Coming here without Grandma was so painful at first. But now I’m not as alone anymore.

“I don’t know how much Lari has told you about us,” she says, “but Vozes started out as a place where music teachers volunteered to teach children how to sing, hence our name. We started a choir, and kids came from all over the metropolitan area in Recife and Olinda to join us. Soon after, we began offering dance lessons, too. Hip-hop, modern dance, ballet, forró, and frevo.”

Dona Selma gives us a tour of the house. When we reach the backyard, we find the kids and volunteers are rehearsing a St. John’s quadrille, enjoying the break in the rain. Judging by all the commotion, they’re still learning the dance steps.

Pedro chuckles next to me.

Never in a million years would I have thought someone as annoying and impatient as Pedro would like children.

“Our house has become a bit of a headquarters for everyone around here,” Dona Selma explains. “A second home. Artists from Alto da Sé come by often to teach kids and teens how to paint and sculpt. Physical education teachers help coach teams. And capoeira masters start circles. We have volunteers come by to tutor the older kids who are struggling with their homework. And while the kitchen is under repair, volunteers like your cooking club have been donating meals. Some of these kids have to stay with us all day, so we make sure they go home well-fed.”

Pedro nods, looking impressed. “I wish I’d come by much sooner,” he says.

“Lari’s been with us since she was little,” Dona Selma says, passing an arm around my shoulders. “She used to come here every weekend with her grandmother, bringing bread and other delicious salgados from Salt.”

Pedro looks at me. For the briefest second, I don’t see the usual wariness in his eyes. He just...studies me. My cheeks warm and I turn away.

“I’ll get Sugar involved, too,” he tells Dona Selma, determined. “We’ll donate bolo de rolo and pastries.”

Ugh. There he is. Only a Molina would think of volunteer work as a competition. I roll my eyes and head back to the dining room, while Dona Selma continues giving them a tour.

I’ve finished assembling the plastic tables for the kids when they return. Cintia looks dazzled. “This place is awesome,” she says to me. “Thank you for introducing it to the club.”

“Good job, newbie,” PC says, patting me on the shoulder.

Victor pulls me aside. “Can I talk with you?” he asks in a low voice, and something about the hint of nerves in his tone makes my heart do a backflip.

“S-sure,” I say.

“Outside?”

He turns to open the door that leads into the side garden.

“It’s raining,” Pedro says, startling me. I didn’t realize he was right behind me.

“No, it’s not,” I say.