All the girls were gathered in the living room. Trella stood in front of them, arms crossed, a whiteboard behind her, her expression unusually severe.

“Girls, this is serious,” she said. “We need a plan. Two weeks, girls. Two weeks!”

“Finally,” Samira said brightly. “I can blow something up without detention!”

Michelle smiled. “You’re always blowing things up, Cherry Bomb…”

“Only when she’s not sleeping,” Anya added dryly.

“Girls, concentrate!” Trella snapped.

She stepped aside, revealing the whiteboard. Across the top, in massive block letters, it read: SPRING BREAK MISSION PLAN.

“Ground rules,” Trella continued. “ We can’t spend the whole two weeks hiding here. Suggestions?”

Aya shot her hand up like an overexcited kindergartener. “Forest camp! Rope swings, paintball, survival games—boom!”

“‘Boom’ is not a survival skill,” Trella replied flatly.

Aya grinned. “Depends on survival…”

Michelle leaned forward. “I mean… camping actually sounds fun. I’ve never really done it before.”

That earned her looks from half the room.

“You’ve never been camping?” Talia asked. “What kind of childhood did you have?”

“The CIA kind,” Michelle replied, rolling her eyes.

Katya raised a finger. “City. Shopping. Clothes. A normal teenager thing.”

“A normal teenager thing?” Anya said. “Katya, you wear black hoodies year-round. You hate shopping.”

“I like shopping for weapons,” Katya corrected, without humor.

Liza had climbed onto the armrest of the couch, waving her notebook like a manifesto. “Prank Olympics! We make teams. One week prank battles. Loser cooks breakfast.”

“Denied,” Trella said instantly.

“Approved,” Aya countered, arms crossed.

“Denied!”

“Approved!”

Grinning, Liza slowly raised her notebook over her head like sacred scripture. “Motion carried.”

“Not carried,” Trella snapped, lunging for it.

The room dissolved into laughter as Aya held Trella back just long enough for Liza to scribble PRANK BATTLES onto the board, circling it three times. Michelle tried and failed not to laugh.

“You’re all impossible,” she said, shaking her head.

Trella finally gave up and flopped onto the couch. “Fine. But when Aya puts itching powder in your beds, don’t come crying to me.”

Aya’s eyes lit up. “Wait—that’s a great idea.”

“No!” half the room shouted in unison.

Michelle looked at the chaotic board, arrows and crossed-out ideas everywhere, and felt warmth bloom in her chest. This wasn’t planning a break. This was belonging.

“Well, you have fun with that,” Talia said. “Maya and I have other plans.”

“… Driving school,” Maya muttered, facepalming.

“Driving school?” Michelle asked. “Why? You’re the best drivers I know.”

“Maybe,” Talia said. “But our licenses are fake. We need to unfake them.”

“Yeah,” Maya added. “If the instructor survives.”

***

Both vans rolled into the shopping center. Trella guarded the budget like a general protecting supply lines. Michelle, for once, looked like a normal teenager—hoodie, sneakers, hair tied back. She stretched and breathed in.

Okay… this feels normal. I like this.

Normal lasted thirty seconds. Aya dragged Aiko and Samira toward a sports store. Anya hauled Katya toward cosmetics like a hostage. Trella muttered about sticking together before Mei-Ling pulled her into a bookshop. Amelie and Liza beelined for a gaming store. Talia and Maya headed outside to the parking lot, where their instructor was waiting for them.

That left Michelle awkwardly standing there alone with her dad, who was trying and failing to blend in. He looked so out of place — agent posture, scanning every passerby, grim face. The only thing missing was a giant neon sign saying: government dad on duty.

“You don’t have to look like you’re on a stakeout, Dad,” Michelle said.

“This many teenagers in one place is a nightmare,” Williams replied.

Milena appeared with coffee, handing one to him. “Relax, agent. It’s shopping, not Fallujah.”

“Feels about the same…”

***

In the parking lot, Mr. Greene started with his driving lessons. “Miss Graves, since you signed up first, you’ll start. Hands at ten and two.”

Talia nodded, adjusted everything perfectly, and drove smoothly.

“Yes, very good, very steady.” Mr. Greene began.

Talia suddenly tilts her head, hears a rattle under the dash. She stops and gets out without a word. Mr. Greene’s jaw drops as she pulls tools from her big pockets like it’s second nature. Within thirty seconds, she’s under the hood, tightening something.

“Loose bracket,” she said. “It would’ve shaken the whole time. Fixed.”

“Well. That’s… not… standard procedure, but fine. Good awareness.” Mr. Greene muttered.

Maya went next. 

“Now, Miss Cortez, let’s see you handle a simple lap around the lot. Remember—gentle with the accelerator—”

Maya slams the gas. Tires screech. The car fishtails slightly before straightening out. She’s grinning like it’s the best rollercoaster in the world.

