It was not a triumphant makeover.

Most evenings the dining room smelled like cardboard and printer ink.

Selena sometimes cried when she saw the savings ledger.

I cried in the pantry where she could not see me.

We both went on anyway.

On the first Saturday, four students arrived.

The following week there were seven.

Their parents came, too, with questions they had been embarrassed to ask elsewhere.