Lora pressed her nose against the cold glass of the pet store window. Her breath made a foggy circle. Inside, one tank held a turtle sitting on a bare stone. A crooked "adopt" sign hung above it. Benji tugged his leash.
Even pointed at the turtle. "We can help him," he said. Lora looked at the empty tank, then at her coin pouch. Her fingers tightened around the worn fabric. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of coins.
That afternoon, Lora and Even emptied their piggy banks on the kitchen table. Coins scattered — dimes, quarters, crumpled bills. Benji sniffed the pile, his tail thumping against the floor. They counted it all twice.
They bought a plastic tub, gravel, a water plant, and a shallow dish. At home, they filled the tub with water and arranged the stones. The turtle stretched its neck and blinked slowly, as if taking it all in.
The next morning, Lora and Even carried the tub to the pond. Benji bolted ahead, splashing through the shallow reeds. Lora knelt at the water's edge and tipped the tub. The turtle paused, then slid into the pond.
The turtle paddled toward the lily pads. A duck quacked nearby. Benji barked with delight. "He's going to be okay," Even said. Lora watched the turtle disappear among the green leaves.
The next morning, Lora sat on the pond bench with a sandwich. The turtle basked on a rock beside three others. Benji trotted up, tail wagging. Lora tore off a piece of bread and tossed it into the water.
One of the other turtles paddled over and snatched the bread. Even arrived, breathless, holding two more sandwiches. "I told my mom we come here every day now," he said. Lora smiled. The sun warmed their backs.