That night, when his mom told him, he didn’t go back downstairs. Jim was frustrated and heartbroken. He felt as if he was abandoning her. 

His mom had made him his favorite meal- grilled cheese. Something was undoubtedly off. She smiled her smile she gave him when she felt she was walking on egg shells. She let him eat as he kept a steady eye on her. He could see her working up to say something. 

“Kiddo, we are moving. I know we just moved, but your father and I figured now is the time. Your father got a promotion in Philly, and we will be closer to family. I’m sorry to spring this on you.”

For the first time, Jim found himself speechless. He knew this was coming, Staples was talking about giving his father a promotion and his eldest brother was going to college. Since Scranton lacked any sort of reasoning education options, he would have to go out of state. 

••

Jim couldn’t get himself to tell her. Instead, he went to class and made jokes and played pranks. He watched Pam’s thigh where she scratched when she felt waves of panic turn into a pink shade rather that a mess of red. He talked and drew with her. Her voice was stolen but her warmness around him only increased. 

Every time he went to tell her, he felt his mouth go dry. Pam would look at him empathetically, which made his heart get tugged at more aggressively. She never spoke, yet he got her messages. He had the courage, but was afraid to ruin her courage he had worked so hard to help her earn for herself. 

He was going to tell her at lunch. The two sat at their self-assigned seats in the cafeteria. Pam was in her own anxious world when they sat, her brain shielding her from the noise and commotion. Her eyes were glazed as her worries stole valuable moments. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she snapped back to reality. 

In his lunchtime ritual, he slid the mixed berry yogurt across the sticky table over to Pam. She never touched it, but he felt a role in supplying it for her. Every morning he took the same yogurt then put it in his lunch box with an ice pack, put it on the table for her, let it remain untouched, and put it back in his lunchbox to take home and put away. And repeat. At least he checked the expiration date.

Yet, she carefully opened the tin yogurt lid and dipped the plastic spoon into the smooth substance. The sound of the crumpling of aluminum made his whole world brighter. He watched her take a small, slow bite off the spoon then meet his eyes. He knew he was smiling like a silly idiot, but he didn’t care. Any plan to tell her quickly vanished, and he would never spoil this moment. 

••

After the second bite, Pam felt as if she was on television, as of every eye was on her. Once she saw Jim’s response, she smiled then licked the spoon one more time before throwing the almost completely full container out. She was frustrated not to get through it, but with Jim’s help she knew she could get further.

••

The month crept to the last day of the month. Boxes were piled to the ceiling and moving vans were parked at the curb of his house. The only remaining item in his room was a sleeping bag on the hardwood floors and a box of crayons. 

He felt responsible for leaving her. Each day her eyes got brighter and her breathing less quick. Sometimes she would mouth something. It felt as though someone has given him an Dundee- as Micheal calls them- every time. 

Jim spread out on the cold floor and found a blank piece of paper in his backpack. He would speak in Pam’s way this time. 

••

Pam could see the concern in his eyes. He wanted to share something… but just couldn’t. He was a professional of changing the subject and veering from any sort of relation to the summer. When she drew pictures of beaches and shores, his eyes looked startled. She felt as if they were surfing on that wave of uncertainty, but he gave her a push, allowing himself to swim and watch. He was no longer by her on the board. 

••

He wanted her to be understood, he pulled Dwight into their conversation, reassuring himself she would still have someone. Every once in a while, a teacher such as Ms. Flax would glance at them through the doorway while taking their class to recess and give him a knowing look. 

He was balancing a fine line, he wanted to help Pam. He knew telling her here would cause a probable panic attack. He could imagine her shaking as he carefully announced where he was moving. A school building with all the eyes was no place for her to experience that. He somehow always knew how to think ahead for her sake. 

••

Pam was getting apprehensive as Jim’s inattentive nature increased. He seemed to look at her backpack every minute. She knew her backpack wasn’t very exciting, it was a muted, pale pink. 

••

Recess couldn’t have come any slower. Finally, as Pam silently put away her pencils in a meticulous color order, he slipped his paper in the top pocket of her backpack. He had never been as talented as Pam with art, and he wasn’t sure how she always used it to express herself. The words he had to shared seemed too big for her to hear though, and he wasn’t prepared to put her in a situation that would cause her such distress. She loved art, so what better way to share his own words?

••

Jim was the first called out to carpool. They would be leaving that night. His car was packed full with cardboard boxes and road-trip snacks. His siblings were packed in the back, giggling and flailing their arms at one another. 

He hugged Pam, then dashed into the car. He glanced back at her one more time, her hair neatly pinned back half up- half down. Pam stood confused in the busy classroom with the untouched paper weighing down her backpack.