Sunlight ticks through the tall window onto the red-brick floor. Leafy maples sway and rustle outside. The bright lecture hall waits, empty, full of morning air.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The stack of notebooks hits the red-brick floor. Twenty tiny faces turn at once. Chachi sweeps the papers close and whispers, 'Hi.'
Chachi slides into the study-group circle. Three kids nudge their chairs a half-step back. She sets down a tall stack of warm cookies. Crumb. Crumb. Crumb.
Little hands dive in from all sides. 'You CAN bring snacks?' one girl squeals, a smear of chocolate on her nose. The others nod fast, reaching again.
Chachi fills page after page with the community essay. She underlines a word so hard the pen tears the paper. Rip. Tape. Keep writing.
The youngest boy leans in until his forehead nearly touches the page. 'What's it about?' 'About how a neighborhood fixes itself,' Chachi says, taping the last tear.
A pin drops in the silent hall. A long paper unrolls down the whiteboard. One name in bold, dark ink. First prize. The still air hums with waiting.
The three kids jump up all at once. A red apple rolls off the table. Thud. 'SHE'S US!' one yells, mouth wide open. Confetti bursts from the ceiling.
Chachi walks across the quad, four maple leaves stuck to her backpack. The red brick stretches long under her shoes. The maples drip gold above.
The three kids jog up beside her, shoes slapping the red brick. 'Tomorrow, same time?' one asks, out of breath. Chachi grins and keeps walking.
She slides into the front row of the study-group circle. The chairs don't move this time. Chachi opens her notebook, taps the first page, and begins.
From above, the circle holds still. Warm cookies steam on the plate. The red brick floor glows in the late sun. Nobody's chair scoots back.
