It was Tuesday, which Amara remembered only because Tuesdays were oatmeal days and her bowl had tasted especially mushy that morning.
Miss Lila called Hansen into the office with the too-bright smile she wore whenever she was about to deliver "big news." Amara didn't think much of it. Kids got called in all the time for things like vaccinations, or because someone had accidentally flushed crayons down the toilet again (not her this time).
But when Hansen stepped out, his hands trembled. Not in fear, just uncertainty. Like he didn't quite know what to do with his fingers anymore.
He said he'd been adopted.
Just like that. Like reading a weather report.
Amara stared at him. "Adopted adopted?"
He nodded.
"By people?"
He nodded again, a tiny smile forming. "They're nice."
She swallowed. Something heavy sat behind her ribs. Irritatingly heavy. "So you're leaving."
