1.25 – Banishment

“THIS IS TERRIBLE!”

Laguna and Quinn both leaned out of their respective corners of the house like curious sentinels, drawn by the sharp edge in Leona’s voice. Quinn emerged from her studio, her brows raised in mild alarm, while Goonie paused mid-motion in the kitchen, a half-prepared sandwich sitting abandoned on the counter.

For a long beat, mother and daughter exchanged a look—silent, knowing. Then Quinn made a sweeping gesture toward Goonie, her tone dry but weary. “This one’s yours, Mom. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

Quinn’s words carried a resigned finality, and her stance was as casual as it was determined. Though she still had a soft spot for Leona’s crises, her senior-year obligations were already gnawing at her time: the looming move to college, endless paperwork, and her dedication to her music. The noise of teenage angst, especially when she couldn’t fully understand it, had slipped lower on her list of priorities. Still, her voice held a trace of affection when she added, “Let me know if it’s anything life-threatening, though.”

Goonie gave a slight nod, a tired but patient sigh escaping her lips. “I’ve got it,” she murmured before stepping into the room and pulling Leona into a tight, grounding hug. Her embrace was warm, but the way her hands smoothed over Leona’s back betrayed a mother’s worry.

“What’s troubling you, sweetie?” Goonie asked, her voice soft, soothing like a lullaby. She didn’t have to guess too hard—the fallout with Sarah hung over Leona like a storm cloud. It wasn’t just the fracture of young love; it was the gnawing sense that something deeper had cracked between them.

Leona sniffled, clinging to her mother, though her eyes darted toward Quinn’s retreating figure with a mix of longing and resignation. “It’s Sarah,” she began, her voice thin and brittle, like the edges of a fractured glass. “Something’s wrong. Really wrong.”

Goonie stroked her hair gently, her brow furrowing with concern. “Is this about what happened at the café?” she ventured, knowing full well that the wounds from that evening still festered beneath Leona’s surface.

Leona shook her head, the motion abrupt and desperate. “No. Yes. It’s more than that,” she insisted, her voice cracking under the weight of whatever revelation had ignited her earlier outburst. “I… I finally got her on the phone, Mom.”

Goonie stilled, her breath catching in her throat. “And?” she prompted softly, afraid of the answer.

“I convinced her to tell me what’s really going on,” Leona said, trembling. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms as if to brace against the truth she now carried. “She fessed up.”

Leona gripped her phone tightly, the cool glass pressing against her ear as the endless ringing droned on. Each unanswered call felt like a fresh wound, slicing deeper than the last. Her free hand fidgeted with the small glass orb, its fuzzy grey feathers sealed inside. The trinket Sarah had given her months ago, a gift that once brought simple joy but also frustration for how Sarah had been suckered into buying it on the dealer’s floor, now seemed like a cruel reminder of what was slipping away. Her thumb traced its smooth surface, feeling every familiar contour, as if Sarah's voice might spill from it instead of the crushing silence on the other end. The absence gnawed at her, the hope that Sarah might pick up fading with every unanswered ring.

Tears welled, blurring her vision, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. They rolled unchecked down her cheeks, one falling with a soft plink onto the orb in her palm. The drop sparkled in the sunlight as it spread across the glass, fracturing the beam into shimmering fragments that danced across the walls of her bedroom. For a fleeting moment, her room filled with color—brilliant reds, blues, and golds spilling over the faded posters and scattered books. Then, just as quickly, the light dimmed again, swallowed by the clouds outside, leaving only dull gray shadows in its wake.

Leona leaned forward, her breath hitching as she choked back another sob. The sound of the ringing filled her ears like a cruel metronome, marking time that stretched on forever. She knew how this would end. She knew, and yet she hoped. Hoped that this time, Sarah would answer, that this time, there would be something different.

But there wasn’t.

The call went to voicemail—again.

Her hand clenched around the orb, the cool glass biting into her palm as she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. She stared at the phone, the recorded message playing as if to mock her persistence. “Hey, it’s Sarah. Sorry I can’t—”

Leona hung up before it could finish, the silence in the room suddenly deafening.

She considered calling Sarah’s parents, but the thought made her stomach twist. That would only make everything worse. They’d never understand, never listen. They’d just see her as the problem. Always the problem.

Curling into herself, Leona clutched the orb tighter, as if it were the last piece of Sarah she had left.

