Montana Lee Payton, October 10th 2018, Laurel Montana
“No no no no no no no…” The journal hit the corner of the room with a dull thudding noise. It's landing only slightly cushioned by Ashton's discarded hoodie. Montana’s breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. His chest heaving, feeling like a weight was crushing around his lungs. His fingers dug into himself, as if he could claw his way out of his skin. He couldn't do this. The words from his mother's journal… his own mother's words burning behind his eyes. She doesn't have a name yet… she's just my daughter.
She knew.
His vision blurred. It was all too much, like stepping out into the sunlight after hours in a dark movie theater. Too much, too fast. The air was too thick. Too hot. Too everything. He stumbled towards the window, unlatching it and opening it. Cold October wind was bustling through his room, biting at him. He never wanted this. Never wanted to be back. He grabbed the journal, arm cocked back–
But he froze. His mother's name glinted in the moonlight. April M. Payton… He crumbled to the floor, leaning against the cold wall, the wood paneling cooling himself down. Breathe… just breathe… but he couldn't.
His hands reached to his hair and pulled until the pain grounded him. The journal lay next to him, taunting him. Proof that his mother had seen her. That she'd known and even when he hadn't.
And now she was gone. Just gone. No note, nothing left behind but an inheritance when he turns 18, her stuff that Montana was allowed to keep, and a journal of feelings that he's too lousy to read. No tearful goodbyes, no happy endings.
He didn't remember putting the journal back on the shelf. One minute he was on the floor and the next he was standing in front of his mirror looking at the stranger standing in front of him.
He wanted to scream. To run, anywhere but here. Instead he collapsed into bed. The guard uniform was still there. Her uniform. He clutched it, bringing it to his chest.
Sleep came in fits. Stopping and starting at random A restless and haunted night. There was no dream of his mother's voice. Or the California sun. Or of the name he hasn't grasped. Each time he woke, the room got darker, walls closing in.
By 5:30, he gave up on sleep. Montana moved like a ghost, shaving with precision without looking in the mirror. He got dressed in the dark, pulling on a loose Paramore hoodie and sweatpants and drifted downstairs and out the door.
He was early, but he didn't want to see his dad again, he doesn't know where he's going but he knows he can't stay in the house any longer.
Jessica Perot, October 11th, 2018, Laurel, Montana
Jess had snoozed her alarms, it's too early. She was up last night waiting for Montana to text her. She wasn't angry like she had been when Montana hadn't responded when she was at Ashton's house, she was just worried about her now. She knew she'd have to go home to her dad and they're always fighting. Her wearing Ashton's hoodie probably didn't help. She groaned, slipping out of bed before getting dressed, applying makeup, grabbing her guard bag, and heading out. If she was going to get up earlier than usual she was gonna get some practice in.
She arrived at the school and made her way to the Music Room entrance and unlocked it. The cold air bursted through the metal door. Moving the chairs to give herself room to practice was routine since Miss Vick gave her the keys, so long as everything was put back, she could be in and out with nobody noticing.
She placed her phone and her coat on a discarded chair, turning her practice playlist on and starting her stretches. Her body is stiff from the cold, and she's not about to let that get in the way of practice. After warming up she's practicing the routine, then individual tosses. Always have been more capable with flags than with rifles or sabres, she thinks to herself.
She's been practicing a really difficult toss where she launches the flag into the air at a forty-five degree angle, rolls to the floor, and catches it, hoping to incorporate it into her last year in Winter Guard. But Miss Vick won't allow her to, not unless she can get it down a majority of the time. And she's definitely not showing this toss to the ‘prodigy’ Chase Richardson. He'd get it first try then tell Vick about it and it'd be in the show, and it'd be his. That boy was too talented to be only a freshman, he could get everything right really quickly. It wasn't fair, she sighs.
After the 4th time, the flag came clattering down next to her as she protected her head, Jess was about ready to throw the flag at something, or someone, maybe Chase… or Ana. She brushes herself off. Alright. Focus. Picking up her flag, she spins it in her hand trying to mentally prepare… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… she tosses the flag in the air, but she sees a figure walking up to the doorway. Miss Vick? No... Montana. She freezes.
