Page 89 of Sexting the Pakhan

“Thank you, my tiny lawyer,” I say.

Nadia nods seriously. “You’re welcome.”

Mila reaches the classroom door and immediately turns back. Her curls have already started escaping the clips I put in this morning. Five minutes of effort, destroyed by enthusiasm.

Her teacher, Miss Elena, smiles at her. “Good morning, Mila.”

Mila says, “Good morning. This is my sister. She’s shy, but only with new people.”

Nadia gasps. “I’m not shy.”

Mila says, “You are sometimes shy.”

Nadia says, “I’m observing.”

Miss Elena crouches slightly and says, “Observation is very important.”

Nadia relaxes at once. “Yes, it is.”

I stand there holding two lunch bags I no longer need to hold and try not to fall apart.

Miss Elena looks at me kindly. “They’ll be all right, Ms. Hart.”

I nod too quickly. “Yes. I know. They’re excited.”

Mila throws both arms around my waist with enough force to knock the breath out of me. “Don’t be sad, Mama.”

“I’m not sad,” I say.

Nadia studies my face. “You’re wearing your crying glasses.”

“They’re regular sunglasses,” I say.

Nadia says, “No, they’re the crying ones.”

Mila pats my cardigan. “We’ll come back after school.”

“That’s usually how school works,” I say, and my voice only cracks a little.

Nadia steps closer and presses her face into my side. She’s less dramatic than Mila in public, but her fingers tighten in my cardigan, and that tells me everything.

I bend and kiss the top of her head. “Be brave, sweetheart.”

Nadia says, “I’m already brave.”

“I know,” I say.

Mila lifts her face for a kiss. “Me too.”

“You too,” I say, kissing her cheek. “Very brave. Very loud. Very likely to reorganize the classroom by lunch.”

Mila grins. “Maybe.”

Miss Elena laughs softly. “We’ll manage.”

I hand over the lunch bags because if I keep holding them, I might accidentally take the girls home and homeschool them badly for the next twelve years.

“Bye, Mama,” Mila says.