Early August
The last two weeks of summer break felt simultaneously too long and too short.
"I'm not ready," Maya announced one morning, staring at her school supply list. "For eighth grade. For being one of the older kids. For any of it."
"You'll be fine," I said, pouring coffee. "You've survived worse than middle school."
"Have I though? Middle school is basically a social nightmare dressed up as education."
"That's… actually pretty accurate."
Kai emerged from our bedroom, already dressed for work. The internship was winding down only one more week of full-time before it shifted to part-time for fall semester.
"Pep talk?" he asked, noticing Maya's existential crisis.
"She's nervous about eighth grade."
"Understandable. Eighth grade sucks." He sat down next to Maya. "But you know what? You're smarter, funnier, and more resilient than most eighth graders. You'll be fine."
"What if I'm not? What if I get lost or mess up my schedule or don't make friends or"
