The morning light fell through the kitchen windows in orange hues. The neighborhood remained wrapped in a quiet that only existed in the precious moments before the world fully awakened. Birds had begun their tentative songs, and the engine of an early commuter's car broke through the peaceful silence.
Helen descended the stairs with careful steps, she was someone who had learned to navigate creaky wooden steps without waking sleeping teenagers. Her brown hair fell comfortably on her shoulders, though a bit disheveled from sleep.
She wore the comfortable pajama set she had received last Christmas from her mother-in-law. This morning routine was familiar to her: she'd make coffee, check the weather, perhaps read a few pages of the novel she kept on the kitchen counter.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and stretched her arms above her head, working out the stiffness. The stretch felt good, and she rolled her shoulders back before padding toward the kitchen in her slippers. Helen had always been an early riser, even during her college years when most of her peers stayed up until dawn and slept until noon. There was something peaceful about having the house to herself, a few moments of solitude before the demands of being a mother and therapist took over her day.
The sight that greeted her in the kitchen stopped her mid-step and caused her mouth to fall open in genuine surprise. Sitting at the dining table was her daughter.
Her tall self sat in the wooden chair with perfect posture, staring with unfaltering focus at the blue digital display on the stove. Her hair was recently dyed a greyish dull pink that reminded Helen of cotton candy left out long in humid air, it caught the morning light in an almost ethereal way.
Two slices of toast sat on a white ceramic plate before her, one was generously covered in orange marmalade that gleamed amber, the other was coated with a thick layer of peanut butter that had been spread perfectly on the slice with shocking precision.
Tabby's expression remained completely neutral, her cool cerulean eyes stayed stubbornly fixed on the glowing numbers of the stove as if she were waiting for some important event. The black square piercings on her upper lobes caught the light occasionally when she moved her head slightly, and the industrial barbells that ran through both ears gave her an appearance that most adults found intimidating but Helen had grown accustomed to over the past year. Her daughter had always marched to the beat of her own drum, but this morning scene felt particularly surreal.
"Tabby, Good morning."
She moved toward the coffee maker, still processing the unexpected sight of her normally nocturnal daughter sitting alert and dressed at six in the morning during summer vacation.
"Good morning, Mama." Tabby replied without turning her head or prying her gaze from the digital clock. Her voice held its usual tone, it was neither warm nor cold, but flat and straightforward in her signature way.
Helen shook her head and opened the cabinet to retrieve her favorite coffee mug. It was a white ceramic mug with the faded logo of her university applied to the front that had survived countless moves and dishwasher cycles.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack, sweetheart. Usually you're not conscious until noon during summer break, and here you are sitting in my kitchen before sunrise looking perfectly alert." She measured coffee grounds. "So what's the special occasion that has my night owl daughter greeting the dawn?"
Tabby finally moved, reaching for the slice of toast with marmalade and taking a small bite. Summer vacation ends in exactly eight days. If I maintain my current sleep schedule, the transition back to school will be unnecessarily difficult and could affect my performance. And if my grades drop any further...
"Summer is almost finished. If I continue sleeping until noon and staying awake until three in the morning, the adjustment to the school schedule will be problematic. I decided it would be more efficient to begin correcting my sleep pattern now rather than suffer through the first weeks of classes."
Helen paused in her coffee preparation, genuinely impressed by her daughter's forethought and practical approach to what most teenagers would handle last-minute, or not handle at all.
"That's... actually very mature and responsible of you, Tabby. I'm proud that you're taking initiative with your health and planning ahead." She pressed the brew button and turned to look at her daughter more carefully.
"Though I have to ask, were you actually able to sleep last night, or did you just decide to stay awake until a reasonable morning hour?"
Tabby kept silent, for a short instance the only sound made was the humming of the coffee machine.
"Summer is almost finished—"
"That is enough."
"...Yes, ma'am."
Tabby reached for her other slice of toast, but Helen noticed something that made her arch her brow and study her daughter with the trained eye of a therapist who had spent years reading behavioral cues. Tabby's fingers were trembling slightly as she lifted the toast, not dramatically but enough that the careful control she usually maintained over her movements seemed compromised. I was too jittery to sleep properly last night. The energy drinks probably contributed to that problem... But they tasted too good to ignore.
"Tabby, you're shaking. How much caffeine have you had?" Helen moved closer to the table, she left her coffee forgotten as her parental concerns took over.
"Not a lot." That's a lie.
"The trembling is minor and will subside in a few hours once the caffeine metabolizes."
