Sana’s chin rose with the dignity of a small ambassador. “My volcano is broken, but it’s going to be the best one.”
Mara crouched to Sana’s height without hesitation, as if she’d done it a thousand times. “I believe you,” she said, and the sincerity in her voice did something strange to Arin’s chest. “What makes it the best?”
Sana launched into a fast explanation about baking soda and vinegar and “safety enhancements,” waving her hands as if she were conducting an orchestra. Mara listened like Sana was presenting at a conference, not babbling in the backyard.
And Arin realized something that made him quiet.
Most adults did the polite smile. The nod. The quick escape.
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