The vige chief gave the two older boys beside him a gentle pat on the back of their heads. The boys understood immediately; without needing another word, they quietly stepped forward to help the girls with their

    suitcases.

    Neither boy spoke as they took the luggage. Instead, they kept rubbing their hands on their trousers, as if to prove they were clean and hoping the girls wouldn’t mind their help. Watching this, a few of the adults felt a lump in their throat.

    The girls had been embarrassed to let children help, but seeing the boys so eager and so careful not to offend-made them hesitate to refuse. They didn’t want to hurt the boys’ feelings or seem ungrateful.

    Everyone was a little awkward, but that just proved how genuine and kind-hearted they all were. After all, only people like this would volunteer to travel to such a remote corner of the countryside.

    The chief noticed the tension and waved his hand. “Let them help, it’s fine. These kids have been carrying heavy things their whole lives-they might be stronger than those three boys over there.”

    One of the boys from the group flexed his arm, grin full of mischief. “Guess we’ll have to settle it with an arm wrestling matchter-prove

    who’s really the strongest.”

    “Oh, quit showing off!” one of the girlsughed, giving him a yful p on the arm. It was obvious from their banter that the two were close.

    “I’m twelve, you know,” the oldest of the local boys piped up. He spoke in clear, careful English-a/rarity here.

    “Twelve?” the girl echoed, surprised.

    The vige chief nodded. “Most of their parents go off to work in the city, so the kids live here with their grandparents. Life up in the hills isn’t easy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed-nutrition’s always been a struggle. But things have gotten much better recently. The government’s stepped in, we’ve got

    12:17

    new desks at the school, even built a cafeteria. The early years were hard, but with some care, these kids will catch up and grow strong.”

    The boy chimed in, eager, “Yeah! We even have a basketball court now. Ms. Warren says ying basketball will help us grow taller.”

    “I can shoot three-pointers!” another little one called out, eyes shining.

    Soon, all the kids were talking at once-some in the broad local ent, others trying their best with halting English. Their faces were bright, full of hope for the future.

    “Ms. Warren is my wife,” the chief exined, smiling. “She teaches all the children now. There aren’t many-just about a dozen-so there’s no grade separation. She and another teacher handle all the sses.”

    Everyone nodded in understanding. With the kids chatting and the group’s own “ss clown” joining in, the atmosphere quickly grew lighter. The fatigue and nerves from earlier faded away, reced by easyughter and conversation.

    “What’s your name?” Alessia asked the little girl walking beside her.

    “Susannah. Susannah Holt.” The girl’s voice was so soft, Alessia almost missed it. Susannah repeated herself, just in case.

    “Susannah? Hello, I’m Alessia Morton,” she replied, choosing her words carefully to make them easy to follow.

    “I know. Ms. Warren taught us the alphabet,” Susannah mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground, too shy to look at Alessia.

    “Can you write my name?”

    “I can, but my handwriting’s not very pretty,” Susannah admitted, embarrassed.

    “How about this-before I go home, can you practice and write my name beautifully for me? And as a thank you, I’ll bring you a gift. How does that sound?”

    Susannah gazed up at Alessia. Other teachers had visited before, but

    212

    12:17

    never anyone as lovely as Alessia-she looked like a fairy straight out of a storybook.

    Enchanted, Susannah nodded.

    “Okay.”

    And just like that, a small promise was made at the very start of their

    story.