I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

boxes from the back doors to the front desk. He carries me
sometimes, says he remembers the days I was the one who used to
carry him.
The clearing ceases just beside a building that resembles our
hospital.
Adorned in bricks, a few stories high, with checkered windows. Only,
rather than stretches of city at its front doors, this place folds out into
a courtyard, one with string lights, tents, and a hundred adolescents
dressed in evening wear.
Sam brings me to the edge marked by a fence and short line of
saplings.
The band’s music travels to us, voices and instruments faded by the
distance.
“What is this?” I ask, some aftermath of adrenaline shaking in my
voice.
“A school dance,” Sam says, amused by my amazement. “I heard
some girls talking about it at the park the other day. I know we can’t
go in, but I thought–”
Sam swallows. The party wanes at the fence line. It illuminates his
clothes that I didn’t notice earlier: slacks Nurse Ella just got him and
a dress shirt buttoned to the crest of his collarbones. The boys out
there are wearing suits, ties, clothes Sam’s never even touched the
likeness of. He mutters curses like he’s done something wrong and
tries to fix his sleeves.
“Sam,” I say, taking his hands, stilling them. He stares at the gloves,
the separation it marks. I slip my fingers beneath them at his wrists.
“What did you think?”
“Um–” he stutters, and the sound rouses warmth in my chest. His
newfound confidence sometimes falters. Sometimes, his childish