I wrap my hand around the doorknob. The cold metal bites into my palm, grounding me for a moment as thoughts and theories swirl in my head about what my parents want to talk to me about. I take a breath before turning it.
The door clicks open, and I step inside.
As soon as I reach the kitchen, the scent of my mom's cooking fills the air.
"I'm home," I call out, closing the door behind me.
I walk toward my mom. Her long black hair is pulled into a bun, casual clothes hidden beneath an apron as she stirs a pot of soup on the stove. This is my mom, Emma Watson.
She turns around at the sound of my voice, revealing black eyes that shine like an onyx.
I step forward and hug her.
She returns the hug, and a wave of warmth settles over me, calming my nerves and making me forget about the talk, at least for a moment.
"How was your day?" she asks, her voice soft and gentle.
"The usual," I say with a small smile. "Just another boring day."
I head toward my room, which means passing through the living room first.
Even though my day has been anything but normal, I don't want to worry her. Besides, who would believe me anyway? Someone from a manga might have come to life, my best friend is acting strange, and weird things are happening around her. Saying it out loud would just make me sound crazy.
As I step into the living room, I see my dad watching TV. His black hair is slicked back, and he wears glasses that highlight his golden-colored eyes. He has on a plain red shirt and black shorts that fall past his knees. This is Eric Watson he works at Webe Constructs as a Project Manager for over a decade.
"Ah, you're home," he says, smiling at me. "Well? Aren't you going to give me a hug?"
He stands up, holding out his arms with an expectant look.
"I was getting to it," I say with a smile as I rush forward to hug him.
As we hug, I feel safe, like nothing can go wrong.
I let go and head toward my room.
As I open my door, I hear my dad's voice.
"After you freshen up, come to the dinner table. We'll have to talk while we eat."
"Okay."
I close the door behind me and hook my backpack on the wall.
I take a moment to look around my room. A queen-sized bed sits in the corner opposite the door. To the left is a desk with a computer and monitor, and above it hangs a flat-screen TV. A recliner faces the TV, and a dresser rests between the recliner and the bed.
I walk to the dresser, grab a spare change of clothes, and head toward the bathroom to take a shower.
After taking my shower, I walk out of the bathroom wearing a yellow shirt with a picture of a goose and black sweatpants.
I dry my black hair with a towel, step into my room, and toss my dirty clothes into the hamper. Then I leave my room and head toward the kitchen.
As I walk, a knot forms in my stomach. What do they want to talk about? Why did my dad come home early? Is it related to this dinner?
My thoughts spiral, each question stacking onto the next, making me feel more nervous and anxious.
When I reach the kitchen, my dad is already seated at the table. My mom is setting out plates of rice and bowls of soup.
I sit across from my dad. A plate and bowl are placed in front of me.
The smell of the food fills my nostrils, and my stomach responds with a quiet growl.
Once my mom finishes setting the table, we begin to eat.
At first, no one speaks. The room is silent except for the soft clink of spoons against bowls.
The silence doesn't last long.
"How was your day?" my dad asks.
I swallow the food in my mouth.
"It was fine," I say, looking at him. "The only interesting thing that happened was a new student."
My mom cuts in, her eyes lighting up. "Who is it? Have you met him yet?"
As we keep talking, I tell them about Simon what he looks like, how he acts.
"So, are you friends?" my mom asks.
I don't answer right away.
Are we friends? We talk a bit, sure, but I don't really know much about him. Even in the manga, Simon's backstory was never explored in detail, just small pieces here and there.
I look at my mom's expectant eyes.
"Yeah," I say finally, letting out a small smile. "I'd like to think we are."
I don't know much now, but I'm sure I'll learn more about him as I get to know him.
As my mom and I continue chatting, my dad speaks up.
"David," he says, his voice serious.
I turn toward him. "What is it, Dad?"
I glance at my mom and notice her tense up.
When I look back at my dad and meet his eyes, I feel the mood in the room drop.
"Listen, David," he says, setting his spoon down. "I have some news to share. You probably won't like what I'm about to tell you, but I need you to hear me out."
I nod slowly, my chest tight.
"At the start of the new year," he continues, "the company I work for SKBC is starting a major construction project overseas. They're opening a new branch in England, and they want it done right."
He looks at me, then at Mom, before going on.
"They asked me to be the Project Manager for it. That means I'll be in charge of the whole build that includes schedules, teams, budgets. Everything. Projects like this don't last a few weeks or even months. They take years."
My stomach drops.
