She was of Middle-eastern descent, with makeup I might have deemed ‘evening’ makeup for going to a club if I’d worn it—very distinct eyeliner, eyeshadow, and bold lipstick that would have stood out in dim lighting. She made it work. Her clothes were nice—a red dress with a leaf pattern at the hem, on the folded collar with the decorative edge, and her sleeves.

At a glance, she seemed to be the youngest adult in the yard.

“Yes?” she asked. However young she was, by the stern tone alone I could imagine she was the one I would have wanted to cross least if I were ten years younger.

“I’m looking for a kid I volunteer with. Chris Elman?”

Her expression changed. She pointed at one of the kids. “Skye, don’t be a brat. Play on your own for a bit.”

That order given, she approached the chain-link fence.

“Chris Elman?”

“He lives here, right?”

“You don’t sound sure.” She was roughly my age and it was the kind of voice that made me think ‘mama bear’.

“He’s… kind of the kind of kid who doesn’t leave you feeling very sure about anything,” I said.

She paused, then smiled. “Yes. He is.”

“I tried to call him, but there wasn’t a response. I know some of the cell towers have been down, so I thought I’d check in.”

“We’ve had outages. Not as bad as some areas. That could be it, but you could have waited and tried again, instead of coming from…?”

“Bridgeport, for now. I kind of wanted to—” I hesitated. “—make sure everything was okay.”

“It’s hard to say anything that wouldn’t be construed as a breach of his trust,” she said. “I’m one of the few adults he seems to be willing to tolerate.”

Maybe because you’re pretty, I thought. Then I thought again. Chris seemed like the type to prefer a hard-nosed adult he could predict and rely on over the friendly sort. Maybe it was both. “It’s a sensitive boundary, apparently. I don’t want either of us to cross it. Also, behind you.”

One of the girls was holding a boy down and spitting repeatedly in his face. Both kids seemed to be seven or so.

“Skye!” the woman barked the word, and the kids froze, eyes going wide, with only the culprit ignoring the order, continuing to spit. She strode over, hauled the little girl off, and pulled her away by one arm. The little girl fought as well as she was able, not giving an inch.

All fight. This stern teacher didn’t slow her down or make her hesitate a second. The yard monitor wrapped the child’s own arms around the child’s stomach, forming an ‘x’, like a straightjacket without the jacket, and knelt, hugging her to secure her in that position. The kid kicked and threw her weight around.