Page 72 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

Alice’s eyes soften, and she closes the folder slowly. “Go on.”

I scratch my chin. “What if we had somethingjustfor them? A kind of safe group—mentors, maybe some older teens who’ve been through rough transitions—who could help. One-on-one stuff. Practical support, confidence-building, maybe some light magical training focused on empowerment, not just control.”

Her mouth parts slightly. She says nothing, which—coming from Alice—is the equivalent of a stunned gasp.

I keep going, encouraged. “It wouldn’t be therapy. Just a consistent place where the kids who feel weird or wrong ortoomuchcan go and be told, ‘Hey, your weird is valid. You’re not broken. You just need guidance.’”

Alice presses a hand to her chest, eyes bright. “Jason, this is... this is beautiful.”

I blink. “You really think so?”

“Yes.” Her voice wobbles just a little. “You’re not just making space. You’rebuildingsomething that tells these kids they’re worth investing in. You’re showing them what you never got.”

The words land so square in my chest I forget how to breathe for a second.

She steps closer, still holding the folder. “Did Julie say yes?”

“She said she needs to run it through the right channels. Talk to the board. Sort out staffing. But she liked it. Said she thinks I might be the one to lead it.”

“Youare.” Alice is glowing now, eyes locked on mine like she’s seeing me even clearer than before. “Jason, this is so needed.”

I shrug, suddenly shy again. “I just… kept thinking about Nolan. About how much he changed once someone told him he could be himself without hiding. And it made me wonder how many other kids feel like they have to stuff their magic into a box just to survive.”

She nods, quiet for a moment. Then softly, “You know I want in, right?”

I blink. “What?”

“I want to help. Build it with you. Develop the curriculum. Pair the kids. Train the mentors. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

My throat gets tight.

“You’d do that?”

She steps in, brushing her fingers against mine. “Of course I would. This isn’t just your dream anymore.”

I stare at her—my Alice. Quiet, steady, brilliant Alice—and suddenly I don’t feel so overwhelmed by the weight of what I’m trying to build.

Because she’s in it with me.

And if we can give these kids even a fraction of what we’ve built together?

Then it’s already worth it.

CHAPTER 25

ALICE

The end-of-camp energy is like the last notes of a campfire song—sweet, slow, and a little bittersweet. Everything feels softer, like the trees themselves are sighing in rhythm with the kids as they run through their last cabin competitions and midnight prank wars.

I walk through the art shed with a clipboard in one hand and Rubi’s latest glitter explosion drying in the other. Nolan’s comic pages are pinned to the wall now, right above a crooked banner that says “YOU ARE MAGIC” in big, hand-painted letters.

And the wildest part?

I believe it.

Because something’s shifted in me.

Like the last few weeks scraped away the parts that didn’t fit anymore—fear, grief, all that leftover ache from the past—and left me with just…this.

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