Samantha Silverfang kept a spiral notebook with eleven question marks next to one student's name. Yara had transferred in six weeks ago and hadn't spoken to anyone since. The girl sat in the back row, always turned slightly away from the other students, like she was already halfway out the door. Samantha had sat on floors with crying kids before. She'd made extra lunches without asking. She'd adopted two children by just starting to make more food. But Yara was different — she hadn't asked for help, hadn't cried, hadn't given Samantha anything to grab onto. The bell rang. Students packed up their supplies and headed for the door. Samantha wiped down a table near the front, keeping her movements slow and unhurried. Most of the class filtered out. Then she heard it — a voice from the back of the room, quiet and careful. "Where does someone go when nobody wants them anymore?" Samantha turned. Yara stood by her desk, hands empty at her sides, looking directly at her for the first time in six weeks. Samantha set down the cloth. She didn't rush forward or flood the space with words. "Come with me," she said. She walked to the door and waited. Yara followed, slow but steady, clutching a small stuffed unicorn with a pink mane against her chest. The toy looked old, worn soft at the edges. Samantha led her outside to the swing bench wrapped in cherry blossoms behind the art building. Petals drifted down onto the wooden slats. She sat on one side and gestured to the other. Yara sat, still holding the unicorn. "I used to be a Power Ranger," Samantha said. "Pink uniform. Didn't pick the color myself. Then I grew claws and everything changed." She held up one hand, showing the sharp points at her fingertips. "Nobody wanted a werewolf Ranger. So I had to figure out where I went next." Yara looked at the claws, then at her unicorn. "This was my sister's," the girl said. "She gave it to me before they split us up. Said it would keep me safe." Her voice cracked. "It didn't." Samantha reached over and touched the unicorn's mane gently. "You go home with me," she said. "That's where you go. I've got two kids already. Rosie's mean but brilliant. Zen's a zombie who forgets his lunch every day. There's room for you." Yara's eyes went wide. "You don't even know me." Samantha smiled. "I know you held onto that unicorn for someone who mattered. I know you asked the hardest question in the room. That's enough." She stood and held out her hand. Yara stared at it for a long moment, then took it. Behind the academy, the mushroom-shaped cottage with its orange and green cap stood quiet among the trees, where students went when they needed to disappear. But Yara wasn't disappearing anymore. She was going home.

Yara's backpack sat on the kitchen floor, still zipped shut. She hadn't unpacked yet. Samantha was pulling plates down from the cabinet when headlights swept across the front window. A car door slammed. Three sharp knocks hit the front door. Samantha opened it to find Marcus on her porch, holding a folded piece of paper. The fancy gold lettering caught the light from inside the house. He looked nervous, fidgeting with the edges. Behind her, she heard Rosie's footsteps on the stairs and Yara's quiet breathing from the kitchen doorway. Marcus glanced past her shoulder, then back at her face. "I wrote this last week," he said. "Before I knew about—" He stopped, looking at Yara again. The note read 'pick me and not yara' in careful script. Samantha's chest went tight. She'd been carrying around a doll from Rosie's room earlier, trying to figure out where Yara should sleep, and her fingers closed around it now in her jacket pocket. She stepped onto the porch and pulled the door mostly closed behind her. "Marcus," she said. "I can't pick one of you over the other. That's not how this works." He looked down at the note, then crumpled it in his fist. "I waited too long," he said. "I just—I thought if I asked the right way—" Samantha put her hand on his shoulder. "You didn't wait too long. You just think there's only one spot left. There isn't." Marcus looked up, confused. "But you said you wanted three kids." "I did say that," Samantha said. "And then I met both of you." She pulled the calendar from her bag hanging by the door, the one with adoption day circled in pink for next month. She held it where he could see it. "This was for one kid. Now it's for two. I'll talk to the agency tomorrow. It'll take longer. It'll be harder. But I'm not making you compete for a spot at my table." Marcus stared at the calendar, then at her. His shoulders dropped. "You mean that?" Samantha nodded. "Come back Thursday after school. Bring your stuff. We'll figure out the paperwork together." Marcus tucked the crumpled note into his pocket and left without another word, but he was smiling. Samantha went back inside where Yara was still standing in the kitchen doorway, holding her unicorn. "You didn't send him away," Yara said quietly. Samantha shook her head. "I don't send people away. Not anymore." She pulled down another plate from the cabinet. "Now let's eat. Tomorrow I'm calling about bunk beds."