The Sunflower Code

Chapter One: Bittersweet Return

 I am smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

Behind me, Preston is still flat on the pavement, groaning about his ribs and his cracked phone and how I am going to regret this. I do not turn around. I spent years waiting for him to run out of cruel things to say, and it turns out all it took was one good tackle and the three-times rule.

My heart is pounding and my hands are still shaking, but it is the good kind of shaking now, the kind that feels like standing at the top of a roller coaster. The dizzy spell I fought all morning is gone. The nosebleed has dried. The charm on my bug bracelet glows a bright, steady green, and I laugh out loud at it, because for once it is telling me exactly what I already know.

I am done.

Not tired. Not hurt. Done.

Chance is waiting at the corner of Happiness HQ, his tail swinging like a metronome. When he sees my face, he leans his whole Saint Bernard weight against my legs, as if to say, finally.

“Yeah, buddy,” I whisper, scratching behind his ears. “We’re going home.”

His tail speeds up. He has wanted to hear those words longer than I have.

Inside HQ, nobody looks up. Of course they don’t. A man at the front desk is arguing with his sandwich, two heroes by the window are scrolling their phones, and the woman whose cat I once pulled off a roof walks right past my torn sleeve and my scraped knuckles without a single question.

A month ago, that would have broken something in me. Today, it makes the next part easy.

I go to the kitchen and make one last latte, because I am leaving on my own terms and I want something warm in my hands. Then I walk to the board in the main room, where my name sits at the top of the hero roster in bright blue letters. Calmest Heart. On call.

I unclip my cape and fold it neatly across the desk. I set my hero comm on top of it.

That is when the alarm goes off.

The red light over the board starts to flash, and suddenly every head in the room turns toward me. It is the first time all day anyone has actually looked at me.

“Calmest Heart,” says the man with the sandwich, not even bothering with a please. “That’s a Level Three downtown. You’re up.”

Nobody asks if I am okay. Nobody asks about my hands. They just say you’re up, the way you would talk to a light switch.

I take a slow sip of my latte. It is perfect.

“I’m off the clock,” I say.

The room goes quiet.

“You can’t be serious,” someone whispers.

“I have never been more serious in my life.”

For one second, the old ache tugs at me, the hope that someone in this room will say my name like they mean it. Nobody does, and the ache loosens its grip.

So I straighten my sleeve, and I leave.

Behind me, the alarm keeps wailing. Someone calls my name, and then someone else does, louder, and I can hear the panic starting to creep into their voices. Good. Let them hear what it sounds like when nobody answers.

The train station is nearly empty when Chance and I get there. The ticket machine hums as it prints a single destination, and my fingers tremble as I take the paper, not from fear, but from joy.

Roseheart Hollow.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then again. Then again. By the time we reach the platform, there are nineteen missed calls and a string of messages. 

My mother writes, Where are you? The city needs you. The HQ group chat says, We can’t reach her, someone find Calmest Heart. Even Preston’s name lights up the screen, with a single message that says, Fine. I’m sorry. Come back.

Not one of them says, Are you okay?

I read every message once. Then I switch my phone off and drop it into the bottom of my bag.

Tomorrow, the sirens will ring and no one will come. The police will have to do their jobs. Preston will have to find someone else to hide behind. Every person who looked away from me today will wake up to a city that does not have me in it anymore, and they will finally understand what they spent all those years taking for granted.

Let them feel it.

Far down the tracks, a pair of headlights cuts through the dusk, and Chance lets out a happy, rumbling woof. I crouch to hug his enormous neck, and for the first time in a long, long time, I am not holding my breath.

The train pulls in. The doors slide open.

I step on, and I do not look back.

Delilah smiles at me. She is twenty-two, has blue eyes, and she has a soft Texan accent that sounds like honeyed toast, and she says, “Hey, darlin’. Are you excited to go back home?”

I smile at her, laughing. “Honestly, yeah. I've been dying to go back home. Why should I stay somewhere I'm not wanted?” I laugh, but it’s sharp and short. 

Delilah's smile doesn't fade, but something behind it shifts, soft and careful, the same way it used to when she caught me staring out the classroom window instead of at my worksheet.

“Mm,” she says, tilting her head. “That didn’t sound like a joke, darlin’.”

I open my mouth to brush it off, but she lifts one hand, gentle, not pushing. “You don’t gotta tell me a thing. I’m just sayin’, I taught you for a whole year. I know what your real laugh sounds like, and that wasn’t it.”

My throat goes tight. Chance shifts against my legs and lets out a low, worried huff, like he agrees with her. Traitor.

“I’m fine, Del,” I whisper.

“I know you are.” She says it kindly, like she means you will be. “But fine ain’t the same as wanted, and you’re gonna be wanted where we’re goin’. That’s a promise from your conductor.”