“SLOW DOWN!”

“Relax, old man, I’ve been driving since I was eight!”

“That´s not comforting!”

Talia timed her. “Seventeen seconds. Improving.”

Mr. Greene emerged pale, scribbling notes:
Miss Graves: mechanically terrifying.
Miss Cortez: potential felon.

The street test on the next day was worse. They’re at an intersection, waiting for the light.

“Now, Miss Cortez, city traffic requires patience. No sudden moves, no aggressive lane changes, just—”

The light turns green. Maya launches like she’s drag racing. Cars honk as she weaves through like a maniac.

“You can’t overtake three cars in one intersection!” Mr. Greene screamed.

“Watch me.”

Talia with her arms folded in the backseat looks unimpressed. “Your lines are sloppy. You’re drifting half a meter off optimal trajectory.”

“I’m getting us there, aren’t I?”

“Where?! The emergency room?!” Mr. Greene replied, squeezing the clipboard like a rosary.

Then Talia took over. Mr. Greene was hopeful, but that didn´t last long.

“Okay, okay. That was… harrowing. But now we return to normal. Miss Graves, steady hands, cautious decisions. I know I can count on—”

Talia immediately floors it at the green light, eyes sharp, scanning mirrors like she’s back in a hot zone. She cuts across two lanes with surgical precision, threading between a delivery truck and a bus without hesitation. Tires squeal.

“The best tactic is decisive lane dominance.”

“DECISIVE WHAT?!” he yelled.

Talia doesn’t even blink, voice calm and technical like she’s explaining a computer circuit. Maya’s laughing her head off in the backseat, clapping like she’s at a stunt show.

“YES! That’s how you do it!”

“This… this is the end. I’m not going to retire.” he whispered.

***

Back at the orphanage, the girls are busy prepping snacks for the evening party. The kitchen looks like a warzone — flour on the counters, half-cut vegetables, Trella guarding the oven like a hawk. Aya is trying to sneak-test the chips. Michelle is scribbling a to-do list while half yelling at everyone. Liza is threatening to poison anyone who steals her cupcakes before they’re finished. Then, enter Williams. Sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He hesitates in the doorway like a man about to enter hostile territory.

“I smell smoke. Should I be worried?”

“No casualties yet,” Trella said.

And the chaos continued. Williams is trying to teach Amelie how to flip pancakes, only for her to overflip and stick one to the ceiling. Aiko chopping vegetables at blinding ninja speed until Williams has to physically grab her wrists. Liza is insisting her cupcakes are missing something and dumping hot sauce in while Williams nearly faints. Aya accidentally sets a towel on fire, prompting Williams to deadpan grab the extinguisher like he’s done this before.

***

In the meantime the driving lessons continue with a parallel parking exam. They pull up to a quiet street. Two cars are neatly parked with just enough space in between for one vehicle — the dreaded parallel parking test.

Mr. Greene straightened his tie and took a deep breath. “Miss Cortez, now… this is about finesse. Precision. Calmness. You line up… back slowly… turn the wheel gently… and glide into place. Understand?”

“Understood.” Maya replied with a wide grin, cracking her knuckles.

“This will be a massacre.” Talia muttered amused in the back seat.

Maya doesn’t even align properly. She slams the gear into reverse and rockets backward, overshooting the space entirely. Tires screech, the car ends up diagonal, halfway on the curb, bumper kissing a fire hydrant. Poor Mr Greene was in full panic mode.

“STOP! STOP! OH LORD, STOP!”

“Nailed it.” Maya stated proudly.

“You… you mounted the sidewalk!”

“Tactical advantage. Higher ground.”

Talia facepalms in the backseat, shaking her head. Then they swapped seats. Mr. Greene looks hopeful.

“Miss Graves, please… just follow the book.”

Talia nods, calculating. She lines the car perfectly, eyes narrowing like she’s solving an engineering puzzle. Then she reverses with surgical precision, but… at about 25 mph. The car screeches into the spot so hard the tires smoke, perfectly aligned between the two vehicles with less than 2 centimeters on each side.

“…That… that was perfect.”

“Acceptable margin. Optimal time: 3.2 seconds.”

“Show-off.” Maya countered leaning over the seat and smirking.

Talia smirks back just slightly.

***

Back at the orphanage the mess starts to settle down and surprisingly, the result isn’t half bad. A big table full of snacks, chaotic but edible. Everyone’s a little proud. Even Williams.

“Not bad, old man.” Aya praises with a grin. “Maybe you are useful after all.”

“Careful. I might start charging for cooking lessons.”

“ Well at least we have everything prepared, showtime!”

“Not yet, we´re missing someone,” Michelle said.

Aya looks out of the window. “Not anymore!”