The flag ricochets off the ground with an awkward metal sound echoing through the music room, the only thing audible besides Sia's ‘Cheap Thrills’ playing on her phone. She's locked eyes with Montana and before she knows it she's tripping over herself to let her through the door. What the fuck, what the fuck, why is she here?
“Hey um–” Montana is cut off immediately getting pulled into a tight hug from Jess. She holds it for longer than she needs to. “Jess, I uh…” her face is downtrodden and looks like she's barely gotten sleep. “My dad is making me quit color guard…”
Jess almost missed what she said, so caught up in her own emotions of seeing her safe after her confrontation with her dad. “Wh…what?” Jess took a step back. Looking into her eyes that aren't meeting hers. Montana is looking away, hands clenched. “No… no you can't, he can't make you!” Jess’s body was heating up, a hot rage boiling inside ready to spill at Derrick Payton.
“But he can Jess…” Montana says defeatedly. “But what if I call Miss Vick and she can–” Jess is grasping, hoping for something that she can do to help. “It's fine Jess… The season was almost over, and he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't shown up in Ashton's hoodie and talked back to him…”
“We can't replace you in the routine! Nobody can fill in this late!” Jess is pacing now and Montana just shrugs, defeatedly.
“Maybe… maybe it's for the best…” Montana whispered, her voice cracking. “I can't keep pretending anyway.”
“...Pretending what?” Jess pulled herself out of her pacing, turning to face her fully.
Montana's hands were shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself. The oversized Paramore hoodie made her look even smaller inside it. “Everything Jess. Being Montana Lee Payton. Being Derrick Payton's son. Being okay… All of it.”
The music was still coming through Jess’s phone speakers, she walked over and turned it off and silence enveloped the room.
“Hey… Look at me,” Jess said softly.
Montana gave in and looked into Jess’s eyes. She looked tired and worn out, Jess thought.
“You don't have to pretend with me.” Jess said, locking hands with her. “Ever.”
Montana's face fell. “I opened her journal, I… I couldn't read all of it… she knew Jess. She called me her daughter. Five years ago, she knew back then and I…” Her words dissolved into a sob and Jess pulled her back into her embrace.
She really wished this was under better circumstances as she gently pet Montana's hair and let her cry into her shoulder. They stood there for awhile, light filtering in through the music room windows as the sun started to rise. It cast long shadows across the room and where Jess’s flag lay forgotten.
“We'll figure this out.” Jess whispered. “I promise. Your dad doesn't get to take this away from you. From us.” Montana pulled back slightly, wiping her wet eyes with her hoodie sleeves. “How…? He'll probably call Miss Vick today.”
“Then we'll get to her first. This is about making sure you have a place where you can be yourself.” Jess squeezed her shoulder.
“But I can't leave home with my guard bag later, and the uniform, he'll see it if i keep bringing my bag to school” Her eyes back to the floor.
“I can stop by and pick it up, keep it at my place. I'll bring everything. Your uniform, flags, rifle, sabre, everything. I'll make this work for you.” Jess offered a smile and Montana gave a half hearted smile in return.
“But your parents–”
“Will be fine with it” Jess finishes. “Besides Mom already thinks…” she trails off, and a blush forms on her face.
“Thinks…?” Montana interjects.
“Nothing. Just. She likes you, she won't ask questions.” Jess stood there, silence surrounding again. They had a plan. It wasn't a good one. But it would have to do for now.
They had started to reassemble the chairs before the school day started, idly chitchatting as they went. Making sure to leave everything set up for the day, they went outside, and relocked the Music Room. Separately, they slipped into the crowd of students waiting for the doors to open at the main entrance. Jess felt eyes on herself, she turned around and came face to face with head cheerleader Ana Yankowski.
“Great” Jess muttered. “Ana, you look…” Jess takes a moment to look Ana up and down. She's got bottle blonde hair, and she's wearing her cheer jacket, a purple pleated skirt to match and dark leggings to abide by the dress code. Not that Jess has ever seen her get in trouble at school. “You look great Ana, still leading girls on while fucking your ex boyfriend? Or have you had a change of heart and came to apologize?”
Ana's perfect smile didn't falter, she just narrowed her eyes. “Oh my, are you bitter about something?” she smirks and her gaze looks over to Montana through the crowd. “You keep interesting company lately,”
“Don't.” Jess warns, stepping up to her.
