This is Life Pal

It had never been this quiet in the past few years. Well, not continuously quiet-just in moments. Let me remember: yes, it had been quiet when she finished elementary school, and again after her first four years of high school. Those were milestones, moments of calm before the next storm of life swept her forward. Now, after a long stretch of uncertainty, the quiet was back. But this time, it felt different. Heavier.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock. The results of her final exams were due today. Those results would determine everything-whether she'd get into Evergreen University, whether she'd fulfill her parents' dreams for her, whether she'd finally step into the future she'd been working toward.

She hadn't slept well. How could she? All night, her thoughts had spiraled. What if I didn't do well enough? What if I let everyone down? What if I'm not ready for this? The questions looped endlessly, keeping her awake long after Beth and Benji had drifted off to sleep in their rooms down the hall. Even now, in the early morning light, the weight of those "what ifs" pressed down on her chest.

She glanced at her desk, where her laptop sat closed, waiting to deliver the news. Took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Today was the day. The quiet wouldn't last much longer.

A knock on the door. Sharp and impatient.

"Jordan, will you stay there forever?" her mom called from the other side.

Jordan sighed, dragging herself off the bed. "Good morning, Mom."

"We need your student ID number, Jordan," her mom said, her voice clipped.

"My number? I thought you guys had it," Jordan replied, leaning against the door.

"Oh, yes, darling, we had it. You gave it to us, right? I must be crazy to ask for it now, right, darling?" Her mom's tone was laced with sarcasm.

Jordan rolled her eyes but stayed silent.

The doorknob rattled. "Open this door, Jordan. I don't have all day. I need your student ID number now," her mom said, her voice firm and no-nonsense.

"What if I lost it, Mom? I can't seem to find it anywhere," Jordan said, playing for time.

Her mom breathed sharply. "Jordan, you're testing my patience. Open this door now."

Jordan scratched her brow, hesitating. She didn't want to get on her mom's bad side, especially not that morning. Reluctantly, she unlocked the door.

"Mom," she flashed a smile-the kind you'd recognize instantly, sweet but slightly mischievous.

Her mom mirrored the smile, though hers was tighter, more strained. "You finally opened the door, darling. That's nice of you." She barged inside, her eyes scanning the room. "Now, where is it?"

Jordan kept the smile plastered on her face.

"Don't give me that smile, darling. I'm not liking it," her mom said, though the corners of her own lips twitched. Like mother like daughter.

"There's this wise saying, Mom," Jordan said, still smiling. "As thou wouldst that men should do to thee, do ye also to them likewise."

Her mom's smile faded, replaced by a stern expression. Jordan looked down, unable to meet her mom's gaze.

"Miss Jordan Carter," her mom said, stepping closer. "By the time I'm back, make sure you've put your act together. If not..."

She turned to leave, but Jordan couldn't resist. "If not?"

Her mom paused, glancing over her shoulder with a look that could freeze water.

"I understand, Mom," Jordan said quickly, her voice small.

"Good."

Jordan let out a huge sigh as her mom left the room. Mom can be scary sometimes. I wish she were more like Dad.

She walked to the window, watching as her mom climbed into a waiting taxi. The car pulled away, and Jordan finally felt like she could breathe again. She made her bed, fixed her hair, and changed into a pair of jeans.

Why haven't I heard these brats yet? she wondered, glancing toward the door. Guess they're-

The sound of shattering glass cut through the silence.

"Benji, I told you to get your own glass. Now look at what you've done!" Beth's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.

Benji stood amidst the shards of glass, his arms crossed defiantly. "What have I done? It's all your doing! I saw the glass first."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, I held it first, not you. Actions are better than observations."

"That's unfair! You're even saying it wrong," Benji protested, his face scrunching up in frustration.

Beth stepped closer, towering over him with a smirk. "Then tell me how it should be."

"Actions are better than words," Benji said, enunciating each word as if speaking to a toddler.

Beth laughed, ruffling his hair. "Little brother, I'm sorry, but I'm such a genius that now I'm making my own words."

"Genius? You call that genius? Genius, my foot, Beth!" Benji shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

Beth's smirk widened. "You mole, you'd better show some respect. I'm years older than you."

