…The front door opened and a river of identical navy clad little girls spilled out, at least a hundred of them. They talked on cell phones, gossiped in tight cliques, and hit each other with their book bags. Christy scanned the sea of bobbing heads in search of the one that belonged to her.
“Christy Hayes. Do my eyes deceive me?” Renata cautiously approached. She looked stunned. “Did Nectar die?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to pick you up.”
“But why?”
“Do I need a reason to pick up my little girl?”
“No?” Renata said, wondering if this was a trick question.
