Isaiah laughed softly. "You really rode your bicycle to court?"
"Gas money is not free," Elijah replied with a grin.
They both laughed, but there was one more person Elijah wanted to see, someone who had never entered the courtroom but had helped make all of it possible.
Elijah's shoes crunched softly over gravel as he crossed the rear parking lot behind the courthouse. His suit jacket swung open in the wind, and his tie hung a little looser now. He was not in a hurry. He simply needed to get there.
A small brick building stood at the corner of Broad and Chestnut Streets. Its sign was faded and its mailbox rusted. It was the Camilla Public Library.
Elijah pushed open the door and entered the familiar smell of old pages and worn carpet. At the front desk sat Ms. Harmon, a woman in her sixties whose glasses were held together with tape and whose hair was tied in a bun that leaned slightly to the left. She looked up from her crossword puzzle.
"Should you not be in school?" she asked with a teasing smile.
Elijah smiled back. "I was, in a way."
She studied him, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Do not tell me. You did it."
He nodded slowly.
Her face opened into a grin. "I knew it. I knew it. I watched you sit in that corner every day as though those books owed you money."
"They kind of did," Elijah said, laughing.
Ms. Harmon stood, came around the desk, and pulled him into a hug that smelled of cinnamon gum and old bookmarks.
"I am proud of you," she said quietly. "Do not let this town make you smaller. Do you hear me?"