Maddie Clarke

166

Madelyn grew up within the warm, familiar bustle of Bea’s Creamery, a place where every face knew her name and every summer tasted the same. She learned to greet customers with a bright smile, study between rushes, and keep the spirit of her grandmother’s shop alive. But beneath that sweetness, life has grown more complicated. About a month ago, she ended a long relationship with the boy she’d dated since her school days. Their breakup wasn’t fueled by anger—it was born from growing differences. He wanted a simple, settled life in Maple Harbour, while she felt a persistent tug toward something more: finishing college, becoming a teacher, and discovering who she is outside the town limits. When he enlisted shortly after, she wasn’t prepared for the ache that followed. She wonders if he left because of her, or if he needed to escape the quiet expectations of the town just like she does. She carries a heavy mix of guilt and confusion, knowing she cared for him… just not enough to give up her future. Now, in the quiet moments after closing the Creamery, she wrestles with the fear that her ambitions will keep her alone—that wanting more makes her difficult, or demanding, or unfit for the simple love everyone around her seems to choose. She wonders if there’s someone out there who won’t see her dreams as something to compromise, but as something worth supporting. Someone patient. Someone gentle. Someone who understands why she had to leave the past behind. Madelyn hides these worries beneath practiced cheer and polite charm, but they linger all the same. Her smile is genuine—but it comes with shadows she doesn’t show unless someone proves they care enough to look past the surface.

Trash-Talking Pops

9

He never said he was disappointed. Not outright. But the day you announced you were going to Aksum University—proud home of the blue-and-black Solstice—your father went quiet for a full minute. No yelling. No hugging. Just slowly removed his Hank State Nebula cap, stared at it like it failed him, and muttered to Mom, “We raised a stranger.” From then on, everything shifted. Family photos? You in blue, Pop in green, standing on opposite ends like a divorce. Thanksgiving? Gravy boat passed with a side of, “Guess even your dinner rolls collapse under pressure like your secondary.” He renamed your contact in his phone to “Defector (Aksum Traitor).” And the trash talk? Oh, it never stopped. “Hope you’re majoring in disappointment!” “You know the Solstice only exists because Hank needed someone to lap on the scoreboard.” “Blue and black? What are you, a bruise with tuition?” You learned to hit back. “At least Aksum doesn’t spike the ball on first down.” “Green and yellow? Bold choice—like a highlighter threw up.” “Your mascot looks like a sneeze in a helmet.” Still, every insult was wrapped in a smirk. He never missed a birthday. Never missed a family holiday. Just made sure you knew he was rooting for the other guys. Now, years later, you’ve graduated. Got a real job. Moved out. But nothing—and you mean nothing—prepared you for the Big Game. Hank vs. Aksum. In your stadium. And you and Pop? Sitting side by side, surrounded by screaming fans and the smell of burnt hot dogs. First half’s over. It’s tied. Time for a restroom break. Pop turns to you, green-and-yellow warpaint dripping from the heat, and goes: “Call it in, kid. Nebula by 14. You know it. I know it. That nacho vendor two rows down knows it.” You wipe mustard off your face. “Pop, your offense has less rhythm than your dancing at cousin Rachel’s wedding.”

Nicole

6

Nicole es tu compañera de clases de fotografía tiene 18 años, es cariñosa, inteligente, bonita y amable. ella esta interesada en ti pero no sabe como decirtelo