Page 12 of No Greater Love
Paige nodded, holding it up. "For school."
"That's one of my favorites," I said, genuinely excited now. "The ending still makes me mad, though."
Paige's eyes widened. "You've read it?"
"Dystopian literature is kind of my thing," I admitted, then caught Sophia's surprised look and felt instantly defensive. "What? I read!"
Sophia raised her hands in surrender. "Never doubted it."
Crawford hesitated, then unzipped his backpack and handed Paige a smaller bag. "Your lunch. Protein bar for midmorning. Water bottle's full. Remember your inhaler's in the side pocket if you need it."
"Dad," Paige muttered, embarrassed. "I know."
I bit back a smile. He was so painfully earnest. It was actually kind of... sweet? No, not sweet. Thorough. Professional. Something like that.
"Want a juice box, Paige?" I asked, already steering her toward the door. "We've got apple, orange, and prune... mmmmm, we should probably skip that last one."
Paige giggled, a quiet sound, but real. My heart did a weird little flip.
Once in the break room, I settled Paige at the corner table, away from the main traffic. "So, 'The Giver,' huh? How far are you?"
"Jonas just left the community," she said, touching the book cover. "With Gabriel."
"OooOOOoooh, the great escape," I nodded. "What do you think happens to them?"
Paige shrugged, but her eyes were alive with curiosity. "The book makes it seem like they find Elsewhere, where there's music and colors. But my friend Tyler thinks they just freeze to death."
I laughed. "Tyler sounds cheerful."
"He likes zombie movies," Paige explained solemnly.
"Of course he does," I said, grinning. "Want to know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think they make it. I think the memory of music becomes real music. I think they find people who remember how to feel things, how to see color." I leaned in conspiratorially. "And I think the sequel proves me right."
Paige's eyes widened. "There's a sequel?"
"There's four books total," I informed her. "I've got the whole set at home. Maybe I could lend them to you sometime."
Paige nodded eagerly, then hesitated. "My dad says I should only borrow books if I can return them within two weeks. He says it's respectful of other people's property."
Of course he did. "Well, maybe we can work something out," I said. "Your dad comes here pretty often, after all."
Paige smiled, a small, shy thing. "Okay."
We chatted about books for a while, and I was impressed by how articulate she was. Not just smart, but thoughtful. No wonder Crawford was so proud of her.
"Want to see a cool trick?" I asked suddenly, grabbing a tongue depressor from a supply drawer.
"Sure," Paige said, looking intrigued.
I rummaged through another drawer and found some medical tape. "When I was about your age, my mom worked night shifts at a hospital. Sometimes I'd have to hang out while she finished paperwork. One of the nurses taught me how to make these."
I folded the tongue depressor in half, securing it with tape, then cut small triangular notches on both sides. With a few more folds and twists, it resembled a butterfly. I added a few more details with a Sharpie, and voilà.
"A butterfly!" Paige exclaimed, delighted.