“How scary, gonna punch me and get kicked off another team? Then you and your little boyfriend can be kicked off the team together… Oh wait! He's not your boyfriend and he's been clinging to Ashton who's already dating Sarah. What a mess your personal life has become. To think he showed up practically wrapped around Ashton and now you're running around with him before school in secret. Be careful Jess, small towns like to talk.”
“Enough Ana!” Jess says slightly too loud, her face warming as a few people turn to look at her. “Ugh” she says, walking off toward Montana.
Montana Lee Payton, October 11th 2018, Laurel Montana
He had seen a little of the argument between Ana and Jess, he'd known there had been issues between them but whenever he had asked the specifics Jess would quickly change the subject. Montana watched her come over, her face showed she was clearly annoyed at whatever Ana had said to her. She grabbed his arm without a word and pulled him away from the crowd.
“What was that about?” he asked before she finished leading him away. She stopped and looked at him. “Ugh nothing, just Ana being Ana.” Her eyes betrayed her, she looked pissed. “She's just… you know what, it's not worth it.”
“She mentioned something about you getting kicked off a team?” He persisted.
Jess winced. “Freshman year… I was on the cheer squad…. I… I punched her, got kicked off the team.” She leaned against the wall. “Don't worry about it, really. It was so long ago. And the truth is… nevermind. It doesn't matter now.”
“Jess, I'm sorry. I–”
“I said it doesn't matter.” she said, shooing him inside as the doors were unlocked and opened.
The day dragged and by the time it was 4th period, Montana had been feeling like he'd been there a whole day already. 4th period was his study hall, so he went over to the school's library and started looking for something to read, anything to keep his mind busy. And that's when he saw Sarah Snyder standing there. Ashton’s Sarah.
Jessica Perot, October 11th 2018, Laurel, Montana
Jess was fuming.
Ana’s words had burrowed under her skin like a splinter, festering all through third period. Be careful, Jess. Small towns like to talk.
As if she didn’t know that. As if she hadn’t spent the last three years carefully rebuilding her reputation after the incident that got her kicked off the cheer squad. She slammed her locker shut harder than necessary, making a freshman nearby jump.
“Whoa. Someone’s pissed.”
Jess turned to see Evelyn leaning against the lockers, arms crossed.
“Ana Yankowski,” Jess muttered.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Ah. That bitch.” She nudged Jess’s shoulder. “Ignore her. She’s just mad you’re not still pining after her.”
Jess stiffened. “I never—”
“Oh, please.” Evelyn smirked. “You literally punched her ex-boyfriend because he cheated on her. That’s not just friendship, Jess.”
Jess’s face burned. “That’s not—it wasn’t—” Jess took a second to collect herself. “Okay but that wasn’t the end of it. Listen Ev, a lot of stuff happened between us, and it ended pretty nasty. So just watch what you say about her and I…”
Evelyn held up her hands. “Hey. No judgment. But if you’re gonna keep sneaking around with Montana before school, people are gonna start talking about you again.”
Jess’s stomach flipped. “We’re not—God, Ev, it’s not like that.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then what is it like?”
Jess opened her mouth—then shut it.
What was it like?
She didn’t have an answer.
She’s had enough of this conversation, turning around she nearly tumbled into Miss Vick.
Montana Lee Payton, October 11th 2018, Laurel Montana
Sarah Snyder stood in front of the romance section, her fingers tracing the spines of books with a practiced ease. She was tall—taller than Jess—with honey-blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her cheer jacket draped over her shoulders like a cape. Montana had seen her around school, of course. Sarah was the kind of girl who existed in a different social stratosphere than him; head cheerleader, honor student, dating the star athlete.
And that star athlete was the dual-sport Ashton Brooks.
Montana’s stomach twisted. He turned to leave, but Sarah’s voice stopped him.
“You’re Montana, right?”
He froze. “Uh. Yeah.”
Sarah plucked a book from the shelf, ‘The Song of Achilles’ by Madeline Miller; and turned to face him fully. Her smile was polite, but her eyes were sharp. “Ashton’s talked about you. You know?”
Montana’s pulse spiked. “Oh. Uh.” he swallows. “Probably nothing good.” he tries saying in jest.
Sarah tilted her head, studying him. “Mostly good actually…” She tapped the book against her palm. “He said you guys were best friends when you were kids.” His eyes looked for escape, the library wasn't overly crowded but he really didn't want to make a scene by abruptly running off. He’ll just have to bear with this for now.
