Him and Me.

Him and Me- Twenty Four.

They were not the best drawings, but to me, they were masterpieces. They showed how truly my dad had touched the lives of the kids he had taught. It had warmed my heart, and then I promised myself that once I was old enough, I was going to help kids like them, just as my dad had helped them.

The drawings were kept in a box, tucked safely inside my closet.

I had been volunteering in this school for almost three years now, and those summers had been some of the best ones I've ever had. I worked with kids with moderate learning impairments and mild autism, most of them six to eight years old, and I had developed a special bond with one particular little girl, the seven-year-old Jill.

I met Jill last year, she was a newcomer. She had light brown hair and the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen. She was also small, and sometimes frail. Very reserved and shy, she had her own little world. The only times she opened up really was when I was with her. I didn't know exactly why, but there was this connection between us. It was like there was an invisible thread that connected me to Jill.

She was like a younger sister.

Jill could throw tantrums, but those were rare occurrences. When she did though, they were loud, long and actually pretty scary, according to my fellow volunteer Rick. It happened last summer, when I arrived late. Rick told me that Janie thought I wasn't coming, so she threw one of her tantrums. It was pretty bad, he said, but they managed to calm her down. They, meaning, three volunteers and the teacher, Mrs. Evans.

They had to resort to candy.

After that, Jill didn't talk to me until midday, when we were about to go home. She skipped towards me and kissed me on the cheek, before running off to her mom. From that day on, I swore I would never be late again.

What do you know, it was the first day today, and I was running late. Nice going, Kayla.

I pushed open the swinging doors, and what greeted me was an empty corridor. That meant the classes were starting now. Slapping my forehead, I ran along the corridor to my classroom which was at the end of the hallway, as lightly as I could on my feet to not disrupt the other classes. There were five classes in total, with ten kids each. Laughter can be heard from left and right, seemed like the other classes were going on smoothly. I could only pray the same would go for my class.

As I neared my classroom door, it was relatively loud. The sounds jumbled in my ears though, making them all blurred. I was too worried about Jill.

That was when I heard a laugh—a tinkling, childlike laugh that sounded very much like…

Jill’s.

My eyes widened in surprise but I also felt relieve that she was okay, and seemingly didn’t throw a tantrum. Quickly though my relief turned into confusion. Was it candy that made her happy again? Or maybe Mrs. Evans had developed some game or something that distracted her. Overcame with curiosity, I placed a hand on the doorknob, turned it, and gently pulled open the door.

The usual bright yellow of the room greeted me, and splashes of colors adorned my eyes. The bulletin board on the right, where drawings and announcements were tucked at. The chalk board at the front. The chairs, which were normally arranged in rows, were now in placed side-by-side in a circular form. Quietly I shut the door behind me and walked to the front of the classroom. I heard Mrs. Evans laughing from the opposite side of the room. The children laughing. Jill laughing. Even Rick, who was standing at the far corner of the room, was laughing.

And their source of laughter was at the center of the circular chair configuration. Curly, rainbow-colored hair. Baggy, striped clown suit. A long-stemmed, plastic flower on the left hand. Handkerchief on the right, wiping something. The face, maybe. Make-up would smudge, most definitely.