"Mole? How dare you call me-"

"A mole?" Beth interrupted, her tone dripping with mockery. "You look like one, that's why. Didn't Mom tell you?"

Oh, it had never even once crossed their Mom's mind.

Benji's face turned red, and he breathed heavily, trying to hold back tears. "Shut up, Beth! I look like Daddy!"

He really did look like his dad-dark brown eyes that always seemed full of curiosity, and messy, dark hair that never quite stayed in place. His face had the same strong jaw, even if it wasn't as sharp as his dad's yet, and sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he could see the grown-up version of himself. He was still too young to understand everything about his dad, but he could see little pieces of him in the way he smiled or the way he walked, like a preview of who he might grow up to be.

Beth burst into laughter. "A mole thinks he looks like Daddy."

Benji's lip quivered, and he wiped at his eyes. "Big sis..."

"Go on, mole. Call your big sis," Beth teased, clearly enjoying herself.

"Yes, I will! Big sis is always nice to me, unlike you," Benji said, his voice trembling as he wiped his tears. "And if I'm a mole, you are-"

"I'm what?" Beth challenged, leaning in closer.

"You are-"

"I'm what? Say it if you dare."

Benji hesitated, then muttered, "You are my sister."

"Bravo," Jordan said, stepping into the room with a slow clap. "You did great, Benji."

Benji's face lit up, and he ran to Jordan, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"It's always nice to treat others in a good way, even though they don't," she said. "For not calling your sister names, I award you a candy."

Benji's eyes sparkled. " Thanks Jordan."

Beth tried to storm away.

"Stop there Beth, we need to talk."

Beth froze mid-step, her shoulders tense. She turned slowly, her face a mix of defiance and guilt. "What's there to talk about? He's the one who started it," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Jordan raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but firm. "Beth, you know better than to call your brother names. It doesn't matter who started it. What matters is how you choose to respond."

Beth rolled her eyes but didn't argue further. She shuffled her feet, avoiding Jordan's gaze. Benji, still clutching his candy, peeked out from behind Jordan. "I'm sorry, Beth," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

Beth's expression softened, though she tried to hide it. "Whatever," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its earlier edge. She glanced at Benji, then at Jordan, before sighing. "Fine. I'm sorry too, okay?"

"That's more like it," said Jordan. "How about we all go inside and share that candy? I think there's enough for everyone."

Benji's face lit up. "Really? Can we, Beth?"

Beth hesitated, then shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I guess. But only if I get the biggest piece."

"Hey, no fair!" Benji protested, but he was grinning now too.

These two were a handful, sure, but they were her handful. Her little siblings. The ones who broke her things, ate her snacks, and somehow always managed to drag her into their silly arguments. But they were also the ones who made her laugh when she was stressed, who hugged her tightly when she was sad, and who looked up to her like she hung the moon.

The school bell rang at 8:15 sharp. Locker doors slammed, sneakers squeaked across polished floors, and half-awake teens shuffled into Room 214, where Hannah Carter stood scribbling the day's topic on the board.

UNIT 1: The Real History of America

"Where do we come from, really?"

She turned, facing a room full of yawns and sleepy stares.

"Okay," she said, clapping her hands once. "Let's wake those brains up. Today, we're looking at America's beginning. But-not the sugarcoated version. The actual one."

A few heads perked up. A couple kids smirked, sensing she wasn't about to hand them a textbook recap.

"So," she went on, "before this was America... who was here?"

"Native Americans," Noah said, arms crossed. "Obviously."

"Right. But we don't talk enough about how big that was. Hundreds of tribes. Cultures. Languages. All wiped out or pushed off their own land when colonizers showed up."

Olivia raised her hand, then didn't wait to be called on. "Why do we even call it discovering America if people were already here?"

Sierra jumped in. "For real. That's like me walking into your house and going, 'Wow, I discovered this place.'"

The class laughed.

Hannah smiled, even as her fingers massaged a dull pressure building between her eyebrows.

"It's good you're noticing that. Words matter. 'Discovery' sounds noble. But this wasn't a treasure hunt. It was a takeover."

