Hope sat on her bed, immersed in the quietude of the early morning. The muted light filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow across the room. Her leg trembled uncontrollably, a physical manifestation of the anxiety and concern that swirled within her. It was just past seven, that time when the world was slowly rousing from sleep, and she was waiting, almost with bated breath, for her mother to begin her day and leave for work.
The night had been an endless expanse of time for Hope, with not even a moment's rest. Each time she closed her eyes, the unsettling image of Lizzie lying on a cold, hard floor invaded her mind. It was peculiar; she and Lizzie weren't close friends, they barely even spoke. But the knowledge, or rather the assumption, of Lizzie's distressing situation was something that Hope couldn't shake off. It just felt so intrinsically wrong. No one should have to endure such conditions.
Lost in these thoughts, Hope was jerked back to the present by the familiar sound of the bathroom toilet flushing. It was her cue. Seizing the opportunity, she bolted towards the bathroom, hoping to catch her mother in a rare moment of vulnerability. As the bathroom door creaked open, Hope's mother was met with her daughter's expectant face. Startled, she took a sharp, deep breath, placing a hand over her heart. Her eyes, wide with surprise, met Hope's, and in that brief moment, a world of unsaid words hung between them.
Hope's heart raced as she approached her mother, a deep concern evident in her eyes. "Mom," she began, her voice soft and uncertain.
Her mother looked up, instantly noting the troubled look on her daughter's face. "What is it, Hope?"
"Do you remember that girl who came over the other day? The one who helped with the dishes?"
A memory clicked in place. "The quiet one with the kind eyes? Yeah, what about her?"
Hope took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. "I saw her today, Mom. In the stadium. She was sleeping on the cold ground, huddled close to a heater. The blanket she had... it was paper-thin, nowhere near enough to keep her warm."
Her mother's face fell, a mix of shock and sadness evident. "Oh, darling... that's terrible. It must've been so hard seeing someone you know like that."
"They don't really know me," Hope muttered, her voice thick, "and I don't really know her. But that's not what matters right now. Mom, can we help her? Maybe let her stay with us for a bit?"
A pause settled between them, with her mother deep in thought. "Have you talked to her? Told her about this idea?"
Hope shook her head, tears threatening. "I didn't want to make her feel singled out, or... pitied. I thought maybe I could invite her for a sleepover. And then... another one? Until she's on her feet?"
Her mother hesitated, weighing the risks and responsibilities. "I get where you're coming from, Hope. But she's practically a stranger to us. And I worry about inviting someone we barely know into our home."
Hope's eyes brimmed with tears. "Mom, I just... I can't bear the thought of her out there alone. Please."
Seeing the raw emotion in her daughter's face, her mother took a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. If it means this much to you, we'll figure it out."
A relieved smile broke through Hope's tears. But there was more to do. She wanted to make sure Lizzie didn't see this as charity.
Hope tightened the straps of her backpack, her thoughts racing as she prepared to head to school. She needed a plan, a way to offer Lizzie the warmth of a home without it feeling like a handout. It had to be subtle, something that would naturally draw Lizzie in.
The school's grounds were buzzing with students when Hope arrived, but her destination was not the classroom; it was the dean's office. The Mikaelsons and the dean had shared several dinners and Sunday barbecues over the years. Their families were interwoven with mutual respect and affection.
Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she rapped firmly on the ornate wooden door of the dean's office.
The door swung open to reveal the dean, his face breaking into a warm smile at the sight of Hope. "Ah, Hope Mikaelson! To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" His tone was one of genuine curiosity.
Hope took a moment to gather her words. "Sir, there's a girl I recently met. Is there any possibility she could enroll here, mid-term?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Mid-term enrollments are rare, Hope. We do have a couple of slots open for students in your grade, but they come with their own set of challenges. She'd have to pass our entrance exam, and there's the matter of tuition as well."
