The rest of the day slipped by with Julie and Neil showing Zeke around the orphanage, a responsibility Sis Mari entrusted to them like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You see that down the hill," Neil said, pointing lazily, "that's the market. It's usually Sis Mari's job to shop there, but sometimes she sends one of us. You should know it, just in case."
Zeke nodded without speaking. He already knew that place too well. In fact, he lived there up until today. It was the place that shaped him the most, where he spent his darkest days.
Neil pointed next toward a stretch of green grass. "This is the most important spot," he announced. "The playground."
They walked past it toward a small river, and before Julie could say anything__
Splash.
Neil had already jumped in.
"Come on," he called out, water dripping from his hair. "Are you two scared?"
Julie ignored him entirely. She nudged Zeke forward and continued the tour as if nothing had happened. They passed a few more rooms before stopping at one larger than the rest, filled with thin sheets and low beds set directly on the floor. No explanation was needed. Zeke knew exactly what it was.
Yes, it was small. Yes, it was shared. But it was his. A place where he could rest without watching the door. Julie noticed the way his gaze lingered and chose not to speak, giving him a moment he didn't know how to ask for.
Later, Sis Mari called for them to ask if they had finished the job.
"Yes, Sis. We showed him everything," Neil said enthusiastically.
Julie and Zeke stood in silence, stunned by his shamelessness.
Zeke spent the rest of the day outside playing with the other children. Or rather, they decided he would.
Inside, Julie and Sophia helped Sis Mari prepare dinner, their voices blending with the smells of food and the quiet comfort of routine.
The kids decided that Zeke's arrival deserved a celebration. Their idea of a welcoming party, however, was not conventional.
It was a football match.
The ball was lopsided, made of tightly wrapped paper and flattened cartons, bound together with a string they found lying on the floor. The field was nothing more than a patch of grass downhill from the orphanage, uneven yet alive.
Since Zeke and Neil were the oldest, they were immediately declared captains.
Neil took this responsibility very seriously.
He paced back and forth before the match, cracking his knuckles, stretching his legs, talking trash like the fate of the world rested on this game.
"You can call me Diego Armando Neil after I score the winning goal today," Neil declared proudly.
The children laughed. Zeke didn't understand why.
He understood the moment the game started.
Neil was terrible. No, terrible was an understatement.
He couldn't control the ball. He tripped over his own feet. At one point, he kicked the ball, well, he tried to kick it but he ended up missing it and kicking the air instead, falling flat on his ass then complaining like the pitch was the problem.
His own team slowly began avoiding him, passing the ball around him with impressive coordination. Somehow, despite all of that, Neil still managed to score a goal.
An own goal, but still a goal technically.
There was a moment of silence.
Then laughter exploded across the field.
Zeke stared, stunned, before shaking his head. "That was by far your best strike of the day."
Neil coolly brushed the dirt off his shoulders, then declared with a grin,
"I'm a man of my word," he said proudly. "I said I'd score a goal. I never said which one."
Zeke froze.
Then he laughed.
Not a breathy exhale. Not a quiet chuckle. A real laugh. It burst out of him before he could even process it. It was a laugh he couldn't remember the last time he'd had.
"Fair," he said.
The game continued and with it continued the joy and laughter.
Zeke ran. He played. He forgot to watch his back. Forgot to measure every breath. Forgot to count exits. For a while, he was just a kid chasing an uneven ball with other kids who shouted his name like he was one of them.
Then he kicked. The shot was powerful but it went wide. Very wide, Heading toward the windows of the orphanage.
There was a sharp crack. Glass shattered.
The ball bounced once, rolled to a stop, and the kitchen window was gone.
Every child froze.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Neil slowly turned to Zeke. His grin was gone, replaced by something solemn. He placed a hand on Zeke's shoulder.
"It was short," he said gravely, "but it was a good time, brother. I won't forget you."
Zeke didn't even have time to respond.
A voice rose from the orphanage.
"Who broke the window?"
Sis Mari stood in the doorway. Her expression was calm. Too calm but the slight twitch of her eyebrows was all the kids needed to know she was seething with rage.
Her usually silky neat hair had come loose, spiking in all directions. In her hand was a large ladle, the kind used to scoop soup from deep pots, but in her hands that ladle seemed mightier than the sharpest of swords.
The children stared at the ground. None dared to meet her gaze. Yet despite the fear, none of them snitched on Zeke.
Relief washed over him.
He had faced grown men in alleyways and guards with clubs. None of them had ever terrified him like the red devil Mari did in that moment.
Then a finger pointed toward him.
Neil. Smiling. Snickering.
"Traitor." Zeke said.
But before he could finish that single word, Sis Mari was on his tail. She charged at him like a wild boar protecting her territory. Ladle raised. She spoke to him in a calm yet ominous voice that made chills creep up his spine.
"Why are you running away from me Zeke? Come to Sis. You know I will not hurt you."
Zeke didn't stop running, and screamed.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It was an accident."
The children scattered, laughing and shouting encouragement from the sidelines. Some looked at Zeke with pity. And some looked at Neil like he was the real devil.
But for Zeke, this kind of running felt nothing like what he was used to. It felt surprisingly welcome because he wasn't running from fear nor strangers.
He was running from family.