The blanket was warm. The couch was soft. But I didn't move.
I watched her. The girl. Serene. She was talking a lot. Not loud. Just… like she wasn't scared of me. Like she wanted me to stay.
She came back with a book. Big, colorful, heavy. It made a loud thud when she dropped it. I flinched. She didn't notice.
She flipped pages with tiny fingers. "I can talk to you with this," she said. "Not perfect. But trying."
Her tongue poked out as she read. I didn't understand most of it. But she looked excited.
Then she pointed at a page. Looked at me. "How… old… are… you?"
My throat closed.
I thought about lying. But I didn't want to. Not to her.
"…Five."
She gasped like I told her a secret. "You're five?"
I nodded.
She grinned so wide her cheeks puffed. Flipped again. Slammed her finger on a sentence. "I'm seven!"
Then she leaned in, whispering slow, "I'm older than you. That means I'm the boss."
I didn't know what that meant. But her smile made it feel like a game.
"Boss?" I repeated.
She nodded hard. "But I'm a nice boss."
My lips twitched.
Then I saw him—her dad. I sat up straighter. He didn't yell. He crouched low, looked me in the eye.
"Ilay," he said, voice soft, slow. "Do you want to go to school with Serene?"
School?
I didn't know what that really meant. But Serene grabbed my hand, eyes shining.
"Playground," she whispered. "Drawing. Lunch."
I didn't trust many people. But I trusted her.
I nodded.
Once.
Twice.
Then fast. Over and over.
I couldn't speak. But I wanted to scream yes.
Her hand squeezed mine.
Just a little. But it was real.
____
The school was loud.
So many feet. So many voices. My hands curled in the sleeves of the sweater they gave me. It still smelled like someone else's house.
Kids looked. Some stared.
Some whispered.
I knew that feeling. Different. Wrong.
But Serene held my hand tighter.
She didn't look back at them. Only forward. Dragging me with her like she didn't care what anyone thought.
"She's weird too," a boy mumbled near the lockers.
Serene turned. "I heard that!" she barked. "You're weird!"
I blinked.
She turned back to me and smiled, teeth missing on one side. "Don't listen to them. You have me."
I looked at her.
Her ponytail bounced when she walked. Her legs were longer than mine. She was taller.
I didn't know why that made me feel safe. But it did.
I held onto her hand tighter, hiding behind her just a little.
She didn't let go. Not once.
The classroom smelled like crayons.
Everyone had paper. Colors. But nobody came to sit by me.
Except her.
Serene pulled her chair next to mine. "We can draw anything," she whispered. "Like dreams."
I didn't have dreams.
But I had her.
So I drew.
Badly. My hands shook at first. But I made a house with a red roof. Her papa with big hair. Her mama with pretty earrings.
Serene with her loud smile.
And me. Next to her. Holding her hand.
I didn't even think about it. I just did it.
When I finished, I poked her shoulder and showed her.
She gasped. "Ilay…"
She stared at the little version of herself in the drawing. Then at me.
"I love it," she whispered. "Te lo guardaré para siempre."
I didn't understand the words. But she leaned in and kissed my cheek, warm and soft.
Something inside me lit up.
Like the sun.Like something I didn't know was missing had just been given to me.
Like all the cold rooms I ever slept in didn't matter anymore.
I didn't know what she said.
But I knew what she meant.
And in that second, I decided —
I'd never let go of her hand. Not ever.
"Serene?"
A voice called from the front of the class. A woman in glasses. The teacher.
Serene looked at me and frowned. "Wait here, okay?"
My fingers twitched. I didn't like when people left.
She bent a little, poking my chest. "Don't move. I'll be right back. Promise."
I nodded again.
Then she ran off. The beads in her ponytail clicking as she disappeared behind the door with the teacher.
I touched the spot on my cheek where she kissed me.
It felt warm. Still there. Still hers.
I sat there, hugging the feeling like a blanket.
Suddenly the room got quieter.
And colder.
My paper was still in front of me. The one with the house and her hand in mine.
But I felt eyes on me.
Two boys. Bigger than me. One with a missing front tooth. The other with scraped knees. They stood near my table, whispering to each other. Then laughing.
I looked down.
One of them stepped closer. "Why do you look like that?"
I didn't answer.
"You don't talk?" The other one snickered. "He's a freak."
I curled my fingers tighter. I wanted Serene to come back. Now.
The boy knocked my crayon box off the table. The crayons scattered everywhere. I didn't move.
"Look at this dumb drawing," the second one said, holding up my paper. "Are you her pet or something?"
Don't cry. Don't cry.
"Maybe he's too stupid to talk."
My ears rang. My chest hurt.
"Let's see how he draws without hands," the first boy said, grabbing my wrist hard. I winced.
My wrist hurt. Not like before. Not like the belt. But enough to make my breath stop.
Then—
CRASH.
We all turned.
One of them had kicked the shelf. A glass vase — tall, pale blue, filled with fake flowers — wobbled, then tumbled down.
It hit the ground.
But didn't break.
It rolled near the boy's foot.
He looked at it. Then at me.
And smiled.
"Let's see what happens when it hits his head," he whispered.
He lunged.
And I didn't move.
Not this time.