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The first day back at school after the adoption felt both ordinary and extraordinary. The morning routine played out the same way it always did—Mom dropped us off in front of the familiar brick building, Sam and Lily chattering excitedly about their classes as they hopped out of the car. The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp pavement and the distant aroma of the cafeteria's breakfast offerings. Kids streamed toward the entrance, bundled in jackets, their laughter and shouts creating a lively hum.

But inside me, everything felt different.

I wasn't just Emily anymore. I was Emily Blake.

The name felt new but right, like a fresh coat of paint on a house that had always been mine. It wasn't just a name, though—it was a tether, something firm in a world that had always felt unsteady beneath my feet. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, a lightness settled in my chest, as if I'd shed an invisible weight I hadn't realized I was carrying.

I practically floated up the school steps, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips. The bustling hallway, with its echo of slamming lockers and the overlapping voices of students swapping weekend stories, didn't feel overwhelming for once. Instead, it felt alive. Familiar. Mine.

"Emily Blake," I whispered under my breath, testing it out again, savoring how it sounded in the space around me.

The thought sent a spark of excitement through me, bubbling up so strongly that I couldn't help but beam as I made my way to my locker. A few classmates passed by with nods and waves, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like just another kid blending into the crowd. I felt seen.

"Hey, Emily!" a voice called.

I turned to see Sarah, one of the girls from my class, jogging up beside me. "I heard the news—your adoption! That's so awesome!"

My heart swelled at the warmth in her voice. "Thanks," I said, unable to keep the excitement from creeping into my own.

"So, does that mean you have, like, siblings now?" she asked, glancing toward Sam and Lily, who were already disappearing into the crowd.

"Yeah," I said, feeling the word settle deep in my bones. "Yeah, it does."

It felt good to say it out loud. It felt even better to believe it.

Emily!

Jasmine's voice rang out from down the hallway, cutting through the morning chaos like a burst of sunshine. I barely had time to turn before she was weaving through the crowd, her dark curls bouncing as she hurried toward me, her bright smile making everything around her seem warmer. Behind her, Mia trailed at a slower pace, her arms stacked high with books, balancing them carefully like they might topple at any moment.

"Hey!" I called, my own grin breaking free before I could stop it.

Jasmine wasted no time pulling me into a quick but tight hug, squeezing my shoulders before stepping back, her eyes shining with excitement. "Okay, spill—how was it? The adoption, I mean. You're officially a Blake now, right?"

"Yeah," I said, the word still feeling brand new, still filling me up in a way I wasn't sure I could explain. "It was amazing. They even made lasagna and chocolate cake to celebrate."

Jasmine clasped her hands together like she'd just heard the best news in the world. "Lasagna and chocolate cake? Emily, that's how you know you've made it. That's, like, the ultimate welcome-home meal."

"Sounds perfect," Mia added, shifting her books to one side so she could adjust the strap of her bag. Her voice was quieter than Jasmine's, but no less genuine. "Congrats, Emily."

Something about hearing them say it—really say it—made it feel even more real. It wasn't just something happening inside of me anymore. Other people saw it. Other people knew.

I let out a breath, one I hadn't realized I was holding, and smiled. "Thanks."

The three of us fell into step together, slipping into the steady current of students moving toward their lockers. The usual morning rush of clanging metal doors, hurried footsteps, and overlapping voices faded into the background as we talked about the break. Jasmine animatedly described her family's road trip to Florida, complete with an unfortunate incident where her little brother got carsick in the middle of a gas station parking lot. Mia, ever the bookworm, had spent most of the break curled up with a new fantasy series, her excitement barely contained as she recounted the plot.

And me? I told them about home. About how Sam and Lily had bickered over who got the last piece of cake. About how Mom had smiled at me across the dinner table like I'd always been hers.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of the day, I took one last glance around the hallway, taking in the lockers, the posters curling at the edges, the kids rushing to their classrooms. Everything looked the same as it always had.

