The crickets quietly chirped in the bushes lining your backyard fence, headlights from a car passing by occasionally flashing through your curtains. You were currently sprawled across your bed, already in pajamas and half-ready for bed as you flipped through a magazine you had picked up from your mailbox earlier today. Your house was nearly silent— your family already asleep for the night— though your room was still well lit by the lamp on your bedside table.

Today seemed like it had dragged on for hours. School was more boring than usual, with your substitute science teacher droning on and on about a topic the class had already learned since they mixed up the lesson plan left by your teacher the day before. Lunch in the cafeteria seemed downright atrocious, though it’s not like you had much of an appetite with the way the PE class seemed to forget deodorant and showers existed before they came into the cafeteria. By the end of soccer practice after school, you were ready to fall into bed.

Van wasn’t having a much better day either. She practically had to yell at her mom to wake her up earlier that day, considering she was still passed out on the sofa from the night before. She had managed to get her awake enough to give her a ride, slipping into her seat in first period a few minutes before the bell rang. Her classes were fine— slow— but not terrible. Practice at the end of the way was what got her mind off of her situation at home. She got to see her friends and train with her team instead of thinking about everything else going on.

When she had gotten home that afternoon— sweaty and ready to sleep— she showered and decided to hang out in her room, considering her mom was out who knows where. These days, she seemed to think that her kid was self sufficient enough to the point of her not having to raise her. When her mom stepped back from being a parent, Van obviously became more independent. Still, it wasn’t like she didn’t need her at times.

It was now nearing eleven, and you tossed the magazine onto your desk. You made sure your bag was packed and your outfit was picked out for the next day, then slipped under the covers. As you switched off the lamp beside your bed and you settled your head against the pillows, you heard a small click against your window. You opened your eyes— hearing nothing for a moment— then rolled over. A few seconds later, your heard a louder thunk against the glass.

Sitting up, you kneeled on the bed by your window sill, pushing back the curtains. Squinting into the dark as you opened the window, you spotted someone standing in your yard. The person shot you a small sheepish grin, dropping the remaining pebbles she held. It had sort of become routine for Van to come over some nights when she didn’t want to be at her own house, and each time you let her in.

She waited until you motioned for her to come up, and she quietly climbed up the trellis beside the side of the house. Crouching as she walked across the roof, she slipped into your window, balancing on the sill. You could tell she had been thinking this over for a while— she had probably already done her homework and reorganized her movie collection— as she didn’t like to bother you too late in the night.

“Hey, thanks. You sure it’s okay? I didn’t know if you were already asleep or something.”