#Notes Left Under a Maple

"Nooo," Liz muttered Alex started crying. Half-brother was an appropriate term, she thought. Half the time, baby Alex seemed brotherly. The other half, like now, he seemed on a mission to misqueme her, to use a recent Word of the Day.

She heard Mom mumble something, and Steven get out of bed. They deserve to be woken up, Liz thought. They made him. As Alex's cries started to wane, Liz wondered if her mother would respond if she called out. She grabbed her phone and texted Mom.

"I'm awake too you know."

A ping sounded across the hall as the text was delivered. Alex let out a fresh cry. Liz sighed. It had to come to an end at some point, right?

She didn't get a response to the text.

First period was brutal. How one was supposed to understand math after being up half the night was a mystery to Liz. She found herself staring out the window instead.

"Having a moment of reflection, Elizabeth?"

She turned to see the instructor looking at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

When the dismissal bell rang, Liz glanced at the line of buses and frowned. She wasn't ready to go home yet, so she decided to walk. The route took her by a park, and Liz stopped to rest under the shade of a maple tree. As she sat down her hand brushed against something. Paper. Tucked under a rock at the base of the tree was a note. Curious Liz opened it.

"Sometimes I feel invisible."

Taking a pencil from her bag, she wrote a reply.

"Same. Even my mom left me on read."

She tucked the note back in place, then left.

She sat under the maple again the next day, lifting the rock and unfolding the paper.

"Dang, I wasn't expecting a response! I'm not going to leave you on read though. It's good to know someone feels like I do."

Liz paused, then wrote "Do you have siblings too? It was just mom and me until she remarried, and now there's a baby. It's like I'm an after thought."

She began to make daily stops at the tree. She learned her penpal was a middle child, with a high achieving older brother and an energetic toddler sister. "I get lost in the shuffle. I have some friends, but I'm more of an introvert. My family doesn't get that liking quieter activites doesn't mean I want to be overlooked," they wrote.

"I hear you." Liz wrote back. "My mom was a homebody, but Steven is an extrovert. Movie nights with Mom made me feel special. Now they've been replaced with dinner parties with neighbors and playdates for Alex. I don't need to always feel like this" - here she drew a stick figure - their smile shone brightly with colored pencil work - "but I'm feeling like this" - she drew another stick figure, black and white, head spinning.

There was rain the next day. Liz was concerned it would make her latest note illegible. Those worries seemed small as storm sirens went off, and teachers ushered students into the halls. Later, after the worst had passed, the news made its way through the school. High winds. The worst damage was to the nearby park. Liz's heart sank and without even thinking it through, she ran out of school to the park.

The maple lay across the grass, years of growth torn down in seconds. She heard footsteps and saw a boy, about her age, running to the tree as well. The two looked at the tree, then each other.

"I'm Liz," she said. "I wrote the notes."

"Drew. I did too."

"I guess....we could just tell each other what we were going to write?"

"We already left school, might as well hang out," Drew agreed. They sat near the ruined maple talking for an hour until four adults hurried towards them.

Mom, Steven and a couple Drew identified as his parents. Apparently someone assessing storm damage had seen them, and called the school who called the parents.

"I was so worried!" Mom said, hugging Liz. "The storm, then the school saying you ran off and - what's wrong dear?"

Liz had started crying. "You were worried for me?"

"Of course, Liz, how could I not be? I love you so much. I know it's been a lot of changes with Alex and Steven, but that doesn't change how much I love you!" Mom glanced at the tree and Drew. "Is this why you've taken to walking home?"

"Sort of," Liz admitted. "Can we have movie night soon and I'll tell you more?"

"Of course," Mom said. "For now, let's get home."

Liz gave Drew a wave. She might not have a neon bright smile, but her head was no longer spinning.

WC: 797