And yet, everything had changed.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving. The cafeteria was as loud as ever, filled with the usual chaotic symphony of trays clattering, sneakers squeaking against the tile, and dozens of overlapping conversations. The air smelled like reheated pizza and something vaguely resembling mashed potatoes. I grabbed my tray and followed Jasmine and Mia to our usual table, weaving through the crowded space.

As we sat down, my gaze landed on something different.

Lexi was behind the lunch counter, wearing an apron and plastic gloves, her expression unreadable as she scooped mashed potatoes onto students' trays.

Lunch duty.

It was part of her punishment for the bathroom fight weeks ago. I hadn't thought about it much since then, but now, seeing her there, I felt something odd—like the balance of power was shifting, but I wasn't sure in which direction.

Jasmine nudged me, following my gaze. "Told you. She's been doing this all week."

"Has she said anything?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Mia shook her head. "Not much, just 'next' and 'what do you want.' But she hasn't given anyone attitude, so... maybe she's learning her lesson."

I glanced at Lexi again. She wasn't miserable, but she wasn't her usual smug self either. Instead, she looked... neutral. Like she was just going through the motions—no smirks, no side comments, nothing. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

I was still processing that when a familiar voice cut through the cafeteria noise like a blade.

"Well, look who it is—our favorite little identity crisis."

My stomach clenched before I even turned.

Trevor.

He strolled past our table, his tray in one hand, his other shoved in his hoodie pocket, his smirk curling at the edges like he was waiting for a reaction. His voice carried, making sure people around us heard.

"You enjoying your free lunch, Emily?" he said, drawing out my name with mock sweetness. "Oh wait, is it Ethan today? Or something else? How's that work, anyway?"

Jasmine immediately sat up straighter. "Trevor, shut up."

Mia wasn't far behind, shooting him a glare. "Seriously, just leave her alone."

Trevor ignored them completely. His eyes locked on me, like a predator circling prey.

"So, what do your foster parents call you? Do they have to check a calendar to see who you're pretending to be today?" He chuckled to himself. "Bet that's fun. Probably took you in for the tax break. I mean, they have to be desperate, right?"

The words stung, sharp and deep, even though I told myself they shouldn't. The way he said it—like I was some kind of burden, like I was just some weird charity case—made my throat tighten.

Jasmine stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. "You better—"

Trevor barely looked at her. "What, Jasmine? You gonna fight me? Yeah, right. You two always playing bodyguards for Emily? Why do you even bother?"

Mia looked like she wanted to throw something at him. "Because she's our friend, you jerk!"

Trevor scoffed. "Friend? Man, you guys really must be desperate, too."

A few nearby students had stopped talking, watching the scene unfold, some whispering to each other. I could feel my face burning, my hands clenched into fists in my lap. I wanted to say something, to shut him up, to prove he wasn't getting to me—but I couldn't. My throat was too tight, my thoughts spiraling too fast.

Then, out of nowhere—

BANG.

A tray slammed onto the counter, hard enough to rattle the silverware. The sound cut through the cafeteria like a crack of thunder.

Lexi.

She stood behind the counter, her blue eyes locked onto Trevor with an expression so sharp it could cut glass. Her gloved hands were balled into fists, her apron streaked with mashed potatoes and gravy.

"Seriously, Trevor?" Her voice rang out, loud and clear. "You're still doing this?"

Trevor turned to her, momentarily caught off guard. "What's it to you?"

Lexi crossed her arms, her stance solid, unflinching. "It's pathetic. You've been running your mouth for months, and for what? What do you even get out of this?"

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't tell me you actually care about—"

Lexi cut him off. "You sound like a total loser, dude. Like, actually. Emily's not a foster kid anymore. She got adopted. And guess what? Her family doesn't need a calendar to figure out who she is. They just accept her."

A ripple of whispers spread across the nearby tables. I felt my breath hitch, my heart pounding.

Trevor's smirk faltered—just slightly, but it was there. He looked around, like he was realizing people were watching. Listening.

Lexi tilted her head. "You know what's really funny? You act like Emily's the weird one, but you're the one obsessed with what she does. Like, seriously, Trevor. Find a new hobby."

