I had turned around for forgotten lunches, gym clothes, library books, and even one miserable-looking science-project bean plant.
I never kept score.
Helping people had always seemed easier than watching them struggle when I was already going in the same direction.
Still, there were signs that Vanessa viewed my kindness differently.
One Friday, Sophie failed to appear at 7:20.
I waited.
Then I texted Vanessa.
Five minutes later, she responded:
“Running behind. Can you wait?”
No apology.
Not even a “please.”
I waited anyway because leaving Sophie behind felt like punishing the wrong person.
When she finally ran outside, embarrassed and breathless, she climbed into the car.
“Sorry,” she said. “Mom couldn’t find her yoga mat.”
I remember thinking that losing a yoga mat was a strange reason to make four people late.
But traffic started moving, Emma began talking about her spelling test, and I let it go.
Vanessa always thanked me afterward.
“You’re a lifesaver, Sarah.”
She never offered gas money.
I never asked.
One afternoon, Emma asked,
“Why doesn’t Sophie’s mom ever drive us?”
We were sitting outside Vanessa’s house waiting for Sophie.
I glanced at Emma through the rearview mirror.
“Because we help people when we can.”
Emma frowned.
“But you always help. Why doesn’t anyone help you?”
I laughed.
