To Sophie's thinking, Maggie didn't know how not to worry. It was how she was wired. And she was sure that, right now, Maggie was fidgeting, trying hard not to give in to the bad habits most people caved to from nerves. Smoking, nail-biting, heavy drinking. Maggie had never gone in for any of that. Though she did pace, and Sophie had noticed her tapping her leg a time or two, occasionally caught her biting her lip. She even saw her twirl her hair. All such harmless nervous habits. Some might even be considered good for you.

If pressed, Sophie might admit to causing some of that stress on purpose, just to see how far she'd go. Like now, when she told her they needed to talk. She might have given her some detail and saved her mother a whole hell of a lot of needless worry. But where would be the fun in that? Besides, Maggie really did need to learn to relax. But then, Sophie had been telling her that for years. Doubtful she was going to listen now.

Not that she didn't actually believe Maggie definitely had reason to be anxious right now. Life, their life, was a wee bit fucked up. But it was their life, the life they got, and they got to deal with it. As best they could. At least they had bastian back.

Was all a matter of keeping shit in perspective.

Maggie's way of dealing, or so it sometimes seemed to Sophie, even if unfairly, was to take on extra hours at work. More hours meant less time to deal, to face the facts, and to have to think about them.

So they didn't face them, instead they tiptoed around like Daddy's bright shiny fangs were some giant elephant in the middle of the room. And Maggie, sweet, devout, Maggie, prayed every night to a God that may or may not exist and that may or may not be listening, but yet who did nothing to prevent Bastian from being turned into something that, oddly enough, could be killed by any object that reminds his poor tortured soul of said God.

Secretly Sophie wanted to pray too, she just thought there was something extremely weird about doing so. After all, if God cared so damn much about Bastian Veniamin, or Maggie Veniamin, and if he listened to anything she asked... then why had he let Bastian be turned into a vampire? And why had he let Maggie suffer all these years? Sophie knew her mom might harbor some martyr traits, but she didn't really think Maggie got off on it, In fact, no... she knew she didn't. Her suffering was real, Jon's pain was real. They'd all suffered too damn much and somehow Sophie didn't expect that it really had come to an end.

Regardless, they did still have to go on with their lives. Now that Bastian had come back, it made doing so both easier and more difficult.

Acceptance letters from several of Sophie's favorite schools now lined the bottom of her bag, the latest of which had been torn in half and crumbled into a ball before ending there. Sarah Lawrence, Warren Wilson, even Hampshire... all excellent colleges, but all were now too far away. Before Sophie might have chose one based on that fact alone. Even if her true favorite was somewhat closer, at least on the same coast, though still not a weekend visit away. Pitzer was everything a girl like Sophie could want in a school, and they too had wanted her. It was their letter which she had reacted almost violently to, their letter she'd torn up just before texting her mother.

But it was another school's letter entirely that she now held in her hand as she stood among a copse of trees in the school yard and watched Maggie pull up in that ancient Volvo. The final bell had yet to ring, but when it did, Sophie moved forward, ahead of the crowd. The cigarette she'd been smoking was pulled from her lips and snuffed out in the curb as she pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Thanks for coming."" She offered a lopsided grin in her mother's direction. "Didn't know if you might actually be at work again."