“Yeah. Before I moved.” Montana shifted his weight, suddenly hyperaware of his oversized hoodie, his messy hair, the way his voice sounded too deep in his own ears.
“Hmm.” Sarah hummed. “He was really upset when you left. Didn’t talk about it much. Still doesn’t...”
Guilt settled like a stone in Montana’s chest. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
Sarah’s expression softened slightly. “He’s not great at showing when he’s hurt. But he’s been different since you came back…” She hesitated, then added, “He broke up with me last night.”
Montana’s breath caught. “What?”
“Well. We were already on a break. Both needed time to ourselves…” Sarah sighed, tucking the book under her arm. “But yeah. He said he wanted to end things. That he had ‘stuff’ to figure out.’” She gave Montana a pointed look. “I’m guessing you’re the stuff. Am I wrong?”
Montana’s face burned. “I—I didn’t ask him to— I’ve never even met you before today so–”
“I know.” Sarah held up a hand. “I’m not mad. Just… be careful with him, okay? He acts all tough, but he’s got a heart like glass you know?”
Before Montana could respond, the bell rang. Sarah gave him a small wave and walked away, leaving him standing there, heart pounding.
Ashton had broken up with Sarah.
Because of him.
Jessica Perot, October 11th 2018, Laurel, Montana
Jess nearly jumped out of her shoes upon seeing Miss Vick, she was standing just a little too close, arms folded, purple streaked hair pulled back into a messy bun, and a look on her face that was somewhere between concern and calculation. Jess’s stomach dropped. Had she heard Ana? Had she seen Montana with her this morning? Or was this about the plan to intercept her before Derrick could call?
“Miss Perot,” Miss Vick said, voice quiet but no-nonsense, “you have a minute?”
Evelyn took the opportunity to slink away, mouthing a silent good luck, and Jess was left feeling suddenly small—like a little kid called to the principal’s office.
“Uh, sure,” Jess managed, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. She tried to keep her face neutral, but her mind was racing.
Miss Vick led her just inside the empty band room, out of the flow of student traffic. She closed the door, but didn’t sit. She just looked at Jess: direct, searching, not unkind.
“I know this season’s been… difficult,” Miss Vick started, choosing her words with care. “You’ve had to step up a lot. Leadership, drama, keeping the team together, and now—” she hesitated, “... and now I hear Derrick Payton doesn’t want Montana coming to practice anymore. But I haven't gotten a call from him… yet.”
Jess’s breath caught. “I—I just heard about that this morning. Montana’s really struggling, Miss Vick. It’s not fair. We can’t replace them in the show. they are one of our best performers, and—” she swallowed, “Montana needs this.”
Miss Vick’s gaze softened, but she didn’t interrupt.
Jess pressed on. “I know parents can pull kids out of activities, but if there’s anything we can do, I’ll do it. I’ll talk to his dad, or get my mom, or please, Miss Vick. Just don’t cut Montana out.”
A long pause. Miss Vick glanced out the window, then back at Jess. “I appreciate your loyalty. And I know you two are close.” She let that hang, then sighed. “Technically, if a parent forbids a student from participating, my hands are tied. But…” Her tone shifted, almost conspiratorial. “I haven’t heard anything official from Mr. Payton. Not yet. If he calls, I’ll have to follow protocol. But until then, Montana is still on my roster. Do you understand?”
Jess blinked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Miss Vick nodded, then fixed her with a serious look. “And Jess? I don’t care what rumors are going around, or what Ana thinks she knows. You run a tight, supportive team. Keep it that way. No drama, understood?”
Jess managed a small, grateful smile. “Understood.”
Miss Vick’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Good. Now get to class before you’re late. And tell Montana—tell her—she’s got a place here, as long as I can give her one.”
Jess’s throat tightened at the use of “her.” She nodded, blinking back a surge of emotion, and hurried out the door as quickly as possible.
Montana Lee Payton, October 11th 2018, Laurel Montana
The rest of the school day passed in a blur after the library. Montana had managed to float through his classes without any more unexpected confrontations, but Sarah’s words still echoed in his head, looping like a song he didn’t want to hear. Ashton broke up with her. Because of him. Or, at least, that’s what Sarah seemed to think. And she probably wasn’t entirely wrong.
