Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
She slides through the gap and shuts the door, looking around. “Were you going to take a nap?”
I blink at her in surprise. “No. Why?”
“It’s just… kind of dark in here.”
I spread my arms out to indicate the entirety of my office. “I turn the lights down a bit and put music on to try to relax while I eat my lunch.”
“Does it work?” she asks, sliding her backpack off her shoulder and letting it slide to the floor.
“Not really,” I reply with a grin, then motion to the chair. “Did you eat lunch?”
“Yeah. Just got done, then asked to come see you.”
I sit up straighter in my chair. “Is something wrong?”
Sylvie shakes her head. “Nope. Just wanted to hang out.”
Laughing, I pick up my fork and dig into my salad. “Surely you have cooler friends than me to hang out with.”
“Yeah, I do,” she replies with a sly smile. “But you’re cool in your own way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” she asks.
I shake my head, mouth drawing into an involuntary frown. “I’ve got a meeting tonight with parents.”
Sylvie nods solemnly. “About the banned books.”
Sighing in resignation, I nod as I stuff lettuce in my mouth.
“My dad bought me all of them on the list, just in case,” she says with a grin. “Doesn’t matter if they get banned here at school.”
I chew and swallow, taking a quick sip of my water. “Maybe not to you, but there are some kids who can’t afford to buy books. And they sometimes get banned in libraries too.”
That gives Sylvie pause and she chews on her bottom lip. “Maybe we can start our own lending program for kids who want to read these books. I mean, with their parents’ permission.”
My heart clenches over her thoughtfulness and pride swells within me because that’s a brilliant idea. “Sylvie,” I exclaim. “That’s genius. We could totally do something like that if the ban goes into effect.”
We chat more about that as I eat. Glancing at the clock on my laptop, I say, “You have about five minutes before you need to get to class.”
She nods and bends over to pick up her backpack. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I think I’ve made my decision that I want to stay with my dad and not go back to the Mardraggons. I’m not sure if that’s something we let the judge know now but I feel like I should let someone know.”
“Have you told your dad?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, but I will. I guess I’m more worried about how to tell Rosemund, Lionel and Gabe. I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”
I can’t help my skeptical eyebrow that shoots up.
Sylvie amends her previous statement. “I don’t want to hurt Uncle Gabe’s feelings. I don’t think my grandparents would care either way. Lionel ignores me and didn’t even eat dinner with us last weekend. And dinner… ugh. It’s so formal. We have to dress up and eat in the formal dining room. Rosemund only talks about parties and never tries to talk to me. At least Uncle Gabe asks me about school and Renault.”
“Admittedly,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral but still clear that I’m on Sylvie’s side, “your grandparents aren’t like others I’ve known.”
Tossing her hands up, she says, “I don’t think they know how to talk to kids. Uncle Gabe told me that he and my mom were raised by a nanny. When my mom was sick, Lionel and Rosemund never came to visit her. I was in there with her, although Gabe came several times a day to check on things.”
“It’s not natural,” I concede.
“My mom taught me better. She showed me what real love is and I can see it in my dad. It’s why my mom wanted me to stay with him.”
I nod in understanding. She’s finally seeing the wisdom of her mother’s decision. “Do you not want to go back for visits? Because you don’t have to.”
Sylvie’s expression is tortured as she worries at her bottom lip but finally says, “I like spending time with Uncle Gabe.”
“But you can set that up outside of overnight visits if you want,” I say, confident that Ethan will agree with that. “Dinner, lunch. Maybe your dad can invite him over—”
I’m cut short by the pointed stare Sylvie levels at me that basically says, Yeah, my dad will never invite Gabe over for anything.
“Regardless,” I continue. “There are alternatives.”
“I’ll talk to Uncle Gabe about it this Saturday when I stay over. Maybe Lionel and Rosemund just need time to learn how to be grandparents.” I marvel that this child is wiser and more caring, empathetic and mature than Lionel and Rosemund Mardraggon could ever hope to be. “I’ll also talk to my dad about it tonight. He always seems to have good advice.”