Devon leaned back in his chair, chewing on his pen cap. "So then how did we go from that to now? Like, how do we just draw borders and say 'this land is ours now'? How is that fair?"

"It's not," Hannah said. "But power doesn't wait for fairness."

Olivia nodded. "And then we act like those lines-borders-are natural. Like they were always there."

Noah raised a brow. "But without borders, don't we just have chaos?"

"Or maybe connection," Sierra said. "Like... maybe we weren't supposed to live boxed in."

That sparked something.

"Okay, but-what about illegal immigration then?" Devon said. "Should people just come and go as they want?"

Bianca shot back, "Shouldn't they? I mean, most of us are here because our ancestors showed up uninvited. So who are we to draw the line now?"

"Because now we have laws," Noah said.

"Yeah, laws built on stolen land," Sierra muttered.

The room simmered. A debate was unfolding now, unscripted and loud enough to carry into the hallway if the door hadn't been shut.

"And what about leadership?" Olivia asked suddenly. "Like, who makes these decisions? The president just decides stuff-like pulling aid from countries, or deporting families-and that's it?"

"Some of them act like they don't even care," Bianca added. "Like they're completely numb."

"Did you guys watch Strangers from Hell?" Olivia said. "That K-drama? They said like 1 in 5 CEOs are psychopaths. No empathy, no guilt-just focused on control."

Hannah blinked at that. The word psychopath echoed louder than she expected.

Devon snorted. "So... we're ruled by psychopaths?"

"Not all of them," Hannah said. "But power does attract certain personalities. People who can make cold decisions. No hesitation."

"Like pulling out of treaties or rebuilding cities our weapons helped destroy?" Sierra asked.

"Exactly."

"They don't care," Olivia said. "It's like they don't even see the people affected."

The room felt tight now-filled with a kind of tense honesty. A discussion that had drifted from history into something deeper, rawer.

Hannah could feel the heat behind her eyes now, and the pounding in her skull grew harder to ignore.

She lifted her hand again.

"Alright. I love the passion. I do. But let's pull back for a second."

The class fell quiet.

"You're not wrong to ask these questions. You're growing up in a world that doesn't always make sense. But don't let the chaos push you to hopelessness. History's job isn't to fix things-it's to teach us how we got here. You're the ones who get to decide what happens next."

She reached for her desk, steadying herself.

"I want you to keep thinking. Keep questioning. Just remember... real change starts small. It starts in rooms like this one."

For a moment, they just sat with that.

Then Bianca, from the third row, tilted her head. "Miss Carter?"

Hannah looked up, blinking slowly.

"You okay? You've been kinda holding your head the whole time."

"Oh." She smiled, but it was faint. "It's just a headache. I'm alright."

The bell rang, but the sound didn't quite land right in her ears.

Students grabbed backpacks and phones, still buzzing about their unexpected debate. But Hannah didn't move right away. She waited until the last student left before she let out a slow breath and sat down.

She had told them it was just a headache. And maybe that's what she believed, too. But deep beneath the ache and behind her tired eyes... something else had started.

Something she couldn't see yet.

Something that would change everything.

It was a quiet evening at home. Hannah stood by the window, her eyes scanning the empty street outside. Her kids- all three of them- had gone out as they always did. Jordan had taken the two, Benjamin and Bethany for a walk, and that was a rare moment of peace for their mother. She loved the silence when the house was empty, the way it allowed her to think, to breathe. It was a time to focus, to gather her thoughts for a moment before the chaos of family life returned.

She scrolled through her WhatsApp contacts until she found Honey. With a soft sigh, she tapped the call button and leaned against the counter.

The kids were still out, and she hadn't heard from them in a while. The street outside remained empty.

When the call connected, she heard the familiar sound of Stanley's voice, though it sounded more distant than usual.

"Hi, Hannah," he said. The tone was polite but lacking the warmth she was used to. She had always been babe or sweetheart to him-those simple names that had once meant everything. But now, it was just Hannah. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the call.

"Hey, honey," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "How's everything going?"

"Busy. Really busy," Stanley replied quickly, as if trying to brush off her question. "Work's been... crazy."

