**Diary Entry**
Ill never forget the day I realised what was really going on with Emily. She was the brightest star in my Year 5 classher notebooks were immaculate, her smile like sunshine. Always clean, always on time, always the first to finish her work. I adored her, but there was something odd in her eyes, a strange urgency to arrive early and a reluctance to leave that didnt sit right for a ten-year-old.
“Miss, can I stay a bit longer to help?” shed ask every afternoon.
“Of course, love,” Id reply, “but your mum must be waiting for you.” Yet I never saw anyone come for her.
One rainy Tuesday, Emily arrived shivering, her hair soaked. My heart clenched. “Emily, what happened? Didnt your mum bring you?”
“No, Miss. I slipped in a big puddle. But Im fine,” she lied, wiping her tears with her sleeve.
That evening, an unease I couldnt shake made me follow her. She hurried through backstreets until she reached a covered bench in a park, sheltered under a tree. There, huddled beneath a tarp, was her mother, Sarah.
My heart shattered. Little Emily had no home. They slept on the streets, and her flawless appearance was her mothers desperate effort to keep their secretso no one would take Emily away.
The next day, I gathered the staff. My voice trembled as I told them. Word spread like wildfire, reaching older pupils and their parents, who were part of the schools support group.
“We have to do something!” the headmistress said, eyes glistening.
“My mum owns a salonshe could give Emilys mum a job,” offered a Year 7 pupil.
“I know someone at an estate agency,” another teacher added.
Within hours, the school buzzed with kindness. Pupils organised a raffle with donated toys and books. Teachers pitched in from their own pockets. Parents moved with astonishing speed.
Two days later, I called Emily and Sarah into the office. Sarah entered pale, eyes downcast, braced for the worst.
“Sarah,” the headmistress began warmly, “we know the truth. And no one here is judging you or taking Emily away.”
Sarah looked up, bewildered.
“Quite the opposite,” the headmistress continued, handing her an envelope. “This is from all of us. Its enough for a months rent on a small flat while you get settled.”
Sarahs eyes filled with tears as she opened it.
“Theres more,” I said, taking her hand. “One of our pupils arranged a job for you at her mums salonafternoons, so you can still bring Emily to school.”
Sarah was speechless. Emily clung to her, crying happy tears.
“But why would you do this?” Sarah whispered.
I bent down and hugged Emily tightly. “Because this school isnt just a building, Sarah. Were a family. And your Emilyher light, the joy she brings every dayshowed us that sometimes the most important lessons arent in books, but in how we live. We dont want Emily taken away. We want her to have a real home. With you.”
That afternoon, Emily didnt walk to the park. She walked hand-in-hand with her mum to a tiny flata place they could finally call home. And though tears still fell, they were tears of a happiness brighter than any sun. Without realising it, the school hadnt just saved a roof over their headsit had restored hope to two hearts.
