It was a sort of ambiguous emptiness–as if you were looking at an already-completed puzzle, then back at the box, then back at the completed puzzle, and something in your brain insisted that there was some missing element that the puzzle didn't get right; but that couldn't possibly be the case, right? It's not like there are any more pieces to pour out of the box, and each of its sides form perfectly straight lines.

Valerie Esperanza narrowed her eyes as she stared out the window, her chin resting on her hand; her arm resting on the decrepit wood of the kitchen table; her torso leaned up against a simple window peppered with dust, smudge, and the occasional dead bug; her body sat down on top of a brightly-colored plastic chair which itself sat on a plain linoleum floor; and her mind outside in the crisp fall weather, zooming in circles around the middle-aged apple tree in her backyard, analyzing every nook and cranny to figure out what about it now annoyed her so much, when it probably hadn't changed in decades, and–

A squishy something wrapped in denim bumped against her bare knee. Val's eyes shot down to meet the expectant gaze of a small toddler, who smiled, then promptly proceeded to vomit all over her leg.

Val sighed, nodded her head once at baby Diego, stood up, and slung a handful of paper towels over the splash. "Sadie!" she yelled up the stairs, growing increasingly unsatisfied with how poorly this particular cheap brand absorbed the liquid, "Diego just puked all over me! Can you come grab him?"

No response.

With a little effort, she managed to wipe the rest of the mess off her own leg–noting her luck that it hadn't soiled any of her new shorts–then turned to clean up the poor kid himself. "Jesus, and it's all over the new overalls, too…" Val shook her head. She hoisted Diego up onto the plastic chair, where he now stared out of the window while sucking his thumb. "Y'know, if you keep this up, I'm not gonna buy you any more clothes, no matter how short your old ones get."

The second she had cleaned up most of the non-soaked parts, Diego had already long interest in whatever business he had with her, and was now pressing his wet little face against the window.

Val chuckled. "You feel it too, huh buddy?" Grabbing him by the waist, she hoisted up his tiny frame into the elbow of her arm, angling him away from her clothes, and booped his nose with the other. He flinched, then smiled back at her. "Should we go wake up Mommy? Yeah? Tell her that it's her turn to hose you off this time?"

Diego nodded.

A quick dash up the stairs later, Val pushed open the cracked door with her shoulder, breaching assaultive house lighting upon its vampiric inhabitant. "Hey! Lazy butt!"

The figure shuffled and groaned under the blankets.

"C'mon. I know you heard me. I cleaned him up like the last four times."

"Hmmmf… gmmf, dmmf."

"Alright, well, if you're not going to get up and get him, I suppose I could just…" Val sidled over to Sadie's bedside, and placed the little vomit-ridden child right on top of the comforter.

Sadie's nostrils flared once, and she whipped upright in bed. "Oh Christ Valerie, what in the f–"

Val raised a hand. "Chill, chill. You'd've had to wash the bedding anyway. See?" She pulled up a section of blanket near the edge of the bed that was already suspiciously stained. "…dare I ask if this was him, or you?"

Sadie snarled. "Get out of my room, you little–"

"Hey, whoa, no reason to get upset!" Val had already backed out towards the entranceway. "Just figured, y'know, you might want to actually act like a mother once in a while."

"Oh, you wouldn't dare–" Sadie started, just as Val pulled the door shut.

Cautiously backing away and watching the door for any sneak attacks, Val stepped down the stairs one by one until she reached the second-from-the-bottom, where she plopped herself down and sighed.

She's looking worse than before, Val thought to herself as she shifted her toes around the worn, tan carpet. Wonder when she ate last. She stared over at her now-abandoned breakfast–a soggy, depressed bowl of plain Cheerios, now waiting for its inevitable end down a garbage disposal–before putting her head in between her knees, which still smelled vaguely of vomit.

The front door swung open, now shining its own pillar of autumnal sunlight into the dark house. Val leaned over to spot the new arrival.

"Oh! Mom! You're back kinda… early, huh?"

Mom shrugged and gave a weary smile, the stains on her navy-blue scrubs becoming apparent as she stepped out of the harsh light, the ironed-on patch reading 'Palma Retirement' starting to peel at the top edge. "Yeah. I guess they're sending some of us home before our shift ends, now." She seemed to struggle to get her arms out of the zipped grey hoodie that covered her back, but eventually found her way, and hung it up on one of the two empty hooks next to the door.

"You see Dad on your way back?"

She shook her head. "No. He called me and said the Aquarium folks are dragging out the meeting again."

Val smirked. "They must be getting pretty desperate, huh?"

"Well, that's the hope, I think." Mom sat down on a plush reading chair–the only reasonably upholstered piece of furniture on the entire floor–and massaged her temples. "Sadie going to be awake enough to take Diego to Dr. Hatchett today?"

"…Maybe. She seemed pretty awake a moment ago, but she's still shut up in her room."

Mom exhaled slowly. "…that's fine. I can take him. He needs to go, one way or another, anyway… I'm really worried."

"I don't know Mom, Diego'll figure it out eventually–he's a really smart kid!" Val bit her lip. "…and we can't keep covering for her. She has to be there for him."

