Taylor Hebert stood in the rain in front of a nice house in an upscale neighborhood. She didn't know what to do. After she had returned from summer camp she found Emma Barnes a changed person. The girl who had been her best friend, sister even, had rejected their deep and long friendship in favor of a newcomer, Sophia Hess. Taylor didn't know how Emma and Sophia had met but the black girl had clearly poisoned Emma against her.

  Just when she had thought things were getting better after her mother's death. Even now Taylor had a hard time understanding why Aunt Clementine had done it. Her mother and Clementine had been so close. They had both been a part of Lustrum's movement together. She knew Clementine had stayed in longer than her Mom; Clementine had stayed even when things started getting out of hand. But she left in the end. Her father, Danny Hebert, hadn't gotten along well with her and the feeling was mutual. Danny had wanted Annette to stop meeting with her and she knew her parents had had several loud arguments about it. Her dad had been right. They had come home one day to find her mother dead along with Clementine. Shot in a Murder-suicide. Clemintine clutching a bloody note detailing how she felt both Annette and herself had betrayed Lustrum and their cause.Things at school were bad now. Sophia and Emma were beginning to bully her and the teachers were useless..Her dad was just barely functional. No one was willing to help her.

  As a last resort she was turning to the only person she thought could help her. The one who besides Emma had helped her the most through her mothers death. She stepped up onto the porch, the same porch where this downhill slide had started, and knocked. A few moments later she heard familiar footsteps approaching the door, which opened to reveal the face of a smiling Zoe Barnes whose expression quickly switched to concern as she took in Taylor's state.

  "Taylor, dear, what's the matter? Shouldn't you be in school?" Her voice was motherly and concerned.

  Taylor sniffed a little before blubbering. "Mrs. Barnes, I need to tell you something."

  Mrs. Barnes ushered Taylor into the house, a concerned frown creasing her forehead as she led Taylor to the living room, where she offered her a cup of hot tea, sensing the girl's turmoil. Taylor's eyes, red from unshed tears, darted around the room as she took a seat, the warmth of the tea slightly comforting in the midst of her distress.

  "Now, dear, take your time," Mrs. Barnes said gently, sitting across from Taylor. "What's going on? You know you can tell me anything." Taylor took a shaky breath and began to explain the situation at school. She told Mrs. Barnes about the breakdown of her friendship with Emma and how Sophia's influence had turned Emma against her. "I don't understand why Emma is doing this," Taylor said, her voice cracking. "We used to be so close, and now she's bullying me. It's like I don't even know her anymore."

  Mrs. Barnes face was a mixture of concern and understanding. "I see, dear. I had no idea that

  this was happening. This is completely unacceptable! I told Alan that we should take Emma to a therapist after the incident but he said she was fine and after a day or so she did seem better. Hmph, I still should have pushed more. And I never liked that Sophia girl. I know she helped them but it was obvious she was going to be a bad influence." At Taylor's look of confusion Mrs. Barnes looked contrite. "Well it's not exactly my story to tell, dear. But I can give you the basics. While you were at camp Emma and Alan were attacked by the ABB."

  Taylor gasped her eyes wide as Mrs. Barnes continued. "Sophia helped them get out of it somehow. I'm not really sure what she did. Regardless I will see this taken care of." She glanced at the pouring rain outside. "Well I'm glad you came to me about this dear. You have a bad habit of trying to do too much yourself. I know your father has been... distant lately but this is what adults are for. Now there is little point in having you go to Winslow today. Have you taken Home Ec., yet?" Taylor shook her head. "Well then why don't I teach you some of the basics in the kitchen then."

  Mrs. Barnes tied an apron around Taylor's waist, then grabbed another for herself. The kitchen gleamed with polished surfaces and organized implements.

  "First rule of cooking - mise en place. Everything in its place." Mrs. Barnes pulled out cutting boards and an array of vegetables. "Proper prep makes the actual cooking smooth and stress-free."

  Taylor watched intently as Mrs. Barnes demonstrated the correct way to hold a chef's knife. "Keep your fingers tucked in, like this. Let the blade do the work - no sawing motion needed."

