Chapter Three


They were in rotations, Henry's favorite part of the day.

Thirty minutes before dismissal, Mrs. Blanchard let her kindergarteners draw numbered sticks from their 'center's' can, and each number was associated with a different free play activity. Henry, however, he had a favorite rotation. He loved Mrs. Blanchard's Make-Believe corner.

His teacher was often switching out the costumes and props. "There is always a new story to be conjured up", she always said.

Each student received fifteen minutes in each rotation, and today, Henry was one buzzer away from make-believe.

He had his sights set on the new workbench that Mrs. Blanchard had added to her classroom earlier that morning. Henry's mind was already reeling with stories about blacksmiths and medieval knights in shining silver armor. It was the perfect addition to support his obsession with mediaeval tales.

"Henry, may I talk to you for a moment?"

The five year old slowly pulled his attention away from the far corner of the classroom. His fellow classmate, Isabella, had been using the workbench as a tea table, and that had Henry feeling enraged. The dark stained bench looked silly with tea cups and doilies stationed at its center.

Henry looked down at his pile of forgotten tanagram shapes. Now he was wondering if Mrs. Blanchard was here to scold him for being caught in a daydream again.

At a leisurely pace, Henry raised his eyes to his teachers. When he saw she wasn't alone, he felt a wave of fear wash over him.

"This is Miss. Swan, Henry." Mrs. Blanchard kneeled by the foot of his chair. "She said that you met on Monday in her office, and that your mother set aside some time for you to talk with her today."

Henry didn't respond, but he didn't look away either.

"I thought it would be fun to come see your school and hear about what you've been learning with Mrs. Blanchard. Is that okay, Henry?" Emma was smiling.

She appeared kind enough, but before Henry could respond, the timer at the teacher's counter buzzed for rotation. All of a sudden, the students slipped into chaos.

"Remember students, clean your stations before you move. You know the drill." Mrs. Blanchard had stood to make her announcement. "I'll be right back." Her hand fell to Henry's shoulder before she walked away.

Henry watched her go. Sadness filled his little body, and he remained passive in his chair. Soon, his rotation mates would have finished clearing the tanagrams, and Henry would be stuck here having a staring contest with a perfect stranger while they all crowded around the new workbench.

"Can I sit, Henry?"

The woman was speaking directly to him, but Henry wouldn't respond. Instead, he merely shrugged. He kept his eyes down on the table in front of him as he felt Enna sit at his side.

"What were you working on here?" Emma fingered the brightly colored shapes. "This looks like fun."

The other students had finished cleaning, and were now hurrying away from the table toward the make-believe center. A new group of students arrived to the tanagrams, just as Mrs. Blanchard reset the timer.

This meant that Henry was now losing valuable play time.

"How is it going over here?"

Mrs. Blanchard had returned, but Henry was too upset to respond, even to her.

"I think we are feeling a little bit quiet today." Emma answered for Henry, but he showed no indication that he was listening.

"Well, Henry is a big fan of telling stories in the make-believe corner." Mrs. Blanchard explained to the case worker. "Henry, would you like to go join your friends?"

He looked up, alert, and nodded eagerly. His happy demeanor quickly returned.

"Perhaps Miss Swan could join you there?"

Henry was skeptical, but nodded anyway.

"I'd love to join you." Emma expressed with a grin. "Can you show me what you like to play?"

Henry stood, simply shrugging again. He eyed the neglected tanagrams and frowned.

"You can leave those, but just for today." Mrs. Blanchard whispered softly. "I'll take care of them."

And that was that. Henry was off at a run. He dashed to the back of the classroom, so quickly, that it made his teacher chuckle.

"He is something else, that Henry." Mrs. Blanchard offered the younger woman a small smile. "You go ahead. I'll be over here if either of you need anything."

"Thank you," Emma responded with a nod. She followed after the young boy at half his pace, squeezing between the other children to get there.

When she found him, hidden at the back of the play area, Emma was surprised to see Henry on his own. The other three children in his group were absorbed in a rousing game of house. They called him in, but their request went ignored. It appeared Henry had other plans for his afternoon.

"This is very cool." Emma pointed towards the workbecnch as she sat herself down in a tiny chair.

"Mrs. Blanchard made it herself!" Henry explained enthusiastically. "Well, her husband made it from left over construction wood, but Mrs Blanchard painted it!"

"That is super cool of her." Emma agreed. "Does Mrs Blanchard make new things for you guys often?"

"Uh-huh," Henry nodded. "All the time."

He hurried over to the costume trunk and slipped a plain white apron over his school uniform. When he returned to the workbench, Henry had just finished securing the tie around his thin waist. He grabbed a wooden mallet, and went to town on one of the discarded building blocks.

"So, what are we making today?" Emma inquired after a short while. Henry had been captivated by some riveting inner dialogue. He muttered to himself, and appeared almost surprised to find Emma still watching him.

