For a second, Nova felt excited, so excited she had to happy-flap her hands and squeak. She’d just read that sign all by herself, every single word! Even property, and that was a tough one!

“We were told that Nova can’t read anything yet,” Francine went on. “She doesn’t know the alphabet. But we’ll work on it!”

The alphabet?

Nova stopped happy-flapping.

The alphabet was the name for the ABCs. Nova knew her ABCs. Bridget taught her the ABCs when she was six!

She felt her face going hot.

Does not speak. Cannot read. Severely mentally retarded.

Her eyes filled with tears. She needed Bridget. Bridget would tell them, “My sister’s not dumb. She’s a thinker, not a talker.”

The tears burned as they fell. Nova was ready to be All Done with this tour. She bit between her thumb and her forefinger to keep from crying too hard, but Billy took her hand away from her mouth and held it.

“Is she…okay?” asked Principal Dowling.

“I think Nova’s a little overwhelmed,” answered Francine as she fished a tissue from her purse. “Her social worker told us that happens sometimes. She’s an anxious girl, especially in new or unfamiliar situations. We’ve mostly been keeping her home since they placed her with us, to get used to things.”

“Which is precisely why we appreciate you letting us come today!” Billy reached out to shake the principal’s hand again. “We want her first day to go as smoothly as possible.”

“Of course!” Principal Dowling smiled, but at the same time shot Nova a nervous look he hadn’t worn before. Francine held the tissue up to Nova’s nose and asked her to blow.

“Francine will be dropping her off and picking her up each day,” said Billy as Principal Dowling led the way back to the main double doors.

“I can drop her here and still get to my classroom in plenty of time.” Francine tucked a stray lock of hair behind Nova’s ear. “The elementary school is right down the road.”

“Ah, yes,” said Principal Dowling. “How is kindergarten? Got a good group this year?”

Francine nodded. “I love them. They always start off so helpless! Babies, practically, unable to read or write or tie their shoes or color inside the lines, but by the time summer vacation rolls around…”

Nova wasn’t listening anymore. She wasn’t crying anymore either. She was humming softly and holding NASA Bear with one hand, tapping her chin with the other, thinking again about the very first time she’d walked down halls like these, back when she was a kindergarten baby.

School would start tomorrow.

She was not ready.