Aya notices the familiar beat-up sedan pulling up outside. The car door creaks open. Mr. Greene, pale as chalk, staggers out like he’s just survived a hurricane. His hands were trembling, he was muttering something about seatbelts being optional in hell. Maya hops out casually, tossing the keys in the air like she’s just parked a Formula 1 car. Talia’s right behind her, humming cheerfully, wiping a grease smudge off her hands. Aya goes to greet them.

“Rough day at the office, Mr. Greene?”

“...never… again.”

“Aw, come on. You’re making progress. The first step is accepting death as a possibility.”

Greene stumbles past Aya, clutching the car door for dear life and gets in the car. Aya leans down, voice dropping low, her grin wicked. “See you next year. It’ll be my turn.”

Greene freezes. The color drains even further from his face. He makes a strangled sound somewhere between a whimper and a prayer before hurrying off like his life depends on it. Aya straightens up, laughing to herself, and strolls back inside to help with the party prep.

By evening the orphanage was transformed into a party zone. Streamers, a hodgepodge of neon lights scavenged from who-knows-where and Aya has set up massive speakers that could probably rattle windows three blocks away. Trella, naturally, was trying to keep order. She had drawn up a party schedule pinned to the fridge: snacks at 19:00, music rotation at 20:00, games at 21:00. Nobody was following it.

“Schedules are for funerals!” Aya shouted.

Trella just gritted her teeth. “You can’t just—ugh. Fine. But when this turns into chaos, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Michelle also loosens up, dancing with Anya and Amelie until Katya films it on her phone and Michelle immediately threatens to hack every device in the house if that video ever leaks. Liza tries to spike the punch with something interesting. Milena catches her in the act, arms crossed, just one eyebrow raised. Liza freezes, then sheepishly swaps the vial of mystery green liquid for an extra scoop of sugar. Williams gets dragged into the kitchen again, cornered into taste-testing Aya’s experimental snack mix, which turns out to be three bags of chips dumped into a pot and microwaved with hot sauce. He nearly dies, Milena saves him with water and Aya declares it a success. Maya showed up, staying aloof at first, leaning against the wall like the rebel she is, until Trella pulls her onto the dance floor, and suddenly it’s a mini dance battle, Maya vs Aya. The others chant like it’s a prize fight. At some point, Aya cranks up the volume, lights go crazy and the party spirals into exactly the chaos Trella predicted. But instead of scolding them, Trella just sighs… and smiles.

The music finally died down around 2 AM. The living room looked like a battlefield. Empty soda cans, chip crumbs, paper cups everywhere. Aya has passed out half under the table, one arm still reaching for the snack bowl. Trella, who had fought tooth and nail to enforce order at the start, was now lying flat on her back in the middle of the carpet laughing quietly to herself. She danced until her legs gave out. Michelle was curled up on the couch, laptop closed, smiling faintly in her sleep. Katya and Anya had claimed beanbags like snipers finding cover. Amelie was asleep on top of both of them, snoring lightly. Liza had somehow dragged a blanket over herself and the punch bowl. Williams was still awake, sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee. Milena stood beside him, sipping tea, both surveying the wreckage.

“They needed this,” Williams said quietly.

“More than they’d admit,” Milena replied.

They shared a rare, quiet moment. Not comrades in chaos control, not agents or operatives, just two adults watching a pack of kids sleep peacefully for once. Aya stirred under the table, blinking blearily. She spotted Williams still awake.

“Hey… old man… Best party ever.”

“Yeah,” Williams muttered. “Best party ever.”

***

Sunlight streamed into the kitchen, far too bright for some of the girls. The smell of frying eggs and toast drifted through the orphanage. At the stove stood a bizarrely efficient duo: Williams in an apron that said Kiss the Cook and Milena wielding a frying pan like she was performing battlefield surgery.

Williams was grimacing at scrambled eggs. “This doesn’t look right…”

“You need to loosen up.”

“ I am loose.”

“Yeah… Loose like concrete.”

Trella entered the kitchen, hair a mess, still in pajamas and voice groggy. “Is the building on fire or are you just cooking?”

“Breakfast.” Milena answered.

“So… both”. And she slumped into a chair.

Aya stumbled in, wearing sunglasses indoors, holding her head dramatically. “Shut the sun off. It’s too loud.”

“That’s not how the sun works.” Williams answered without looking up.

Katya and Anya shuffled in silently, sat down side by side like synchronized zombies. Liza was still dragging the blanket she slept under, yawning. She blinked and without a word, took the last piece of bacon straight from the pan.

“Hey! That was for—”

“Let her. It’s self-preservation.”

Just when Williams thought he had things under control, Maya casually strolled in with a fresh box of donuts. The table erupted into chaos. Half the girls were lunging for donuts. Trella was yelling about discipline and order at the table while holding three donuts herself. Williams just sat down, rubbed his face, and muttered. “Next time, we order pizza…”

“Now you’re learning.” Milena replied sipping coffee.