A Tale of Fragile Fate

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by L.C. WatsonAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. Book design by: PyrooPlays ISBN 9798218161408 (Paperback)ISBN 9798218208455 (Hardcover) ISBN 9798218161415 (E-book) For Kristen, Kat, Evelyn, Logan, and Daniel. Thank you for reading every version of this story.&For Dallas. Thank you for believing in me. One“Lake?” Rain falls from the dark clouds that blanket the gloomy gray sky, and a harsh wind whips through the trees in my backyard. Branches quiver and leaves tremble as lightning shoots through the sky in a mesmerizing bolt of blue and white for only a split second before fading away to nothing. I stare out the empty bay window of my living room, arms crossed over my chest in protest as I deliberately ignore the voice that calls for me. “Lake,” the voice repeats, and a hand rests on my shoulder. Four years, five schools, and never a sense of normalcy, this latest move was supposed to be the last. I was promised it would be the last. It wasn’t. Knowing I can’t ignore him forever, I turn from the window to face my dad. My shoe hits something solid, and I glance down at the last small pile of remaining boxes in our empty home. Some might say I’d be a pro at moving by now, and others might say it’s exhilarating to see so much of the country within the first seventeen years of my life. They’re wrong.I look to my father, a burly, round man who stands at around six foot two. His dark brown hair is hidden beneath a gray beanie that pairs nicely with his puffy sweater vest and jeans. His usually bright green eyes showcased behind gold glasses seem sad today. A thick dark mustache, best described by my mother as the rough side of a Brillo pad, covers his upper lip.“Honey, we need to get going,” he mumbles, motioning towards the door. I nod, grab my bag from the stack of boxes, and sling it over my shoulder as a loud thump echoes from the foyer. I roll my eyes as a small scream rings in the same direction. Without needing to investigate, I already know it’s Daniel. Daniel. My ten-year-old, parasite of a younger brother who’s more than likely tried to ride the railing from the second floor and fell. Again. My suspicions are confirmed when I round the corner and see him sprawled on the yellow linoleum floor, clutching his knee to his chest.“Daniel, do you always have to be obnoxious?” I ask. My brother scoffs at me, slapping the ground with an annoying yet satisfying smack. “Dad, Lake called me obnoxious!” he squeals in retaliation before sticking his tongue out at me. Point proven.Our father appears beside us with a hearty chuckle before bending down to help my brother to his feet. I gaze around what remains of our home…which isn’t much. We didn’t live here in Milton, Georgia, for very long, and no house has ever competed with my childhood home back in New York. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I hoped this would be our home for the foreseeable future.Dad fishes around in the pockets of his faded jeans, pulling out his keyring. It jingles as he swirls it around his pointer finger before clasping it tightly. I gaze at the gold wedding band on his hand, a ring he still hasn’t taken off. I don’t blame him for not doing so, even now. I can’t help but sigh. Going again. Always moving, never staying in one place for too long, unable to truly settle. Maybe I am a pro at moving at this point, but it doesn’t make it suck any less. For the past four years, it’s felt like my life has been nothing more than a revolving door. New town, new school, and new classmates that never got a chance to be anything more than acquaintances. Every time I finally got comfortable, my father would explain why it wasn’t the right place for us, and off we’d go again. I’m convinced I’m destined to be that random face in a yearbook that I’d never receive. “Why don’t you both wait in the truck while I finish up,” my father offers, handing the keys to me. I nod, and my brother grabs his backpack hanging from the banister. His favorite plushie, Benny, dangles upside down from the front pocket. “You’re going to lose your ratty dinosaur if you don’t hold onto him,” I tell him, propping the front door open.“He’s not a dinosaur, Lake. He’s a dragon,” my brother argues, holding the lime-green toy up to my face as he slips past.“The difference being?” I pull the hood of my black sweatshirt over my head to shield myself from the torrential rain. I follow Daniel to our father’s Chevy Silverado, the wind picking up now as it whips a strand of hair into my mouth. “Dinosaurs are extinct,” he exclaims, swinging the back door open. “Dragons still exist.”I roll my eyes, diving into the front seat and out of the rain. I toss my bag down before sticking the key into the ignition. Daniel scrambles into the back, flinging his bag onto the seat beside him.Watching intently as my father emerges from the house holding two old suitcases, I narrow my gaze at the luggage. I’ve never seen them before, even with all our moves. As he walks past, he mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head. “Where did Dad say we’re going again?” I ask, following my father in the side-view mirror. “Vermont, I think,” Daniel replies. Dad runs back