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"Like a man on a mission to win a war with sugar."

We both crack up.

I haven’t laughed this hard in weeks.

I know I’m done for. I hear her giggle again as the little girl beside her tugs at her sleeve, asking for help gluing sparkles to a cardboard crown. Mandy kneels to help, laughing as glue ends up more on her hands than the crown. She’s glowing, not from glitter, but from the kind of warmth that sneaks under your ribs. Yeah. I’m wrecked.

A little while later, we rotate stations again. Mandy ends up with Coach Stephens in a circle of high school kids, a banner reading “Planning Your Future” hanging overhead. They’re doing some kind of goal-setting game with index cards with LifeSpark t-shirts and mugs as incentives.

"Alright," Mandy says, holding up a mug. "Whoever shares a personal goal and one step to get there, gets a prize."

The teens laugh, and a few raise their hands. One boy talks about wanting to be the first in his family to go to college. A girl says she wants to be a nurse because she used to helptake care of her grandma. Coach nods along, chiming in with encouragements.

Mandy listens like it’s the most important thing she’s heard all day. When one shy kid mumbles that he’s not sure what he wants, she leans forward and says, "That’s okay too. You’ve got time to figure it out. But today, let’s pick one thing that makes you curious. Just one."

He perks up, scribblesengineeringon his card, and Coach leans in with a nod. "That’s a great start, man," he says. "Smart minds build the world."

Next to them, I’m working with middle-schoolers, helping them build spaghetti-and-marshmallow towers while sneaking in lessons on teamwork and strategy.

"Mr. Nate, is it cheating if we tape the base?"

"Yes," I say. "I appreciate that you don't want to cheat, but you just pitched me a loophole so smooth, I almost hired you as my agent."

They laugh and dive back in. I catch Mandy glancing over, watching me pretend to referee a marshmallow collapse.

She grins.

And I swear it feels like we’re already playing for the same team.

***

The day winds down with a talent show that somehow turns into the highlight of the afternoon. Mikey juggles oranges while standing on one leg, nearly slipping but recovering with a bow that gets loud cheers. A high school girl follows up with a cartwheel, then a spontaneous roundoff that sends glitter flying from her shirt.

James takes the stage next, dragging Kira along with him. “Fairy ballet duet,” he announces dramatically. Kira glares but goes along, doing exaggerated twirls while James tiptoes like a rhinoceros in sneakers. The kids go wild.

Coach Stephens is called out by name from the audience. “Coach! Coach! You gotta do something!”

He rolls his eyes, then walks to the center, lifts his hand, and executes a single, slow dab. That’s it. No words. No extra moves.

The place erupts. Kids chant his name like he’s a pop star.

I end up helping two boys with a goofy dance we call the “Penalty Box Shuffle.” It involves shuffling sideways, stick-handling an invisible puck, and taking dramatic falls like we’re being tripped. Mandy records the whole thing.

"This needs to go viral immediately!" she cheers.

It’s hilarious.

And it’s perfect.

Mandy ends up singing a duet with a girl named Sasha who wants to be a pop star. They belt a Taylor Swift song like they’re headlining Madison Square Garden. They are off-key, full volume, and absolutely fearless.

After the applause dies down, and the milk and snacks are passed out to the kids, I walk over to where Mandy is helping clean up the art table.

"You, Little Fields, are a menace with a glue stick and a microphone."

She smirks, brushing a stray sequin off her jeans. "Just trying to leave my mark."

I watch her for a second. She looks tired but radiant. Happy in a way that has nothing to do with me.