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chest and that’s when she noticed the cast on his left hand.
    She believed Jaquan was being abused at home, but she never had any proof and the kid always had some dubious story about injuries.
    Shaking her head, she explained, “You’re not going to clean inside, but you’re going to clean the damage you’ve created. And next time you want to ruin something think about spelling the words right.” She turned to lead the way inside.
    “I’m not doing it!”
    Halting, she faced him again. “Well, you have two choices.”
    “What?”
    “Clean the spray paint off the wall or get suspended from the center.”
    He stared at her.
    Meeting his gaze, she waited him out.
    “I don’t care. I don’t want to be at this place anyway.” He kicked another can, propelling it passed her. It missed her by two feet. Jaquan stomped away toward the vacant field.
    Sighing, she bent down with a heavy heart and picked up the cans. I can’t help all the kids.
    It was her mantra she repeated over the years at times like this. Jaquan wasn’t the first child she’d had to suspend and he wouldn’t be the last. However, it still broke her heart to do it. She would send a letter to his address and notify his parents.
    The joy she’d felt moments ago when her father left was now dampened by the loss of a child she had hoped to make a difference in his life.
    * * * *
     “So what do you all think?”
    Drake glanced at Tasha Rucker, his cousin and their lawyer, as she finished scanning through the final pages of the contract. His brother Vance sat on the other side of Tasha and they both waited. Not allowing Peter Zink, the attorney representing the current owner of the small airstrip, to rush them.
    “It looks good, gentlemen.” Tasha gave them both a thumbs-up.
    “Yes,” Mr. Zink cheered, most likely from the commission he would receive from the sale of the commuter airport.
    Tasha passed Drake the pen so he could sign the paper after Vance. Adding his signature beneath his brother’s, Drake’s chest expanded with pride at what he and his brother had accomplished.
    “Vance and Drake, thanks for letting an old man retire.” Gil Conroy rose from across the table, where he had been with seating beside Mr. Zink.
    His brother stood and shook the prior owner’s hand.
    Pushing the stack of papers back toward Tasha, Drake followed his brother. “Gil, we appreciate you working with us these last six months. We know you had other offers, more lucrative offers.” Drake cast his gaze to Mr. Zink for a moment, because the lawyer had wanted Gil to go with a big company or major airline chain instead of two brothers with a dream and coming in at vastly lower price cap. “Thanks again.”
    After completing the handshake with Drake, Gil patted Mr. Zink on the shoulder. “Peter and I go way back. I may have had to remind him about the bottom where we both started. He tends to forget that from time to time over the years his wallet has gotten too big to fit in his pocket.” Gil chuckled.
    Everyone else around the table joined him in a laugh at the corporate lawyer’s expense. Mr. Zink took the ribbing good-naturedly and smiled. Standing, Mr. Zink led the way around the long table and shook hands with Tasha first, then Vance and Drake.
    “You all keep this place afloat like Gil did and I’ll make sure to keep business coming your way. I represent a lot of people on business associated with the arenas.” Zink waved his finger between him and Vance.
    “That’s what we plan on, Gil. So you tell your clients don’t even think about making flight arrangements anywhere else. Stick with us,” Vance declared.
    “Come on out to the front. I believe Mitch has some champagne chilling for us all to celebrate.” Gil opened the door and headed from the single office at the airstrip directly into the hangar, one of ten hangars out there.
    The hangar was empty this time, but when they came six months ago to access the commuter airport there had been