Emma is practically vibrating by the time I cut the engine.
“Libby’s here,” she says, already halfway out of her seatbelt.
“Whoa, speed racer,” I laugh, opening my door. “Let’s not face-plant on day one.”
She bolts anyway.
Libby’s outside the bookstore, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back like she’s been working nonstop. The second she sees Emma, her whole face softens.
“Hey, baby!” she says, dropping to her knees just in time for Emma to crash into her arms.
“It was good!” Emma announces immediately. “Like really good.”
Libby laughs, squeezing her. “Yeah? Tell me everything.”
Emma does.
Every single thing.
She rehashes the entire day with the same enthusiasm she gave me. She talks about Mrs. Hanley, Steve the plant, Lucy and her sparkly shoes, the crayons, the lunchroom. Word for word in places.
I hang back a step, watching them, smiling when I’m supposed to. Nodding when Emma looks to me for confirmation.
Libby glances up at me mid-story.
Her smile fades.
“What’s wrong?” she asks qu
Magbasa pa