  The methodical thunk of the knife against the cutting board filled the kitchen as Taylor mimicked Mrs. Barnes' technique on a carrot. Her first few cuts were awkward and uneven.

  "There you go, just relax your grip a bit." Mrs. Barnes adjusted Taylor's hand position. "I tried teaching Emma and Anne this, but neither had the patience. Emma would rather order takeout and Anne - well, college dining halls seem to suit her fine."

  Taylor's next cuts came out more uniform. "Mom never really taught me cooking. She'd get excited about new recipes but..."

  "But Annette was more about the eating than the prep?" Mrs. Barnes smiled knowingly. "She'd show up at my door whenever I made my chicken pot pie. Said it reminded her of her grandmother's."

  They worked side by side, Mrs. Barnes sharing little tips - how to tell if vegetables were fresh,

  the best way to store herbs, why certain pots worked better than others. Taylor soaked it all in, asking questions and taking mental notes.

  "You're a natural, dear." Mrs. Barnes watched as Taylor perfectly diced an onion using the technique she'd just learned. "It's nice having someone appreciate these little domestic arts. Sometimes I feel like I'm the last of a dying breed."

  The morning passed quickly as Mrs. Barnes guided Taylor through the basics of cooking and the kitchen filled with savory aromas as their vegetable prep turned into a hearty soup.

  "You know, Taylor, if you'd like to learn more, I could teach you regularly. Maybe after school? It would give us both something to look forward to."

  Taylor's face lit up. "Really? I'd love that." She stirred the soup with newfound confidence. "Dad's been living on takeout since..." She trailed off.

  "Then it's settled. We'll make a proper chef out of you." Mrs. Barnes checked the seasoning. "Perfect timing too - the soup's almost ready."

  The front door opened, followed by footsteps in the hall. Alan Barnes walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie.

  "Something smells amazing, Zoe-" He stopped short at the sight of Taylor. "Taylor? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

  "Taylor's been helping me cook," Mrs. Barnes said, her tone carrying an edge that made Alan raise his eyebrows. "We've had quite the enlightening morning."

  "I see." Alan glanced between them, sensing the undercurrent. "Well, it certainly smells much better than the cafeteria at the firm."

  Mrs. Barnes served the soup, her movements precise and deliberate. "Taylor's going to be coming by after school for cooking lessons. I'm sure Emma will be thrilled to hear that when she gets home."

  Alan's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Ah. Is there something I should know about?"

  "Oh yes, dear. We'll discuss it later." Mrs. Barnes' smile didn't reach her eyes. "For now, let's enjoy this lovely soup Taylor helped make."

  Taylor ducked her head, focusing on her bowl as the tension stretched between the adults. The soup was good - rich and flavorful, nothing like the canned stuff her dad bought. Maybe she could make it for him someday.

  The conversation over lunch remained polite but tense. Alan kept glancing between his wife and Taylor, clearly sensing something significant had transpired. Taylor focused on her soup, savoring each spoonful while Mrs. Barnes detailed their morning's cooking lesson.

  "You know, Taylor reminds me so much of Annette in the kitchen," Mrs. Barnes said. "That same careful attention to detail, though far less lost to ‘taste testing’." She giggled in fond

  remembrance.

  Alan cleared his throat. "Speaking of details, shouldn't you be in school today, Taylor?"

  "Alan." Mrs. Barnes' voice carried a warning. "Taylor came to me for help with a situation that needs addressing. One that involves Emma."

  Color drained from Alan's face. "What kind of situation?"

  "The kind that requires immediate parental intervention." Mrs. Barnes folded her napkin with precise movements. "Which we will discuss after lunch."

  Taylor's spoon clinked against her empty bowl. "The soup was really good, Mrs. Barnes. Thank you for teaching me."

  "You did most of the work, dear." Mrs. Barnes stood, gathering the dishes. "Why don't you head home for now? I'll call your father and explain why you missed school today. Come back tomorrow after classes and we'll start on basic bread making."

