The Chosen One •

19

✨ Isabel ✨

The room buzzed with excitement as twenty pairs of little hands worked diligently, piecing together bits of cardboard, LEDs, and wire circuits. My classroom—well, the borrowed community center classroom—was alive with energy. I adjusted the Santa hat one of the kids had insisted I wear. It was slightly too big, and the fluffy pom-pom dangled annoyingly into my face.

"Miss Isabel!" Ava, a seven-year-old with a penchant for glitter, waved her hand enthusiastically. "Can we make the snowman's nose light up too?"

"Sure can," I replied, walking over to her table. "But remember, the orange wire is for the positive connection, and you'll need to use the resistor, or the LED will blow."

She gave me a blank stare. I sighed, crouching down beside her. "Okay, how about I show you one more time?"

This was my life every December—helping kids in underserved neighborhoods get hands-on experience with STEM through holiday-themed projects. Today, we were building miniature snow globes with functioning circuits to light up tiny LED snowmen. It was a great way to teach them about basic circuits, conductivity, and how resistors work. Plus, it involved glitter and fake snow, so they were all in.

The kids just knew me as Miss Isabel, and I loved that. They didn't see the messy details of my life, the long nights studying, or the tangled web of secrets I was slowly unraveling about who I really was. To them, I was just a mentor, someone who made science fun and believed in their potential.

But what I loved most was knowing that some of these kids—especially the little Black girls—could look at me and see themselves in a place they might not have imagined. A dark-skinned girl teaching them science, tinkering with circuits, and showing them they could be anything they wanted to be. That representation mattered. I knew what it felt like to wonder if someone who looked like me could break through the boundaries society quietly put in place. These kids didn't have to wonder.

"Miss Isabel," a boy named Liam called from the other side of the room. "Our globe's light won't turn on!"

"Did you connect the battery?" I asked, raising a brow as I walked over.

Liam looked sheepish. "Oh. That might help."

I smirked, grabbing a battery pack from the supply bin. "Yeah, it might. Unless you've invented wireless electricity, in which case, tell me your secrets."

He laughed as I snapped the battery into place. The tiny snowman in their globe lit up with a soft blue glow, and the table erupted into cheers.

"You're officially engineers now," I said with mock seriousness, giving Liam and his friend a high-five.

As I moved around the room, checking on each group, I felt a familiar warmth in my chest. This wasn't just volunteering to me—it was a lifeline. I'd started coming here my freshman year, partly to get away from the stress of school and partly to feel like I was making a difference. These kids didn't care that I was juggling finals, or that my personal life was currently a mess. To them, I was just Miss Isabel, the cool college girl who brought science to life.

Well, cool might be a stretch. I once tripped over a box of wires and almost face-planted into a table of solar-powered race cars. But they still liked me.

As I helped another group with their snow globes, my mind wandered. I thought about Kun, about Marcus Black, about everything I'd learned in the last few days. My brain was a tangled web of questions and emotions I wasn't ready to unpack.

"Miss Isabel, are you okay?" Ava's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, sweetie," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about how awesome your snowman looks."