"I am a blacksmith," He began. "I am making all the swords and knives for all of the queen's guard!"

"Wow, that sounds like an important job." Emma acknowledged. "You must have a very powerful queen if you're making all of those weapons?"

"Oh, she is powerful, and smart too. She casted a spell on me to make me do all this work!"

"I see," Emma whispered.

Henry had wandered back over to the toy shelves. Emma was fascinated with how he continued his stories even while the other students interrupted his play. Most five year olds didn't have that kind of attention span.

He came back to the workbench holding a small tea cup.

"What is that for?" Emma asked.

Henry, who'd forgotten about Emma's presence once again, looked up to her in bewilderment. He turned the teacup slowly in his hand, admiring it, and then surprised Emma by coming to stand at her side.

Henry, very gently, set the teacup in the center of Emma's palm.

"This is where the queen trapped my heart." He wedged his finger through the cup's center in explanation. "I only get it back after I finish all of my work."

"Now, that doesn't sound like something a nice queen would do..."

Henry frowned. "She's not very nice. But it's only because she'd not allowed to be."

Emma's head turned to the side as she focused all of her attention on the cup. "Not allowed to be, huh?" She whispered.

"Uh-huh," Henry took the cup back before walking away.

Emma was silent as she watched him continue to play for a few more minutes. Henry was content to have her watch, going about his business, still as if he didn't know she was there.

"Henry, I am going to go and talk to Mrs Blanchard for a few minutes, okay? You and I will chat again after play time."

The boy didn't respond. Emma couldn't say if she had expected him too or not. She let him be and returned to the center of the room where she found Mrs. Blanchard taking notes in her planner.

She looked up with a grin, and set down her pen.

"How is it going over there?" Mrs. Blanchard inquired sweetly.

Emma offered the teacher a small shrug. "Not bad, Henry seems to have quite the imagination, though."

"You can say that again."

Both women share a quick laugh.

"Anyway, Mrs. Blanchard-"
"Please, call me, Mary."
"Okay, Mary..." Emma drew her lips into a small grin. "I just wanted to thank you for being so accommodating this afternoon. My lines got crossed with Miss. Mills office, and I can assure you there will be no more sessions scheduled during classroom hours."

Mary bat her off with a wave. "No worries," She beamed. "I head that can happen with Miss. Mill's work schedule. Besides, we're pretty easy going around here anyway. So, does that mean you will be counseling Henry during his after school program?"

Emma nodded. "That was the plan; one afternoon a week for the time being."

"Henry is a great kid." Mary turned to locate him.

He was still at the workbench. His collection of teacups had grown exponentially, but he appeared happy as he played.

"What can you tell me about him?" Emma asked. "Nothing personal; maybe just some insight into his likes and dislikes."

"Well," Mary began. "When Henry first started in my classroom, a little over a month and a half ago, he had a real affinity for drawing. Anything I put down in front of him immediately became a , Mrs Mills put a stop to that. Unfortunately, I had to approach her about Henry's struggle to complete his in-school work. He had a hard time focusing, and ever since then, he hasn't spent much time in art. I put a reward system in place for his schoolwork, though, and that seems to be helping so far."

"But now," Mary pointed to his station. "Between reading and make-believe, Henry's looking at a career as the next Hans Christian Anderson."

"The fairy tale guy?" Emma raised a single brow, and Mary nodded.

"Henry is very into fantasy."

Emma laughed. "I got a pretty good sense of that myself just now- with all the talk of knights and queens. Henry sounds like a regular citizen of Camelot."

Mary giggled in reply as her timer went off.

Excitement filled the air for the second time that afternoon. This time, it was the arrival of the weekend that had the students jazzed. They all hurried to clean their stations as fast as they could; everyone except for Henry, that was.

As Mary left to help her class prepare for dismissal, Emma watched Henry pout as he tidied up his space. He lagged behind the other students. They were already dressed in their winter coats and standing at the door, by the time Henry had finished returning his play things to their rightful homes.

"I can leave you the use of my classroom to finish your session, if you'd like?" Mary suggested, and slipped on her own coat. "I have bus duty on Fridays, so you'll have the space to yourself for the next fifteen minutes or so."

"Really?" Emma questioned. "That would be awesome."

"Have at it then," Mary turned to find Henry coming to stand at the back of the line of students.

"Henry," Mrs. Blanchard called. "You're going to stay here with Miss Swan today. I'll be back to take you down to ASP right after I'm done with the bus."

Confusion muffled his disappointment. Henry staggered back over the the tables, and dropped his book bag into a chair.

Mary turned to Emma. "Feel free to use any of the art supplies. It may help coax him back to life a little."

She left Emma with a quick wink before returning to the head of the line. It was only a minute longer before they were all out the door.

