Page 90 of My Merry Mistake
Finn doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. He’s not even looking for a way to pass it.
“This is why I don’t take back roads,” I say.
He chuckles to himself, but still makes no move to pass the car.
I let my head rest on the seat and close my eyes, feeling suddenly tired again. If Finn notices, he doesn’t say anything,but mercifully stays quiet, allowing me to rest my eyes and, more importantly, my mind.
Maybe I’m just worn out, but I notice that even though I don’t know where we’re going—and Finn is the one in control—I don’t feel tense right now. The seats are big and comfortable, and the ride is smooth. It smells woodsy, like him, and for the moment, I’m not thinking about what I need to do or where else I need to be.
He finds an eighties station, but keeps the volume low enough that I can still hear the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road. And soon, I’m drifting—not asleep, but not awake either. It’s not until he pulls into the parking lot of a nondescript brick building and stops the car that I open my eyes.
He turns off the engine and looks at me. I spot the hint of concern in his eyes, but he must think better of saying anything because his face shifts and he brightens. “Ready?”
“How can I be ready? I have no idea where we are.”
“Right. Good point.” He opens the door and walks to the back of the car. I get out as he opens the hatch, and inside, I see six neatly stacked bins. He pulls one down and hands it to me, then grabs two more. He presses a button to close the back of the car, locks it, and motions for me to follow him into the building.
“Since it’s you, I thought it would be smart to start withproductivefun before we move on tomindlessfun,” he says.
“Since this is a one-time thing, I don’t see that happening,” I say, walking alongside him.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” He holds the door open for me, and inside, we’re met by the sound of voices—overlapping chatter from a group of people. I’m not sure I have the energy for strangers, but I follow Finn down a flight of stairs.
The noise picks up as we get closer to the bottom, and he peers over his shoulder. “Get ready.”
I respond with wide eyes. “For what?”
At that, he smiles and opens the door to a large room with tall ceilings. The sound of voices and laughter swells as we step inside, and I pause in the doorway to look around. On one side, there are kids and adults seated at round tables. Most of the kids are writing or coloring, some of them are reading or drawing. One little girl is knitting, which instantly makes me like her. A few of the adults are talking quietly—teaching, maybe?
On the opposite side of the room, there are couches and armchairs situated on top of a brightly colored rug and, off to the side, an open window to what looks like an industrial kitchen.
“What is this place?” I ask, as Finn takes the bin from me and stacks it on top of the two he set down against the wall.
“Tutoring club,” he says, leading me further into the room. “There’s no school today, so they opened early this morning. Parents still work, so kids need somewhere to go. For some of these kids it’s the only meal they’ll get all day.”
I’m struck by the lightness of the mood, the smatterings of laughter, the engaged adults who kneel or sit with the kids.
“They’ll feed them, help with homework if they’ve got it, and once they’re caught up, the kids can go down the hall to the game room to hang out.”
“Mr. Finn!” A little girl rushes toward him.
“Hey, Amalia!” Finn kneels down so he’s at her eye level.
She holds up a piece of paper with a big 10/10 written in red ink. “Look!”
“Spelling test?” he asks.
She nods. “I got them all.”
“Did that boy you have a crush on give you the answers?”
She shakes her head, her pigtails flopping from side to side, and laughs out a loud, “NO!”
“Okay, okay, just checking,” he says, feigning exasperation.
She’s missing her two front teeth, and there’s a trail of freckles across the pale skin of her cheeks and nose. Her eyes arebright, and she looks so proud. My heart squeezes when I realize she now has Finn’s undivided attention.
“Did you get a prize out of the cupboard?” he asks.
