On Monday morning, Miles visited Friends Select School with Mrs. Alvarez, Alicia, and an admissions counselor. The building seemed less frightening than the restaurant because children moved through it carrying backpacks and laughing at jokes unrelated to money. Still, Miles kept both hands on his journal bag as they passed the reception desk. He had not attended regular classes for months and was afraid the gaps would show immediately.
Andrew, the administrator Hamilton had called, met them in a room with shelves of books and a large window overlooking a courtyard. He explained that the school would review Miles's educational records, assess his current needs, and arrange support if he enrolled. The scholarship would cover tuition and supplies if the placement proceeded, but the school would also need a plan for social adjustment and the emotional strain of returning after a long absence. Miles found that reassuring; it sounded like the adults were finally asking questions instead of assuming an impressive memory could solve everything.
A teacher named Ms. Bennett showed him a science room. There were microscopes, models of the human skeleton, jars of preserved leaves, and a table where students were building small bridges from wooden sticks. Miles paused beside a diagram of the heart and noticed a label he thought had been placed incorrectly. He raised a hand even though nobody had asked him a question.
"May I say something?"
Ms. Bennett smiled. "Of course."
He pointed at the diagram and explained the direction of blood flow through one of the chambers. She looked closely, then laughed in surprise because he was right. Instead of treating the mistake as proof of Miles's superiority, she invited him to help correct it with the other students. The invitation made him feel like he belonged in a classroom rather than on a stage.
His formal enrollment followed after the necessary review, and the education trust provided the school with a reliable source of funding. During the first week, a boy named Jonah asked whether Miles was really the child from the restaurant video. Miles nodded reluctantly, expecting another request to perform. Jonah leaned forward with great seriousness and asked whether he liked hockey.
Miles stared at him. "I've never played."
"You don't have to play," Jonah said. "You can watch. My dad says the Flyers are having a terrible season, but that doesn't mean we should stop being hopeful."
The conversation was so ordinary that Miles nearly laughed. Later, a girl named Mina asked whether he wanted to join her group for a science project about clean water. She showed him a sketch of a homemade filter, and he immediately began asking where the water would come from and how they would test it. The three children spent lunch arguing about whether a model river should be made from blue paper or actual water.
For the first time in months, Miles came home talking about children his own age instead of only doctors and journals. Mrs. Alvarez listened as he described Jonah's ridiculous jokes, Mina's engineering ideas, and the teacher who had asked him to explain why experiments needed control groups. He was still afraid at night, and he still woke sometimes expecting the cold concrete beneath him. But his world had begun filling with things that could not be measured by whether he survived until morning.