Emma waited until the chorus of excited students disappeared down the hall before making a next attempt with Henry. Heeding Mary's advice, Emma crept over to the shelves filled with art supplies. There were crayons, markers, pencils, you name it. Her indecisive ways made her skin itch. Emma released them with a shake, and grabbed a few random supplies.

When she returned to the table, Henry was seated in a chair with his eyes cast downward. He was picking at the skin next to his nail and frowning deeply.

"I have an idea," Emma sang as she sat down beside the boy. "I'm going to draw something, and you have to guess what it is, and then, I will do the same for you."

Henry didn't respond, but Emma got to work anyway. After a quick few seconds, she slid the paper under his face. He began to grin.

"A cat, I hope." Henry giggled.

"You hope?" Emma teased him with a laugh. "It is a cat!"

"But not a very good one." Henry smirked.

"Okay, if you think you can do better, let me see what you can do."

Henry, like his mother, was never one to back away from a challenge. His tongue tipped out of his mouth as he considered the blank sheet in front of him.

Then, he began to draw.

When he finished, Emma merely shook her head. "Did you just draw a cat so you could show me how much better you could do it?"

Henry nodded gleefully.

"You're something else, you know that?" He was laughing again, and more visibly at ease. "Let me see you draw something else; something original!" She teased.

Henry saluted her quickly. "One Henry Mills Original, coming up."

Emma chuckled in reply.

He was silent for a time as he set his sights high on perfection. He dumped the box of crayons for easier access and relaxed into the chair.

Emma was content to watch him draw. She marveled at his meticulous strokes. They were indication of the bigger world he was living in, just behind his eyes.

"Emma," Henry whispered, after a time. His attention was still down at his picture, but she caught him swiftly glance in her direction. "What are you doing at my school?"

"Well, Henry," Emma began. "You and I didn't get to talk much the other day. I thought I might come by your school once a week, so I can hear more about your life with your mom."

A frown burrowed into the child's brow. "Mom said that you're an underpaid, poor excuse for a shrink; what does that mean?"

Emma worked hard to hide her irritation. "Well, your mom is half right." She scribbled a few lines into her paper. "It's my job to make sure that kids like you are happy and safe in their homes."

"Oh," Henry whispered. He dropped his crayon to the table and looked Up fully to Emma. "Is this because I'm adopted?"

Emma chuckled softly. "No Henry, this is not because you're adopted. This is just my way of checking in to see how the kids of New York City are doing."

His eyes enlarged. "That's a lot of kids."

"You're telling me, bud."

Henry rolled his eyes and retracted his crayon. He was silent again for a long minute as he finished his masterpiece.

"Are you trying to take me away from my mom?"

His question came at barely above a whisper. Emma found herself rotating towards him in her seat as she let her head tip towards the side.

"Did someone tell you that's what I was going to do?"

Henry merely shrugged.

Emma, very slowly, reached out to cover Henry's hand with her own. She waited until his eyes met hers before she continued.

"I'm not trying to take you away from your home, Henry. I would never want to do that. I'm just here to talk to you, and learn a little more about your life. You can think of me as a friend, or a teacher. We can spend our afternoons together drawing a picture, or playing make-believe. It's all up to you."

Henry pulled his hand away from her and set it in his lap. His face was pinched with concern. His foot tapped nervously against the leg of the chair, and his eyes were low as he stared back at Emma.

"Miss. Ruby said my mom is just misunderstood-" Henry raised his gaze to the ceiling. "And that's why she does the bad things that she does."

"Who is Miss Ruby?" Emma asked.

"She's my nanny, and my mom's friend from school."

"I see," Emma hummed. "And you like Miss. Ruby?"

Henry sent the woman a face that said, 'duh'. "Of course, I love her."

"And she says your mom is misunderstood?" Henry nodded. "What do you think she meant by that?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know, you'll have to ask her." And then he went back to his art.

"You're an intuitive kid, you know that Henry?" The boy didn't reply, but at the same time Emma went to continue, there was a knock at the door.

Both Emma and Henry looked up to see Mrs. Blanchard, back in from the cold. Her nose had tinted pink, as had her cheeks. She was still smiling, though.

"Hey, how are you guys doing?"

Emma returned the woman's smile and stood. "We had fun, didn't we Henry?" His reply came in the form of a noncommittal sigh. "Anyway," Emma chuckled. "I think we're done for the day. Thank you, Mrs. Blanchard, for letting me spend some time with Henry."

She raised her hand in ease. "Anytime,"

"And Henry," Emma turned back to the boy. "I'll be seeing you sometime next week, and no more cat pictures." She scolded him playfully.

Her joke elected a small laugh. "I promise..."

"Okay then, I'll get out of your hair. Have a nice weekend, both of you."

Henry hid his eyes from the woman until her back was to him. Then, he watched Emma go.

As he did, a feeling of discomfort settled over him, and a sense of fear that something much bigger was to come from spending time with Miss. Emma Swan.