Helen noticed a small white string protruding from between her daughter's lips with a tiny green square attached to the end. She groaned and shook her head in exasperation.
"Tabitha. You cannot seriously tell me that you think you can counteract the effects of those energy drinks by sucking on a damp tea bag. This is not how nutrition works." She sat down across from her daughter and fixed her with the expression she reserved for particularly stubborn therapy clients.
"How many energy drinks did you have yesterday?"
"The tea contains L-theanine which can reduce the jittery effects of caffeine consumption. It is scientifically pro—"
"How many?"
Tabby removed the tea bag from her mouth and set it carefully on a napkin. Her expression remained neutral, but Helen had learned to read the signs that indicated her daughter was calculating how much trouble the truth would cause.
"...Four. Spread throughout the afternoon and early morning to maintain alertness without creating peaks and crashes in energy levels."
"Four Titan energy drinks. No wonder you couldn't sleep. Tabby, you've basically poisoned yourself with caffeine and sugar. Your poor body doesn't know what to do with all those chemicals, and sucking on a tea bag isn't going to fix that." Helen rubbed her temples.
It's like this every time I mention my consumption of energy drinks. The lecture about proper nutrition and sleep hygiene will last approximately twelve minutes based on previous occasions. However, I'd rather not today.
Tabby looked down at her toast and took another bite of the marmalade-covered slice. The sweetness was pleasant, but her stomach felt slightly unsettled from the combination of stimulants and early morning food consumption.
"I acknowledge that my approach was not optimal. However, the goal was accomplished. I am awake at an appropriate morning hour and can begin adjusting my sleep schedule accordingly."
Helen stood up and retrieved her coffee, taking a long sip while she processed her daughter's matter-of-fact response to what most people would consider a concerning amount of stimulant consumption.
"Tabby, you can't just shock your system with massive amounts of caffeine and expect everything to work out fine. There are healthier ways to adjust your sleep schedule that don't involve making yourself sick."
"Yeah, probably."
Helen sat back down and studied her daughter's face. Tabby had always been different from other children, but lately there seemed to be something brewing beneath her usual exterior. She had the sense that this early morning appearance was connected to something larger than just sleep schedule adjustment, but getting information from Tabby required patience and the right approach.
"Is there something specific you're preparing for? Something about starting your second year that has you particularly focused on being ready?"
Tabby finished her first slice of toast and looked directly at her mother for the first time that morning.
"I have decided that I want to go fishing."
"...What?"
"Today, I want to go fishing."
Helen sat stunned for some seconds, then she burst out in boisterous laughter. "Haha! That's what's been on your mind?"
Helen's laughter filled the kitchen. Her mother's shoulders shook as she tried to compose herself, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm not laughing at you, it's just that you've been looking so contemplative recently, and I thought maybe you were worried about classes or social situations or college. But you've been sitting there planning a fishing expedition. That's actually wonderfully normal for a teenager to want to try." Helen took another sip of her coffee, chuckling softly.
Tabby reached for her second slice of toast.
"I have been considering activities that might be engaging during the remainder of summer vacation. Most of the options seemed repetitive or required skills I already possessed. Fishing appeared to offer challenges that would be potentially relaxing."
Helen nodded thoughtfully and settled back in her chair, her coffee mug cradled in both hands. The morning light had grown stronger, and the kitchen felt warmer and more alive than it had when she first descended the stairs.
"Well, I think that sounds great, Tabby. A new hobby could be really good for you." She paused and her expression grew slightly more serious. "Though I have to be honest with you, I don't know the first thing about practical fishing. I mean, I understand the basic concept, but I've never held a fishing rod in my life."
This presents the first obstacle to implementation. Mom's knowledge does not contain the required information for instruction.
"Danny certainly won't be much help either. He's too young to have developed any expertise in outdoor activities beyond riding his bicycle. Your father has been fishing before, and he might have some information that could be useful, but since he's in Russia visiting your grandparents, he can only provide theoretical guidance over the phone." Helen continued, thinking through the family's collective knowledge.
Tabby nodded and took a bite of her peanut butter toast. The combination of protein and carbohydrates was helping to stabilize the energy fluctuations from her caffeine intake, though her hands still trembled slightly when she lifted the toast to her mouth.
"But just telling you about fishing techniques wouldn't really be safe or effective, would it? You'd need someone to actually show you how to handle equipment properly, teach you about water safety, help you identify good locations..." Helen's voice trailed off as she considered the practical implications of her daughter's sudden interest.
Tabby listened quietly, already anticipating where this conversation was heading.
