Zora

"Are you ready?" 

Olivia's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts as she adjusted one of the last boxes on her hip, looking at me with her usual mix of concern and determination. I blinked, tearing my gaze from the empty living room—the room that used to hold laughter, family dinners, and the sound of my mom humming while sorting mail at the counter.

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice sounding more certain than I felt.

I picked up the last box, my fingers curling tightly around the cardboard edges. This box wasn't particularly heavy, but it felt like I was carrying the weight of my entire past. Memories sat nestled inside, waiting for me to unpack them. Photos, keepsakes, pieces of my family that I wasn't ready to let go of but couldn't leave behind either.

I turned one last time to the empty house, the hollowness echoing in my chest. A deep breath did little to steady me as I quietly closed the door. It felt final—like I was locking away a part of myself I could never revisit.

I paused at the threshold, my hand lingering on the doorknob. Behind me, the silence felt loud. The worn floorboards, the faded couch, the patches of sun on the walls. It was as if the house still held my family's laughter, their conversations, their lives.

I exhaled and pulled the door closed. A part of me felt like I was leaving them behind, but I knew there was no other choice.

Three months ago, in June, my world shattered.

It was supposed to be a normal day. My parents and sister were on their way to visit me at NYU, where I'd been taking summer classes to catch up after an unfocused freshman year. I wasn't home for summer break, figuring I'd stay on campus to get ahead. The university was only an hour away from Pleasantville.

They were fifteen minutes out. Then thirty. I remember pacing, my phone clutched in my hand as I called my mom, my dad, and Ashley. No answer.

The call came an hour later. The stranger's voice on the other end was calm, and sterile, telling me there had been an accident. My dad and Ashley died at the scene. My mom held on for three days.

Three days.

After the funeral, the house—once loud and full—became a tomb. My extended family offered their support in half-hearted words and empty casseroles before they disappeared back into their own lives. I stopped returning their calls. It was Olivia—Liv—who refused to leave me alone. She stayed. She talked me through the dark days, helped me pack, helped me plan, and when I couldn't handle it anymore, she made the decision I couldn't.

"Come with me to Vermont, Z. You don't have to do this alone."

I wasn't sure what I expected when I agreed to transfer to UVM. A fresh start? A way to escape the grief? Or just something—anything—to keep me moving forward.

The boxes slid into the back of Liv's gray Kia Soul. I climbed into the passenger seat, watching the house fade from the rearview mirror as Liv started the engine.

"Hungry?" she asked, shooting me a look out of the corner of her eye.

I shook my head. "No, I'm okay."

Liv sighed. She didn't push. It had become a silent understanding between us. I hadn't been eating much lately. Grief stole my appetite, and even though Liv tried to nudge me back to normal, food felt like a low priority.

"You're going to love my roommates," she said, shifting gears to keep the conversation light. "Marie and Stevie. They're both art majors. Stevie's British and thinks she's cool because of it, and Marie collects white sneakers like they're going out of style. You'll see."

I smiled faintly, turning to stare out the window at the endless stretch of highway. Vermont felt so far from Pleasantville, from everything I knew. The weight of the move settled on my shoulders—new state, new school, new life.

"Zora?" Liv's voice broke through. I turned toward her, realizing I hadn't said a word in half an hour.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I'm excited to meet them."

Her expression softened. She reached over to squeeze my hand, grounding me in the moment.

"I know this is hard," she said quietly.

I swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. But I'll figure it out."

There was a beat of silence, and then I added, "Are you still going to that party tonight?"

Liv's face lit up. "Yes! Did you change your mind about coming?"

"Yeah, I think I'll go. It might be good to get out."

The truth was, I hadn't really been out in months. Liv had spent most of her fall break dragging me out of the house, trying to make me feel human again. I owed her for that and maybe tonight would help.

The drive stretched to nearly five hours. When Liv finally pulled into the driveway of a two-story house in Burlington, I exhaled in relief. The house was charming, with warm yellow siding and a little front porch that somehow looked welcoming. Two girls were already waiting at the front door.

"That's Stevie and Marie," Liv said, grinning as she grabbed a box.

"Hi, I'm Stevie," the taller one said as she jogged down the steps, extending her hand with a grin. Her British accent threw me for a loop even though Liv told me ahead of time.

"Zora," I replied, shaking her hand. Stevie was striking—tall, with green eyes and waist-length black hair streaked with dark blue. She was definitely not what I'd imagined.

"And I'm Marie," said the other girl, pulling me into a quick hug before I could protest. Marie was petite, with shoulder-length brown hair and an easy smile that made me feel instantly at ease.

"Let's get this stuff inside," Stevie said, grabbing another box and motioning me to follow.

The room Liv had prepared for me was small but cozy. It had everything I needed, a bed, a dresser, and a desk tucked neatly against the window. It was clear Liv had gone out of her way to make it feel like home.

"Need help unpacking?" Liv offered, leaning against the doorframe.

I shook my head. "No, I've got it. Thanks, though."

She nodded but didn't leave right away. "We're heading to the party around seven. You still good with that?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Cool. Just holler if you need me. I'm going to finish this painting I've been procrastinating on."

She disappeared, and I sank onto the bed, staring at the boxes surrounding me. 

How did I get here? 

How did everything change so much in three months?

I tackled the box marked "Family Photos" first, even though I knew it would hurt. The first picture I pulled out was from Ashley's high school graduation. Her arms wrapped around my parents, all three of them grinning. I had been taking the photo, cheering her on.

She had been accepted to NYU, planning to major in psychology. Her life had been just beginning when it was ripped away.

I set the photo gently on the dresser and unpacked the rest of the boxes slowly, piece by piece. When I finally checked the time, it was already six-thirty.

