They didn't talk. Ward just shook Skye's hand in his as he led her down the halls until they left the building. The cold air swept across her face, unravelling the wrinkles of anger that wrinkled her forehead, and she took a deep breath. She followed her friend behind the main building, to a fairly high and old wall, since the stones were blackened by time.

"Wow", Skye quipped with a sidelong smile, "I'm so im-pre-ss-ed by what you wanted to show me, Ward.

He laughed and let go of her hand to look around, checking that they were alone. Then he took off and jumped. As he was tall, his hands reached the top of the wall and he hoisted himself up by the force of his arms. He sat astride and motioned for her to join him. Her anger and sadness forgotten, she shook her head, giggling.

"Are you crazy? It's too high, I'll never get there!"

"Never say never. If you say you are going to fail, then you will fail. I want you to trust your body and try. Come on."

She sighed but approached and jumped in turn. She managed to touch the top of the wall, but not to grab it. Fortunately Ward grabbed her arms and managed to hoist her up; she helped him by pushing against the wall with her feet. Arrived at the top, she breathed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He jumped carefully to the other side and landed in a squatting position. He turned around and held out his arms to her.

"Jump", he said, "I will catch you."

Skye nodded and walked over to the edge before gently pushing with her arms to drop gently. He took her by the waist and put her on the floor.

"I present to you my secret garden!" he exclaimed, stepping aside and opening his arms to a theatrical movement.

Skye smiled and looked around. They were in a huge abandoned park. The dry grass was very tall and curved in the whistling wind, like the frail branches of the emaciated trees, some of which were dead. In the center of the place, Skye distinguished an old damaged playground: an iron and wooden turnstile, a large slide whose green and blue paint had flaked over time, some wooden iron climbing games and ropes, and the inevitable swings, oscillating under the pressure of the wind, and whose iron chains creaked. If the place could seem gloomy and a little sinister, Skye appreciated the curious atmosphere which reigned there. You felt like you were out of the world.

"It's amazing", she whispered without looking at her friend.

She felt him smile next to her.

"Isn't it? Come on!"

He took her hand and led her to the playing field. She let herself go and sat down carefully on one of the swings. The device creaked and she frowned.

"Are you sure it will hold?" she asked him.

"Sure and certain!" he said, leaning on one of the iron poles, which made him look more ... leaning than normal. "I've been there dozens of times to escape the stuffy atmosphere of the school, and nothing has ever given in."

Skye nodded and took the iron chains in her hands. The cold touch of the metal made her shiver slightly, but she enjoyed that feeling. She began to sway gently sideways as she pushed to her feet, her eyes scanning every bit of Ward's secret garden. From here, she could see the tallest buildings in their school, but luckily the one behind the wall was one of the smallest. Having only a few classrooms (which were more to their right), she was certain that almost no one could see them. The other buildings were further away.

All at her observation, she jumped when she felt two hands gently push her back. She gave a little cry before relaxing and letting Ward push her up into the air, higher and higher. Each time she watched the sky come and go, and she felt like she was flying. The wind was getting lost in her hair, and despite the cool temperature of October, she loved it. She laughed, and her laugh was swallowed by the breeze, which also took away all her worries. She relaxed and decided to enjoy the moment.

"Trip, the music!" Melinda shouted from the kitchen.

In general she was against the raising of voices, but there she did not see how to do otherwise, since she had already moved twice to politely reprimand her son on the volume of his horrible music, and that each time he markedly increased the sound over the minutes, as if his mother were silly and unable to grasp the difference, which in itself was starting to annoy her, especially since she couldn't think with all this din. Phil, who was finishing his day later, was about to arrive and she would need five minutes of calm to take stock of her day and mentally prepare for the orphanage. She was already pretty tired like that, she didn't need another headache today.

She sighed, well aware that her oldest son didn't hear her, or that he deliberately turned a deaf ear. She finished wiping the dish she was holding and put it on the counter. She left the room and noticed her two slumped daughters on the couch, headphones in their ears. She rolled her eyes: they had both refused to get up the last two times, and she had no time to fight, either over her son's music, or over how to convince her daughters to succeed in making him lower the sound durably. She needed a more effective solution. She stood in front of them and motioned for them to take off their headphones, which they did. They winced when their brother's music attacked their ears.

"Natasha darling, Bobbi darling, far is it from me to change your behaviour and occupation for the next fifteen minutes, but let me share some very important information with you", she said, fist on her hip.

She stayed silent to spare the suspense and Bobbi smiled, amused by the tone used by her mother, who found it difficult to keep her seriousness.

"What info?" Natasha got impatient.

"This one: the one of you who succeeds in ensuring that your brother's music stays at a decent decibel level, until your father and I leave for our meeting, will have the right to choose what to order for dinner."