"At first, I planned to travel back and forth," he admits. "But after talking it over with your mom, we realized that wouldn't be fair to any of us."
He takes a breath.
"So… we decided it would be best if we moved there together. As a family."
It takes a moment for my dad's words to sink in, but when they do, they hit me like a truck.
I clench my hands into fists.
After taking a deep breath, I stand up from the table and start heading toward the door. "You have my location," I say quietly. "I need to clear my mind."
Just before I can leave, my mom speaks up.
"Wait."
I stop and turn back. She's digging through her purse, brows knit with worry.
"Found it. Catch."
I catch the object she tosses and look it over.
A bright pink rectangular device with a cap. I pull it off, revealing two metal prongs facing each other.
I give her a confused look. "A taser?"
"For protection," she says, her voice tight. "It can get dangerous to be outside alone."
I smile faintly. "Thanks. I'll be back before eight."
I slip on my sneakers and head out the door.
Walking down the road, I kick at small rocks along the pavement.
My mind drifts back to what Dad said… and the thought I've been avoiding.
How am I supposed to tell Spencer and Jane?
The question circles in my head like a broken record. Every way I imagine the conversation ends the same way, either confused looks, awkward silence, or Spencer laughing it off like a joke.
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to think of the right words.
Nothing comes.
Before I realize it, the houses thin out and the street opens up into a small neighborhood park.
I stop near the entrance.
For a moment, it feels strange being here again.
Memories drift in without warning.
Spencer sprinting across the grass, yelling that he wasn't it. Jane laughing as she chased after him while I tried to cut them off near the swings. The three of us collapsing in the sand afterward, arguing about who cheated during tag.
And the swings.
I remember Spencer trying to jump off at the highest point while Jane shouted at him that he was going to break his legs.
A small smile tugs at my face.
Then a cool breeze rustles the trees overhead, brushing against my face.
The sound of the chains on the empty swings creaking gently pulls me back to reality.
The park is quiet now.
Five months… and I'll be leaving this place behind. It feels close, but somehow still not enough time to do everything I want before leaving.
I linger in the park for a moment before turning toward the tree line at the far edge of the field.
There's a narrow dirt path that leads into the woods. Most people don't notice it, and even fewer bother following it.
I do.
The deeper I walk, the quieter everything becomes. The sounds of the neighborhood fade until it's just the rustling leaves and the occasional snap of a twig beneath my shoes.
After a few minutes, I see it.
The treehouse.
It's wedged between the thick branches of an old oak tree, hidden well enough that you'd miss it unless you knew exactly where to look. The wooden boards are worn now, the rope ladder a little frayed with age.
Still standing though.
A small smile creeps onto my face.
I remember the day we found it.
Spencer had burst through the bushes like he'd just discovered buried treasure.
"Guys! You've gotta see this!"
Jane and I followed him, pushing past branches until we reached the tree.
And there it was.
A tiny treehouse tucked high in the branches.
Spencer climbed up first, of course, nearly slipping halfway up the ladder.
Jane crossed her arms and looked up at it like a general inspecting a new fortress.
"This," she declared proudly, "will be our secret base of operations."
Spencer immediately started listing "missions" we could do from there.
I just remember laughing.
Back then, it felt like the perfect hiding spot.
A place where nothing outside mattered.
Climbing up the ladder, I pull myself into the treehouse.
Inside, a small circular table sits in the center with three chairs around it. A worn beanbag rests in the corner, slightly flattened from years of use. Near the window, a telescope points toward the sky, and a chalkboard leans against the wall.
Looking at the window I notice the sun starting to set.
I walk towards and drop onto the beanbag with a soft plop and pull out my phone.
I glance at my phone screen and check the time.
6:57 PM.
About an hour before I need to head back.
I open the messages again and check the one I sent Jane.
Read.
No reply.
"She's ghosting me now," I mutter, letting out a sigh.
Jane never takes this long to respond.
I lock my phone and rest it on my chest, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the treehouse.
"When should I tell them?"
I don't want to keep it a secret for long… but I'm not ready to tell them yet.
Staring up at the wooden ceiling of the treehouse, the familiar creak of branches swaying in the wind above me.
The beanbag shifts as I sink deeper into it.
Maybe I should tell them tomorrow.
Yeah… tomorrow sounds better.
The quiet rustling of leaves outside and the distant chirping of crickets fill the silence. My eyelids start to feel heavy.
Just a quick nap.
I close my eyes, letting the sounds of the forest slowly fade.
Then a single thought slips into my mind.
I wonder how Simon's doing…