I got dressed for the party in a simple black corset top, boyfriend jeans, and matte black boots. My naturally curly hair went into a half-up, half-down style, and I finished with a quick swipe of mascara and concealer.

When I walked downstairs, Stevie whistled from her spot on the couch. "Look at you, new girl. You clean up nicely."

"Don't mind her," Marie said, rolling her eyes as she emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses. "Do you drink?"

"You know I do," Stevie chimed in.

"I know you do, alcoholic," Marie said as she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to me. "I meant Zora. Zora, do you drink?" 

"Yeah," I said with a small laugh.

"Perfect," she said, setting the glasses down.

"Liv, hurry up! Shots are waiting!" Stevie called.

Minutes later, Liv appeared, and we toasted. Four glasses clinked in the soft light of the living room.

"Here's to Zora's fresh start," Liv said, smiling warmly.

I downed the shot, wincing at the burn but grateful for the warmth it left behind. Maybe Vermont wouldn't be so bad after all.

✰✰✰✰✰

The frat house was already packed when we got there, and I immediately felt the warmth of too many bodies in one space. The bass-heavy music thudded through the floors, and the faint smell of sweat and cheap beer hung in the air. I had been to parties at NYU before, but this felt different—smaller, more intimate somehow, though no less chaotic.

"Welcome to your first Vermont party," Liv said, slipping her arm through mine as we walked inside. Stevie and Marie were already ahead of us, weaving through the crowd like they owned the place.

"Do these parties always smell like a high school locker room?" I asked.

"Usually," Liv replied, smirking. "Just wait until someone spills a beer on you. That's when the real fun starts."

"Great," I said dryly, earning a laugh from her.

We pushed deeper into the house, where the living room had been cleared of furniture to make room for what could only be described as the "dance floor." Lights flashed as people danced to whatever remix was blasting through the speakers. I watched the crowd for a moment, the swirl of faces, hands in the air, and carefree laughter.

"Want a drink?" Liv asked, already leading me toward the kitchen.

I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

The kitchen was no quieter, but it was at least less claustrophobic. A folding table had been set up in the middle, covered in an array of cheap liquor bottles, soda mixers, and a keg in the corner. Stevie was already there, perched on the counter and nursing a red Solo cup.

"Zora!" she called, holding her cup high. "You made it to the drink station!"

"She's drinking tonight, so be nice," Liv warned Stevie as she poured us both shots of vodka.

Stevie raised an eyebrow, grinning at me. "Oh, I'm always nice. I'll even toast to her fresh start—again."

"Cheers to fresh starts," Liv said, handing me a shot glass.

"Cheers," I echoed, clinking mine against theirs before tipping it back.

The vodka burned–again, but I welcomed the distraction, the way it took the edge off my nerves. Stevie handed me a soda chaser, and I gave her a small nod of thanks.

"Come dance with me!" Marie's voice called from the kitchen doorway. She had somehow found a sparkly cowboy hat and was already grabbing Liv's arm to drag her out.

"You coming?" Liv asked me, glancing over her shoulder.

"Maybe in a bit," I said.

"You're no fun!" she teased, but she didn't push.

Stevie hopped off the counter and joined them, leaving me standing in the kitchen alone. I poured myself a weak mix of soda and vodka, my fingers tapping nervously against the plastic cup as I took a sip.

I wandered back toward the main room, leaning against the wall to observe. People swayed to the music, couples leaned in close to shout into each other's ears or flirt openly. It was overwhelming but strangely comforting, too. Watching other people lose themselves in the moment made me feel less out of place.

"You look like someone dragged you here against your will."

I turned toward the voice and found a guy standing next to me. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy brown hair and a lazy smile. I didn't know him, but he wasn't threatening. He was just tipsy and chatty.

"Maybe they did," I replied, giving him a faint smirk.

He laughed. "Fair enough. I'm Marcus, by the way."

"Zora."

"You a freshman?" he asked.

"No. Sophomore. I just transferred."

"Ah, welcome to UVM," he said, lifting his drink. "Don't let these parties fool you, Vermont is way more boring than this."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Marcus seemed ready to keep the small talk going, but Stevie reappeared just in time, throwing her arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, Zora—sorry, dude, she's with me," Stevie said, pulling me away before I could even react.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she led me through the crowd.

"Saving you. He's nice, but he'll talk your ear off about football for hours and he's the ex of that girl over there and you don't want to mess with her," Stevie replied as she pointed to a girl across the room who was with a group of girls. "Come on, Marie and Liv are doing shots with some of the hockey girls. You should meet them."

An hour later, I found myself actually enjoying the night. Liv introduced me to a few of her friends, and I even talked hockey with one of the girls from the UVM team.

I danced with Marie and Liv for a while, laughing as Marie tried to teach Stevie some ridiculous dance, who failed miserably. The alcohol buzzed lightly in my system, taking the edge off my constant grief. It wasn't gone but was dulled for a while, and that felt like a small victory.

After some time, I slipped outside onto the porch for some air. The cool Vermont night was a sharp contrast to the heat inside, and I let myself breathe. The hum of music still floated through the walls, but it felt distant now.

I leaned against the railing, staring up at the stars. The last three months flashed through my mind like they always did, but tonight… tonight, it didn't feel as suffocating. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel completely alone.

"Hey, you good?"

Liv's voice broke into my thoughts, and I turned to see her leaning against the porch doorway.

"Yeah," I said, surprising myself. "I think I am."

She smiled, crossing over to stand next to me. "Told you coming here was a good idea."

I gave her a small nudge with my elbow. "Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head."

We stood there quietly for a moment, the cold air swirling around us, grounding me. Liv wrapped her arms around herself, but she didn't move to go back inside.

"You'll be okay here, Zora," she said softly.

I stared out into the night and let the words settle over me, hoping she was right.