As expected, her two previously supposedly exhausted daughters turned into mini-tornadoes. Natasha leaped out of the sofa.

"Pizza!" she shouted, rushing up the stairs, followed shortly after by Bobbi.

"Italian!" Bobbi retorted.

Melinda shook her head and went back to wiping the dishes. She had to wait only a few seconds before the music simply stopped. The welcome silence was immediately followed by an indignant cry and then a series of protests, but not as loud as the damn music, which suited her perfectly. There was now enough space in her head for her to think about what was really bothering her.

First of all and not surprisingly, Skye. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the teenager that puzzled her. Although she had only been there for three days, she could feel that she was not like most of her students; even if, theoretically, all of her students were different. But there was just something about Skye that was new to her, and at the same time didn't seem so foreign to her. Only she couldn't figure out what it was. She was probably too impatient and too quick to torture herself about it. She had to leave time for time and not focus too much on her new student. She had to step back. She smiled when she thought that it was usually her husband who has to take a step back from his students.

Then there was the Sainte-Agnes orphanage, where they had a meeting in an hour and a half. Although it was less than an hour from their home, they had only recently heard of it through the Internet. When they had considered adopting a new child, she and Phil learned that the orphanage where Trip and Natasha came from had been relocated. So they inquired and came across this place. On the few photos available on the site (very poorly arranged elsewhere), the exterior did not look good and seemed dark and austere. In itself, it didn't matter to her, only that she liked having everything under control, and the idea of having to refer to strangers in their new adoption process - a process that was already sufficiently complex when you knew employees of the orphanage, so with a completely different administration she did not even imagine - stressed her. She knew she had no reason to worry, but she didn't want document and administrative management problems to hinder and slow down their case. She wanted to be able to bring back a child with them early enough, and didn't want to spend the next hundred evenings getting around the paperwork.

The dark-haired woman was so deep in thought that she didn't hear her husband coming, and inevitably jumped when he wrapped his waist around her and kissed her on the neck. She relaxed and turned around.

"What were you thinking about?" Phil asked her, looking at her tenderly.

She shrugged, putting a grin on her face.

"Nothing, I was busy waiting", she replied.

He squinted but didn't insist. A loud noise from upstairs diverted their attention.

"Is it war, upstairs?" Phil asked, smiling widely and helping his wife to put the dishes away.

"Yes", May explained, I had to bribe the girls to get rid of the music from Trip.

Coulson laughed slightly, shaking his head, then half recovered his seriousness.

"Speaking of children, Trip told me there was alcohol at their little party yesterday."

His outraged tone made Melinda laugh. Phil crossed his arms.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing. It's too cute, that's all."

"What's so cute?"

Melinda casually threw her cloth over the counter.

"You, who live in the world of little pink Bears and who seriously believes that teens at a party do not drink a drop of alcohol."

"Mel!" he protested. "They are much too young for that!"

His wife rolled her eyes.

"They are sixteen. Bobbi has her license and a car, and Trip will soon pass it. They're no longer babies, Phil. They're tall, responsible, and they should be trusted on things like their drinking."

"They will always be my babies", he protested.

"I'm not saying the opposite", Melinda laughed, "but if you stifle them for fear that they will think outside the box, they will only go out to annoy you."

Phil shook his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips, and looked at his wife.

"What?" She said.

"Nothing, I'm lucky to have you, that's all."

Melinda smiled too and approached to kiss him furtively, then she looked at her watch. It was almost five o'clock. She pointed it out to her husband and they prepared to leave so as not to arrive late. Putting on their coats, Melinda called their children to warn them of their departure. Bobbi tumbled to the head.

"Italian!" She shouted, making the V for victory.

Natasha and Trip followed, falsely sulky. Phil laughed.

"Ok", he said, "order for half past eight, we should be back. And be wise while waiting for us. Trip, Natasha, you must listening to Bobbi, is that clear?"

"Why?" Trip protested. "We are the same age!"

"Certainly", Melinda intervened, "but level responsibility,…"

She didn't bother to finish her sentence and Bobbi laughed, sneering. Melinda and Phil left the house and headed for their car. Once on the road, Phil tackled what Trip had taught him about Skye, namely her presence yesterday evening, which worried May as much as he did. She also thought they should watch Grant Ward's attitude towards her (especially that she was having a lot of trouble with this turbulent and provocative teenager), but on the contrary, she was totally against the idea of talking to Skye's parents feeding problems of their daughter; it was enough to refer to today's incident at the gymnasium (which she told Phil in broad outline so that he understood her point) to understand that Skye very quickly felt trapped when adults tried to talk about her. In short, they had to wait. If her condition deteriorated, then there they would intervene.