She taps the brim of her cap, and the blue of her eyes warms up like sunlight through a window. Then she steps back and gestures down the aisle, where the late-afternoon light is spilling gold across the empty seats.

“Take any seat you like. Your boy there gets the whole row if he wants it.”

Chance is already trotting ahead, tail swinging, and for the first time all day, I feel the knot in my chest loosen just a little.

Behind me, I hear her call out, warm and loud and unmistakable, “C’mon, sugar, train’s gotta roll!”

The train hums beneath me, low and steady, and I let my head rest against the window.

Outside, the world slides by in long ribbons of green and gold. Autumncadence is already so far behind me that I can’t tell which of the little towns we pass was the last one I knew. I wait for the guilt to show up. It never does.

Chance climbs onto the seat across from me, circles twice, and flops down with a heavy sigh, his head landing on my knee. I run my fingers through his fur, and he lets out a happy rumble.

“Good boy,” I whisper. “We did it.”

His tail thumps once against the seat.

Somewhere down the car, I hear Delilah’s boots, slow and unhurried, stopping at every row. When she reaches us, she doesn’t say anything. She just glances at me, glances at Chance, and smiles like she’s keeping a secret.

“Don’t mind me,” she murmurs. “Just checkin’ on my favorite passengers.”

I laugh quietly. “We’re fine, Del.”

“I know, darlin’.” She taps the brim of her cap and keeps walking.

I stare out the train window for the rest of the ride, and only when I close my eyes and take a deep breath do I finally allow myself to fall asleep, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel anything but peace.

"Darlin'."

A hand rests lightly on my shoulder. "Darlin', wake up. We're here."

I surface slowly, like climbing out of warm water. My neck is stiff, and something heavy and furry is still pinning my knee. Chance lifts his head, blinks at me with sleepy eyes, and thumps his tail once against the seat.

"How long was I out?" I mumble.

"Most of the ride." Delilah stands in the aisle with her cap pushed back, and her blue eyes are soft in a way they almost never are. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart to wake you any sooner."

I rub my eyes and sit up, and that's when I notice the light. It's pouring through the window, warm and golden, spilling across the empty seats and the worn floor.

"Look outside, sugar," she says quietly.

I turn.

The train is easing to a stop beside a small wooden platform, and beyond it, there are sunflowers. Rows and rows of them, leaning over fences and crowding the edges of the road, every face tipped toward the sun.

My breath catches.

I haven't seen this view in so long that for a second, I can't tell whether I'm awake or still dreaming. But the air coming through the cracked window smells like cut grass and warm earth, and Chance's wet nose is pressed against my hand, and it's real. It's all real.

"Welcome home," Delilah says.

I try to answer, but my throat is too tight. So I just nod, and I let myself smile.

The platform boards creak under my sneakers as I step down, and the first thing I notice is the air.

It's lighter here. I don't know how else to explain it. Chance presses against my legs as I wobble, just a little, from the long sleep and the sudden brightness, and I rest a hand on his big, warm head until the dizzy edges settle.

"Good boy," I murmur. "I'm okay."

Delilah hops down behind me, my bag in one hand, and she doesn't give it to me right away. She just stands there for a moment, her blue eyes on my face.

"Can I say somethin' before I go?"

I nod.

"I only taught you for one year," she says, tucking her free hand into her pocket. "But I never forgot you, darlin'. Not once. And back on the train, when you said that thing about stayin' somewhere you're not wanted?" Her voice softens, warm as honeyed toast. "You're wanted here. I need you to know that."

My eyes sting, and I look down at Chance so she can't see. "Thank you, Del."

"Come here."

Her hug is quick and fierce, the kind that doesn't ask any questions, and I hold onto it a second longer than I mean to. When she pulls back, she's grinning again, and she hands me my bag.

"Go on, now. Somebody's gonna be mighty glad to see you."

She jogs back toward the engine, and I hear her boots ring on the steps. Then her voice carries down the whole length of the train, loud and warm and unmistakable.

"C'mon, sugar, train's gotta roll!"

The whistle sings. The wheels begin to turn. I stand on the platform with my dog and my bag, and I wave until the train disappears around the bend.

 I look down at Chance, who barks excitedly, and I just take a deep breath, already understanding exactly who is about to show up in the next four seconds, because I always know.

ohhh, that changes the whole ending, nayah. 😭 she's holding it together right up until she can feel him there. so she can't turn around. i rewrote the last stretch of scene four, from the tiger onward. everything before it stays the same:

In the middle of the square, a huge tiger is stretched across the sun-warmed stones of the fountain wall, his striped sides rising and falling lazily. Stripezilla. Nobody around him even blinks. When I pass, he lifts his heavy head, his amber eyes meeting mine, and then he lowers it again with a slow, satisfied blink, as if to say, good. You're here. Now we can all relax.

I laugh out loud, startled by the sound of my own happiness.

And then I stop, because I smell it.

