Once she was through the door and down the porch steps, Lenore staggered to a stop in the middle of the lawn. The heat of her anger quickly faded in the chill of early autumn. She hadn't thought this through. Where was she supposed to go now?

If she could, she'd get into her dad's car and drive back to the city, but she already knew that wouldn't solve anything. It'd only get her dad into trouble with the courts, and they'd drag her back here, kicking and screaming. And on top of that, they'd probably decide that she'd have to stay until she'd turned of age, adding another year to her sentence.

Sentence. That's what the impending year felt like—a prison sentence. She could almost hear the bars sliding shut in her face, locking her in.

The wind picked up as she stood there, pulling at her ponytail and tugging at her sweatshirt. The screen door creaked open behind her, and she turned. Her dad had followed after her. He jogged down the porch steps, his face pulled tight. He looked both disappointed and sad, but there was something else there, too, something dark clouding his dark eyes.

"Lenore," he began when he had made it to her side. "What did I say about not making it difficult for yourself?"

She couldn't help but laugh, short and sharp. "Whoops," she said with a shrug as if her outburst was simply the result of forgetting.

Stanley laughed in return, shook his head, and then sighed. "I really didn't want to leave you like this," he said, reaching for her. "I'm really going to miss you, kid."

Her vision blurred. "I'm going to miss you, too, dad," she said, leaning into his open arms. She pressed her face into his sweater, wetting it with fresh tears. "I really wish I could go with you."

"So do I," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. "So do I."

"It's not fair," she mumbled.

"No," he replied. "No, it's not. But it's what the court decided, so it's what we're going to have to abide by."

The embers of Lenore's anger sparked to life again. The courts—they were as much at fault as her mother was. They had bought her mother's sob story about 'reconnecting' and how difficult it'd be if Lenore lived in another country—they didn't take kindly to them moving out of the country without a proper custody agreement—and that was how she got stuck here. Of course, they had totally disregarded Lenore's own testimony about where she wanted to be, but...

"There's really nothing I can do," Lenore sighed, accepting her defeat at last, "is there?"

Her dad patted her shoulder. "Unfortunately not. But remember, it's just one se—I mean, one year. One year, and then you'll be free. Really, in the scope of your life, a year is nothing."

Lenore pulled away and wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks. "One year at that school is going to be a lot more than nothing."

"Maybe it won't be so bad," her dad said, his eyes lighting up as they did whenever he tried to get her to look on the bright side. He was an eternal optimist. "It's been so long, I don't think anyone could still blame you for something your aunt did. Maybe things will be better."

Lenore let out a loud, hard laugh. "Better?" she echoed, smiling at the absurdity of it. "My classmates were horrible enough when I was eleven. They're teenagers now—teenagers are definitely going to be worse." Her mocking smile fell. "Please, please, please don't let me go to that school."

Her dad's face drooped. "I will try my hardest to figure something out," he said. "But..."

Lenore didn't even pretend to hide her disappointment. "You can't make any promises, right?" she said, resigned. She couldn't hold it against her father, and she knew not all promises could be kept.

Stanley nodded, just as defeated. "No, I can't promise I'll fix it. But I can promise I'll try."

"Thanks, dad." She leapt forward to pull him into another tight hug. It all still felt rather helpless, but she was starting to feel a little better. Maybe some of his optimism was beginning to rub off on her.

Eventually, the air began to cool, indicating that the day had started its descent toward night. The days had gotten so much shorter, and Lenore and her dad had to face the fact that they couldn't stand around outside for much longer.

"I should go," her dad said, his voice quiet.

"I don't want you to," she replied with a sigh. "But I know you have to." She gave him another squeeze before releasing him.

"You'll be okay," her dad sat, patting her on the head like she was just a little kid again. "I'm sure of it."

"We'll see," Lenore said. She didn't want to make any promises either.

Her dad stepped back and headed towards his Tesla. "I'll call you when I've made it back to the city."

"Okay."

"And like I said, let me know if you forgot anything and I will drive it right up," he said. Then, as he opened the driver's side door, a mischievous smile lit up his face. "Or maybe we'll just pretend you did, so I can come visit next weekend."

Lenore smiled properly this time. "I'd really like that," she said. "Love you, dad."