Leona called again the next day and the next, her desperation growing with each passing hour of unanswered rings. When Sarah finally picked up, her voice trembled, each word fractured by sobs that had clearly worn her down.

“They’re sending me to a camp, Leona!” Sarah’s voice cracked like glass under pressure. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just told them what I—what I think.”

Leona frowned, confused, trying to catch the meaning between the broken sobs. “A camp?” she repeated, forcing a hopeful lilt into her voice. “Like…a summer camp? For music or sports?” She let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, you could finally get out into nature and enjoy some fresh air, away from your parents.”

But Sarah’s weeping only grew louder, raw and heart-wrenching, shredding any illusion of lightheartedness. “Leona,” Sarah whispered, her voice hoarse with grief, “it’s not that kind of camp.”

Leona froze, the air growing heavy, suffocating. “What…what kind of camp is it then?” she asked, her voice cracking, dread curling in her stomach like ice.

“It’s one to—to make me normal,” Sarah whispered, the words spoken like a death sentence. Her breath hitched violently. “They said they’ll fix me.”

Leona’s hand gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. “Fix?” The word felt foreign and cruel. “What do they think needs fixing, Sarah? You’re not broken.” Her voice grew desperate. “You’re not broken!”

“They think I am,” Sarah murmured, her voice barely audible. “They said it’ll help me stop thinking like…like this. Stop liking you.”

Leona’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She shook her head, even though Sarah couldn’t see it. “No. No, they can’t do this to you! You don’t need to change. You shouldn’t have to—”

“It’s already done,” Sarah interrupted, her voice hollow. “They signed the papers. No one can stop it now.”

Leona’s body shook, anger and helplessness warring within her. “I’ll stop it,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ll find a way.”

But deep down, she feared there was nothing she could do.

“Sarah’s being sent to some kind of religious camp for the summer!” Leona’s voice trembled as she chewed her lip, eyes wide with frustration. “There wouldn’t normally be anything too wrong with that… except she’s heard about where she’s being sent. It’s one of those camps that’s supposed to cure the ‘gay condition.’” Her throat tightened, choking the words as they passed her lips, the weight of the news crashing down on her.

“That can’t be right.” Goonie scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t seriously think things like those camps can exist anymore, hon. The world is a different place these days than it was way back when. People are more open-minded and accepting, and this is California. To think that anyone would go so far these days is just—” Goonie tried to reassure Leona, but her voice trailed off as she saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes.

Leona’s grip tightened on the edge of the counter. “When Sarah gets me the name of this place, I’m going to look it up,” she said, almost to herself, but it came out louder. “Sarah’s parents told her flat out why she was going—what the goal was. Of course, the news upset her, and she told her parents why she was crying. Our serious conversation about us is why she’s in this situation! It’s actually my fault!” Leona’s breath hitched, her voice rising in pitch as the panic began to set in.

She paced, her mind racing. “I knew her parents hated us being together, hated me and my whole family from practically the second they saw us. I know that’s why her mom hasn’t offered us that pie since the first time we met. They’re some kinda religious conservative types—and now they’re pushing it past the border of what’s healthy.” Leona’s hand clenched into a fist. “This situation is going to destroy her! I’m so worried, Mom. What if she comes back as someone I don’t recognize?”

Goonie sighed, her hands rubbing Leona’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. “I can see your worries, but I think nothing bad’s going to happen. Sarah is a good girl. Although you have your own thoughts on the subject, this is between her and her parents. We’ll just leave it well enough alone for now.” Her voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that she couldn’t quite hide. She stroked Leona’s hair gently, trying to ease her fears, but it didn’t seem to be helping.

Leona pulled away, her voice rising in desperation. “But what if they really change her? I like her a lot… REALLY!” She blurted it out, her face flushing with the intensity of her feelings. “Who she is right now? My kitty! I know it’s selfish—but I don’t want to lose her to some kind of ignorant—” She faltered, her words catching as her emotions spiraled. “—bullsh—crap!” Leona’s hands were shaking now, a nervous energy surging through her body. “Just let me go!” she pleaded, trying to break free, but Goonie was quicker.

Before Leona could escape, Goonie grabbed her wrist with a firm grip, pulling her back into her embrace. “MOM!” Leona shouted, trying to struggle against her.

“No… I’m not letting go of you until you cool your jets,” Goonie replied, her voice steady but firm. “Now, relax.” She sighed deeply, rubbing Leona’s back soothingly in a rhythm that felt almost automatic now, like she had done this too many times before.

