“Hi!” She’s grinning at me and says, “My name is Olivia. I’m seven!” She holds up seven fingers, and I mentally hold up eight. Hi, Olivia. I’m Malachi, I want to say or sign, but I just stare at her. “Do you think I look like a princess?” Mentally, I nod. But physically, I step forward. I like her—she doesn’t make me uncomfortable. She’s so happy compared to everyone else. And she’s happy to meet me. I tilt my head. Her smile drops. “You don’t like my dress?” Without thinking, because I want her to like me too, I lift my hands and sign, Please don’t be afraid of me. But the confusion on her
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