  "I'd like that." Taylor stood, pushing in her chair. The thought of regular cooking lessons with Mrs. Barnes lifted her spirits. Maybe things would get better now that someone knew what was happening.

  Alan walked her to the door, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced by something more subdued. "Taylor, I-" He paused, seeming to struggle with his words. "Have a safe walk home."

  The rain had stopped, leaving puddles that reflected the gray sky. Taylor stepped carefully around them, her mind already on tomorrow's lesson. For the first time in months, she felt like she had an ally.

  Taylor kneaded the dough with practiced movements, working it against the floured counter. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and herbs - a scent that had become familiar over the past weeks.

  "Your technique has improved," Mrs. Barnes said, checking the consistency. "See how the gluten's developing?"

  "Emma used to love your focaccia," Taylor said, then caught herself. These casual mentions of their shared past still felt awkward.

  Mrs. Barnes nodded. "She mentioned wanting to learn during her last therapy session. Maybe you could teach her sometime?"

  Taylor's hands stilled. "Maybe." She resumed kneading, working out her uncertainty in the dough.

  The front door opened, and Emma's voice drifted in. "Mom? Is Taylor here?"

  "In the kitchen, dear."

  Emma appeared in the doorway, Sophia trailing behind her. The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches.

  "Hey Taylor," Emma said, her voice carrying a careful friendliness. "That smells amazing."

  Sophia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Playing housewife, Hebert?"

  "Sophia." Mrs. Barnes' tone could have frozen water. "If you can't be civil, you can wait in the living room."

  "It's fine," Taylor muttered, focusing on her dough.

  "No, it's not," Emma said, surprising everyone. "Soph, come on. We talked about this."

  Mr. Barnes appeared behind the girls. "Is everything alright? It smells great in here."

  "Just discussing manners," Mrs. Barnes said pointedly.

  "Ah." Alan's smile turned diplomatic. "Girls, why don't you all do homework in the dining room? These skills Taylor's learning could be valuable for all of you."

  "Dad," Emma protested while Sophia rolled her eyes.

  "I mean it." Alan's voice carried an edge of authority. "Sophia, you're practically family now. Family supports each other."

  Taylor caught Mrs. Barnes' slight head shake at her husband's words. The divide in their approach to Sophia was obvious - had been since that first day Taylor had come for help.

  Emma sighed and pulled out a chair at the dining room table. "Come on, Soph. Let's get started on that World Studies essay."

  "Whatever." Sophia dropped into a seat, deliberately turning her back to the kitchen.

  Taylor continued working the dough, trying to ignore their presence. The rhythmic motion helped calm her nerves.

  "Taylor, dear, that's enough kneading," Mrs. Barnes said. "Let's get it in the pan to rise."

  They shaped the dough together, Mrs. Barnes demonstrating how to create the characteristic dimples in the focaccia. Taylor sprinkled fresh rosemary and sea salt over the top.

  "Mom?" Emma's voice carried from the dining room. "Could you help us with this part about the Industrial Revolution?"

  Mrs. Barnes wiped her hands on her apron. "Of course dear. Taylor, keep an eye on the timer. Twenty minutes for the first rise."

  Taylor nodded, settling onto a kitchen stool. Through the doorway, she could see Emma bent over her textbook, actually looking engaged in the homework. Sophia's posture remained rigid, but she was writing something down.

  The kitchen timer ticked steadily, marking time in this strange new normal. It wasn't perfect - far from it - but it was better than before. The mandatory therapy sessions Alan had arranged for Emma seemed to be helping, even if Sophia remained a barely contained force of hostility.

  The smell of herbs and rising bread filled the kitchen as Taylor watched the seconds tick by, wondering how long this fragile peace would last.

  The kitchen fell silent as Mrs. Barnes and Emma stepped out to grab more rosemary from the garden while Mr. Barnes was in his study, leaving Taylor and Sophia alone. Taylor focused on cleaning the counter, carefully wiping away excess flour while keeping her movements measured and deliberate. The steady ticking of the timer seemed louder now, echoing in the tense atmosphere.