Hope mentally kicked herself. Of course, tuition! How could she have overlooked such a crucial detail? Desperation evident in her voice, she pressed on, "Isn't there some way around it? Perhaps a scholarship or financial aid?"
The dean, recognizing the urgency in Hope's voice, leaned back in his chair. "There's a new arts scholarship we've introduced this year. Does she have any inclination towards art? Perhaps painting or sculpture?"
Hope hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, "Yes," she said, remembering one of their conversations they shared.
The dean sighed, rubbing his temples. "Hope, you must understand, these processes have protocols. We can't make assumptions or hastily piece things together. If she's genuinely interested, have her come in. Let her take the entrance exam, and if she's artistically inclined, she can present some of her work."
Taking in his words, Hope nodded gravely, "I understand, sir. I'll speak to her. Thank you."
She left the office with a mix of hope and apprehension, her determination to help Lizzie burning even brighter.
The sun was setting, casting the school's campus in a rich, golden glow. Hope's heart fluttered like a nervous bird in her chest as she made her way towards the stadium.
She paused at the locked stadium door, wiping her clammy palms on her jeans. Gently, she knocked. A few seconds passed before the door inched open, revealing Lizzie. At first, Lizzie's face held a look of mild confusion, but as soon as she recognized Hope, it broke into a grateful smile, making Hope's heart squeeze.
"Hey," Lizzie greeted, her voice a blend of surprise and a hint of vulnerability. "I didn't think I'd see you here today. I was just... tidying up."
Hope took a steadying breath, searching for the right words. "Lizzie, I've been thinking. The school I go to, it's pretty great. It's a launching pad for some to the Ivy Leagues and offers an excellent platform for budding artists."
Lizzie tilted her head, her blue eyes filled with confusion. "Why are you telling me this?"
Gathering her courage, Hope said, "How would you feel about joining my school? There are a few hoops to jump through, but... I think it could be a game-changer for you. You mentioned how you wanted to go to one"
Lizzie's eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of intrigue and suspicion. "What kind of hoops?"
"Well," Hope started, gesturing with her fingers for emphasis, "First, there's the entrance exam. And secondly, they're really interested in prospective students' artwork. Didn't you mention you paint?"
Lizzie hesitated, her face betraying her internal struggle. "It sounds wonderful, Hope, but it's not practical. I can't afford that kind of school. And what about my daily commute and work?"
Hope felt a rush of emotion, making her words tumble out more earnestly. "Stay with me, during the school days. I can drive you to work. We'll figure it out."
Lizzie looked stunned. "Why? Why are you doing all this? And the money...?"
Hope reached out, lightly touching Lizzie's arm. "Because it feels right. If your artwork is as incredible as I think, they could offer a scholarship. And if not, maybe we could... come up with something."
Lizzie's defenses seemed to crumble a bit. "I've got pieces, but they're at my old school."
"That's okay," Hope said quickly, excitement bubbling up. "Let me pick you up tomorrow? We'll get your art. And if after everything, you decide it's not for you, that's okay. Just... give it a shot?"
A tearful smile played on Lizzie's lips. "Alright."
Without thinking, Hope pulled Lizzie into a tight hug. She wanted to convey every ounce of care and concern she felt, especially when it seemed Lizzie was so used to being overlooked.
When they broke apart, Lizzie's voice was light, almost teasing. "Want to skate a bit while you're here?"
Hope laughed, "I'd love to, but there's something I need to wrap up. Tomorrow, okay? For the art? Than the exam."
Lizzie nodded, her eyes shining. For the first time in ages, she felt seen, genuinely cared for, and it meant the world to her.
The sun's gentle descent painted the sky with hues of lavender and orange as Hope made her way home, thoughts of the stadium and Lizzie's situation still fresh in her mind. The image of that desolate guest room in her home, which had remained untouched for years, suddenly took center stage in her thoughts. The vast emptiness of the space, with its nondescript walls and lack of furniture, seemed even more pronounced given the contrast of the rest of the house. A room that should've been warm and welcoming, instead, emanated an aura of neglect, almost symbolizing Lizzie's current circumstances.