Skye felt the cool breeze touch her face and shivered. The air was getting colder. She yawned and opened her eyes, slowly undoing the sleeping blanket that had swept her away earlier, as she lay in the grass with Ward. She slowly opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on her friend, who seemed to be asleep. They were both lying on their sides, and therefore face to face. She watched him for a moment: when he slept, he was peaceful, and his face relaxed, no longer sporting the mask of arrogance, self-confidence and impassiveness that he almost always wore. In a way, she preferred him like that.

She stretched and got on her back to watch the sky. Many white clouds were moving slowly. She amused herself by guessing shapes in it, while stifling a new yawn. She couldn't remember when she fell asleep. After enjoying themselves for a long time on the swings and then on the climbing games, they decided to settle down for a moment and lay down next to each other in the comfortable grass. They talked about everything and nothing, then observed the sky. She must have dozed off soon after because of her lack of sleep ... and she had no idea what time it was.

Totally awake now, she sat down and gently shook her friend.

"Ward, wake up," she said to him in a low voice.

He groaned and woke up almost as early. He straightened up, his eyes still a little vague.

"What time is it?" She asked him.

He yawned and took out his cell phone.

"Almost 4 p.m.", he said.

"Shit!" Skye swore.

She got up and ran to get her bag near the swing. Casually, she should have already returned to the orphanage.

"What's the matter?" Ward worried, standing up to join her.

She shouldered her bag, shaking her hair so it wouldn't get caught in the suspenders.

"I was supposed to come home just after school."

"Why ?" He wondered.

"Uh ... because I have a medical appointment not long ago", she lied. "I really have to go."

"Okay. Do you want me to accompany you?"

Skye froze for a second then smiled at him.

"No, don't bother you. I don't live very far and I really have to trace."

For half a second she was afraid he would insist, but he nodded as he retrieved his bag.

"Ok. Be careful anyway, it would be a shame if you get run over."

She stuck out her tongue and he laughed softly.

"Thanks for the moment, it was really great", she said to him after regaining her seriousness.

"Do you feel better then?" He asked, looking worried.

"Yes, much better thanks to you."

He led her back to the wall again, but this time he leaned on a rocky promontory just high enough so that he could look carefully over the wall to see if anyone was nearby. When he was sure they would be quiet, he helped her to the other side. Skye felt a little sad to have to return to the real world, but she hid it. They left the building.

"See you tomorrow", he greeted her.

She nodded, biting her lower lip, then asked without looking at him:

"Do you think we can come back another day? In your secret garden?"

"When you want", he replied immediately. "You can even go without me: it's our secret garden now ... Finally, you can go if you have enough muscles to pass the wall without me, of course!"

She laughed as she looked up.

"OK it's cool."

She hesitated but stepped forward and hoisted herself on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you for everything", she said, stepping back, her cheeks pink. "See you tomorrow!"

She turned on her heels quickly so as not to see his reaction and activated the step to cross the road, the thoughts relieved by the good time they had spent together. Even the punishment that could await her at the orphanage for arriving late failed to tarnish her mood.

Melinda slammed the door when she got out of the car, which Phil had parked in the parking lot in front of the orphanage. She had hardly left when the children's cries were already reaching her. She smiled sweetly as she saw several groups of children and teenagers playing in the distance. Phil joined her on their side and they looked at the building, noting that the photos they had seen clearly represented reality. The building was old, austere, dark, damaged, so many adjectives running through their heads at the moment. The orphanage where they adopted Natasha and Trip was much more welcoming and better maintained than this one.

"It might be better inside", Phil said, smirking a little that couldn't hide his concern.

"I doubt it", Melinda murmured, nodding to tell him to look to the right.

He turned his head to follow her gaze. A little boy had approached a few yards to retrieve an old discoloured balloon that had rolled up the trunk of a large tree. The child must have been eight or nine years old; he was of medium height but seemed rather thin and wore old clothes with holes and twice too big for him. The couple watched the other children. Even if they were all further away, they could see that many were in the same dress as the little boy.

"Where did we fall, Phil?" Melinda said sadly. "Look at them!"

Phil opened his mouth, as dismayed as she was. Even though Trip and Nat did not have masses of clothing from the time they lived in the orphanage, the clothes they owned were in fairly good condition, not stained and ripped third-hand clothes. Likewise, they had always had enough to eat, which did not seem to be the case for most of these children.

Their dismay only increased when they entered the building. They would have thought they were in one of those horror movies that Natasha loved to watch behind their backs. They were in a large hall with cracked walls and mouldy in some places. The room separated into several dark corridors, which the light from the dirty windows could not light, and the floor was of an indefinable colour. Melinda noticed three things: there were no children's drawings or decorations hanging on the walls, except for several crucifixes here and there; long neon tubes were fixed at regular intervals to the ceiling, the lighting must have dated from the last century; there were no covers on the electrical outlets, which could be very dangerous for young children, as were the many old and broken toys she could spot in the trunks of a room on the left. Some seemed so old that she would not be surprised to find asbestos in it, since it was still allowed not too long ago. She grabbed the sleeve of Phil's jacket.