  "Just us now, Hebert." Sophia's voice dripped with barely contained malice. "No adults around to play referee."

  Taylor set down her cloth, squaring her shoulders without turning around. "Look, I get it. You hate me. But this doesn't have to be a constant battle."

  "Playing nice now? Trying to worm your way back in?" Sophia pushed off from the doorframe, her shadow falling across the counter. "You're pathetic."

  "I'm trying to be reasonable here. The Barnes have been good to both of us." .

  Sophia barked out a harsh laugh that echoed off the kitchen tiles. "Please. I'm Emma's best friend. The Barnes love me. You're just their charity case - poor little Taylor who lost her mommy."

  Taylor's hands clenched but she kept her voice steady, even as her nails bit into her palms. "They're getting tired of your act, Sophia. I see how Mrs. Barnes watches you. How Mr. Barnes forces that smile when you come over."

  "Emma won't let them push me away." But there was a hint of something beneath the certainty - a crack in the foundation.

  "Maybe. Or maybe they'll just transfer Emma to Immaculata. They've been talking about it, you know. Better academics, better environment." Taylor wiped her hands on her apron, the gesture casual but deliberate.

  Sophia's mask slipped for a moment, uncertainty flashing across her face like lightning in a storm cloud. "Then it would just be you and me at Winslow. No Emma to keep things... civil."

  Taylor shrugged, turning back to her cleaning, methodically attacking a stubborn spot of dried dough. "And? You really think I care about that anymore?"

  The back door handle rattled as Emma and Mrs. Barnes returned, bringing with them the fresh scent of garden herbs and afternoon air. Sophia retreated to her chair, her usual confidence noticeably shaken, like a predator suddenly unsure of its territory.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Mrs. Barnes set the fresh rosemary on the counter, her eyes darting between Taylor and Sophia. "Is everything alright in here?"

  "Fine," Taylor said, folding the cleaning cloth into neat quarters. "The dough's almost ready for the second rise."

  Emma lingered by the doorway, twisting a strand of red hair around her finger. "Mom, maybe I could... help? With the bread?"

  Mrs. Barnes' eyebrows rose slightly. "Of course, dear. Taylor, would you show Emma how to dimple the dough?"

  Taylor nodded, stepping aside to make room. Emma approached the counter hesitantly, like a cat testing unfamiliar territory. Her movements were stiff as she washed her hands and dried them on a spare towel.

  "Like this," Taylor demonstrated, pressing her fingers into the soft dough. "Gentle but firm. You want even spacing."

  Emma mimicked the motion, her first attempts too shallow. "It's harder than it looks."

  "You're doing fine," Mrs. Barnes said, measuring olive oil into a small bowl. "Taylor had trouble with it at first too."

  Sophia snorted from her seat at the dining room table. Mrs. Barnes shot her a sharp look.

  "Sophia, perhaps you'd like to join us? There's plenty of dough to practice on."

  "I'll pass." Sophia's pen scratched aggressively against her notebook paper.

  Emma's hands stilled over the dough. "Come on, Soph. It's actually kind of fun."

  "I said no." Sophia's chair scraped against the floor as she stood. "I should head home anyway. Got track practice tomorrow morning."

  "I'll walk you out," Emma said quickly, wiping her hands.

  Mrs. Barnes watched them go, her lips pressed into a thin line. Once the front door closed, she turned to Taylor. "I'm sorry about that, dear. Some people take longer to adjust than others."

  Taylor shrugged, trying to ignore the familiar weight settling in her stomach. "It's okay. The bread's more important right now."

  Taylor adjusted her new sweater as she walked down the Winslow hallway. The fitted burgundy fabric hugged her curves - curves she'd developed after months of Mrs. Barnes' suggested morning runs and weekend yoga sessions.

  Taylor caught her reflection in a classroom window and paused. Gone was the gangly, awkward frame that had made her an easy target. Regular exercise had toned her arms and legs, while Mrs. Barnes' cooking lessons meant she was eating proper meals instead of whatever processed food Dad brought home.

