Chapter Text
The living room felt unusually quiet for a summer evening. Laurie sat perched on the wide front window ledge, knees tucked under her chin, her forehead almost pressed to the glass. The late-day sun spilled across Peaks Valley in soft gold, making the neighborhood lawns look like they’d been brushed with honey.
Any second now.
Her eyes kept scanning the street, catching every passing car, every blur of movement — but not their car. Her pulse had been steadily climbing all afternoon, the kind of buzzing energy that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
From the kitchen came the sound of her mom, Carole, humming softly over the clink of pans. The warm scent of roasted chicken drifted in, mixing with the sharper tang of fresh-cut parsley. “Dinner will be ready not long after they get here,” her mom called, voice light, as though she hadn’t noticed Laurie’s fifth trip to the window in the last ten minutes.
Paula, sprawled on the couch with her phone, let out a short laugh. “Are you sure you can survive having Amy around all summer?” she teased, swiping at her screen. “She’s… you know. Energetic. ”
Laurie twisted just enough to glare at her sister. “I can handle it,” she said, maybe a little too fast.
Paula smirked. “You mean you think you can handle it. She’s basically a human pinball — bubbly, loud, everywhere at once. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Before Laurie could shoot back a response, the low, familiar hum of her dad’s car engine rolled up the street. Her breath caught. She pressed her hand to the glass just as the silver sedan eased into the driveway, the tires crunching softly over gravel.
The passenger doors opened, and there she was — Amy. Brown hair bouncing in the breeze, wearing that bright pink short-sleeved shirt with a cartoon cat printed across the front, blue shorts, and a pair of slightly scuffed sandals. She had a grin that could outshine the sun.
Laurie didn’t even think. She was off the window ledge, across the living room, and out the door in seconds.
“Laurie!” Amy’s voice rang out like she’d been saving it for this moment. She broke into a sprint down the driveway, arms flung wide, laughter bubbling in her throat.
Laurie barely had time to brace herself before Amy hit her in a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her. For a second, it didn’t matter how long it had been — months or years — Amy felt exactly the same: warm, loud, and completely unapologetic about taking up space.
Behind them, Amy’s parents were unloading bags from the trunk, smiling at the scene. Dan stepped out from the driver’s seat, shutting the door with a quiet thud. “Looks like they’re already happy to see each other,” he said with a small smile toward Carole, who had stepped onto the porch, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.
But Laurie barely noticed. She was too busy laughing as Amy pulled back, holding her by the shoulders like she was checking to see if she was real.
“You got taller,” Amy declared, grinning. “Or maybe I just got shorter. Either way — I missed you so much.”
Laurie smiled back, the last of her nerves melting away. “I missed you too.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “Can I see your room? I’m dying to see what you did to the place.”
“Oh, uhh… sure,” Laurie said, glancing toward the house. The two of them started toward the door.
“Hi, Paulina,” Amy greeted brightly as they passed the couch.
Paula looked up, deadpan. “Uh… my name is Paula.”
“Oh yes, of course. My bad.” Amy grinned and kept moving, completely unbothered.
Out by the car, Dan was still talking with Amy’s parents. “She sure has some energy,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oof, tell me about it,” Steven replied, rolling his shoulders like he’d just finished a marathon.
“Malissa,” Carole chimed, stepping down from the porch.
“Carole! How’s it been?” Malissa answered warmly, and the two sisters embraced like no time had passed.
Dan and Steven shared a glance. “Want a beer?” Dan asked.
“Certainly,” Steven said with a grin.
As the adults lingered in the driveway, inside the house Amy’s excited chatter was already echoing down the hall. Laurie wasn’t sure if Paula’s “human pinball” comment had been a warning or a prediction — but either way, summer in Peaks Valley was about to get louder.