By the time the final bell shrieked through the hallways, Montana was already shoving his books into his bag, his fingers trembling slightly. He didn't want to go home, but he also didn't want to impose on Ashton again. And Jess was… complicated. Everything was complicated. He just wanted to go to bed and think. Things were becoming way too much, way too quick.
The hallway outside his locker was crowded, a moving tide of backpacks and bodies, all pushing relentlessly toward the exits. He didn’t see Ashton. He didn’t see Jess. He did, however, see Ana.
She was leaning against a locker like she owned the place—probably because she did, socially at least. Her eyes locked with his, and her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Montana quickly looked away. He ducked his head and moved faster, hoping to slip past Ana unnoticed. No such luck.
Ana did not look away.
She pushed off the locker and blocked his path with one perfectly-manicured hand, her cheer jacket slung over her shoulder like a badge of honor. “Hey, Payton,” she said, voice syrupy sweet, but with an undercurrent of malice. “You and Jess having a little early-morning rendezvous? Or were you just helping her carry her drama around the band room?”
Montana tried to sidestep, but Ana shifted, pinning him in place with a smile that was more teeth than warmth.
He gritted his teeth, wishing he could evaporate. “Not in the mood, Ana.”
She pouted. “Aw, don’t be like that. I just think it’s cute, you're always running to Jess whenever you need someone to wipe your tears.” Her eyes flicked up and down, too knowing. “But I gotta ask—what’s it like making her the third wheel? Ashton’s getting pretty cozy with you, isn’t he?”
Montana felt heat rise in his cheeks. “You don’t know anything about it.”
Ana’s eyes narrowed, her voice dropping just for him. “Oh, I know plenty. I know Ashton dumped Sarah, and I know you showed up at school in his hoodie like you were marking territory. But you know what I really wonder?” She leaned in, her breath cold and sweet. “Why does Jess look at you like she’s afraid for you, not of you? Be careful, Payton,” she said, her voice low. “Don’t start thinking you’re special just because a couple people pity you. Laurel has a way of chewing up people who stand out.”
He almost laughed, too tired to put up with Ana’s cruelty. “Yeah? Maybe it’s time someone choked on it.”
Ana’s eyes widened, surprise cracking her composure. For a moment, neither of them moved. The crowd swept around them, a noisy, indifferent river in the hallway. Montana felt his pulse in his throat, hot and fast. God, he’d spent years trying not to be a target. But he was so tired of shrinking under other people’s expectations.
Ana stepped back, her jaw tight. “You know, for someone who wants to disappear, you’re getting awfully loud.” She straightened her jacket, her smile brittle. “See you around, Payton.”
She slipped away into the crowd, leaving Montana standing alone, adrenaline surging through his veins. He exhaled, shaky, and pressed a hand to his chest. He wasn’t sure he’d won anything, but for once, he hadn’t retreated.
He let himself breathe for a second, then shouldered his bag and pushed through the doors, out into the late afternoon chill.
He walked home. His social battery was practically fried, he probably wouldn't even answer his phone even if he had it. Just one more confrontation. Then I'll go to practice, I'll sneak out if I have to. He was finally alone with his thoughts. The cold wind carried him towards his house.
The tall orange and green house stood ominously large in front of Montana, who was trying to muster up the courage to enter. His hands were shaking from the piercing wind. His dad and him had never seen eye-to-eye at the best of times. And he can’t remember the last time he actually wanted to speak with him. Everything always ended in some sort of blow-up even when Mom was still here. Walking up the imposing porch he pushed open the door, unlocked. ‘Small town values’ or whatever.
The television was off, and the house was quiet until he walked to the back porch and saw his dad, smoking a cigarette, looking out at the setting Montana sun over the mountains.
The smoke curled lazily in the crisp autumn air as Derrick turned to face his child. His eyes were heavy, lined with exhaustion, and something else—something that might have been regret in a kinder man. He took another long drag before speaking.
"Sit down, Montana." It wasn't a request.
Montana's fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack, but he moved to the weathered porch chair beside his father. The wood creaked under his weight. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the sun paint the mountains in shades of purple and gold.
"Your mother..." Derrick started, then stopped. He crushed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. "April always said I was too hard on you. Said I didn't know how to listen." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Guess she was right about that."
