CHAPTER 99: DECISION

Thea was alone.

the door was closed, a thin piece of wood that felt like the only thing separating her from a world she did not understand, and the permission slip in her hand was a paper-thin declaration of war against her own fear.

’a trip, with other kids, for a week.’

the thought was a physical weight in her stomach, a cold, heavy stone of pure dread; her mind immediately supplied the images, the whispers in the hallway, the pitying looks, the way the other students would move away from her at the lunch table. she was a ghost, a pariah, a black cloud of misery, and this was an invitation to go haunt a mountain resort.

she wanted to rip it into a hundred pieces, an act of self-preservation.

but her eyes drifted to the desk. the new sketchbook, with its thick, heavy paper. the tin box of drawing pencils. the shirt with the little blue jay on the pocket, folded neatly on her chair.

he had not just bought her things. he had paid attention.

’he noticed I liked birds.’

it was a small, insignificant detail, but it was a detail that belonged to her, not to the tragedy that had become her life; it was a kindness that was not born of pity, but of observation. he saw a person, not just a problem.

the permission slip felt different in her hand now. it was not just a piece of paper. it was a choice, a terrifying, impossible choice between the safety of her quiet misery and the terrifying possibility of something else.

something that might not be miserable at all.

---

kofi was in his room, staring at his own permission slip on his desk.

’I am an idiot.’

he had pushed her, he was sure of it; he had dropped this massive, life-altering decision in her lap and then just walked away.

’what if she says no? what if this just makes her feel worse? like I’m forcing her to be normal when her life is anything but?’

his own life felt like a fragile, complicated machine he was trying to operate without a manual, and he had just added another person’s broken machine to the workshop. the weight of it, the sheer, crushing responsibility of her well-being, was a physical presence in the room.

he was tired. so incredibly tired.

---

the next morning was a repeat of the first, a quiet, fragile truce. she was already up when he left his room, a glass of water on the table in front of her.

"...good morning."

"morning."

he grabbed a granola bar from the counter, not because he was hungry, but because the ritual of it felt normal. he was about to leave when she spoke again, her voice so quiet he almost missed it.

"...thank you. for breakfast."

he just nodded, a small smile on his face, and then he was out the door.

---

Nina was waiting at their corner, her arms crossed, her expression one of impatient curiosity. she had the look of someone who had been waiting for the next Chapter of a very interesting book.

"so?" she asked, falling into step beside him the second he arrived. "did she say yes? is operation mountain rescue a go?"

kofi shook his head, "I don’t know. she’s still thinking about it."

"you gave her a choice," nina said, a statement of fact. "that’s more than anyone else has given her in a long time. but you know she’s not going to take it, right? she’s too scared."

’she’s right. she’s probably right.’ he thought.

"she’s a scared cat in a room full of dogs," nina continued, her tone blunt but not unkind. "she’s not going to just walk out the door because you opened it for her. you’re gonna have to show her it’s safe outside."

"and how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don’t know, dumbass," she bumped his shoulder. "that’s your department. you’re the one she trusts. but you better figure it out soon. the forms are due wednesday."

they walked the rest of the way in a thoughtful silence, the unasked question hanging between them.

that afternoon, after school, kofi walked back to his apartment, the weight of the unsolved problem heavy on his shoulders.

he unlocked the door and stepped inside. the apartment was quiet. he walked past the living room and toward the kitchen.

and then he saw it.

on the dining table, placed squarely in the center, were two items.

the first was the permission slip for the school trip, the bottom portion filled out in a neat, slightly shaky handwriting.

the second was the crisp bill the woman from the park had given her. it was placed right next to the permission slip, a silent, stubborn offering. her contribution.

kofi just stood there, staring at the table.

a slow, quiet smile spread across his face.

she had made her choice.

the sight of the signed permission slip and the single, stubborn bill on the table was a quiet victory, a fragile signal that something had shifted, and it was enough to make the weight on kofi’s shoulders feel a little less heavy.

he picked up the form, his thumb brushing over her neat, careful signature.

’she said yes.’

he put the form in his bag, a sense of relief washing over him, but he left the money on the table; he was not going to take it. it was a matter of principle.