"I know", he said in an altered voice taking her hand.

A sister passed by and noticed their rigid posture. She approached, smiling.

"Hello can I help you?"

Melinda didn't answer, just staring at her. Phil smirked.

"Hello. We have a meeting, with sister... Anne, I believe."

"Of course! You are sir and madam Coulson, I suppose?"

"Yes", Melinda said, stopping to detail the place, "but I kept my maiden name. I'm Melinda May, and my husband, Phil Coulson."

The young woman nodded.

"All my excuses. I am Sister Mathilde. Sister Anne is in discussion with one of the children. You can sit in the meantime if you wish."

She pointed to a sitting area across from a desk with the door closed and the curtains drawn. There was a sofa and a set of worn but comfortable chairs, and a coffee table in the center, covered with magazines. Phil thanked the young woman and they sat down. The next moment, they heard an argument a little further. Sister Mathilde left them with a small smile.

"She seems nice", Phil noted, looking around, worried.

They didn't have to wait very long. A few minutes later, the office door opened on a sad, empty-eyed little boy of seven or eight years of age. An austere woman came out after her and called out to a Sister who was passing by to take care of the child; she took his hand and walked away gently with him. The woman turned to them and smiled at them. It was a distant smile, like everything else about her. She introduced herself as Sister Anne, and invited them to follow her.

After twenty minutes of exhausting racing, Skye finally arrived at the orphanage. She slowed down as she reached the pediment of the building, took a deep breath to calm the beating of her heart, and entered. Fortunately, the door to Sister Anne's office was closed: the old witch must have been there. Skye smiled and went to put her things in her room. She hid her sweater with her precious things in the cache: she no longer wanted to hide it in the tree because she found it smelly in the morning and that it was frozen. Coming out, she almost hit Sister Mathilde.

"Oops!" she apologized with a big smile that the young woman did not return.

"Skye", she scolded, "you're late, and Sister Anne knows it. You're still going to get a behaviour report!"

The teenage girl shrugged.

"It will be neither the first nor the last, far from it!"

Sister Mathilde rolled her eyes and shook her head without managing to suppress a small smile.

"So avoid looking for trouble. You have just returned. If I were you, I would show up in Sister Anne's office as soon as she is alone, with a very good excuse for my delay. As I know you, you should have no trouble finding a justification."

Skye nodded.

"I'll do it, I promise."

"Good", Sister Mathilde concluded Sister. "With that, I leave you, I still have a lot of work."

Skye greeted her and watched her walk away. She decided to act on her advice and quickly found an excuse to bamboozle the viper who served as their steward general. She went down the stairs, avoiding the places where the steps were damaged. She stopped suddenly when she entered the hall, and opened her eyes wide. Madame May and Monsieur Coulson were leaving Sister Anne's office. She imagined with fright that they had learned from Mr. Fury, the director of the school, that she was an orphan, and that they had decided to see Sister Anne, probably to tell her about the "fight" of this morning in the gymnasium. Hello trouble! She barely had time to panic when she heard the old skin address her teachers:

"Your file seems to me to be in order; it's also one of the best I've ever seen. Social worker reports portray you as an ideal family. I have no doubt that you will be able to bring happiness to the child you decide to take in. If that's okay with you, we'll work out the details next week, and I'll start showing you some of our little ones' files."

Skye's fear suddenly dropped and she remembered that Trip had told her that he was the adopted son of her teachers. They were there because they wanted to adopt another child. Hidden by the shadowy corner in which she had taken refuge, she looked at the two adults with a new look. She had no doubts that they must be great foster parents. It was enough to be convinced of it to see the obvious happiness and good physical condition of Trip. She noticed that Mr. Coulson's smile seemed less natural than usual, and that Ms. May was struggling to contain her anger. Perhaps despite the last sentence of Sister Anne, who looked most encouraging, their meeting did not go as they wished? If that was the case, she was sad for them: they were incredible and deserved that their approach goes for the better.

She was out of her thoughts when she saw her teachers go out. Sister Anne returned to her office. The time had come to face the dragon. She stepped forward and knocked on the door, which was still ajar.

"Mary Sue. Come in."

She obeyed, grimacing at her "name" and closed the door.

"You're late", the Sister noted. "Can I know where you were?"

"I got lost", Skye lied in a neutral tone. "I don't know the way well yet and I got the wrong street at one point."

Sister Anne watched her for a moment attentively, as if trying to guess if the teenager was telling her the truth; Skye didn't let anything show through and didn't look away.

"This will be fine this time", the woman said. "You will be careful next time."

"Yes, Sister Anne."

She went out, suppressing her broad smile.