Hannah nodded, her eyes moving to the front door. Still no sign of the kids. She wasn't sure if she wanted them back just yet. It was hard to explain, but she enjoyed the space-just a few minutes of peace before everything shifted back to reality.

"I miss you, you know," she said softly, the words slipping out more easily than she expected. "The kids miss you, too."

"I miss them too," Stanley replied. His voice softened, but there was a strange hesitation. "It's just... I've been working a lot."

Hannah felt a slight twinge in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. Work-it was always work. The same excuse, over and over. But she'd never pushed him. Not really.

"I've been trying to call you the past few weeks," she said, her voice a little tighter now. "You never pick up. I was starting to get worried."

"I know, I'm sorry about that," he said quickly, almost apologetic. "It's just that... the places I've been, there's no signal. And you know how it is, I can't exactly make calls from where I am."

Hannah nodded, even though she didn't quite believe him. She had heard that excuse more times than she could count, and it didn't quite add up. But she kept her frustration at bay, willing herself to remain calm. Not now. Not this evening.

"Okay," she said, her voice quieter now. "Next time, can we switch to a video call? The kids really want to see you. Jordan especially. She's been asking about you a lot."

Stanley hesitated, and the silence between them stretched just a bit too long.

"The area I'm in right now... it doesn't really support video calls," he finally said, almost too quickly. "But I promise, next time. I'll make sure of it."

She heard his words, but the doubt was already creeping in. How many next times had there been? And how many of them had never come?

"I know," she said, trying to hide the frustration in her voice. "I just... I don't want the kids to feel like you're slipping away, Stan. You're their dad. They need to see you, even if it's just on a screen."

His tone softened, but it still felt distant. "I'll make more of an effort, okay? I promise. I know family comes first."

Hannah's fingers tightened around the phone. She forced a smile. Family comes first. That was the phrase. But the way he said it, like a promise that always seemed to fade away... It didn't sit well with her.

She glanced back at the door, still no sign of the kids. Maybe they were on the way back. Maybe it was just the silence that made her feel uneasy.

"How are you?" he asked, the question sounding more genuine now. "How's work? The kids?"

"They're fine. Busy. Teaching, you know," she said, trying to sound casual. "But, honestly, Jordan... she's been struggling a bit. She talks about you all the time. And Bethany... she's been acting out more than usual. They miss you, Stan. They need you here."

"I know, I know..." He trailed off. "I miss them too, you know? It's just... hard to get away right now."

Hannah let the silence linger for a moment, thinking about the words she wanted to say. This wasn't just about him being busy. This was about something bigger. Something that had been building for weeks now.

"They need you, Stan," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I need you, too. You keep saying you'll make an effort, but... when? When is that going to happen? When are you going to actually be here for your family?"

"I will," he said quickly. "I swear. I'll make it up to you. I'll make more of an effort. I just need a little more time."

Before she could reply, there was a faint sound in the background. A woman's voice. It was low, but clear enough for Hannah to catch the words: Love, we'll be late.

Hannah's heart skipped a beat. Who was that?

"Is someone there?" she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

"No, no, it's just some workmates," he replied quickly. "Don't worry about it."

But Hannah's stomach twisted. The voice sounded too close. Too familiar. Her mind raced. Who was that? Why was she calling him that?

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

"I'm joining a meeting soon," he said, his tone shifting as if he was eager to end the conversation. "I'll try to make it up to you when I get the chance, okay? I promise. Talk soon."

Hannah's breath caught in her throat. He was already rushing her off the phone. She wasn't done yet. There were things she still needed to say. Things that had been eating away at her.

"I'm not finished yet," she said, her voice sharp. "What about Bethany? She-"

"I have to go, Hannah," he interrupted, cutting her off. "I'm in a meeting. Talk later. Love you all."

The line went dead before she could say another word. The screen went blank, and the silence of the room pressed in on her, heavy and suffocating.

Hannah stood there, staring at the phone in her hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the weight of the conversation pressed down on her. She had called him. She had reached out. But he had cut her off. Again.

"Meeting?" she muttered to herself. "Is it really that important?"

But there was no answer. No one was there.