Then one afternoon, Denise called.

“We’re holding an event this weekend,” she said. “Some of the kids will be there. Prospective parents too. Very informal.”

She paused.

“I think you should come.”

The event took place in a community center gymnasium.

Fluorescent lights.

Folding tables.

A floor that squeaked under every shoe.

The younger children ran around playing games and building towers.

Volunteers watched nearby.

Prospective parents wandered around with carefully neutral smiles, all trying not to look as though they were evaluating children.

I felt uncomfortable almost immediately.

For a moment, I considered leaving.

Then I saw him.

A teenage boy sat alone near a window with a paperback resting on his knees.

The room was loud and chaotic.

He read as though he were sitting alone in a library.

Something about his stillness caught my attention.

Then a little girl nearby dropped a box of crayons.

They scattered everywhere.