  She traced the curve of her waist, remembering how Emma had taken her shopping two months ago. "You need clothes that fit properly," she'd insisted, steering Taylor away from her usual baggy hoodies. The new wardrobe made her feel... different. Good different.

  "Looking sharp, Hebert," Charlotte said, falling into step beside her. "That color really works on you."

  Taylor smiled, adjusting her messenger bag. "Thanks. Emma helped me pick it out."

  "Well, she clearly knows what she's doing." Charlotte gestured at Taylor's outfit. "You look like you could be in one of those college brochures - you know, the ones with students actually enjoying themselves?"

  Taylor laughed, the sound coming easily now. Her reflection smiled back - confident, composed, someone who filled her space instead of trying to shrink away from it. The girl in the window wasn't a victim anymore. She was just Taylor, and that was enough.

  Sophia shouldered past, deliberately bumping into Taylor. "Still trying too hard."

  "Jealous much?" Taylor muttered, smoothing her sweater. The comment earned her a dark glare, but Sophia kept walking.

  Emma fell into step beside Taylor. "Ignore her. That color really works on you. We should hit the mall this weekend - there's a sale at Winston's."

  "Sure." Taylor smiled, remembering their last shopping trip. It had been awkward at first, but Emma's genuine enthusiasm for helping Taylor update her wardrobe had slowly rebuilt bridges between them.

  They passed a group of boys from the track team. One of them, James, caught Taylor's eye and winked. She felt her cheeks warm but maintained eye contact, offering a small wave.

  "Oh my god," Emma whispered once they were past. "James totally likes you. You should come to Katie's party this weekend."

  "I don't know..." Taylor adjusted her messenger bag.

  "Come on, you can't keep hiding in the kitchen with my mom forever." Emma bumped her shoulder playfully. "Besides, James will definitely be there."

  Down the hall, Sophia watched their interaction with narrowed eyes. Her usual group of hangers-on had thinned lately, especially as Taylor's confidence grew. The power dynamic was shifting, and everyone knew it.

  "Fine," Taylor said. "But you have to help me pick out what to wear."

  Emma squealed and linked their arms. "Obviously. We're going shopping first. No arguments."

  The squeak of rubber soles against polished wood filled the gymnasium as students divided into teams for volleyball. Taylor adjusted her gym shorts, still not entirely comfortable in the shorter length Emma had convinced her to buy.

  "Hebert, you're with Martinez's team," Coach Wilson called out. "Hess, other side."

  Sophia's face twisted into a sneer as she took her position. The first few volleys went smoothly, with Taylor managing to set up Charlotte for a clean spike. A scattered cheer went up from their side of the court.

  "Nice one, Taylor!" Emma called from the sidelines.

  Sophia's next serve came like a missile, aimed straight at Taylor's head. Taylor managed to dodge, but the ball slammed into the floor where she'd been standing.

  "Watch it, Hess!" Coach Wilson warned.

  The game continued, tension building with each volley. When Taylor scored a point with a well-placed tip over the net, Sophia's control finally snapped.

  She launched herself forward, supposedly going for the ball, but her shoulder caught Taylor's chest with crushing force. Taylor's wrist twisted underneath her as she hit the floor. Pain shot up her arm.

  "What the hell!" Charlotte rushed to Taylor's side.

  Coach Wilson's whistle pierced the air. "Hess! Principal's office, now!"

  Taylor cradled her wrist, already swelling. Purple bruises bloomed across her forearm.

  Later, leaving school with Emma, Taylor kept her injured wrist close to her body.

  "She didn't mean to hit you that hard," Emma said, but her voice lacked conviction. "You know how competitive she gets during sports."

  "Right. Just like she didn't mean to shove me into the lockers last week?" Taylor stopped walking. "Emma, you can't keep making excuses for her."

  "I'm not- I mean..." Emma trailed off, staring at Taylor's wrist. "Okay, maybe she went too far this time."

  "You think?"

  Emma shifted uncomfortably. "She's just going through some stuff at home..."

  The words hung in the air, hollow and insufficient.

  "She's helped me through a lot," Emma said, her voice dropping. "More than you know."

