For 4 years, I picked up my sister’s kids from school for free. One day I was 37 minutes late, and she screamed at me in front of them: “Not with my children!” Then she shoved me out of her house. I stopped picking them up. 11 days later, the school called me. Then my sister called 6 times. I turned my phone face down.

I was stripping thorns from roses when I saw the elementary school’s number.

I answered immediately.

“Ms. Kimball?” the secretary asked. “This is Gloria from Hollis Park Elementary.”

My stomach tightened.

“Are the children okay?”

“They’re safe. But nobody has arrived to collect them.”

I glanced at the clock.

School had ended quite some time ago.

“We’ve called their mother several times,” Gloria continued. “We haven’t been able to reach her. Their father is working and hasn’t answered either. You’re still listed as an emergency contact.”

I remembered Nicole’s message.

*Stay away from my kids.*

But I also pictured Ruby and Caleb waiting inside the school office.

“I’ll come,” I said.

When I arrived, I didn’t sign them out.

I didn’t put them in my car.

Instead, I sat beside them on a bench outside the main office while staff continued trying to contact their parents.