---

the next morning, wednesday, was the deadline. the pressure was on.

he found nina at their corner, and her first question was the only one that mattered.

"so? what’s the verdict?"

he just smiled, a small, triumphant look on his face. "she’s in."

nina’s eyes went wide, her bored morning expression replaced by a look of genuine surprise, and then a slow, impressed grin.

"no way. for real? how did you pull that off?"

"I didn’t do anything," he said, which was mostly true. "she just... decided."

"huh," nina just shook her head, a mix of awe and amusement in her eyes. "so you’re telling me your plan of ’do nothing and hope for the best’ actually worked? I am so stealing that for my next test."

they walked to school, and the energy between them was light, optimistic. for the first time in a while, it felt like they might actually win.

the first task was the doctor.

kofi went to the office during his free period, the two permission slips in his hand. he was not nervous. he was on a mission.

the doctor looked up from his paperwork when kofi walked in, his expression tired but not unkind.

"kofi. what can I do for you?"

he walked over to the desk and placed the two forms on the blotter. "I need a signature."

the doctor picked up thea’s form, his eyes scanning the page, and then he looked at kofi, one eyebrow raised.

"the school trip. you think this is a good idea?"

"I think it’s a better idea than leaving her alone in my apartment for three days while everyone else is gone," kofi said, his voice even.

the doctor was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the paper. he tapped his pen on the desk, a rhythmic, thoughtful sound.

"you’re right," he said finally. he picked up his pen and, without another word, signed his name on the line marked ’parent/guardian’. the ink was dark and official.

"the hospital will cover her trip fee," he added, pushing the form back across the desk. "we’ll list it as a ’therapeutic recreational activity’. my report to cps will note that she is integrating well with her peers."

kofi just nodded, taking the form. "thank you, doctor."

"don’t thank me," the doctor said, already turning back to his paperwork. "just make sure she has a good time. god knows the kid deserves one."

---

the money and the signatures were handled. the easy part was over.

now came the hard part: thea.

that afternoon, kofi found her in the living room. she was sitting on the couch, the new sketchbook open in her lap, a pencil moving slowly across the page. she was so focused she didn’t even hear him come in.

he stood there for a moment, just watching her. her hair fell across her face, and her brow was furrowed in concentration. she was drawing a bird. a sparrow, maybe, perched on a branch. it was good. really good. the lines were delicate and sure, and she had captured the small, alert energy of the bird perfectly.

he cleared his throat.

she jumped, her head snapping up, and she immediately closed the sketchbook, hiding the drawing from view.

"sorry," he said. "I didn’t mean to sneak up on you."

she just shook her head, clutching the sketchbook to her chest.

"I, uh, I got the forms turned in," he said, deciding to just get it over with. "the trip is all paid for. you’re officially going."

her expression was unreadable. she did not look happy. she did not look sad. she just looked... still.

"okay."

"so we need to pack," he continued, trying to inject some normal, human enthusiasm into his voice. "the trip is on friday. you’ll need clothes for hiking, and a swimsuit if you want to go in the lake. and a jacket. it gets cold in the mountains at night."

she just nodded, her eyes fixed on a point on the wall just past his shoulder.

’this is not going to work. she’s going to hate it. she’s going to be miserable and surrounded by people and it’s all my fault.’

"hey," he said, his voice softer now. "are you okay with this? for real? because if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. we can just stay here. I’ll tell them you got sick."

she finally looked at him, her eyes wide and full of a quiet, desperate uncertainty.

"I... I don’t know," she whispered. "I’ve never... been on a trip before."

he just looked at her, at this fourteen-year-old girl who had never been on a school trip, who had never seen the mountains, who had probably never had a single day that was just about fun.

"I’ll be there," he said. "the whole time. and nina will be there, too. you won’t be alone."

it was a simple promise, but it was the only one he could make.

she was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edge of her sketchbook.

"...what kind of birds are in the mountains?"

the question caught him completely off guard.

"I... I don’t know," he stammered. "eagles, maybe? hawks?"

a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

"okay," she whispered. "I’ll go."