  "Yeah, you keep saying that." Taylor flexed her injured wrist. "But neither of you will tell me what actually happened. What did she do that was so important?"

  Emma wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller. "I can't- it's not something I can talk about. But Taylor, if it wasn't for Sophia..." Her voice cracked. "I might not even be here right now."

  "That bad?"

  Emma nodded, blinking rapidly.

  Taylor let out a long breath. "Look, I've tried, okay? I've been civil. I've ignored the comments, the shoving, everything. But nothing works. She's still coming after me."

  "Please." Emma grabbed Taylor's good hand. "Just give it more time. She'll come around."

  "More time? Emma, she just sprained my wrist!"

  "I know, I know. And I'll talk to her about it. She listens to me, sometimes." Emma's grip tightened. "Just... a little longer? Please?"

  Taylor pulled her hand away. "How much longer am I supposed to put up with this?"

  "Until she sees you're not going anywhere. That you're part of my life again." Emma's eyes were pleading. "You are my oldest friend, Taylor. I don't want to choose."

  "But you did choose, didn't you? At the start of the year. ."

  Emma flinched. "That's not fair. I was messed up after... after what happened. Sophia helped me through it."

  "And I would have too, if you'd let me." Taylor adjusted her messenger bag, wincing as it jostled her wrist. "If you'd just told me what was wrong."

  "I couldn't. I still can't." Emma's voice was barely a whisper. "Just trust me? Please?"

  Taylor rubbed her temples, a headache building behind her eyes. "You know what's kept me sane through all this? Your mom."

  Emma's eyebrows shot up. "My mom?"

  "She noticed something was off weeks ago. Asked me to help with dinner one night when I was over." Taylor's shoulders slumped. "We talked. A lot."

  "You never told me that."

  "Because she promised not to mention it to you or your dad." Taylor leaned against a nearby tree. "She's been checking in on me. Texting. Making sure I'm okay."

  Emma's face fell. "I didn't know-"

  "Of course you didn't. You've been too busy running interference between me and Sophia." Taylor's voice cracked. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to just give up? Stop coming to school? Stop trying to rebuild our friendship?"

  "Taylor-"

  "But your mom, she gets it. She listens. Actually listens." Taylor blinked back tears. "And she doesn't make excuses for anyone."

  Emma wrapped her arms around herself. "I didn't realize things were that bad."

  "Really? Because your mom figured it out just by watching me at dinner." Taylor's good hand clenched into a fist. "She saw what was happening before I even said anything."

  "I'm sorry." Emma's voice was small. "I thought if I could just get you two to-"

  "To what? Be friends? After everything she's done?" Taylor's laugh came out harsh. "Your mom's the only reason I haven't completely lost it. The only adult who seems to care that I'm being harassed daily."

  "That's not true. I care-"

  A car horn interrupted their conversation. Mrs. Barnes pulled up to the curb, her smile falling as she spotted Taylor's swollen wrist.

  "What happened?" She jumped out of the car, rushing over to examine the injury.

  "Just an accident in gym class," Taylor said, trying to downplay it.

  "Sophia knocked her down during volleyball," Emma blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth.

  Mrs. Barnes' face darkened. "That girl deliberately hurt you?"

  "Mom, it wasn't-"

  "No, Emma. I've had enough." Mrs. Barnes guided Taylor to the car. "First the bullying, now physical violence? I won't have that girl anywhere near my house or my family anymore."

  "But Mom-"

  "And you're not hanging out with her either. I mean it."

  Taylor slid into the backseat, fighting to keep her expression neutral despite the satisfaction bubbling up inside her.

  "Please, just listen." Emma's voice cracked. "What if... what if she apologizes to Taylor? Like, really apologizes?"

  Mrs. Barnes started the car, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You really think she will?"

  "I'll make her. Just... don't ban her completely?" Emma pleaded. "Until she says sorry?"

  Mrs. Barnes glanced in the rearview mirror at Taylor. "What do you think, dear?"

  Taylor shrugged, careful to keep her voice even. "If she actually means it..."

