Page 17

Chapter seventeen

Nate

" Y ou ever been tackled by a seven-year-old wearing glitter sneakers?" I ask as I hold the gym door open for Mandy.

"Not recently," she says, eyeing the colorful raucous inside. "But I guess today’s a good day to change that."

We step into the LifeSpark Kids Center, the place already buzzing like a beehive. The team decided to do a volunteer day instead of practice, and Coach figured it would be good PR and even better therapy for our head game.

Mandy pauses at the entrance, her eyes scanning the carnival of art supplies, soccer balls, and sugar-fueled energy. Kids dart around like pinballs, a few already clinging to players’ legs. Somewhere, someone squeals.

"This is your idea of a relaxing afternoon?" she teases.

"Chaos builds character," I say, patting her back. "Let’s go find our name tags before someone recruits you for dodgeball."

James jogs by in full fairy costume, complete with tutu and wings, getting chased by three kids waving foam swords.

"Good luck, Your Highness!" I shout.

"They’re savages!" he yells back. "I demand backup!"

Mandy laughs, that soft, surprised kind that hits me square in the chest.

We find our name tags near the volunteer table. Kira and Mikey are already arguing over who spilled the entire bin of googly eyes. Mikey looks like he just stepped out of a glitter explosion.

"I didn’t even touch the cart!" he swears.

Kira points to his face. "You have Elmer's glue on your eyebrow. Your defense is invalid."

Mandy leans into me. "This is already the best thing I’ve seen all week."

I grin. "Wait until the cookie decorating disaster starts. That’s when the frosting war breaks out."

We split off into stations. Mandy gets the reading-and-career-goals corner, while I end up in charge of mini floor hockey with Dillon.

Half an hour in, I glance over between shifts and catch Mandy kneeling next to a little girl in pink glasses who’s holding up a homemade "Future Lawyer" sign.

Mandy’s laughing, animated, nodding as the kid rattles off reasons why she wants to "argue for justice and make the bad guys pay."

I lean on my stick and watch them for a second.

She doesn’t see me.

But I see her.

"You're really good at this," I hear her say gently to the little girl in pink glasses, who’s holding a stack of construction paper briefs and a glitter-covered toy gavel.

"Do you really think so?" the girl asks shyly.

"Absolutely. You laid out your case better than most first-year law students," Mandy says with a warm grin.

The girl giggles, puffing up with pride. "I wanna be a lawyer like you. Or maybe a judge. Then I can bang the hammer."

"Gavel," Mandy corrects softly. "But yeah. It’s yours to bang. Just make sure you listen first. The best judges listen more than they talk."

"That’s hard. I talk a lot."

"Me too. But I learned it’s okay to be both strong and loud, and still good at hearing other people."

The girl leans in. "Do people ever not take you serious? ‘Cause you’re a girl?"

Mandy’s smile doesn’t waver. "All the time. But that just makes proving them wrong feel even better."

"You think I can really do it?"

"I know you can. You already are."

The girl nods fiercely and hugs her.

And fuck, I fall a little harder.

***

"Why is James on the roof?" Mandy asks an hour later, holding a paper plate covered in frosting and crushed Oreos.

I follow her gaze out the gym window.

"Technically, it’s not the roof. It’s the storage shed. And technically, he lost a bet with Mikey."

"So naturally he had to climb up there in a tutu and sing Let It Go ."

"Detroit Acers tradition. You wouldn’t understand."

She shakes her head. "Y’all are unhinged."

"Accurate."

James belts the chorus with impressive commitment. A few of the kids join in. One little boy is conducting with a popsicle stick.

Kira walks by holding a spray bottle labeled “Emergency Glitter Control.”

"What’d I miss?" she asks.

"James is being James."

"Cool. That tracks."

Back inside, Mandy helps a few kids finish their crayon resumes for their "Dream Job Wall." I bring over a juice box and set it next to her.

"For when the litigation stress kicks in."

She looks up, cheeks flushed, a purple marker smudge on her wrist. "This is more intense than law school orientation. One kid asked if I know how to sue Santa."

I sit beside her. "Well? Can we?"

"Only if there’s negligence involved."

I nudge her shoulder. "That’s my girl."

Her smile flickers.

Yeah. That might’ve slipped out too easy.

But she doesn’t flinch.

Instead, she dips a finger into the green frosting and swipes it across my nose.

I blink. "Oh, you wanna play dirty?"

"Consider it a cross-examination."

"Objection."

"Overruled."

Before I can recover, her finger swipes another dab of frosting onto my cheek.

I narrow my eyes, dip mine in the container, and get her right below the chin. "Retaliation."

"Unethical conduct," she accuses, laughing as she scoots back.

"You’re the one who opened arguments with frosting."

She grabs a napkin and throws it at me. "Sustained."

I lunge playfully like I might go in for more, but she holds her hands up in mock surrender, giggling. The kids around us giggle too, sensing the game without knowing the context.

James passes by, smirking. "Careful, you two. That’s how glitter baby rumors start."

Mandy laughs so hard she snorts. "Let me guess, you speak from experience?"

"Let’s just say, frosting is a gateway."

Mandy turns to me, wiping her cheek. "I need a lawyer. This is clearly harassment."

I grin, licking frosting off my thumb. "You started it. I’m just defending myself."

"With frosting?"

"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 help take 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, scribbles engineering on 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.

And everything to do with who she is.

"You were great with them today."

She shrugs. "Kids are easier than adults. They don’t fake things. They just... are."

I nod.

Then I say, without thinking, "You’d be a great mom someday."

She blinks.

And for a moment, I want to take it back. Too soon, too heavy.

But she doesn’t freak out.

She just looks at me, really looks, like she’s seeing something in me she hadn’t let herself see before.

Then she says, softly, "You’d be a good dad."

That hits harder than anything.

I clear my throat. "Guess we’d make a solid team."

Her lips quirk. "Dangerous combo."

"Unstoppable," I grin.

And just like that, we’re back to easy and light. To whatever this thing is we’re building.

I don’t know where it’s going.

But today made me want to find out even more.

Every damn messy, cupcake-frosted, glitter-covered step of the way.