CSI Texas

Chapter Sixteen

Back home, Victoria slipped her keys into the ceramic bowl by the door with a soft clink, toeing off her work boots one at a time. Her socks muffled against the hardwood floor as she stepped into the stillness of the house, the quiet embracing her like a long-lost friend. The weight of the night shift hung heavy in her muscles, but her mind was elsewhere — wandering to Samantha and how her first full day at the new school was unfolding.
She unfastened her duty belt and set it carefully on the hall table before shrugging off her jacket, draping it over the back of a dining chair. Clad now in just her black T-shirt and work pants, she stretched, arms overhead, joints crackling faintly in the silence. A sigh escaped her lips.
“I want to be up when she gets home,” she murmured to herself, rubbing at her eyes. “Just a few hours of sleep. That’s all.”
But before that, dinner. She padded into the kitchen, tying her hair up in a loose bun as she opened the fridge. Inside, she gathered ingredients for Samantha’s favorite pasta: cherry tomatoes, garlic, fresh spinach, and cream. The familiarity of it settled her, grounding her after the long, chaotic night.
Victoria moved with practiced grace — her movements unhurried but efficient. She pulled a cast iron skillet from the cabinet and set it on the stovetop, the soft sound of chopping vegetables and a gently humming melody filling the kitchen. She hummed an old tune her mother used to sing while cooking, losing herself in the small rhythm of home life.

Meanwhile, Samantha stood in the crowded school hallway, her denim jacket slung over one arm, her backpack snug on her shoulders. She wore her favorite striped top tucked into high-waisted jeans — casual but put-together. Beside her, Dylan matched her pace, wearing a slightly rumpled hoodie and an easy smile that made things feel less overwhelming.
“So,” he asked, nudging her gently with his elbow, “how’s the day been so far?”
Samantha smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not bad. I even found all my classes without getting lost — thanks to your amazing tour.”
Dylan gave a dramatic bow. “My honor and civic duty.”
They turned a corner and arrived at a wide double door marked Design Studio. Dylan pushed it open for her, and the moment Samantha stepped inside, her breath caught.
Rows of sewing machines lined one side of the room, while mannequins stood like silent sentinels across from them, some dressed in half-finished projects, others bare. Shelves overflowed with bolts of fabric — cottons, silks, even denim — organized by color like an artist’s palette. A long corkboard stretched across the far wall, covered with student sketches, mood boards, and pinned fabric swatches.
“Whoa,” Samantha breathed. “It’s even better than I remembered.”
“I told you,” Dylan said with a grin. “And I don’t even sew.”
Before she could take it all in, a poised woman with warm eyes and black-rimmed glasses approached. She wore a flowing tunic and tailored pants, her silver hair swept up in a loose knot.
“You must be Samantha,” she said with a smile, extending her hand. “I’m Ms. Han. Dylan told me we’d be lucky to have you.”
Samantha blushed slightly as she shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’m really excited to be here. I like sketching designs — I just haven’t really shared them with anyone before.”
Ms. Han’s smile widened. “Well, I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to share them here. We grow by exploring our ideas, even the imperfect ones. This space is all about creative courage.”
Samantha felt her nerves ease, bolstered by Ms. Han’s warmth. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
They moved further into the room, and Dylan leaned over with a low chuckle. “Look at you — impressing the teachers already.”
Samantha rolled her eyes and nudged him playfully. “Try not to act too jealous.”

At lunch, Samantha followed Dylan to an outdoor courtyard with a mix of benches and tables. A small group of students were already seated, chatting between bites. Among them sat a girl with auburn hair tucked behind her ears and a hoodie pulled tight around her shoulders. She looked up with wide, uncertain eyes as Dylan introduced them.
“Samantha, this is Annie. Annie — this is Samantha. She just started today.”
Annie gave a shy nod, her voice nearly a whisper. “Hi.”
Samantha sat beside her, giving her space but offering a warm smile. “Hi, Annie. Do you design too?”
Annie glanced down at the sandwich in her hands. “A little... mostly sketching. Sometimes I sew scraps together at home. Nothing good, though.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Samantha said gently. “Maybe we could work on something together sometime? I’d love to see what you’ve made.”
Annie’s lips curved into a small but genuine smile. “I’d like that.”
The conversation grew easier after that. The group laughed at Dylan’s dry jokes and swapped stories about classes and awkward teachers. Samantha joined in slowly, but with growing comfort.
Dylan found himself watching her between moments —how she spoke to Annie with patience, how she smiled with her whole face when she laughed. There was something unpolished and real about her that drew him in more than he expected.

By the end of the day, Samantha felt an unfamiliar but welcome lightness in her chest. She’d saved Annie’s number into her phone and had already planned to text her sketches that evening. Dylan walked with her to the school gate, their steps falling into easy rhythm.
“Thanks for everything today,” she said, pausing beside the metal gate.
Dylan shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and gave her a genuine smile. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” she replied, waving as she turned toward the bus stop, her heart feeling unexpectedly full.

Back at home, the alarm on Victoria’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She stirred, groaning softly as she sat up and rubbed her face. She swung her legs off the bed, stretching briefly before heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. After brushing her hair into a low ponytail and changing into a soft hoodie and leggings, she made her way to the kitchen.
Just as she began setting plates on the table, the front door clicked open.
Samantha stepped in, her backpack slung low on one shoulder, her cheeks flushed from the cool air and the energy of the day. She slipped off her shoes by the door and padded into the kitchen.
“Hey, Sammy!” Victoria greeted, turning with a warm smile. “How was it?”
Samantha’s face lit up. “It was amazing, Mom. I met Ms. Han — she’s my design teacher — and she’s so encouraging. I even made a friend! Her name’s Annie. She’s really quiet but really sweet. And Dylan showed me around everywhere. He’s the best.”
Victoria smiled wide, her heart warming at the joy in Samantha’s voice. “Sounds like you’ve got a solid crew already. I’m so proud of you.”
They sat down together, the smell of garlic and cream drifting from the still-warm pan. Samantha dug in, telling Victoria about each class, every small victory, and the comfort she found in the design room. As they talked, the home filled with something that had been missing lately — a sense of peace.