The Unspoken Pass

Entrance Exam

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.