I know she’ll be happy. Delighted. Ecstatic, even. For a time. And then she’ll realize what the board has done.

I lean on the wall, watching her wrap one towel around her chest, then proceed to dry her hair. I can’t stop watching, fascinated.

“May I have my phone now?” she asks, ever so polite, even annoyed.

I hand it to her, and watch her immediately unlock it and start to scroll. She attempts to conceal the fact that she’s avoiding my gaze purposefully.

Her pretty mouth lets out a frustrated groan. “My internet is so slow!”

“Night25, capital N,” I tell her.

As soon as those ocean-blue eyes meet mine, she flushes again.

“The Wi-Fi password.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She continues to navigate the screen for a few minutes; and then her eyes finally widen, her mouth stretching in a smile that lights up her entire face, making her look just as sweet and adorable and beautiful as she looked the first time I saw her in that stationery store, chatting with my niece and rubbing her back so protectively.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Hm? Oh, I…” I think she’s about to tell me she’s not hungry, but at the mention of food, her stomach roars, betraying the lie before it crosses her lips. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“That won’t do. What would you like?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have time. I’m supposed to go get my schedule this morning, in…” She checks the screen. “An hour. Shit, I’d better rush—it’ll take a good forty minutes to walk to the admin building.”

I watch her, waiting for her to ask for help. Give me a ride. Bring me to school. Feed me. Take care of me.

She doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. She’ll need to by the end of the day. And then, she’ll learn…in time.

“Thanks for the offer. And the bath. And the clothes,” she adds, moving back into my room.

“So they re-enrolled you, huh?”

She beams. “Yes! And god knows I’ve learned my lesson. I’m going to stay the hell away from, well, everyone.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

Does she truly believe that’s an option?

I follow, watching her get to the pile of clothing. Given the fact that my extensive folder on her includes all of her emails, bank records and text, I’m confident they’re the right size.