Lara crouched immediately, her heart tightening at the change in the child's voice.
"Sweetie," she called softly.
Shay looked up, and at once, her face lit up—like clouds parting for the sun.
"Sweetie," Lara repeated, brushing a thumb over her small knuckles. "It's okay. Go on. Play with your classmates. Didn't you say you miss them? I'll be right here."
Shay nodded, though uncertainty still lingered in her eyes.
Just as she took a hesitant step forward, raised voices cut through the cheerful hum of the room.
A boy—thin and fragile-looking—was sprawled on the floor near the toy shelves. Three boys and a girl stood over him. They were laughing as the boy cried in pain from their kicks.
"Go back to where you came from."
"Your clothes are dirty."
"We don't want to play with you."
Each word landed like a slap.
Lara felt Shay's grip tighten around her hand, felt the small tremor run through her. The child instinctively stepped back, fear curling in her posture.
