Maya seemed surprised.
“To finish school.”
“Here?”
“If I earned it.”
“You already earned a place once.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Her jaw tightened.
“Before I missed a year.”
I looked at her.
“You haven’t been enrolled?”
“Not consistently.”
She explained that moving between temporary housing situations had meant changing districts twice. Records had been delayed. Transportation became difficult. Her mother worked unpredictable hours. Maya had kept studying through library books and free online courses, but official school attendance had become fragmented.
No disaster.
No single dramatic event.
Just small problems accumulating until a bright teenager could disappear between forms, addresses, and requirements.
“Where is your mother?” I asked.
“At work.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
Maya hesitated.
“She knows I’m trying to fix school.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
At least she was honest.
I handed back the papers.
“Then the first thing we do is speak with her.”
Maya shook her head.
“She won’t accept money.”
“I’m beginning to understand that nobody in your family likes my preferred solution.”
Sophie giggled.
Maya’s mouth twitched.
“My mom works hard.”
“I believe you.”
“She doesn’t want people thinking she can’t take care of me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But people think it.”
Her voice remained calm.
“She’s trying to get us into an apartment. We’re staying at a women’s transitional residence right now. It’s safe. We have a room. I’m not sleeping outside.”
Relief surprised me.
Maybe she noticed.
“I said I was between places.”
“You did.”
“The jacket is from a donation bin. The shoes too.”
She looked down.
“That doesn’t automatically mean I’m in danger.”
There was another lesson in that sentence.
One I suspected Claire would have enjoyed watching me learn.
“Then I apologize for assuming.”
Maya blinked.
Perhaps adults with expensive coats did not apologize to her often.
Sophie slipped her hand into mine.
“Can Maya come home for dinner?”
Both Maya and I answered simultaneously.
“No.”
Sophie sighed.
“You two are actually very similar.”
That time Maya laughed.
It was quieter than Sophie’s.
But it changed her whole face.
I asked Thomas to drive us to the transitional residence where Maya’s mother was staying.
Maya refused at first.
Then Chicago wind swept down the street hard enough to make Sophie’s scarf fly sideways.
