The last moving box hit the floor with a dull thud. Meret Novak leaned against the wall of her room, arms crossed and stared at the pile of boxes labeled in her mom’s neat handwriting: Meret’s Clothes, Meret’s Books, Meret’s Things.
It didn’t feel like her things. The new house didn’t feel like her house. It wasn’t the first time they’d moved, but this one stung more than the others. Leaving behind friends—well, acquaintances—and a familiar school was hard enough. Now she had to start over in a place where everyone seemed to belong to a higher league.
“Vermillion Academy is an opportunity,” her mom had said, her tone optimistic, as always. “You’ll meet amazing people, learn incredible things.”
Meret wasn’t so sure. A prestigious school like Vermillion wasn’t built for people like her. Not athletic. Not popular. Not gifted, by anyone’s standards. She tugged at the hem of her oversized hoodie and let out a sigh. At least her siblings seemed unfazed.
“Meret!” her mom’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Come help unpack the kitchen!”
With one last glance at the boxes that had taken over her life, she trudged downstairs, passing Nico’s room. His soccer cleats were already in the corner, a ball resting against the wall, and his music blared from his phone, vibrating the floorboards.
“You’re not even trying to unpack?” she asked, leaning in the doorway.
Nico, thirteen, practically bouncing with energy, barely looked up. “I did unpack.” He waved a hand at the row of trophies and medals that practically screamed “future professional soccer player.”
“You dumped your bag and set up your shrine to yourself,” Meret quipped.
Nico grinned. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. Want me to teach you some moves? You might even be able to get to Maeve’s level before school starts.”
“No thanks,” I said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need soccer to be popular.”
“Popular? You?” Nico laughed from the depths of his superior teenage wisdom.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Meret waved it off, heading to the kitchen. Her mom was unwrapping plates while Maeve, her eleven-year-old sister, sat at the counter, sketching on her tablet. Maeve’s messy ponytail bobbed as she tilted her head, utterly absorbed in her digital artwork.
“Meret, take these to the dining room,” her mom said, handing her a stack of plates.
Maeve glanced up, offering a barely perceptible smirk. “Don’t drop them.”
Meret shot back, “I’ll try to be as graceful as you were when you tripped on the front step earlier.”
Maeve scowled but didn’t respond. Meret carried the plates to the half-assembled dining table in the next room, where her dad was on the floor, wrestling with a wrench and pretending to make progress on the table.
“This house is going to look great,” he said, half to himself.
Meret placed the plates on the sideboard and walked to the porch. She needed air.
The late summer sun was setting, casting the street in golden light. Meret sank onto the porch steps, watching the stillness of the suburban neighborhood. Identical houses lined the road, their manicured lawns and trimmed hedges perfectly uniform. It felt like stepping into a postcard where nothing ever happened.
The faint sound of a ball hitting pavement caught her attention. Across the street, Nico was juggling his soccer ball, keeping it in the air with practiced ease.
“You’re going to wear yourself out,” she called.
He grinned, calling back, “I’m building stamina. You should try it.”
“I’ll pass.”
Maeve zipped past him on her scooter, her tablet miraculously balanced under one arm.
“Mom said no tablets outside!” Meret shouted.
“I’m not on it!” Maeve yelled back, disappearing around the corner, her voice carrying the same rebellious tone she always used when it came to following rules.
Meret shook her head. Nico and Maeve never seemed to stop moving. Always forward, always energetic. She envied that. For her, every step felt like a question mark. What was she supposed to do in this new place, in this new life?
The sun dipped lower; casting longer shadows across the street. Meret decided a walk would clear her head. She pulled on her sneakers and let her feet guide her through the quiet neighborhood. The streets were peaceful, the occasional chirp of crickets the only sound breaking the silence.
As she rounded the corner, a small park came into view. She wandered toward the swings, the chains creaking in the breeze as she sat down. She leaned back and let herself sway gently, letting her mind drift.
Memories of past summers flooded her mind: hanging out with classmates she never quite fit in with, watching from the sidelines as others shone in ways she couldn’t. She’d always been ordinary, no matter how hard she tried.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint roar of an engine. She looked up just in time to see a sleek, black car speeding down the street that bordered the park, far too fast for a residential area.
Meret frowned, stepping off the swing. The car wasn’t slowing, and up ahead, Maeve had just rolled into view on her scooter.
“Maeve!” Meret shouted, her voice breaking as the panic surged through her.
Maeve turned, startled, her eyes wide with confusion. Then she froze like a deer in headlights.
Without thinking, Meret sprinted toward her, adrenaline surging through her veins. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching impossibly long as the car barreled closer. Meret’s heart pounded, her legs burning as she closed the distance.
She reached Maeve and shoved her out of the way just as the car veered toward the curb, its tires screeching in protest.
The impact came before she could react—a sickening force that sent her sprawling. Pain exploded through her body, and the world tilted wildly. She heard distant shouting, her brother’s panicked voice, but it all felt far away.
As the darkness closed in, Meret knew it was the end. Yet the only thing she could think to herself was, I never even got to play Marvel Rivals. Then, with a faint sigh, before she drifted out of consciousness, she thought, I guess I should have told my parents I loved them, too.
<3