Molly laughed, collapsing to the ground, her dark, curly ponytail swinging as she sprawled her legs out in the rustling grass. “If you’re lucky, Kate. If you’re lucky.”

From the top, Kate looked down into the bay. Waves rushed against the rock wall that guarded the tiny cove, spurting water high as the surf lapped in and out of the calm, protected bay. Last week, when Kate, Emma, and Molly had reached the statue, they’d looked down to find Tilly swimming with Sister Ruth and Sister Ellie. Treading water in the bay, they’d waved, and Kate had felt overwhelmed by the sight. This week, the weather was too cold for a morning dip in the ocean. Kate had left Tilly sound asleep in the cottage. She’d be awake by now though, Kate thought. She’d probably even found the cup of tea Kate had made for her just before leaving. By now, it would be the perfect temperature.

Kate grasped her knees with both hands, her breath quickly returning. She looked at Molly, watched as her talented student stared up at Joan of Arc intensely. Suddenly, Molly dropped her gaze. Her brow furrowed as she picked mindlessly at the grass between her knees. “You want to know what I pray for every morning?” Molly asked.

Kate had a feeling she knew where this conversation was headed. “Only if you want to tell me…”

For a long moment, Molly didn’t speak. Then: “I pray that I’m going to be good enough,” she said softly. “I pray that they chose me for the right reasons, not just because I’m a girl, or because I’m Aboriginal. Not because I fill some sort of quota.”

Kate straightened. Oh, Molly…

Molly looked up from the grass. She searched Kate’s gaze, not for a response, not for validation. Kate had already given her that in bucket loads. As Kate looked down at her, she hoped her stare conveyed what Molly needed. I hear you. You’re heard.

It was already November. With the passing of each day, they were drawing closer to the end of the school year, and then to New Year’s Eve when Molly would be leaving for Edinburgh. Kate knew Molly was nervous, that she was doubting herself. Whenever Kate mentioned the trip, Molly fell quiet, withdrawing for a few hours. Kate had read Molly’s file—she knew what was going on. The first year of boarding had been hell for her. The poor kid had been so riddled with anxiety that a child psychologist started visiting once a week. It had come as a bit of a shock to Kate when she’d read it. She’d only ever known Molly as a confident, settled person. But now, with Molly heading into an unfamiliar environment, Kate harboured concerns that it could all prove too much. Over the next few weeks, she’d have to keep an eye on her.

As Molly pulled herself to her feet, Kate reached out and grasped her shoulder. “You don’t need to pray for that, Mol. Come on. Let’s go home.”