Hope
I come back from my night shift to see that my house is burning in front of me.
I am very frightened and have no idea what to do or where to go.
I try to move, but my legs won't listen. I'm rooted to the ground, staring at the flames eating up everything I ever called mine.
The heat hits my face like a slap, and I stumble back a little, blinking through the smoke. The fire crackles louder than anything I've ever heard.
I can't stop staring. I can't even cry—I'm past that. There's just this tight knot in my throat, and my chest feels too small for how fast my heart is beating.
All I can think about is what's inside.
My sister's photo. The last one we took before she left. I kept it tucked inside a book under my pillow. It's gone. So are my mom and dad's wedding pictures. The album Dad made with his own hands.
My clothes. My notebooks. The silly family drawings I kept from when I was eight. All of it turning to smoke right in front of me.
It's my fault, though.
Because it was announced by the government for over a week now that a solar flare might stir fires in some areas.
They warned us—it was everywhere on the internet. They warned everyone to evacuate the high-risk zones. They even sent alerts to our phones, blaring at 3 a.m. like sirens. But I was working my night shift.
"And where exactly do they expect me to move to?" I shrug my shoulder and sigh heavily asking no one in particular.
"No one gives a damn about that girl. Thankfully you didn't get roasted as well. Come on, let's get you to school. Isn't today the resumption?" Rose is leaning against her dusty car like this is just random another day.
The few weeks I've worked with her in the club have taught me so much.
She brushes it off like she always does. That's Rose. I've never seen her shaken or broken by anything.
I stare at her for a second. The old me would've screamed. Cried. Asked for a hug. But the past few weeks at the club, working late with her, watching how she survives—wasn't useless. She's changed me. Or maybe just shown me how to fake calm when everything inside's breaking.
She always uses this 'fake it till you make it' quote.
I nod "Yeah. Let's go."
She tosses me a bottle of water. I gulp down a mouthful and slide into the passenger seat.
She doesn't ask if I'm okay. She doesn't talk about the fire or what I've lost. She just turns up the radio, lights a cigarette, and drives like we're late to a party.
And I swear that's exactly what I needed. We don't go straight to school.
Instead, she pulls into this tiny roadside store. She grabs a cart and starts throwing stuff in—shampoo, notebooks, socks, lip balm, even Dresses.
"Rose..." I start.
She cuts me off. "You need stuff. Don't argue. Don't tell me you're taking this rag on you to school. First impression fucking matters, girl."
"You shouldn't do this, Rose," I say, grabbing everything she got with nostalgia. I follow her through the aisles, watching her move like she's on autopilot. She knows exactly what she's doing.
She picks out a box of contact lenses, rips it off the shelf like she's stealing it.
"You're done hiding behind those glasses," she says.
Before I can give my opinion, she grabs the glasses off my face and tosses them in the trash by the counter.
"What the hell, Rose?"
She shrugs. "New school. New girl. New life. I heard the boys at Brookshigh are breathtakingly hot! You need to look breathtaking as well "
"I'm not going there for the boys"
"That's what you will say until you actually meet them " she winks at me And forces me to open my eyes for a minute as she fixes the contact lenses, and fucking goodness, they work even better than glasses.
My hair already has a beautiful red color, so I refuse to dye it further when she suggests.
"Should I drive you to Brookshigh?" Rose asks when we're done, tossing her handbag into the backseat .
I glance at her, and smile.
"You've done enough for me," I say softly. "You barely even know me that much. Thank you, Rose."
She scoffs, pulls out a stick of gum, pops it in like she's brushing off the weight in my voice. "I insist to drive you."
"There's a free ticket, Rose," I say, gripping the new backpack resting on my lap. "I won't get to Brookshigh until tomorrow morning. You know how far Newhell City is. I don't wanna put you through that stress."
She exhales through her nose and leans on the steering wheel, thinking.
"You sure?" she asks, her eyes still on the windshield.
"Yeah," I nod. "I'll be fine."
She turns to me then, her eyes are soft in that Rose kind of way. "You better be."
I smirk, even though I don't really feel it. "Fake it till I make it, right?"
She reaches over, fixes a strand of my freshly dyed hair behind my ear. "Damn right."
Yes freshly dyed. Rose doesn't take no for an answer.