Leona buried her face into Goonie’s chest, her breath ragged. “She was crying!” she said, her voice loud with frustration. “I have to be there! Sarah doesn’t want this happening either.” The words tumbled out in a rush, desperate for Goonie to understand.

Goonie’s sigh grew deeper, the sound tinged with exhaustion. “It’s okay, kiddo. Do what you think is best,” she said softly, but there was an edge to her words that Leona couldn’t ignore. “Just be calm about it, try to think a little more, alright? Put it all into perspective.” Her tone was more resigned than callous, but it felt harsh to Leona’s ears all the same.

It wasn’t that Goonie didn’t care—Leona could see the helpless frustration on her mother’s face. Goonie, who fervently believed that children should choose their own paths, wasn’t any more happy about what was happening to Sarah than Leona was. But Goonie knew there was little that could be done from here.

Seeing the helplessness in her mother’s eyes dulled some of Leona’s anger. Slowly, she stopped fighting, her chest heaving as the storm inside her began to quiet. The heat of her fury ebbed, replaced with a numbing sense of helplessness.

Glumly, she nodded, feeling the weight of the world press down on her.

Putting her sleuthing cap on, Leona dove deeper into the mystery, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she cross-checked every Northern California camp that remotely matched Sarah’s descriptions. She rifled through pages of search results, eliminating options one by one, her stomach twisting tighter with each click. Her eyes narrowed as she stumbled upon a promising lead. She clicked on the link and stared at the website. At first, the words seemed innocuous—just the usual “religious studies,” “community outreach,” and “personal growth.” But the more she read, the more the words felt like a noose tightening around her throat.

Though they didn’t come right out and say it, it was clear enough when she read between the lines. The camp wasn’t about spiritual growth or finding peace—it was about fixing what they considered to be aberrant social behaviors. Leona’s pulse quickened as the cold weight of realization settled on her chest. This was exactly what she feared. It was one of those so-called “conversion camps,” disguised under the veneer of wholesome religious rhetoric, promising to “reform” what they deemed “unnatural tendencies.”

A shiver ran down her spine. What if she was the reason for this? What if her words and her actions—the way she had made Sarah feel—had led them down this path? The thought gnawed at her. What if she had been too bold in encouraging Sarah to be open about her feelings? Maybe she had pushed too hard, too fast. Leona’s mind began to spiral into darker corners. What if it had all been her fault? What if Sarah was only going through this because of the conversations they’d had, the love they had shared?

Her stomach twisted. If Sarah had to go to a camp like this, Leona could only imagine the horrors they’d put her through. In the worst-case scenario, her mind conjured images of zealots whipping away all traces of Sarah’s personality until there was nothing left. And even if things didn’t go that far, there was still the brutal, old-fashioned discipline they could use—things like isolation, forced confessions, punishment for being “impure.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Leona squeezed her eyes shut, but the images wouldn't go away. If she had any doubt before, it was gone now—this was a dangerous place. The kind of place that could break Sarah, remake her into someone she wouldn’t recognize, wouldn’t want to be. Maybe it had already begun.

The thought of Sarah being gone for weeks or months only deepened her sense of dread. She found out that Sarah would be locked away in this camp until early August. No contact with the outside world, not even a single phone call allowed. The realization hit her hard, the finality of it all. Every day without any news, without knowing if Sarah was okay, would stretch into eternity. Leona’s stomach churned with the thought of what could be happening to Sarah in there, and the pain of being left behind in the dark made her feel more helpless than ever.

The clock seemed to tick slower as the days went by. Leona tried to distract herself, but nothing worked. She would do anything to hear Sarah’s voice, to reassure herself that she was okay, that she wasn’t breaking. But nothing could break through the silence.

The day came when Sarah left, and Leona watched her go, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest. She wanted to scream, to run after her, but she stayed still, biting back the words that threatened to spill out. There was nothing she could do, not while Sarah was under the control of her parents and that twisted camp.

And so, Leona waited. Day after day, week after week, she was left alone with her worries, her thoughts spiraling deeper into the abyss. The worry gnawed at her constantly. Would Sarah come back changed? Or worse, would she come back and have forgotten her?

Time stretched out before her, each minute heavier than the last. Over a month passed, and Leona was no closer to knowing what was happening. All she could do was wait. But the silence—oh, the silence was unbearable.