Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows

"I’m really full," I insisted, throwing in a fake burp for good measure.
Jonah's gaze was like a deep, endless pool that I found myself staring into. His eyes were dark and steady, unwavering. "As long as you're here, this
place is your home. You don’t need to feel like a guest," he said. I didn't overthink it, just nodded quickly to reassure him I was definitely stuffed. Then,
I made a quick excuse about needing to do homework and headed upstairs.
Behind me, Jonah and his mother exchanged looks until she let out a soft sigh.
No shock there. Eating only half my fill meant waking up in the middle of the night, stomach growling like a beast. It hurt, all fiery and uncomfortable. I
rubbed my belly, curling up like a shrimp, waiting for it to pass.
I tried to distract myself, thinking about how today was Saturday and tomorrow was Sunday. We've got a whole week off for fall break, and school
doesn't start again until Monday after next. But honestly? I dreaded going back. The thought of facing those people, and especially Ms. Costa, filled
me with anxiety.
The blanket beneath me was soft and cozy. I absentmindedly smoothed out the wrinkles, breathing in its clean scent. No smoke or booze smell, no
damp mildew—just the fresh smell of sunshine. I couldn't help but smile.
Earlier, Jonah’s mother had hugged me tight. She told me she liked me the moment she saw me, thought I was just the cutest. She apologized for
this morning, said she wasn't mean, just a bit jumpy and scared of ghosts. She mentioned how it seemed like fate that I ended up with them. She'd
always wanted a daughter named Lana. But she never had that chance.
Her words carried a gentle sadness, and I didn't dare to pry further. Everyone has their own hidden struggles, after all.
I wondered if the universe was finally cutting me some slack, offering a pinch of kindness. If so, could I ask for just a smidge more? Just enough to let
me stay here a few days longer. Just enough to bask in this brief, lovely dream.
I rolled over, and the old bed creaked beneath me. This house had its share of years. My stomach wouldn't let me sleep, so I flicked on the little lamp
by my bed and pulled out my math homework. Barely a few minutes in, there were three gentle knocks on the door.
I opened it to find Jonah leaning casually against the doorframe. "Not asleep yet?" he asked.
"I-I'll go to bed soon," I stammered.
His gaze stayed locked on me, his features caught in the play of light and shadow. Under his scrutiny, I felt naked, as if he could see every thought I
had. "I've never raised a kid," he said, "but I'm not dumb enough to let someone starve."

My face went beet red, burning hot. All my efforts to hide my hunger had been for nothing, my embarrassment laid bare. I gripped the edge of my
shirt, unsure how to salvage the situation. I'd never slipped up like this before. I didn't even notice my lips were trembling.
Fear crept in, fear that they'd think I was fake or insincere, that I wasn't worth their affection. My eyes fell to the floor. I felt like everything was slipping
away. Jonah's big hand gently lifted my chin, making me look up. Tears streamed down my face, leaving tracks on my cheeks. He brushed them
away with his thumb, sighing softly.
"Why are you crying again? I've been waiting downstairs forever. Any other kid would've come down for a snack. But you, you just stick it out. You're
nothing like your dad. One of you is scared of causing trouble, the other is scared of not causing enough."