Chicory coffee and old books, and something warm underneath, like a porch on a summer night. It drifts up behind me on the breeze, and every muscle in my body goes still.

Chance has already turned around. His whole back end is wagging, his tail whipping the air, and he lets out a happy, whining woof and looks at me like I've lost my mind for not doing the same.

I know who is standing there. I don't need to look. I can feel him the way you feel the sun on your back.

"Well, now," says a low, easy voice, slow and warm as molasses, with every word rounded off at the edges. "Look at you, cher."

My breath hitches.

All I have to do is turn around. That's it. One small turn, and he's right there, and all of this stops being something I'm carrying alone.

But my hands are already shaking on the strap of my bag. My throat is closing up. I've been so strong for so long, through the alarms and the stares and the silence, and I know exactly what will happen if I look at him. The second I see his face, every wall I built on that train ride is going to come crashing down.

Another breakdown. Right here, in the middle of the square, in front of a tiger and a sunflower-covered town and God and everybody.

"Take your time," he says softly. He doesn't move closer. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Chance presses against my leg, steady and warm. A tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it, and then another.

I stand there with my back to him, breathing in, breathing out, trying to find enough courage to turn around.

 So, I do the only thing that I can think of. 

I run, and I don’t stop. My legs ache and I’m still holding Chance, who is whimpering softly, like he can sense the fear on me. I run through every single shortcut, through the thorn bushes, and all the way down three blocks before I finally force myself to stop, then I start running again. 

I finally allow myself to collapse, and finally, the tears come pouring down, like rain. Then, Chance sits perfectly still and starts nudging me again. I don’t move or say anything. My eyes are burning like fire, but I don’t care. 

“The bug can’t keep flying,” I whisper, my voice shattering like glass. 

The alarm bell starts going off in my head, and I smile, but the smile is way too wide, too many teeth showing. Then, I pull out a blade made entirely of glass and poke both of my arms, watching in twisted fascination as the blood starts trickling. 

Immediately, I let out an Earth-shattering scream, loud enough to make Chance dive into a bush and stay there. Then, I just burst into tears, and I hear footsteps.

The footsteps aren’t walking. They’re pounding, fast and heavy and getting louder, and the grass hisses under someone’s boots like the whole field is trying to get out of his way.

I don’t look up. I can’t.

“No, no, no,” says a voice, ragged and breathless, every word rounded off at the edges. “Cher. Hey. Hey, look at me.”

He drops to his knees in front of me so hard I feel it through the ground. He doesn’t ask me what happened. He doesn’t ask me why. He already knows, and the way his breath shakes tells me he’s been holding it since before he got here.

“I got you,” he says, and his hands are so careful, so gentle, closing around mine like I might break. “I got you. You ain’t alone. You hear me? I’m right here.”

Somewhere behind us, I hear Chance crash out of his bush and bark once, sharp and scared.

And all I can do is let my head fall forward and let him hold me.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I finally whisper, my eyes filled with tears. My eyes are bloodshot and red, and I don’t care anymore. I’m too shaken up to think straight. Then, I whisper, “Can the cat be without the bug?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything.

I feel his thumbs move across the backs of my hands, slow and careful, and I feel the breath he lets out, shaky and ragged, like he’s been running for miles. I’m afraid to look up. I’m afraid the answer is already written on his face.

“Cher,” he says finally, and his voice is so low and rough it barely sounds like him. “Look at me.”

I can’t.

“Okay. That’s okay.” His hands tighten, just a little. “Then just listen. I saw what you did. I ain’t gonna lie to you and say I didn’t, and I ain’t gonna act like it didn’t scare the life out of me.”

My shoulders shake. A fresh wave of tears spills over, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“But I ain’t mad. You hear me? Not one bit.”

Something in my chest cracks.

“And to answer your question.” He lets out a short, unsteady laugh that sounds more like a sob. “No. The cat can’t be without the bug. He tried it once, a long time ago. Spent a whole week walkin’ around like somebody took the sun out of the sky.”

I let out a wet, broken laugh before I can stop it.

“The bug can hold it down on her own, sure. She’s strong. Strongest person I know.” His voice catches. “But she don’t have to. Not while I’m breathin’.”

I finally lift my head.

His face is wrecked. His eyes are red, his chest is still heaving, and there are leaves stuck in his hair, because of course there are. But he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, and the walls I built on the train ride come crashing down all at once.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I whisper again.

“Don’t you apologize to me.” He pulls me into his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head. “Not for this. Never for this.”

I bury my face in his shirt, and he smells like chicory coffee and rain and the sprint across the whole town. Chance creeps out of his bush, whining, and presses against my back, so I’m held from both sides.

“Tonight, you breathe,” Zeke murmurs into my hair. “Tomorrow, we figure it out. Together. That’s all you gotta do.”

I nod against him, and for the first time since I got off that train, I let myself believe him.