Daniel had been quiet for three days.
Not his usual quiet - the comfortable, easy kind that sometimes happened when he was thinking about something interesting. This was a different kind of quiet. A closed-down kind. The kind that had a do-not-disturb sign on it that everyone could see yet nobody had said anything about.
Sam had noticed. He’d mentioned it to Scarlett on the walk home on Wednesday, in the careful, sideways way that boys sometimes mention things they’re worried about.
“Daniel’s a bit off,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Kind of. He said he was fine.”
Scarlett knew what that meant. She’d said it herself enough times.
On Thursday, she found Daniel sitting on the bench outside at break - the same bench where she’d found Maisie at the beginning of term, when Maisie was carrying something she didn’t have words for yet.
She sat down beside him.
She didn’t say anything straight away.
She just sat.
After a moment Daniel said, without looking at her: “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know,” said Scarlett.
She stayed anyway.
The bell went. They walked back in. Nothing was solved. Nothing was explained. Nothing was fixed.
Yet something had shifted slightly - she could feel it, a tiny loosening.
That evening she sat with Lenny and told him about it.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I just sat there. I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything.”
“That was exactly right,” said Lenny.
“Was it? It didn’t feel like enough.”
“What do you think Daniel needed?” Lenny asked.
Scarlett thought about it carefully. “Not advice. Not someone asking lots of questions. Not someone trying to fix it.”
“What then?”
“Just - someone there. Someone who wasn’t going to make him explain himself or perform okayness.”
“Yes,” said Lenny. “Exactly that.”
“So sitting there actually helped?”
“Sitting there told him he wasn’t alone,” said Lenny. “That is not a small thing. That might be the most important thing.”
Scarlett thought about the times she had been the one on the bench.
The times someone had stayed, and what that had felt like.
“I want to do something though,” she said. “It feels hard to just - wait. I want to help more.”
“You can ask,” said Lenny. “Once. Gently. Not - what’s wrong, tell me everything - just - I’m here if you ever want to talk. And then leave it there. Let him come when he’s ready.”
“And if he’s not ready?”
“Then you keep showing up. Not intrusively. Just - present. Available. So he knows the door is open.”
The next day Scarlett found Daniel at their usual spot at lunch.
She sat down. Passed him a bit of her biscuit without asking.
He took it.
They sat together in comfortable quiet.
And something - not everything, something - felt a little less heavy for both of them.
🫶 Dream big dreams.