Determined to change that, Hope discreetly took her mother's credit card, reminding herself to stick strictly to the pre-agreed spending limit. The first place she headed to was the well-known Sherwin-Williams store. The sight of the various paint cans, brushes, and color swatches was a little overwhelming. However, she was on a mission. With Lizzie in mind, she navigated the store, consulting with staff, and finally settling on a shade that she believed would encapsulate the warmth and comfort she wanted to provide.
With paint in tow, she then ventured to IKEA, the mecca of affordable and stylish furnishings. The vastness of the store always managed to amaze her, with its neatly arranged showrooms and a plethora of options. She found herself drawn to cozy furnishings, plush bedding, and stylish but functional pieces. To expedite the process, she also decided to hire a team for immediate assembly.
By evening, the Mikaelson household was buzzing with activity. Hope, her mother, and her brother, Klaus, rolled up their sleeves and began the transformative process. Together, they applied the chosen lilac pink shade, each brush stroke reflecting their shared commitment to making the room a haven for Lizzie. They laughed, shared stories, and occasionally splashed paint on each other, turning the activity into a cherished family bonding experience.
As the walls slowly transformed, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the IKEA delivery. Hope watched, her heart swelling with gratitude, as the assembly team worked diligently, piecing together the room's new contents. From spacious cabinets to chic nightstands, soft rugs, a sturdy bed, and a comfortable mattress, the room started to resemble a cozy sanctuary rather than the cold, uninviting space it once was.
As the night progressed and the room took shape, a nagging doubt tugged at Hope's heart. She had invested so much time, effort, and resources, but what if Lizzie didn't pass the exam? What if this effort was all in vain? But then, Hope remembered the sharpness in Lizzie's eyes, the way she analyzed situations, her articulate manner of speaking, and the undeniable intelligence she displayed. Hope couldn't shake off the feeling that Lizzie was destined for greatness, and this room, this sanctuary, would only be the beginning of her journey.
Hope surveyed the room, her gaze settling on a spot directly above the bed where a pre-drilled screw awaited. Retrieving the intended item, she carefully hung it, ensuring it aligned symmetrically and perfectly above the bed's center.
The dawn seemed hesitant to break, each moment stretching into an eternity. Hope felt every second of it, the anticipation building as the morning light began to filter through. On her way to pick up Lizzie, the traffic seemed unusually congested, every red light and honking horn amplifying her anxiety. Each pause felt like a mini eternity, yet the thought of seeing Lizzie and presenting her with this opportunity kept a glimmer of hope alive.
When she finally arrived at Lizzie's school, she found the young girl standing there, art pieces meticulously wrapped, betraying the countless hours and emotions poured into each one. The air was thick with tension as they both settled into the car, the weight of the day's importance pressing down on them. An uncomfortable silence enveloped the vehicle.
Feeling the need to break the ice, Hope turned to Lizzie, her voice soft yet reassuring, "You've got this, by the way."
Lizzie, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, voice trembling, asked, "Why are you doing all of this for me?"
Hope swallowed hard, fighting back her own emotions, "Because you deserve to achieve everything you want in life." She kept her gaze forward, fixated on the road. She knew that if she looked into Lizzie's eyes now, she'd break down.
The magnificent façade of the school came into view. The sprawling grounds and the imposing building spoke of prestige and opportunity. As they stepped out, the opulence was evident, making Lizzie feel even more out of place.
Together, they made their way to the dean's office. The door swung open to reveal two figures: the stern-faced dean and the keen-eyed art director. Hesitantly, Lizzie unveiled her artwork, laying her soul bare. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to unmistakable awe. They could see the raw talent, the emotions and stories painted on each canvas. Discussions ensued, and it was agreed upon: Lizzie would be awarded the scholarship, contingent upon passing the entrance exam.
