Free Punch Like a Girl by Karen Krossing

about to tell the kids to give the butterfly some space when Casey says, “Not too close. You’ll scare him.” She cups her hand around the butterfly and beams at me.
    I give her a thumbs-up.
    Casey holds the butterfly near her chest. The other kids visit and then wander back to the sprinkler. Soon the moms start trickling into the backyard. I’ve gotten to know a few of them since they come to collect their kids before dinner each night.
    Casey’s mom, Rita, talks to Jia and then hurries over. I’m proud and slightly embarrassed when she thanks me repeatedly for encouraging her daughter to talk.
    â€œYou know, Casey-Lynn really admires you.” Rita has dark circles under her eyes, and she looks exhausted. “Last night in our room, she was talking about you.”
    â€œThat’s great. I like her too.” I smile, staring at Rita’s face and trying to decide why it looks so lopsided today.
    â€œSo many people at the shelter have helped us, but you…” She pauses to gaze intently at me. “Somehow you connect with Casey so well.”
    â€œI guess.” When I realize that she only has makeup on one eye, I marvel at how she could forget to do the other eye. Is she too busy? Too stressed? Jia had once asked Rita how the search for an apartment was going; apparently, it’s hard to find an affordable one these days.
    Just then I hear a horrible screech from across the yard.
    I turn to see Casey falling to her knees, wailing. Her arm stretches toward the sky as the butterfly flits away, wobbling above the shed, over the fence and beyond.
    Her mother runs to her. I stare after the butterfly, silently pleading for it to come back.

    I don’t want to leave the shelter until Casey calms down. She sits between her mother and me on the hard bench in the yard, sniffling and wiping her nose every so often. When her mother brings out their dinner, Casey hardly eats.
    Eventually, I say, “I have to go soon, Casey.” Exams are coming, and I’ve barely started any of my review packages. The sun has set behind the trees, although the sky is still bright.
    â€œNot yet.” Casey’s eyes get watery. She wraps her arms around my neck.
    â€œI’ll go in five minutes.” I hold her shivering body. “But first, I want to tell you something.”
    â€œWhat?” She pulls back and examines my face.
    I glance at Rita, who looks drained. “Today I’m sad and happy at the same time,” I say.
    Casey shoots me a confused look.
    â€œI’m sad because when the butterfly left, you cried. Maybe if I hadn’t shown him to you, you wouldn’t be hurting now.”
    â€œBut I loved Monty!”
    â€œI know. And I loved showing him to you. That’s why I’m happy. Because when you saw the butterfly, you spoke to me.” I smile. “I like when you talk.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œYup. I like it so much that right now, my happy feelings are bigger than my sad ones.”
    â€œI like talking to you too.” She throws her arms around me again, but this time she’s not shaking.
    I give Casey a final hug and disentangle from her.
    Rita nods at me. “Thank you again. I seem to be saying that a lot to you today.”
    â€œI like helping.” I shrug, embarrassed. Then I say to Casey, “Talk to you tomorrow?”
    â€œOkay.” She wipes her eyes.
    Ten minutes later I head out the back gate, which opens onto the sidewalk. I’ve got Rachel’s hastily scribbled card in hand; she wanted to get back to the sprinkler more than she wanted to draw. Across the street, Mr. Manicure, the tidy neighbor with the trim fingernails, is cutting the grass with a noisy electric lawn mower. Apparently, he prunes his yard as well as he trims his nails. When he sees me coming, he waves and turns off the motor.
    I wave back and keep walking.
    â€œYou work at the shelter?” he calls across the street.
    He