AMELIA stood by the sink, her hands deep in soapy water, rinsing off the last of the dinner plates. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of glass against porcelain and the steady trickle of water. Her mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, Hazel’s award ceremony, the outfit she would wear, the hair she needed to braid neatly before morning.
Suddenly, small footsteps pattered into the kitchen. Hazel appeared, her little frame brimming with energy, her school notebook tucked under her arm. Without saying a word, she tiptoed to the corner near the dining table, lifted her chin proudly, and began in her most formal voice, as though she were already standing on stage before a crowd.
“My name is Hazel Cole, and I am in grade three,” she announced, her voice pitched higher than u