  "Fine." Mrs. Barnes pulled away from the curb. "But I want a real apology, Emma. Not some half-hearted excuse. Until then, Sophia's not welcome in our home."

  Emma slumped in her seat, relief visible on her face. "Thanks, Mom."

  Taylor stared out the window, watching Winslow shrink behind them. The throbbing in her wrist seemed worth it now, knowing Sophia would have to swallow her pride or lose her place in Emma's life.

  Mrs. Barnes pulled up to the photography studio, where Emma hopped out with her portfolio clutched to her chest. "I'll pick you up in two hours, honey."

  As they merged back into traffic, Mrs. Barnes drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "You know, seeing you girls grow up... it reminds me of my college days with your mother."

  Taylor shifted in her seat, careful with her injured wrist.

  "Annette and I were both caught up in it - the whole feminist movement. Burning bras, demanding equality." She shook her head. "We thought we were so enlightened, but looking back... we were just angry. Lost."

  The car stopped at a red light. Mrs. Barnes' reflection in the rearview mirror looked distant, remembering.

  "Your mother especially. She was brilliant, passionate... but so caught up in the ideology. Even after she met your father, she kept teaching those gender studies classes." Mrs. Barnes winced. "Maybe if she'd focused more on family, on being there for you and Danny..."

  Taylor stared at her hands. "Mrs. Barnes... after what Clementine did..." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "I don't think I could support that kind of thinking anymore either."

  The light turned green, but Mrs. Barnes didn't immediately accelerate. For a moment, the only sound was the idle of the engine.

  "Oh, Taylor." Mrs. Barnes' voice softened with understanding. "I didn't realize... I'm so sorry, dear."

  Taylor wiped her eyes with her good hand. "Thanks for being there for me through all this. I don't know what I'd do without you and Emma."

  "Oh sweetie." Mrs. Barnes pulled into a strip mall parking lot and turned off the engine. "You've been like a third daughter to me since you were in diapers. Nothing will ever change that."

  Taylor managed a small laugh. "Remember when Emma tried to trade Anne for me?"

  Mrs. Barnes' eyes crinkled. "How could I forget? She was so determined. Packed up all of Anne's things in her little red wagon and marched right up to your front door."

  "Dad still tells that story at barbecues. Emma had it all planned out - Anne would go live with us, and I'd move in with you guys."

  "She even made a contract on construction paper. 'I hereby trade one sister for one best friend forever.'" Mrs. Barnes shook her head, chuckling. "Your father kept that paper."

  "Anne was so mad when she found out."

  "She chased Emma around the yard with her ballet slippers. Thank goodness they both got over it." Mrs. Barnes reached over and squeezed Taylor's hand. "Though I have to admit, there were times I wouldn't have minded having you instead of Anne during those teenage years."

  Taylor smiled, remembering the simpler days when trading sisters seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution. Back when the worst problem in their lives was Anne refusing to share her dolls.

  "Emma really is lucky to have you as a mom." Taylor's voice grew quiet. "I am, too. You always know the right thing to say."

  Mrs. Barnes dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from her purse. "Oh, look at us getting all emotional in a parking lot." She straightened up and adjusted her rearview mirror. "We should get going - I promised to take you girls to that new boutique downtown."

  "The one Emma won't stop talking about?" Taylor buckled her seatbelt. "She's convinced they have the perfect dress for her portfolio shoot next month."

  "That's the one." Mrs. Barnes pulled out of the parking lot. "Though knowing Emma, she'll try on half the store before deciding."

  "And then go back for the first dress she tried on."

  They shared a knowing look, the kind that came from years of shopping trips with Emma Barnes.

  "At least this time we won't have Anne complaining about being dragged along." Mrs. Barnes merged onto Main Street. "College has been good for her - she's finally learning there's more to life than being contrary."

  The autumn sun slanted through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the dashboard. Taylor watched the familiar storefronts slide past, each one holding memories of countless afternoons spent window shopping with Emma.

  "You know what?" Mrs. Barnes tapped her fingers on the wheel. "After we pick up Emma, let's stop by that little café you girls love. My treat."

