Not at home.
They met by accident on a Saturday afternoon in late January at the public library downtown.
Noah was sitting at a corner oak study table near the juvenile science section, working on a middle-school robotics research project with his laptop open and three illustrated books spread around him.
His left hand was completely healed, the raised red welts long gone, though he still had a habit of resting his fingers against his knee when he concentrated.
The sound of soft sneakers on the carpet made Noah look up.
Liam Dalton stood three paces from the table, holding an oversized hardback book about medieval castle architecture.
He was wearing an unbranded gray sweatshirt, his hair uncombed, looking thinner than he had in sixth grade.
For five long seconds, neither boy spoke.
Noah’s heart hammered against his ribs, but when he looked into Liam’s face, he saw no anger, no malice, and no arrogance.
He only saw a twelve-year-old boy who looked like he had been carrying a boulder on his back for six months.
"Hey, Noah," Liam whispered, shifting the heavy book in his arms.
"Hey, Liam," Noah said quietly, keeping his hands open on the table.
Liam took a small, hesitant step forward, stopping beside the empty wooden chair.
"I’m sorry about what she did to your hand," Liam said, his voice dropping into a cracked, fragile whisper as his eyes watered. "I’m sorry I didn't say anything when you pointed at my desk. I was scared that if I talked, she’d start yelling at me when we got home."
Noah looked at his former classmate, remembering the way Liam had stared blankly at his desk that morning.
He realized that while he had been hurt by Mrs. Dalton for three minutes, Liam had lived with her every single day of his life.
"It wasn't your fault, Liam," Noah said softly. "You didn't tell her to hit me."
Liam wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, nodding slowly.
"Oak Creek is pretty nice," Liam offered, a faint, fragile smile touching his lips. "The history teacher there lets us work in groups, and nobody gets timed quizzes on Fridays."
"That’s good," Noah smiled gently. "We have Mr. Davis now. He’s pretty cool. He brings in real dinosaur fossils for earth science."
Liam looked down at his castle book, then back at Noah.
"I’m glad you’re okay, Noah."
"I'm okay, Liam. Really."
Liam gave a quiet nod, turned, and walked back toward the circulation desk where his father was waiting, leaving behind the dark shadow of Room 204 forever.