Helen's eyebrows raised suddenly, and her expression brightened in a way that Tabby recognized as the precursor to what her mother considered a particularly clever solution.
"You know what might be perfect for this? You could make some friends who already know about fishing and learn from them. I know you haven't had many opportunities to meet people since your middle school was so far from your current high school district, and this would be an ideal way to connect with classmates who share your interest!"
Mom has identified the social component of this problem and believes it can be addressed simultaneously with the practical component. This approach has merit, though it introduces variables that are more difficult to control than simply purchasing equipment and reading instructional materials.
"When school starts next week, you could look for students who have experience with fishing and ask them to teach you. Maybe you could even organize a group fishing trip where everyone contributes their knowledge and skills." Helen was warming to the idea, and Tabby could see the therapeutic part of her brain engaging with what she probably viewed as an excellent opportunity for her socially awkward daughter to practice interpersonal connections.
Tabby considered this suggestion while she chewed her toast. The logic was sound: people who already possessed the required knowledge would be more efficient teachers than books or videos, and having multiple people with different areas of expertise would provide a more comprehensive education. The social aspects would be challenging, but they might be manageable if the interactions were focused on a specific shared goal rather than the more ambiguous requirements of general friendship.
"That approach would be more efficient than attempting to learn independently," she said finally. "People with practical experience could identify problems and provide corrections that would not be apparent from theoretical study alone."
Helen smiled warmly and reached across the table to pat her daughter's hand. "Exactly. And I think you might be surprised by how much you enjoy spending time with people who share your interests. Sometimes the best friendships form when people are working together toward a common goal."
Mom is too optimistic.
"Perhaps."
Tabby nodded and began to consume her final slice of toast more quickly, her mind already shifting toward implementation of this plan. The caffeine in her system made it difficult to sit still now that she had a clear direction for action.
"I should begin researching locations and equipment so that I can present informed questions to potential collaborators."
Helen watched her daughter's change in demeanor with amusement. When Tabby decided to pursue something, she approached it with the intensity that most people reserved for emergencies.
"Slow down there. School doesn't start for eight more days. You have time to prepare properly without rushing."
But Tabby was already standing and carrying her plate to the sink, her movements were efficient despite the slight tremor in her hands.
"I am going to conduct preliminary research today. There may be locations near the school or equipment stores where I can gather information that will be useful when I begin recruiting."
Helen almost started to protest, then sighed and waved her hand in resignation. Once Tabby had committed to a course of action, attempts to slow her down were generally futile. At least this particular obsession was harmless and might actually result in positive social outcomes.
"Fine, but you need to be careful and stay in safe areas. Text me if you're going to be gone longer than a few hours."
"Yes, ma'am."
Tabby rinsed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher, then retrieved her wallet and house keys from the small bowl near the back door where the family kept miscellaneous items that were needed for quick departures.
"I will return before dinner, at least."
"How assuring."
She was already moving toward the door when Helen called after her. "And Tabby? Lay off the energy drinks today. Your hands are still shaking."
But her daughter was already outside, walking with determined strides up the hill toward the main road. Helen shook her head and returned to her coffee, wondering what exactly she had just set in motion and whether she should be concerned or pleased that her daughter had finally found something that motivated her to engage with the world beyond their house.
The morning air was still cool, but Tabby could feel the promise of heat that would arrive once the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Today felt as though it would be one of the humid days that made everyone retreat indoors by afternoon. The timing was perfect for outdoor reconnaissance before the temperature became uncomfortable.
She ascended Briar Hill with her destination clear in her mind. The gas station at the top of the hill was not just the closest commercial establishment to her house, but it also served as an unofficial information hub for the neighborhood. The elderly man who owned it had lived in the area for decades and possessed extensive knowledge about local geography and recreational opportunities.
The gas station came into view as she crested the hill, its faded red and white sign advertising both fuel and convenience items. A few cars were parked near the pumps, their owners conducting the routine morning business of commuting to jobs in the city. Tabby pushed through the glass door and was immediately greeted by the familiar air conditioning.
She moved directly to the small cooling unit near the back of the store, ignoring the magazines and lottery ticket displays. She selected a tall black can decorated with the image of a giant, graffitied rotten apple that had been stylized in vibrant green and red colors.
The cashier looked up from his newspaper as she approached the counter and set the can down in front of him. He was a thin man in his sixties with a high hairline and graying hair, he bore the expression of someone who had spent years dealing with neighborhood teenagers and their various purchasing habits.
"Morning, Tabitha." He looked down at the can placed in front of him.
"One Bad Apple energy, that'll be a dollar."