There I was, on the beautiful rocky coastline, with a cabin of my own and a job and hot meals every day. There I was, with the prospect of a family. And I was worried about my hair and my breath. We are all humans; we all wake up messy and confused. It was nothing, I told myself. Get ready. Go on with your day.

___

I felt so self-conscious, appearing in the doorway for breakfast, all those faces turning to take me in. Jackson, Emma, and Hunter. Darius, Blanca, Mackenzie, and James.

I would have to hear each of their names again and again to learn them. The three high schoolers sat in the far corner. Emma flashed me a bright smile. Hunter smirked and Jackson barely glanced at me at all. We were so close in age. I was grateful that I wasn’t assigned to teach them. Liz, though—now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, eating an avocado half with a spoon—said, “Let’s make Mila feel welcome, everyone,” and, miraculously, Hunter nodded. Jackson lifted a hand to wave.

Darius, Blanca, Mackenzie, and James—the little ones—perched together in a row on a tall bench at one side of the table. They paid special attention to the cloth napkins on their laps. At each of their places, Terry was setting down small bowls of plain yogurt and a boy followed behind him with a larger bowl, spooning berries into the white.

“Lee’s famous fruit salad,” Terry said.

So this was Lee. He turned, and when he saw me, he set down the bowl.

“Hey!” Blanca shouted. “I want my berries!”

Lee’s eyes widened, but Billy said, “It’s okay, buddy. I got this. You go meet your teacher.” In a low voice, Billy spoke to Blanca, and then I heard her say, “May I have my berries please?” and Billy say, “Certainly.”

Lee stepped toward me and held out his hand. He was nine years old and small for his age. His hand was thin, but his shake was firm, as though he had been practicing. “My name is Lee,” he told me. “I’m your only student for now.”

Terry placed his broad hand on Lee’s skinny shoulder.

“Lee’s been eager to meet you.”

“I’m not very good at math,” Lee said. “But I like to read.”

I sat on a chair so that I would not have to look down at him as we spoke.

“What do you like to read?”

“Everything.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to get along,” I told him. I smiled, and his serious face turned into a grin, and it was so sudden and surprising—that smile—that I felt tears spring to my eyes. I blinked them away fast and turned to the table where Julia had set an empty mug and was offering me coffee.

___