"Love you, too, kid," he said, then paused. Something passed over his face—his smile fell, and that shadow from before darkened his eyes again. He leaned on the car roof and gave her a serious look. "Look," he began, "I know you want nothing to do with her..." He nodded towards the house.

Lenore narrowed her eyes at him. Was he really going to do this now? She wondered if he had purposefully left this topic to the last minute so that he could hurry away right after and avoid the angry fallout. Her father was a very smart man, after all.

He cringed as he took in her angry expression—but it didn't stop him. "But if she wants to try, maybe," he continued, "maybe you should let her."

"Why should I?" Lenore shot back.

"Because she's your mom. Still. After everything."

Lenore had opened her mouth to argue that point, but her dad just finished with a knowing look—another perfected 'dad' look—and slid into the driver's seat, ready for his escape.

Lenore let the subject drop, not wanting to end their last moments on a sour note. She gave him one final goodbye through the window and let him drive off.

She watched him go, standing there, alone on the lawn. She waited until he was out of sight before she turned back to the house. With her father gone, the whole place felt much more... ominous.

She's still your mom, his words echoed in her head.

"I don't know about that," Lenore grumbled as she headed towards the house.

Back in the foyer, she was surprised to find her mother had disappeared. Lenore did a quick look around—checking the kitchen, dining room, and parlour, which was back to its usual state as a proper living room—but her mother was nowhere to be found.

Lenore scoffed. Why had her mother dragged her all the way to this stupid town if she was just going to screw off somewhere? "So much for trying," Lenore grumbled as she headed up the stairs. She paused on the second step as she realized she should take her bags with her, but as she turned back for them, she noticed they were gone, too.

Had her mother taken them up for her? Packed with all her worldly belongings, the bags had been heavy—it'd be no easy task to haul them up the old, steep stairs.

For the first time in a long time, Lenore felt a pang of something other than hatred for her mother. It felt foreign, but it made her chest tighten up. She cleared her throat, did her best to shrug it off, and continued up the stairs. As she climbed, the photos watched her with their stiff, portrait-day smiles. She scowled back at them as if that might make them drop their grins and avert their eyes before rushing past.

As she reached the second-floor landing, there was a flash of movement. Her heart stuttered, and she turned, expecting to have found her mother. But it was just herself, staring out from a sliver of silver. A reflection caught in an old full-length mirror. It had long been fixed to the hallway wall, almost as old as the house itself—another quirk of the place she'd forgotten. For some reason, it had been draped in cloth, hidden from view, except for that tiny sliver from which her own face stared back at her.

Her silvery twin mimicked her frown, accentuating the little divot that had become an almost permanent fixture between her brows in the last month. With her black hair and grey eyes, she looked very much like the other women in her family, though she couldn't help but notice that her long hair made her look more like her Aunt Alice—

"She's home," came a voice echoing down the stairs.

Lenore turned her head to where the stairs continued upwards to the attic. So that's where her mother had gone. She could hear her talking with someone like she was on the phone—and it sounded like she was irritated.

She's home. They had to be talking about her.

Was she already complaining about her being here?

Lenore swore under her breath and hurried down the hall. She didn't want to hear anymore.

She passed several doors—her grandmother's room, her aunt's room and what once was her parent's room and now just belonged to her mom—and then, finally, her own. It had been the same room she had as a kid.

It hadn't changed much since. The room was still painted bright teal, the old posters of her boy band crush were still pinned to the wall, and somebody had made her bed with her old purple chevron bedspread. The room was a moment, frozen in time.

She expected this old house was full of frozen moments.

She walked past the boxes and her luggage carefully placed just inside the door and went over to the big bay window that overlooked the backyard and the forest beyond. The forest's reds and golds now blended in with the rest of the trees, though its leaves were already half-gone. Out there, it looked peaceful and calm.

Inside, it was anything but. Lenore clenched her fists on the windowsill as she thought of the dreaded year ahead. The school. Her classmates. What they'd say. What they'd do. She didn't have a single friend in Eden...

But as she stared at the forest, at the path that wove between the trees, she thought of the boy she had met that day in the cemetery...

Victor.

Maybe he'd be her friend. He had been nice enough. Plus, he was new, so he couldn't have been poisoned against her by town gossip.

Not yet, at least.

Would you be Lenore's friend?