(Art = 8, Peach = 7)

A chipper girl sat on the floor of the common room, laser focused on a pile of juiceboxes. One by one, she grabbed each juicebox and stacked them into a tower. Its height and sturdiness staggered onlookers as they did their best to recognize the girl who made it.

No one knew exactly when Peach arrived. Some said she'd been dropped off as a baby. Others said she wandered in one day and just decided to stay.

Nobody had proof or even asked the staff.

Her presence was a fact now—just part of the orphanage experience.

Peach was seven and unapologetic. Her real name was Ploypailin, but only the staff used it—and only when they were frustrated with her.

Everyone else called her Peach because once, for nearly a year, she ate only canned peaches, saving the syrup for unknown reasons.

When asked why, she simply said. "I have to keep my essence sweet."

No one knew what that meant and she never bothered to explain it.

She wore mismatched socks inside, but went barefoot outside, claiming she needed to "feel the earth." She doodled on her arms in ballpoint pen to help remember "when" she was, and tied thread around doorknobs "to stop the metal from yelling when you touch it… because THAT is annoying."

She sometimes wraps strips of scavenged, brightly colored fabric around the twisted trunk of the old Banyan tree near the toolshed. While other kids threw rocks at the tree, petrified of the ghosts they said lived in the roots, Peach bowed to it with her palms pressed together. "Let us keep the spirits happy," she told everyone. "When they like the colors, they forget how bad luck is given."

She talked to the walls, trees, rocks, and air, expecting answers and replying back.

That was Peach.

The first time Art met her, it was right after he had just talked to Thanom about swimming. She stopped him dead in the hallway, looked him straight in the eye and said, "The water makes me cold. I like you."

Then skipped away.

Art didn't see her again for days.

Most kids avoided her. She made them nervous, or maybe even scared.

"She's weird," one boy whispered.

"She watches people sleep," said another.

"I saw her feed a chopstick to a gecko," said a third, unsure if it had actually happened.

Mali felt an immediate pull to Peach. They would sit together under the front windows, legs swinging, heads nearly touching.

Peach whispered bizarre things—about clouds that were fish swimming through the sky, worms that didn't know their age, winds that felt like loud music. To everyone else Peach never made any sense, but Mali was four, so she never really thought much about it.

They got each other.

Art watched them from across the courtyard. He didn't understand their shared code, but he accepted it. They clicked and Mali was happy.

Thanom squinted, trying to read Peach. Every time she moved closer to Mali, he stepped forward.

"She freaks me out," he muttered.

"She's just different," Art said.

"She watches me."

"You watch people."

"Yeah. To keep us safe. She looks at me like she's gonna peel my face off to see what's underneath."

⁕ ⁕ ⁕

Jate ignored Peach at first.

Took the long way around her. Tuned out her stories. Refused to acknowledge her existence.

One afternoon during cleanup, she passed him with a broom too tall for her, dragging it with a limp.

Without looking up, she said, "You're looking for the price tag on Art's back, but he's already been paid for."

Jate froze.

"Wha…what?" He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Peach just whistled and kept sweeping.

⁕ ⁕ ⁕

Unconcerned with whether or not you were ready for her to be herself, Peach was adamantly Peach.

She shared silly stories, and predicted the oddest things. She never even studied because she already had the answers.

Randomly, Peach would find Art before breakfast and recited his upcoming day to him like a news anchor. Sometimes she was silly: "Today you will wear a white collared shirt to class." And other times she was serious: "It will rain after school for about 40 minutes. You will get soaked and fall if you don't take an umbrella."

"Thanks." Art responded, slightly confused.

When Mali had to move to the girls dorm, it was okay, because Peach was there, and every night Peach brushed Mali's hair, then sat beside her bed and sang gently until Mali fell asleep.

Despite himself, Thanom appreciated that.

In short — no one asked her to stay, but her presence brought them closer together. She didn't wait for a seat at the table; Peach simply pulled up a crate and claimed it.