“Okay,” she says in a small, breathless voice.

I reach back and touch her shoulder but continue to keep myself between her and the bear, who is swaying from side to side like he’s deciding on whether to charge or turn and run. Dad pops into my head. From the night he scared the bear, how he stood tall and looked the bear straight in the eyes. He was my hero that day. “Let’s walk nice and slow, and stay behind me.”

The wind picks up, rushes around us, lifts the hair away from my face, and turns my breath shallow from its coldness. When we near BTI, the outside lights surround us, making it harder to see the bear, who lingers in the twilight shadows but stays back, still swaying side to side. The door is within reach, and I yank it open, shoving the girl inside before me, my pulse racing. When it closes behind us, I slump forward, relieved, and turn to see whether the bear has left. Instead, he sits at the bottom of the concrete stairs, so close I can see mud caked around sharp claws and the pointed tips of his ears.

Through the window, I meet his gaze, see my dad in his red boxers on that night in the lobby, standing tall against a bear, remember his solid protectiveness and how sure I was that with Dad, nothing bad would ever happen to me. I press my fingers against the glass, not scared anymore.

“Wow, that was a close call,” the girl whispers beside me. “You’re so brave, Ms. Claire. Just like your dad from that story you tell all the time.”

I look at her sharply, wonder whether I’ve been thinking out loud. “What did you say?”

She squints up at me, wrinkles her nose. “You tell that story a lot ’cause I think it’s one of your favoritist memories. One time Ms. Kiko asked you to tell it to our class. Everyone loved it.”

Outside, the bear turns and sprints away, disappearing into the woods beyond our building and leaving me with my thoughts and a fading sensation that I’m uncomfortable in my own skin. I sit down in one of the chairs in the lobby, hoping the sensation that I’ve lost something will go away because it writhes in my gut, so I close my eyes, rub at my face, and remind myself to breathe.