A few students snickered. Jasmine crossed her arms, smirking. Mia exhaled a quiet oh, wow.

Trevor's face darkened. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say more, but then he noticed the way people were staring, waiting to see how he'd respond. Lexi wasn't flinching. Neither were Jasmine and Mia.

Trevor huffed, grabbing his tray with a jerky movement. "Whatever," he muttered, stalking off toward the back of the cafeteria.

Slowly, the noise resumed. Conversations picked back up, and students turned back to their own meals. But I just sat there, staring at my tray, my pulse still pounding.

Lexi had just stood up for me.

I turned to look at her, half expecting some sarcastic remark, but she was already back to serving food, acting like nothing had happened.

Jasmine finally sat back down, exhaling sharply. "Okay. That was... unexpected."

Mia smirked slightly, shaking her head. "Guess Lexi's finally had enough of Trevor's nonsense."

I didn't say anything right away. Instead, I just let my breath even out, the tightness in my chest easing.

Lexi had once been part of the bullying. And now, she was the one standing between me and Trevor.

Maybe people really could change. Well, Mia did.

Now I didn't feel like I was fighting this battle alone.

The rest of the school day passed quickly after that, but something about it felt different. Lighter. Maybe it was because I had Lexi's unexpected support during lunch. Maybe it was just the fact that I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder for Trevor to ambush me.

Either way, for the first time in a long time...

I could breathe in school.

Mom was already waiting in the car when I walked out of the building. The cold air stung my cheeks, biting through my jacket as I hurried across the parking lot. My backpack felt heavier than usual—not because of books, but because of everything rattling around in my head.

I climbed inside the car, pulling the door shut behind me. The familiar scent of Mom's lavender-scented air freshener mixed with the lingering warmth from the heater.

"How was your day?" she asked, adjusting the heat dial. The vents whirred to life, blasting warmth onto my frozen hands.

I hesitated, rubbing my palms together. The memory of Lexi slamming her tray down, shutting Trevor up in front of everyone, replayed in my mind. It still didn't feel real.

"It was... good," I said slowly. "Kind of surprising, actually."

She glanced at me as she eased the car out of the parking lot. "Surprising how?"

I stared out the window, watching students scatter across the sidewalks, their breath forming little clouds in the crisp afternoon air.

"Lexi stood up for me today. Against Trevor."

Mom's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Lexi? The same Lexi who used to give you trouble?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She called Trevor pathetic and shut him down in front of everyone." I shook my head, still processing it. "I don't know. It just felt weird."

Mom turned onto the main road, her hands steady on the wheel. "Weird how?"

I let out a slow breath, watching it fade into the air. "Like... I don't know if I can trust it. Or if she's just trying to make herself look better."

The thought had been gnawing at me ever since lunch. Lexi had humiliated me before—laughed along with Trevor, made snide comments. Was this just another game? A way to clear her name now that she was on cafeteria duty and stuck serving food to the same kids she used to torment?

Mom didn't answer right away. She was like that—she never rushed to fill silence. Instead, she turned down a quieter road lined with bare trees, their branches stretching up like spindly fingers toward the sky. The golden light of the setting sun flickered through them, casting shifting shadows across the dashboard.

Finally, she said, "Sometimes people surprise us. They mess up, but they also grow. Maybe Lexi is trying to do better."

I bit my lip, fidgeting with a loose thread on my sleeve.

"Maybe," I mumbled.

But I wasn't sure I believed it.

Because I knew what it was like to want to believe someone had changed, only for them to prove they hadn't. I'd learned that lesson before.

Mom must have sensed my uncertainty because she didn't push it. She didn't tell me to trust Lexi or say I had to forgive her. She just let the conversation settle, like a book left open on a table, waiting to be picked up later.

I appreciated that.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway, the house's porch light flickered on, casting a warm glow over the snow-dusted steps. Before I even had time to unbuckle my seatbelt, the front door burst open.

"Emily! You're back! Guess what?"

Lily's voice rang through the chilly evening air as she bounded into the hallway, her cheeks flushed pink from the warmth inside. She practically vibrated with excitement, a piece of cardboard clutched in her mittened hands.

