“Harmony?”
Mara Duquette stepped out from behind the welcome desk. She was in her late thirties, tall, steady, with soft brown hair she always kept clipped back. She wore a faded “Community Center Outreach” hoodie and the same calm expression that had soothed a hundred kids before me. But when she saw my face, she paused.
“Hey,” she said gently. “Haven’t seen you around in a few days. Everything all right?”
I nodded too quickly. “Just tired.”
She didn’t push. She never pushed. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. The teens have been asking about you all week.”
I smiled, despite the knot in my stomach. “I’ll head in.”
“Take your time,” she said, her voice warm. “And if you need to step out or talk later, you let me know. You don’t have to carry the world alone.”
Her kindness almost undid me. In the rec room, Ethan spotted me first. Seventeen, all elbows and energy, he grinned like I hadn’t vanished for a few days.
“You’re alive!” he announced. “Kayla said you were abducted by aliens. Mateo thought you were auditioning for a secret government hacker job.”
Mateo rolled his eyes. “That was a joke.”
Kayla elbowed him. “Barely.”
I laughed. It felt good, like breathing fresh air after being locked underground.
Janelle, twenty and perpetually unimpressed, crossed her arms. “If you’re here, you’re helping with the canvas prep.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mouth twitched with a smile.
The next hour passed in a comforting rhythm of painting, teasing, music humming low from someone’s phone. These teens didn’t know the details of my past, not really, but they understood survival. They understood growing up with the ground shifting under your feet. That was enough. For a while, it was easy to forget the thistle, the message, the photo taken from the shadows. But when I stepped into the supply hallway with a box of brushes, something stopped me cold. The side door that was always locked, always checked, had a faint drag mark across the metal near the handle. Not a smear this time. A thin scrape. Like someone had tested a tool against it.
Not breaking in.
Just… testing. It was messed up I knew these things, that I was taught how to think like a thief, a criminal. My pulse jumped.
Mara’s voice floated from the lobby. “Harmony? Everything okay?”
I forced my voice to stay steady. “Yeah. Just grabbing supplies.”
But my hand shook around the box. Back in the art room, Ethan waved a dripping paintbrush. “Harmony, we’re having a crisis. Janelle says my mountain looks like a dying potato.”
“It does,” Janelle said.
“It does not!” Ethan frowned.
I smiled weakly. “I’ll be right there.”
For the next forty-five minutes, I lost myself in color-blending, jokes, and the soft hum of belonging. But every so often my gaze drifted toward the hallway. Toward that door.
And every so often, Mara watched me with quiet concern.
By the time we wrapped up, my nerves were stretched thin. The teens filed out in groups, backpacks slung over shoulders, calling goodbyes.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?” Kayla asked.
“That’s the plan.” I hoped it was true.
After the room emptied, Mara walked me toward the entrance. “You sure you’re all right?”