Hope stepped outside, pacing anxiously while Lizzie began the grueling test. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo in Hope's mind, a constant reminder of the weight of this moment. She knew Lizzie's intelligence and determination, yet the magnitude of this test wasn't lost on her.
Inside the exam room, Lizzie encountered challenging questions, but her resilience shone through. She tackled each one with determination, every circled answer on the scantron a testament to her grit. She poured her heart into the concluding essay, detailing her dreams, aspirations, and reasons she deserved this chance.
As the doors finally opened, Hope rushed forward, her heart in her throat. "How did she do?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'm going to find out," the dean replied, his expression unreadable as he retreated to his office.
Hope and Lizzie sat side by side, the weight of the moment between them. Lizzie's hand trembled, and Hope gently enveloped it with her own, offering silent support.
Finally, the dean reappeared. "Congratulations, Lizzie," he announced.
Time seemed to stop. The world blurred as emotions swelled. Hope felt a rush of happiness, pride, and relief. The arduous journey had been worth it, and a bright future awaited Lizzie.
The dimming afternoon sun painted the horizon in shades of oranges and pinks. Lizzie's heart was a storm of emotions, every gust and whirlwind a reflection of the overwhelming day she'd just experienced. As they stood by Hope's car, Hope gently asked, "Is there anything from your place you'd like to bring over?" She gestured to a neatly folded pile of the new school uniform she'd gotten for Lizzie. A gesture so simple, yet it held so much weight - the promise of a new beginning.
Lizzie's voice was barely above a whisper as she shook her head, the weight of gratitude threatening to spill over. "No, I'm good."
"Tomorrow's your big day," Hope said, her voice layered with a mix of excitement and concern. "We're starting this journey together. You'll stay with us tonight, and we'll head to school in the morning."
Lizzie simply nodded, her voice momentarily lost, buried under the avalanche of emotions she felt. The happiness, the anticipation, and the overwhelming realization of someone genuinely caring about her.
The drive to Hope's house was draped in a comfortable silence. Words seemed inadequate to capture the myriad of emotions and revelations of the day.
Upon their arrival, Hope's mother enveloped Lizzie in a warm embrace. "It's wonderful to have you with us during the school week," she whispered, her voice laden with genuine warmth. "I hope you'll think of me as a second mom."
Lizzie's eyes glistened, and she managed a grateful smile. Hope's younger brother, Klaus, appeared in his energetic whirlwind, cheerily greeting Lizzie before being whisked away by his video game's virtual world.
Dinner was an animated affair. Klaus's questions, some endearingly ridiculous, added a light-hearted touch, pulling giggles and chuckles from Lizzie. It was a stark contrast to the solitary meals she was accustomed to. The warmth of a family, the simple joy of sharing a meal, was something she had yearned for.
As night approached, the two girls ascended the stairs. Hope began, "I know you found my bed comfy last time, but..."
"It's okay," Lizzie interrupted with a small smile, "Is the couch downstairs available?"
Hope grinned, "Klaus has his late-night snack expeditions and is oddly afraid of the stairs in the dark. So, no. But follow me." Taking Lizzie's hand, she led her to a door. Upon opening it, a beautifully arranged guest room was revealed.
Lizzie's feet froze. Her gaze roamed the room, finally settling on a large, intricate "L" placed perfectly above the bed. A tear slipped down her cheek, her voice quivering, "Did you... did you do this all for me?"
Without missing a beat, Hope responded with a simple, heartfelt "Yes."
Lizzie couldn't hold back any longer. The dam of emotions broke, and tears streamed down her face. They embraced, Lizzie's gratitude palpable in every sob. "You're an incredible friend," Lizzie whispered.
"And so are you," Hope replied, officially sealing their bond of friendship.
With a playful nudge, Hope said, "I think you're bunking in with me tonight. There's a faint paint smell in here. But tomorrow, missy, you're in your own palace. Got it?"
Lizzie simply nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, but her gratitude was evident in every tear, every smile.