Montana's heart hammered against his ribs. This wasn't the conversation he'd expected. His father never talked about his mother, not like this.
"Dad, I—"
"Let me finish." Derrick's voice was rough. "I got a call today. From that guard instructor of yours. Miss Vick." He ran a hand over his face. "She told me some things. About you. About how you've been..."
Montana's blood ran cold. What had Miss Vick said? What did she know? His mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last.
"She said you're one of her best performers." Derrick continued, his words careful, measured. "Said you've found something there that you can't find anywhere else." He paused, then added quietly, "Said you remind her of your mother."
“Miss Vick knew my mom?” Montana questioned, and Derrick just nodded. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Montana's throat felt tight.
"I'm not quitting guard," he whispered, bracing for the explosion.
But Derrick just nodded, slow and tired. "I know." He pulled another cigarette from the pack, his hands shaking slightly. "I can't... I don't understand half of what you do, Montana. The flags, the dancing, any of it. But your mother..." He lit the cigarette, the flame casting shadows across his face. "April would've wanted you to have this. To have something that makes you feel..." He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
Montana sat very still, afraid any movement might shatter this fragile moment of... what? Understanding? Resignation?
"So you can keep going," Derrick said finally. "To practice. To performances. Whatever. But we need to set some ground rules."
Montana nodded, not trusting his voice.
"You check in. You tell me where you are. No more running off to spend the night God knows where." Derrick's jaw tightened. "And that Ashton Brooks... I don't want—"
"Dad." Montana's voice cracked. "Please. Don't."
Derrick looked at his child—really looked—for what felt like the first time in years. Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable that was gone as quickly as it came.
"Fine." He stood up, stubbing out his second cigarette. "Go on. You'll be late for practice. Your phone is in my room, you're not grounded. Now get up before I change my mind…”
Montana rose slowly, still half-expecting this to be some kind of trap. But Derrick was already heading inside, leaving the door open behind him.
Montana stood on the porch for a moment longer, watching the last rays of sunlight catch on the mountains. He ran upstairs to grab his phone and his guard bag, he wouldn't need to keep it at Jess's house. He dropped his phone in the bag and headed out the door. He walked down the street that was illuminated by the setting sun. He didn't have time to think about what had just happened. The only thing on Montana's mind was that he was going to practice, and he was going to get to be her afterwards.
April M. Parker January 1st 2014 Marisol Heights, Northern California
It's been almost three months since leaving Montana, April has finally succeeded in her attempts to get Derrick to sign her divorce papers, though not without him exhausting every option, she had them sent to a PO box, not wanting to risk Derrick showing up at their doorstep… She's officially April Parker again, for the first time since she was twenty years old. She's outside the new apartment, looking over the dawning sky. The weather was getting colder, dipping under 60 degrees for the first time this winter. The wind shaking the trees nestled below the apartment. But she was happy, she had gotten a job in San Francisco at their hospital working nights, so she could homeschool her daughter. Everything was lining back into place.
Her daughter couldn't go to school yet, she wanted to do so as herself so April has been taking her to a clinic in San Francisco. She nearly had to fight a doctor who wouldn't prescribe hormones to her daughter. Stating ‘safety concerns’, so for right now until April can find a different source, she'll be on puberty blockers and homeschooled until the next school year, where she'll start 8th grade as a new student.
April watched the trees sway in the January breeze, her coffee warming her hands. Her daughter had struggled at first. They went shopping together and bought her a nice yellow sundress, she tried it on but… it just made her more sad, more aware of all the things she hated about her body. April had to comfort her that night.
The apartment was modest but cozy, filled with the little touches that made it home - photos from their new life, art projects scattered across tables, medical paperwork carefully organized in files. April had thrown herself into research, into finding doctors who would listen, into building a safer world for her child one small step at a time.
Inside, she heard movement - soft footsteps padding down the hallway, the rustle of fabric. Her daughter had been experimenting with clothes from the thrift store, finding her style piece by piece. April smiled, remembering the joy on her face when they'd found that first sundress.
"Hey sweetie," she called out softly. "Come watch the sunrise with me?"
A pause, then footsteps approaching. April turned, saw her child hovering in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, hair growing longer now, falling past her ears in auburn waves.
“Good morning mom.”
“Good morning Laurel.”