Chapter 1 — The Most Normal Girl Alive
1063 Words
Georgina Parker woke up to the same crisis she faced every morning:
her hair.
Her curls — tight spirals, loose waves, and reckless ringlets — had never once cooperated with her. Not at age seven. Not at twelve. And certainly not now at seventeen, when all she wanted was to look halfway decent because Mateo Luis would be picking her up for school in twenty minutes.
She glared at her reflection like it had personally betrayed her.
Her tan skin glowed softly in the morning sun, and her eyes were bright and alert — a miracle, considering she definitely fell asleep scrolling through videos for two hours last night. She had gotten the perfect mix of her parents: her mom’s warm complexion and wild curls, her dad’s soft features and wide smile… but today none of that mattered.
Because her curls?
They were rebelling.
Badly.
She tried water.
She tried gel.
She tried the “finger coil” thing her mom swore by.
She tried ignoring it — her usual tactic.
And yet the curls poofed out in chaotic confidence, screaming, We do what we want.
She sighed deeply, accepting defeat.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Be free. Terrorize the world. I’m too tired to fight.”
With far more hair than dignity, she threw on jeans, her favorite oversized hoodie, and grabbed her backpack just as her phone buzzed.
Mateo: Outside. Don’t make me honk.
Her stomach flipped — like every morning.
Mateo Luis had lived next door to her since they were four. He knew every version of her: the awkward toothless kid, the braces era, the glitter-on-her-face middle school phase, and now this… older, confused, curly-haired situation. They were best friends — at least he said so.
But sometimes… sometimes she caught him looking at her too long.
Sometimes he smiled in a way that made her chest feel like a microwave was warming her from the inside.
Sometimes he said her name too softly for it to be “just friends.”
And then other times he treated her exactly the same way he always had — making it impossible to know if she was delusional or not.
Their friendship was a weird, confusing almost-something.
And Georgina hated how much she thought about it.
She rushed downstairs, curls bouncing wildly behind her.
The Parker house was always loud in the morning — loud with life, loud with siblings, loud with a sense of family that filled the walls and seeped into the floorboards.
Luke, fourteen and perpetually annoyed at existence, was standing over the toaster like it owed him money. He was tall, athletic, and in constant teenage-boy-hunger mode.
Justine, nine, wore her sparkly purple leotard even though school was today and dance was tomorrow. She practiced pirouettes between bites of toast.
Delaney, four, was sitting cross-legged on the floor talking to her stuffed bunny about the “impor-ant day” she was having, even though no one knew what day she thought it was.
Their mom moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, pouring juice, checking lunchboxes, humming softly. Their dad sat at the table reading the news on his phone, occasionally chiming in with gentle reminders like, “Shoes, Luke,” or “Don’t forget your jacket, Justine.”
They were a biracial patchwork of laughter and chaos — Mom’s deep brown skin, Dad’s light freckles, children scattered between. Perfectly blended. Perfectly ordinary.
Georgina grabbed a granola bar and tried to sneak out.
“Whoa, hold on,” Dad said without even looking up. “You’re not escaping without saying good morning.”
She groaned but leaned down to hug him. “Morning.”
Her mom pulled her into a tight squeeze next. “You look beautiful, baby.”
Georgina shot her a really look. “Mom, my hair literally tried to fight me today.”
“It’s got personality,” Mom said proudly.
“It’s got a vendetta,” Georgina corrected.
They all laughed — that warm, familiar Parker-family laugh that made even stressful mornings feel like home.
“Mateo’s waiting,” Georgina said, reaching for the door.
“Tell him I said hello,” Dad called.
“Tell him I said he should stop honking at my house,” Mom added.
Georgina shook her head, smiling. “I’ll try.”
Georgina paused on her way out — something tugging at her. Maybe an instinct. Maybe the simple desire to savor this moment a little longer.
She sat down at the table, just for a second.
Luke talked about football practice.
Justine reminded everyone (again) about her dance recital.
Their dad joked that Delaney would probably end up president or a stand-up comedian.
Georgina mentioned her upcoming score release for college tests, rolling her eyes like it didn’t terrify her.
They were… normal. So normal. Blessedly normal.
And she didn’t know she was living the last few seconds of her old life.
***
The Moment It Happened
It began as a tremor.
Barely noticeable at first — like someone dropped something heavy upstairs.
Then the floor shuddered.
The windows rattled.
A bowl slid across the table.
Delaney squeaked and covered her ears.
Justine grabbed Georgina’s arm.
Luke jumped to his feet, eyes wide.
“What the—” he started.
But Georgina was looking at the chairs at the head of the table.
The chairs where her parents had been sitting seconds before.
Where their half-finished breakfasts still sat.
Where their napkins still lay folded.
Where their presence still felt warm.
But they were gone.
Vanished.
No flash.
No sound.
No scream.
No warning.
Just gone, as if someone cut them out of reality.
The shaking stopped abruptly.
The silence was deafening.
Outside the windows, the world was completely normal.
Birds flew past.
A dog barked somewhere.
A car drove down the street.
There was no panic.
No emergency.
No sign that anything in the world had changed.
But everything inside the Parker home had.
Georgina’s breath caught in her throat.
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt.
Her mind spun, searching for logic — an explanation, a reason, anything.
But all she could do was stare at the empty chairs.
And realize that her family of six had just become a family of four.
Her world — her safe, ordinary, normal world — shattered in a single, impossible second.
And than nothing, absolutely nothing,
- Writer