I laughed, shaking off my coat and stomping the snow from my boots. "What?"

She held up the sign proudly, her grin stretching ear to ear. "I made a new sign for the snow castle!"

The cardboard was covered in bright, messy markers, Emily's Kingdom scrawled across the front in big, colorful letters. The edges were a little crinkled, and there was a faint smudge where she must've leaned her hand against the ink before it dried, but to me, it was perfect.

I grinned. "That's amazing."

"Sam helped me spell it right," she added, her eyes shining with pride. "I almost wrote 'K-I-N-G-D-U-M,' but he fixed it."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Good thing you had a royal advisor."

"Wanna go outside and put it up?" she asked, bouncing on her toes like she could barely contain her energy.

I hesitated, glancing at Mom. She was setting her purse down on the counter, already shrugging off her coat.

"Can I?" I asked.

Mom smiled. "Go ahead. Just don't stay out too long—it's getting colder."

Lily didn't wait for another word. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me toward the door. The cold hit me instantly, sharp and crisp, but Lily didn't seem to notice. She was already charging through the yard, the fresh snow crunching under her boots.

The snow castle stood in the middle of the yard, its walls slightly lopsided but still standing strong. The afternoon sun had hardened parts of it into smooth, icy patches, while other areas were soft and powdery. The towers, carefully molded from upside-down buckets, gave the whole thing an official, almost regal look.

Lily stopped in front of it, holding up the sign triumphantly. "Where should we put it?"

I stepped closer, brushing my gloved fingers over the uneven snow wall. "Right here," I decided, pointing to the front where it could be seen from the porch.

Lily grinned. "Perfect."

She pressed the bottom edge of the cardboard into the snow, packing extra handfuls around it to hold it in place. The sign wobbled a little but stayed put.

"There," she said proudly, stepping back to admire her work. "Now everyone knows it's your kingdom."

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. "Our kingdom."

Lily giggled, leaning into me. "Yeah. Our kingdom."

The cold bit at my cheeks, but I didn't care. The glow from the porch light made the snow sparkle, and for a moment, everything felt warm, even in the freezing air.

Mom called from the doorway, her voice carrying through the night. "Alright, you two! Get inside before you turn into icicles!"

Lily huffed dramatically but didn't argue. "Fine," she said, trudging back toward the house. "But the royal castle better still be standing tomorrow."

I laughed, glancing back at the sign one last time before following her inside.

Emily's Kingdom.

For the first time, it really felt like one.

The snow had been packed hard from all the playing we'd done over the last few days, the surface uneven with footprints, handprints, and the marks of fallen snow angels. The castle still stood tall—a little lopsided in places, some of the towers slightly worn down from the wind, but still holding strong against the winter cold.

Lily crouched in front of the entrance, carefully wedging the sign into the packed snow. Her mittens were dusted white, and her breath came in little puffs of steam as she pressed the cardboard in place.

She stepped back, tilting her head to check if it was straight, then nodded in satisfaction. "There!" she declared. "Now everyone knows this is your castle."

I stared at the sign—Emily's Kingdom—the letters bold and colorful against the stark whiteness of the snow. Something warm curled in my chest, spreading through me like the heat from a fireplace after coming in from the cold.

"My castle, huh?" I murmured, running a gloved hand along the icy walls.

Lily nodded firmly, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Yep! Because you're really part of the family now. And that means you get your own kingdom."

Her voice was so sure, so matter-of-fact, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

The words settled deep inside me, like snowflakes falling and melting into my skin.

A family. A home.

A kingdom—even if it was just a silly snow fort in the middle of our yard.

I blinked against the cold, swallowing against the sudden tightness in my throat.

"Thanks, Lily," I said softly, the words carrying more weight than she probably realized.

She beamed up at me. "Come on! We gotta make sure the walls don't fall down!"

Before I could answer, she was already scooping up fresh snow, reinforcing the base of one of the towers. Her energy was contagious, and for once, I didn't feel like standing back and watching.

I belonged here.

With my family. In my kingdom.