A shy smile spread across her face.
“I love it,” she said.
Sky raised her juice glass.
“To helping kids,” she said.
They clinked glasses together.
Over the next few months, Ariston threw himself into building the foundation. He hired therapists, social workers, lawyers willing to work pro bono. He rented a small building across town and painted the walls bright colors. There were soft chairs instead of stiff ones, shelves of toys and books, quiet rooms where kids could talk without anyone listening at doors.
Elo and Sky helped design a mural for the longest wall. They spent an afternoon under the watchful eye of a very nervous facilities manager, painting two children holding hands under a wide, hopeful sky.
“It’s us,” Elo whispered when they were done.
“It’s every kid who needs hope,” Sky said.
Slowly, kids started to come. A ten-year-old boy whose coach hurt him and told him it was “training.” An eleven-year-old girl whose aunt called cruelty “discipline.” A little boy whose teacher called him stupid in front of the class until he stopped speaking at all.
Sometimes Elo talked in the support groups. Sometimes she just listened.