I’ve always been a morning person. Beating the alarm used to feel like winning a quiet race. But not today.
Today, the alarm blared in my ears like a fire drill. I groaned, slammed the snooze button twice, and finally rolled out of bed. My limbs ached from staying up too late organizing books and clothes I probably wouldn’t take with me to college—wherever that would be.
Van, my best friend since forever, already had her life mapped out. Fashion design major, internship with a prestigious fashion house. Me? I hadn’t even decided on a major. Maybe that’s why the idea of college feels less like an adventure and more like a question I don’t want to answer.
No time to spiral—I was already late.
After a quick shower, I headed downstairs in search of breakfast, half-hoping for something warm on the table. For months now, our kitchen had been quiet—no sizzling pans, no chatter, no smells that wrapped around you like a hug. But lately, things were getting better. We were finding our rhythm again.
The kitchen was sunlit and still. On the island sat a note beside the framed photo of all four of us—taken before everything changed. I avoided looking at it.
Coffee was brewed, but no plates were out. I reached for the note while pouring myself a cup into a to-go mug. My mother’s looping cursive greeted me:
Emergency at the site. Won’t be long. Be home right after school—need to talk.492Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE4RZvepEme
Love, Mom.
She’s an architect. Emergencies come with the job, but my stomach still twisted. I grabbed a granola bar and a chocolate cupcake, then yelled upstairs.
"Keith, I’m leaving! Catch me at the end of the block and lock up behind you!"
I was halfway down the street when I unwrapped the cupcake. Sweet and familiar. It brought back memories of mornings when Van and I used to walk to the bus stop together, sharing snacks and secrets. But today, her dad was dropping her off. Being a hotshot lawyer came with its perks—and a tight schedule.
As I waited for the bus, a familiar voice called out.
"Hey!"
I turned to see our neighbor, Mrs. Lana, scolding someone behind me. Keith barreled toward me, his damp hair flopping over mischievous eyes. At five-foot-five, he was still shorter than me by a few inches, but growing fast.
“Your hair’s a disaster,” I teased.
"Yours too," he shot back. We both grinned.
Keith had Mom’s vivid blue eyes. Mine were a strange mix—green rimmed with deep blue in the center. According to Mom, I got them from her mother. I always liked that.
"You know she shouldn’t be working this early," he said suddenly.
I didn’t need to ask who he meant.
"She’s okay," I said, locking eyes with him. That’s how we always knew if the other was being serious. "It’s good for her—to move, to work. It helps."
It hadn’t always been like this.
Last year, they were late for dinner. Dad was picking Mom up from a site visit. Then the hospital called. A hit-and-run. Everything after that was a blur.
Mom survived, but Dad didn’t.
Grief swallowed her whole. She blamed herself. Therapy helped, but for a long time, she couldn’t get out of bed. Keith and I learned to fend for ourselves. Slowly, piece by piece, we built our home back up.
"I still worry," Keith said.
"So do I." I gave his arm a gentle squeeze as the bus rounded the corner. His friends were already waving from the back seat, loud as ever.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “She said she has something to tell us. That’s... probably good, right?”
He nodded. I hoped I was right.
The day passed in a blur of hugs, yearbook messages, and half-hearted goodbyes. Van stuck to my side through all of it. She understood—this wasn’t just the end of school. It was another goodbye I didn’t know how to make.
By the time Mr. Salaza picked us up, the sun was setting behind the school. He used to be close with my dad. I didn’t let myself think about that.
Back home, the smell of cake greeted me at the door.
“Is that... chocolate?” I called out.
“You’re late,” Keith’s voice replied from the kitchen.
I dropped my bag and stepped through the yellow door. The kitchen was warm and golden from the fading sunlight. Mom was pulling a cake from the oven, her hands dusted with flour, hair tied up in a messy bun. Despite everything, she looked... radiant. Whole.
"What’s going on?" I asked, spotting Keith stirring a bowl of chocolate frosting—my favorite.
Mom beamed and came around the island to kiss my cheek.
“What’s going on,” she said dramatically, “is that my baby has graduated. Surprise!”
“We already knew that,” I laughed. “That’s not a surprise.”
“Well, I also have cake. And... an announcement.”
I paused, searching her face. For the first time in a year, she looked excited. Hopeful. I smiled, more to support her than from understanding.
“We’re going on vacation,” she said.
Keith’s spoon clattered into the bowl. “What? When? Where?!”
I opened my mouth to ask “Why?” but stopped. She was watching me, not him. Like she needed me to say yes.
“You’re graduating,” she said softly. “And after this year... we deserve a new beginning.”
I swallowed my questions and gave her the biggest grin I could manage.
“In the words of Ms. Selena’s favorite actor,” I said in my best gruff impersonation, “I believe the boy has asked all the right questions, ma’am.”
Keith caught on. “And now that you said it, you can’t take it back.”
She laughed, and then her eyes welled up. I pulled her into a hug. Keith joined in. For a long moment, we stood like that—clinging to each other like a raft in a storm that had only just passed.
“Where are we going?” I asked quietly.
Mom wiped her eyes. “Austria. And... we leave tomorrow.”
Keith screamed like a banshee.
A vacation. After everything. Maybe I’d finally figure out what I was meant to do with my life.
Or maybe... life was about to decide for me.
492Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg7eCILR3Jm
