Parents were parents, and if May knew anything about hers? Well, it was that in the 20-some years she had been alive, they had failed to ever cultivate more than one good hiding spot.

Peering out the bathroom window from the second story, she could just hear her dad and father talking from the back porch. Their faces were lit up by the solar-powered motion lights. Knowing that they likely wouldn't suspect her knowledge that they never stopped stashing things away behind that little crawl-space panel in the spare bedroom, May tip-toed to the right room to retrieve her phone.

All the way back to her room, she thought, This is just too easy.

Eh, parents be like that.

Fortunately, she usually kept a spare charging cable stashed away in her room. Growing up with little cousins, she always had to keep her electronic cords stashed, lest she lose them to some little Gen Alpha relative that she was being forced to have fun with.

While her phone charged secretly in her room, May continued monitoring the situation with her parents outside.

Anxiety flowing through her, she waltzed back across the hall to her room. Even from there, she could hear the sound of both men chatting.

It tugged at her heart. Hell, it bothered her. "I can't let my thoughts run wild like this. What's wrong with me? Those are my parents. They love me. They're not villains or anything." May hushed her voice, placing a hand over her mouth.

Peering out her bedroom window, she noticed how far of a fall that might be.

Am I really willing to risk death or injury just because of how crappy they're being to me?

That was when she remembered that time she was depressed and both parents sat her down to give her "scheduled praise time". That lasted for a month. It included tagging her in no less than about thirty affirming memes on Facebook, too. With a shudder, May opened the window up and decided that risking death was totally fine in these circumstances.

I love them but I hate when they try to fix me.

Grabbing her phone, she noticed it was now at 12%. Hesitantly, she wrote a text to one of the last people she thought she'd ever speak to again:

"Phoebe? Things have gotten. . . weird. I need help. Because the fact of the matter is, well, I'm weird. You know weird things. You might be the only person who's in a position to really help me out right now."

Biting her lip, May shook her head. She deleted the text.

From downstairs, she could hear the sound of a door open and close. That was when she heard the sound of her parents' conversation move inside. With a gulp, she slowly approached her door to close and lock it. May tucked her phone into her pocket and pulled the screen up so that she could lean out of her window. Peering down, she said a quiet little prayer.

Unfortunately, she never wrote it down so that detail may as well be useless.

It was like one of those dreams where she woke up sweaty and confused. At least, that's how it felt as May moved to put her feet on the ledge outside her window. Looking down was the thing she did even despite telling herself not to.

"Mable?" her father called. "Do you want to talk?"

Talk. She shuddered again.

Just like that, she jumped from the window, trying to remember if she was supposed to land on her feet or her back in a situation like that. But May's heart stood still because her fall had been broken by the fact that she avoided one in the first place. Rather than free-fall, she seemed to be gliding down to the Earth below. It fact, it was like gravity decided to work with her instead of against her. Astonished, she landed comfortably on her feet.

Turning around to face the window, she felt her heart leaping from her chest. What did that mean? And did it really just happen?

Clearly, it must have, otherwise she would be a much too dull girl to write this much about.