Victoria sat back down. Week three. Other kids started teasing me. Isaiah remembered. He told Victoria to stop. But you didn’t stop. Isaiah said, “No, because you mattered more than their opinions. Your friend Jasmine tried to pull you away.” Victoria nodded. Every day said I was being weird. Mrs. Patterson caught me. fourth week.
She was going to report it. Isaiah leaned forward. What happened? I begged her. Told her you’d starve. She looked at you. Really looked. Then she said she didn’t see anything. She helped you? She started bringing extra snacks. Left them in my cubby. Isaiah’s chest achd. People were kinder than I thought. Victoria’s voice dropped.
Then winter came. Isaiah closed his eyes. Winter. The worst part. December. The temperature dropped to 15°. You were outside in a thin jacket. No hat, no gloves. Your lips were blue. I remember. That afternoon, I ran home, grabbed my winter coat, my dad’s gloves, a scarf, a blanket from my bed. You gave me your coat. You said no.
Said I’d be cold. I lied. Said I had another one. Isaiah opened his eyes. You didn’t. No. I shivered through recess in a sweater for two months. Got sick. My grandmother was so worried. Victoria, I didn’t know. You weren’t supposed to know. Silence hung between them. Then you got really sick. Week five of winter. Fever.
Coughing so hard you couldn’t stand. Isaiah nodded. I thought I was going to die. I thought so, too. I ran home, begged my grandmother for help. She came. She did. brought medicine, soup, tea. We nursed you back to health through that fence for two weeks. Isaiah remembered the warm soup, the kind words. Your grandmother saved my life.
We both did. That medicine was expensive. We needed it for my grandfather. She gave it to you instead. Isaiah’s tears fell freely. I never knew how much you all sacrificed. We didn’t see it as a sacrifice. We saw it as what we had to do. Victoria reached across, took his hand. 6 months, Isaiah. 120 days.
Even when I was hungry, even when I was cold. Why? Why did you do it? Victoria looked at him. because you deserve to live and because no one else was helping you. I would have died without you. I know. They sat in that truth. Victoria smiled, sad but warm. The last day that was the hardest. I had to leave. Foster care found me a placement.
I knew Mrs. Patterson told me I had one more day with you. Isaiah squeezed her hand. You brought so much food that day. Everything I could fit. Sandwiches, cookies, fruit, crackers. I wanted you to have enough. You gave me your ribbon. Victoria touched her locket. Half of it. The red ribbon from my hair.
It was my favorite thing. You tied it around my wrist. I wanted you to remember. To know someone cared. Isaiah pulled out his keychain. The ribbon is still attached, faded, worn, but intact. I never took it off. Not once. Not for 22 years. Victoria’s sobb broke free. You kept it. I kept everything. Every memory, every word, every moment.
So did I. They stood, embraced, held each other like they’d wanted to for 22 years. “Thank you,” Isaiah whispered. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for coming back.” They pulled apart, both crying, both laughing. “I made you a promise that day,” Isaiah said. You said you’d get rich and marry me.
I meant it. Victoria laughed through tears. We were 10 years old. I still meant it. Their eyes held. Something passed between them. Recognition. Connection. Something that started 22 years ago. A knock on the door. Dorothy’s voice. Folks, people are waiting. Victoria called back. 5 more minutes. She turned to Isaiah.
What do we do now? I don’t know, but I’m not losing you again. I’m not going anywhere. Good, because we have 22 years to catch up on. Victoria smiled. And a community meeting to finish. Can we talk later? Yes, but Isaiah, this project, is this really about helping people or finding me? Isaiah was quiet. Then be honest both. I wanted to help because of what you taught me.
But I also hoped if I was here enough, I’d find you. You built all this looking for me. I built all this becoming the person you believed I could be. Victoria’s eyes filled. You did it. You became amazing because of you. They straightened their clothes, wiped their tears. “Ready?” Victoria asked. Isaiah held out his hand.
