The late April sun beat down mercilessly as Mik helped Alex set up their lemonade stand, the weathered wood of their father's old workbench repurposed for what they hoped would be a profitable venture. The smell of fresh-cut grass mingled with the sharp sweetness of the lemonade, creating a deceptively cheerful atmosphere that belied the desperation behind their fundraising efforts.
"Ice-cold lemonade!" Alex called out, his voice weaker than it had been last summer but still carrying that irrepressible spark of enthusiasm. "Help support my heart surgery!"
Mik winced at their brother's directness, but couldn't deny its effectiveness. People's faces would soften when they saw Alex, small and pale but smiling bravely behind the stand, his thin fingers wrapped around a plastic pitcher that seemed almost too heavy for him.
Next to the lemonade stand, Mik had set up a small display of their artwork. Cosmic scenes rendered in vibrant watercolors and precise pen strokes captured nebulae, spiral galaxies, and imagined alien worlds. Each piece was carefully mounted on black cardstock, making the colors seem to glow even brighter. A hand-lettered sign read "Original Space Art - All Proceeds Go to Alex's Heart Surgery Fund."
The tablet propped next to the pitcher displayed a QR code for donations, something Mik had insisted on setting up. "People carry less cash these days," they'd explained to their parents. "We need to make it as easy as possible for them to help."
After just an hour in the sun, Mik noticed the color draining from Alex's cheeks, the way his shoulders drooped ever so slightly. Their heart clenched at the sight.
"Maybe you should take a break," Mik suggested gently, placing a protective hand on Alex's shoulder. "You've been a huge help already."
"But I want to keep helping," Alex protested, though his voice wavered with fatigue. "It's my surgery we're saving for."
The simple honesty of his words hit Mik like a physical blow. No almost-eight-year-old should have to worry about raising money for their own medical care.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Inside, Mik could see their parents moving through the yard sale items spread across the lawn. Mom carefully wrapped a lamp in newspaper, her movements precise but her smile strained as she handed it to a customer. Dad demonstrated their old hoverboard to an interested teenager, his sales pitch carrying an edge of desperation that made Mik's chest ache.
Throughout the day, neighbors and strangers alike surprised them with their generosity. Many rounded up their purchases or added extra to their lemonade payments. Mik's artwork drew particular attention, with several people buying multiple pieces. Mrs. Henderson from down the street, who taught art at the local community college, spent several minutes studying Mik's rendering of the Horsehead Nebula.
"You have a real gift," she said, purchasing the piece along with two others. "The way you capture light and depth... it's remarkable. Have you considered selling prints online?" Some shared their own stories of medical struggles, offering words of encouragement along with their donations. Each act of kindness felt like a small light in the growing darkness of their situation.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across their emptying lawn, the family gathered around the kitchen table to count their earnings. The stack of bills and collection of digital receipts represented a day's worth of their combined hopes and fears.
"Six thousand, five hundred and twenty-three dollars and forty-seven cents," Dad announced, his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and lingering worry. The amount would have seemed enormous to Mik just a year ago. Now, measured against Alex's medical needs, it felt like a drop in an endless ocean.
Mom pulled both her children into a tight hug, her arms trembling slightly. "You two were amazing today," she whispered. "Every penny counts."
Later that night, as Mik got ready for bed, they noticed the growing hole in the toe of their sneaker. Instead of asking for new ones - a request that would have been reasonable in the before-times - they pulled out their art supplies. With careful strokes, they began sketching a galaxy design that would camouflage the wear and tear. It wasn't a permanent solution, but like so many things in their life now, it would have to do.
The shared tablet's screen glowed softly in the darkness as Mik composed a message to Cayde, their heart heavy with the weight of the day's events:
StarGazer101: The yard sale went better than expected, but it's still not enough. I feel so helpless. I wish there was more I could do to help Alex.
As they waited for a response, Mik's gaze drifted to their bedroom window, where the first stars of evening were beginning to appear. Somewhere out there, they thought, there had to be a solution, a way to help their brother. They just hadn't found it yet.
But they would. They had to.
For Alex.