The smell of something delicious hit Naya before she even opened the door. She flung her backpack onto the nearest chair like it owed her money.
"Hmmm... Mom, I'm home," she called, dragging out the "hmmm" like a tired soap opera actress.
From the kitchen, Mrs. Austin's voice floated back. "Oh, you're here! How was school?"
"It was..." Naya paused dramatically. "It was emotionally exhausting. Also, I tripped up the stairs. Again."
Mrs. Austin didn't respond to that. Some traumas were better left alone.
"Where's Dad?" Naya asked, dropping herself onto the couch like a melting pancake.
"He'll be here soon," her mother replied.
Right on cue, the door creaked open.
Like a superhero whose only power was giving warm hugs, Mr. Austin stepped into the house. Naya shot up and ran to him.
"Dad! I missed you," she said, squeezing him like a human teddy bear.
"Look at my pretty little girl," Mr. Austin beamed.
Naya narrowed her eyes, trying her best to look offended.
"Okay," she said, pointing a dramatic finger at him, "I'll let you call me that just for today. But tomorrow, I'm a fierce independent woman again."
They all laughed—one of those deep, full-belly family laughs that made the walls feel warmer.
Mrs. Austin peeked out from the kitchen.
"Dinner's ready!"
They gathered at the table. Naya helped set it like a responsible adult (who only sometimes microwaved Pop-Tarts), and the three of them sat down to enjoy the meal. Thirty minutes, four empty plates, and a suspiciously licked spoon later, Naya got up to wash the dishes.
Just as she was drying her hands, ready to disappear into the comfort of her blanket burrito, her mother called out again.
"Naya, can you spare us a minute?"
Naya froze.
That was never a good sign. No one ever said 'can you spare us a minute' before telling you you'd won the lottery.
"Uh... okay?" she replied, slowly making her way to the living room like someone walking into an intervention.
She plopped onto the couch, facing her parents like she was about to defend herself in court.
Mrs. Austin took a breath. "Naya, your dad and I are being temporarily transferred to Africa to help treat homeless children."
Naya blinked. "Okay... and?"
Mr. Austin leaned forward, clearly trying to look gentle and not like he was about to drop a plot twist.
"We think you should come with us."
Naya stared.
"...Huh?"
"It's just for a year," her mom added quickly.
Naya threw her head back dramatically. "Is that why you two have been acting weird? Mom, you're always treating me like I'm five! You guys should go. I'll be fine! And if you're worried I'll burn the house down, I can stay at Nora's place."
Mrs. Austin blinked. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
Silence.
Mr. Austin, forever the diplomat, cleared his throat. "Okay, you can stay at Nora's place. But on one condition."
"Let me guess," Naya said, raising an eyebrow. "I have to swear a blood oath of loyalty?"
"No," he chuckled. "Just call us every day. No ghosting your parents."
"Deal!" Naya said, already mentally planning her freedom like it was a Netflix series.
Mrs. Austin still looked troubled. But Mr. Austin gave her a reassuring look—the kind that said she'll be okay and also I know we forgot to pack.
Mrs. Austin sighed. "I'll call Nora's mom to confirm if you can stay."
"Thanks, Mom! So... when are you guys leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
Naya choked on air. "TOMORROW?! Have you even packed?"
"No," Mrs. Austin said, as if that was a totally normal answer.
Naya flailed