( Hayden = Dove Cameron )
They always said home wasn't a place, but a feeling. A trick my parents used, I think, to justify uprooting me every few months. Maybe they figured if I believed it, I wouldn’t ask *why* we were always packing boxes.
I'd become a master packer, anyway. Two hours, tops. Label everything, stack it neatly. After enough moves, complaining felt pointless. They had their reasons – their work, their secrets – and I’d learned to swallow my protests. It wasn’t anger, exactly. Just… acceptance.
Mom gave me the ‘We’re moving’ speech anyway. A ritual. I gave her the programmed response: a nod, a small smile. It was automatic.
This time, she said, would be different. *Really* different. Gotham. Permanent. I’d be graduating, and Ivy University was right there, full-ride scholarship in hand.
Mom and Dad, predictably, were worried about me being alone. Sixteen, a Senior, and practically an adult in their eyes. They didn't want me to be alone in Gotham.
“Are you packed, Munchkin?” Dad called from the living room, wrestling a lamp into a box.
“Almost. Just labeling. Then I’ll get it to the truck,” I called back, grabbing a Sharpie from the carpet. My name, neatly scrawled on each lid, each side. A tiny act of ownership.
I stood up, stretched, and tried to lift the first box. It was heavier than it looked. An inch off the ground, and it lurched forward, taking *me* with it.
‘Thud.’
“Hayden, what was that?” Mom called, her voice laced with concern. I couldn't answer, because I was face-first on the floor, sprawled on top of the box.
“Oh my… Are you alright, Honey?” Mom asked, trying to hide a laugh. Dad, meanwhile, was already roaring.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grumbled, dusting myself off.
“Need a hand, Munchkin?” Dad asked, tears welling in his eyes.
“No, I got it. Thanks,” I grumbled, deciding to *push* the box toward the moving truck instead of lifting it. Less dignity, less potential for disaster.
“Alright, just shout if you need help,” Dad chuckled, and I gave a dry, sarcastic laugh as I shoved the box forward.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Sweetheart!” Mom called.
After a brutal struggle, I finally got it to the movers, who were already waiting outside. One of them started to lift it, and I started to say “Oh be careful… this one is kind of heav-” but stopped mid-sentence when he hoisted it with ease.
"Ok I think that's everything, thank you." Mom said to the men and they closed up the truck and got ready to head towards our new place as Mom turned to me with a smile "Look honey, I know you don't like moving this much but this time it's going to be permanent." Mom said happily
“I’m used to it. Don’t worry about me,” I answered with a small smile, and headed to my room for sleep before tomorrow’s road trip.
- - - - -
• 11:24 pm •
Thirst. That’s what woke me. I stumbled out to the kitchen for water, but stopped when I saw Mom and Dad at the island, talking.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mom asked, her voice tight with worry. “What if he finds us? What if he finds *her*?”
“Jane, even if we didn’t move now, Hayden would move there anyway. Ivy. A full-ride. I’m more comfortable knowing she’ll be a few blocks away, not a few states,” Dad reasoned.
“I still don’t understand why we let her choose that college,” Mom grumbled.
“We didn’t *let* her. It was her choice. I’m not going to tell her which college she can and can’t go to,” Dad said, his voice softer now.
“I just don’t want her anywhere near that city. It’s Gotham. The most crime-ridden city in America. Why couldn’t she have chosen that cute little college down in Texas?” Mom complained, turning to head toward their bedroom.
My thirst forgotten, I scrambled back to my room, hoping they hadn't seen me. I dove into bed, pulled a thin blanket over my head, and pretended to sleep as they walked past my open door.
I heard their soft goodnights, the click of the door, and turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Unsure of what I'd just heard.
‘Who are they protecting me from?’ I wondered as I thought of all the possible people they could be talking about. I decided to go to bed after concluding that maybe it's an old college friend or something; possibly an ex.