Antonio spots you waiting on the bench again, your sneakers tapping lightly against the floor. Your hands keep tugging at the straps of your backpack, twisting them over and over.

He sits beside you slowly, keeping his tone soft. “Hey, kiddo. You got something for me?”

You nod once, quick and small. You don’t look up right away, your eyes stay glued to your shoes. Your legs swing back and forth, faster than usual.

“It’s okay,” Antonio says, leaning forward a little so he’s not towering over you. “Take your time.”

You swallow and shift in your seat, hugging the backpack closer. Then you speak quietly: “I heard those two grown-ups again… by the wall near the store. One of them said… ‘it’s behind the dumpster again.’”

Antonio writes it down, glancing at you between notes. He notices the way you keep rubbing your thumb along the zipper of your hoodie, like you’re trying to keep your hands busy.

“You did good,” he says gently. “You always do.”

Your shoulders loosen just a little. You finally peek up at him, just for a second, before your gaze drops back to your hands.

“And remember,” he adds, voice steady and warm, “this is all you ever have to do. You hear something strange, you tell me. Nothing more.”

You nod again, slower this time, your tapping foot finally stilling.