Mom on a Mission

The house was quiet when Donna came in, shopping bags cutting into her palms. Her time with Neha had been rewarding, showing the woman how an ideal mother should dress, and so she'd rewarded herself with a few outfits of her own. She dropped them on the kitchen island with a soft thump, then stood there a moment, listening to the silence. It felt strange, almost too empty, after the adventurous weekend she'd had. But Juniper would be back at university by now, the girls at their respective homes. Joey, though, should be home. Maybe they could have some fun.

A quick look upstairs, though, showed that she was alone in the house. Donna felt disappointed, but understood. A man like Joey would have been quite popular at school that day. He was exactly the kind of guy that the hot, popular girls couldn't resist. He was probably enjoying himself somewhere with one or two of them. She'd have to catch him when he got home.

She opened the fridge, pulled out the container of leftover roast chicken, and ate standing at the counter, fork in hand. The flavor was fine, but her mind was elsewhere. She thought of Neha Patel in the dressing room, cheeks pink, body half-hidden behind a curtain while Donna coaxed her into clothes Neha had thought no decent housewife would ever dare to try. That look—embarrassed, trembling, but then softening when Donna gave her that proud smile—stuck in her mind.

Neha had looked radiant by the end. A woman reborn. A proper mother.

Donna chewed slowly, tapping the fork against her teeth. Neha's husband—did he deserve her? Did he even know what kind of woman she could be if he pushed her, guided her? Probably not. Most men didn't. Most men were small. Like Hank, for example. Donna had thought she had loved him for years, only to discover so late in their relationship that he was holding her back, preventing her from seeing her true love. She almost wanted to tell Neha the truth outright, to tell her that Joey—her Joey—was what a real man was. What a man should be. Neha deserved to know what it felt like. Maybe one day she'd let her in on that secret.

She smiled faintly at the thought, licking a bit of grease from her thumb. Joey. Her perfect man. Just imagining him walking through that door tonight made her body warm, as if her whole day—the long hours at the office, the shopping, the mentoring—had just been her preparing for him.

The click of the front door broke her from her reverie. Donna set the fork down, straightening.

"Joey?" she called.

But it wasn't Joey. To Donna's surprise, it was Juniper that came through the door, hair mussed, eyes sharp. Behind her were Serena—tall, polished even with dirt on her knees—and Indira, her dark eyes wide and fearful.

Donna's heart lurched. "Juniper? What on Earth are you doing here? Why aren't you at school?" Then, "Where's your brother?"

The three girls exchanged a frantic glance, like conspirators caught mid-heist. Then they began moving at once—rifling through drawers, opening cupboards.

"Do you have flashlights?" Serena asked, breathless.

"Food," Juniper muttered. "Something we can carry."

"Camping equipment," Indira added, voice hushed but urgent.

Donna planted herself in the middle of the kitchen. "Stop. Right now. All of you. Tell me what is going on."

Juniper froze, fists clenched at her sides. She looked like a little girl again, caught sneaking out. But then her voice came low, steady, charged with something Donna had never heard from her before. "It's Joey, Mom. He's… he's not here. He's not in this world. Elorae took him."

That was all it took. The dam broke, the story flowed out of the three girls in a torrent. The words seemed nonsensical. Magic. Glades. Vanishing. Donna wanted to scoff, wanted to demand sense, but she couldn't. She looked at her daughter, and the conviction in Juniper's eyes shook her to the core. Juniper didn't make things like this up.

For a moment, Donna's body went cold. There had been something unnerving about that woman. Then she inhaled sharply, grabbed her keys from the counter, and snapped into motion.

"There's a lantern and extra batteries in the garage. Sleeping bags in the basement. Get them."

The girls scattered with relief, suddenly soldiers under orders. Donna darted upstairs, shedding her work clothes as she went. In minutes she had pulled on fitted hiking pants, a long-sleeve top, a windbreaker. She tied her hair back, sprayed her ankles and wrists with bug repellent, and caught her reflection in the mirror: hard eyes, determined jaw. She looked like a woman ready for a campaign.

Back downstairs, she found the girls piling gear in the entryway. Serena with a coil of rope, Indira clutching a blanket, Juniper stuffing granola bars into a backpack. They all turned to look at her—confused.

"What?" Donna asked, slinging a flashlight onto her hip.

"You're… coming?" Indira said softly.

Donna gave her a look. "Of course I'm coming, sweetie. Joey is my perfect man. If he's in trouble, I'll be there." Her voice cracked once, then steadied, a blade of steel. "There's no way I'm letting you wait for him alone in the woods. Not without me."

She pulled out her phone, thumbs flying, and opened the group chat. One by one, the names appeared: Serena, Indira, Juniper, Madison, Aynsley, Eliza, Bianca. The women who mattered to him.

Donna: Drop everything. Grab camping gear, dress warm, and meet at my house ASAP. Joey needs us. We're going into the woods.

She hit send, the message glowing bright against the kitchen's dim light. The sound of it flying into the ether gave her a strange shiver of satisfaction, like rallying a loyal army.

She looked at the three young women by the door. "Now," she said, voice clipped, commanding. "There's lots to do before we go. Let's get to it."

And just like that, the night began.