  "The one with the chocolate croissants?"

  "Exactly. I think we could all use something sweet today."

  Taylor settled back in her seat, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Sometimes the best medicine wasn't found in prescriptions or therapy sessions, but in simple moments like these - driving through town with someone who cared, planning nothing more complicated than coffee and pastries with her best friend.

  Mrs. Barnes hummed along to the radio as they turned onto Cedar Street, heading toward the photography studio where Emma waited.

  The door to Mr. Barnes' study creaked open. Sophia stood with her hands jammed in her pockets, jaw set.

  "Mr. Barnes, this isn't fair. I didn't do anything wrong."

  He looked up from his desk, removing his reading glasses. "Sophia, my wife made her position clear. Until you apologize to Taylor-"

  "For what? Standing up to someone who was being pathetic?" Sophia's voice rose. "That's not how the world works. You can't just cry and expect everyone to coddle you."

  "That's not your decision to make." Mr. Barnes' tone hardened. "Not in this house."

  Emma appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Just apologize, Soph. Please? Then everything can go back to normal."

  "Normal?" Sophia spun toward her. "You mean pretending to be weak just to make her feel better? That's not me, Em. You know that."

  "Then maybe you should leave." Emma's voice cracked. "Both of you. I can't... I can't deal with this right now."

  "Emma-" Sophia reached for her.

  Emma stepped back. "No. Not until you fix this." She turned and walked away, leaving Sophia staring after her.

  "I won't apologize for being strong." Sophia's shoulders tensed. "Even if it costs me everything."

  Mr. Barnes sighed. "Then I'm afraid there's nothing more to discuss. Please respect my wife's wishes."

  Sophia stormed out, slamming the front door behind her. Through the window, Emma watched one of her two best friends disappear down the street, wondering how everything had gotten so complicated.

  Her phone buzzed - a text from Sophia: "You know I'm right."

  Emma closed her eyes and deleted the message without responding.

  Taylor clutched the recipe card in her hand as she approached the Barnes' house. The smell of fresh-baked cookies wafted from her backpack - her first successful batch using Mrs. Barnes' tips.

  Voices carried from the back of the house. Angry shouts punctuated by higher-pitched protests.

  "You can't keep doing this!" Mrs. Barnes' voice rang out.

  Taylor froze mid-step. A shriek pierced the air, followed by a sickening thud.

  Her feet carried her around the corner before her brain could process what was happening. Mrs. Barnes lay crumpled on the ground below the porch, unmoving. A dark shape - like smoke or shadow - slipped through a gap in the fence.

  Taylor rushed inside to where she knew Barnes's phone was. Her hands trembled as she punched in 911. The back door hung open, banging against the wall with each gust of wind.

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  "My- Mrs. Barnes, she fell. She's not moving. Please, I need help." The words tumbled out between sharp breaths. "1247 Oak Street. Please hurry."

  "Stay on the line with me. Is she breathing?"

  Taylor's legs gave out and she slid down the kitchen wall. "I can't- I can't go back out there. I can't."

  "That's okay, emergency services are on their way. Are you safe?"

  The phone slipped from her grip, clattering on the linoleum. Mrs. Barnes' cookie recipes lay scattered across the counter where they always sat during their baking lessons. The weekly lessons that had kept Taylor going after Mom died.

  Her chest constricted. The room tilted sideways.

  "Hello? Are you there?"

  The operator's voice faded beneath the roar in Taylor's ears. She pressed her palms against her temples, but couldn't stop the flood of memories - Mom dead on the floor and Clementine on the couch, Dad retreating into his work, endless empty days until Mrs. Barnes stepped in with her warm kitchen and gentle guidance.

  Now she was gone too.

  Something shifted inside Taylor's head, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. The world exploded into fragments of data - trajectories, velocities, mass calculations streaming past her consciousness. Her vision fractured into countless parallel images, each showing a different possibility, a different path.

  The pressure built until she thought her skull would crack. Taylor screamed, but the sound was lost in the cacophony of information overwhelming her senses.

  Then everything went black.