Theo's Rules
Theo did not cheer.
That was one of his rules.
He had written them with Poppy the day before on the back of an old envelope, then hidden the envelope inside the pool box because secret training needed secret papers.
Rule one: no clapping until Poppy said clapping was allowed.
Rule two: no grown-up voices.
Rule three: if she cried, nobody called it crying unless she did.
Rule four: the crutches belonged to Poppy, not to fear.
Theo had learned some of this from his own life, though he rarely explained it. His mother worked night shifts at a hospital, and his father had left when Theo was small enough to remember only shoes by the door. He knew what it felt like when adults made promises with tired faces.
He also knew Poppy hated being watched like glass.
So when she took the step, Theo only smiled in the smallest way and said, "There. Your foot remembered."
Poppy stared at the cast as if it had betrayed her by obeying.
"It hurt," she said.
"I know."
"But it moved."
"I saw."
She looked at him then, and the wet shine in her eyes was not just pain. It was anger, hope, pride, and fear all crowded together in a face still young enough for missing teeth.
"What if Daddy cries?" she asked.
Theo considered this with the seriousness of a judge.
"Then we pretend not to notice until he wipes his face."
Poppy almost laughed.
Behind the hedge, Edward pressed one hand over his mouth.
He had spent months trying to be steady for her. He had not understood that his steadiness had become another room she had to perform inside.
Theo reached for the second crutch, then stopped himself and held his hands open instead.
"Want to do one more before he finds out?" he asked.
Poppy swallowed hard.
May you like
"One," she said. "Then we tell him."
Edward looked down at the blank exercise books and knew what the first page would have to say.
