. You can ask me any questions you might have and talk to your parents. But don’t agree to these lessons thinking it’s going to be brawl galore.”
“I get it,” he assures me with a quick nod. “I think I’m going to watch some videos when I get home.”
“That’s a good idea,” I encourage. “You have a couple of weeks to sign up, so take your time.”
“Thanks, Reed.” He leans forward, bumping my fist with his—our signature goodbye gesture. Paper still in hand, he stands before I do. “You’re coming to the park, right?”
The field trip to the park is one of our most popular activities. The kids love it there because they can play outdoors and get away from their routines. This year has been no different—they’ve been buzzing with excitement since the school year started.
“I’ll be there,” I assure him.
“Is Lila coming?” he asks next, catching me off guard. “It’s just that Melody really likes her. She told me the other day.”
I still haven’t talked to her about it, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t want to come.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll tag along. Be good, Cameron. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once he goes back to the common room, I busy myself drafting his report until someone knocks at my office.
Blonde hair and a nervous smile greet me from the door. “You wanted to see me?”
At my nod, Lila shuts the door behind her and walks up to my desk, but she doesn’t sit down.
“I saw you with Melody earlier,” I start. “I just wanted to know if she said something about last week.”
“I actually, um, talked to her about it,” she says, looking strangely guilty.
“What do you mean?”
She shifts on her feet. “I asked her if she wanted to talk, and she said yes. She was worried about getting Cameron into trouble if she talked to you.”
“Why do you look so worried?” I ask, unable to ignore the startled look in her eyes.
“I didn’t know if I was overstepping,” she admits. “The last thing I want is to prevent you from doing your job.”
“You’re doing no such thing.” I stand from behind my desk, moving toward her until only a small distance separates us. “Cameron told me his sister really likes you. I’m sure whatever advice you gave her, she’ll listen to it.”
“I don’t know about that,” she mutters, looking away. “Maybe she’ll think it’s silly or—”
“Lila, look at me.”
Those pretty eyes lock with mine.
“How many times do I have to tell you the children like you?”
And it’s true. They looked more at ease around her in our second group session last week, in which we tackled teamwork. It also helps that she’s out in the common room every day, playing with them or helping them with homework.
“Haniyah is happy with your performance so far, and so am I,” I tell her. “Is there anything we could do to help you feel more comfortable?”
“It’s not that,” she hurries to say. “Everything’s perfect. I’m just in over my head.”
I wonder what or who made her lose her confidence to such extremes. Is that asshole of her ex the only one to blame, or is there more to it?
Don’t ask. Don’t get too close. I’ll ruin her.
I clear my throat. “Maybe a day off will help you put things into perspective.”
“I don’t want a day off.” She sounds alarmed.
“Not like that. There’s a field trip coming up. We’re going to the park to play some group games, get some fresh air. It’s technically not on your internship obligations, since it’s on a Saturday, but if you want to be a chaperone, I’ll save a spot for you.”
“That sounds amazing,” she instantly says. “Count me in.”
I nod, the organ in my chest pounding at the thought of seeing her again this weekend. Why does that make me feel ten times lighter?
“So, tell me more about your conversation with Melody,” I say, attempting to get back on track.
Because spending the day with her away from the safety of the youth center has the potential to turn into a very dangerous thing.