Mom stood up and walked toward the kitchen, still wearing that tired smile. "Oh honey," she said as she ruffled Val's hair, "some things you just can't wait on people for."

The sound of a handle turning drew both their attention up towards the stairs–where the door to Sadie's room creaked open, and Diego came stomping out. His eyes widened at the sight of his grandmother, and he began his awkward measured steps down the stairs, letting out little grunts with each bit of progress.

"Hey sweetheart!" Mom's expression widened into a beam as she scooped up the toddler from the stairs, then held him up to eye contact. "Wow, you stink. Could you go outside by the hose and take this off? Then just wait for me?"

Diego nodded excitedly.

Val rolled her eyes. "…not your job…" she mumbled behind her teeth.

Squirming out of her arms as she put him down, Diego sprinted as fast as his tiny legs would allow towards the back screen door, which he slid open with deft skill, then disappeared behind the wall to the outside.

Once he was out of sight, Mom shook her head. "It's just not natural. I mean, both you and Sadie were talking my ear off by the time you were walking around like him."

"Mom, really… I mean, maybe he just doesn't have anything to say, yet?" Val raised an arm and patted her mother's shoulder.

Even as they walked to the kitchen, Mom didn't stop shaking her head, alternatingly grinding her teeth. "That's a really sweet thought, cricket, but…" she washed her hands with an abnormally strong grip, "that's just not how kids work."

"I'm gonna build a treehouse."

Mom tilted her head. "Why?"

"I don't know–there's like a million reasons." Val continued staring out the window, watching the branches sway in the slight summer breeze. "It would be really nice to have my own little space, y'know? Have some place to bring my friends when they come over, where we don't have to deal with all the… y'know… moods. In the house. And when Diego's old enough, we could hang out in there, since you know Sadie wouldn't be caught dead in a treehouse."

"I suppose that makes sense. It'd be better if he got some more sun…" Mom shrugged, the plastic straw clinking around the ice in her convenience-store tea. "But I'm not sure Dad will have the energy any time soon to help with something like that–you know how things have been with the store lately, and…"

Val held out a flat palm and shook her head. "Who said anything about Dad? I can just build it on my own." She resumed resting her chin on her hand and turned her head, looking her mother in the eyes. "It'll be my own project. Like he did when he was a teenager. It's in my blood."

Mom drew a skeptical look. "Honey, I really don't think that compares. It's a lot of work, y'know–you have to gather supplies, for one, then have a basic understanding of carpentry, and, well, maybe more fundamentally, be able to lift everything up there…"

"What, and starting an aquatic pet business isn't a lot of work?" Val grimaced. "I can do things. I've done a lot of things! More so than Sadie." She grit her teeth.

"You know, you really shouldn't be so tough on her. She's gone through a lot." Mom drained the last of her iced tea, and stood up to throw away the cup, the plastic chair squeaking against the linoleum as she pushed it back in.

"Fine. I'll be nice." Val huffed. "But when have I ever not figured it out? Mathletes? The school play? Soccer? I think I've deserved a little more trust than that…"

Mom peered out the window, scanning the backyard for the resident toddler. "Well, it's just… something like that is really involved. What about soccer? What would be so wrong with your project being becoming the best soccer player you can be? You've already come so far!"

"That's not a project, Mom." Val crossed her arms and leaned back. "A project is like… building something. For the future. Beyond just myself. I mean, what will I leave behind when I die? If I'm just a soccer player…" her voice dropped, "…everything'll just… disappear."

"Oh, sweetheart…" Mom walked over and kissed her forehead. "You're far too young to be thinking like that. You should just do what makes you happy." She leaned down with her hand on Val's shoulder. "Because that was your father's real project–making a safe, stable home for our family. So you can pursue whatever fulfills you."

Val sighed, then directed her wistful gaze back out the window. "But Mom, that's the thing–I really think building a treehouse will be fulfilling. It's real. And it's not just for me, either. Do you just not think it sounds like a nice idea?"

Mom bit her lip. "I don't know, Val… you're a hard worker, and I love you, but… well, like your sister, you can be a little stubborn, even to the point of hurting yourself…"

Val placed her hand over her mother's, which was still resting on her shoulder. "C'mon, Mom. Have I ever let you down?"

"…I guess not. You've always been my superstar." Mom smiled. "Alright, well, I guess we can see if Dad or Uncle Miguel can help you get started sometime next weekend–"

"Next weekend?" Val grew a little concerned. "Mom, I have to start on this today! Who knows how much longer we have before it gets too hot outside!"

Mom rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure. Just… make sure you have someone with you while you're working. A spotter, or something."

"…are you serious?"

A weary, Jesse Herrera stood in the doorway, six feet tall, fourteen years old, dressed in an oversized soccer jersey and pajama shorts that extended just barely past the hem of the top. He rubbed his eyes with both fingers, clearly unadjusted to the mid-morning sun, towering over Val.

"Dead serious." Val nodded, straining to look upwards to find his face. "Look, it's not like I'm cool with… y'know, how things went down. With Tommy. But I know I've been kind of cold to you for the past few grades, and, well, when I see you sitting alone at lunch…"

"…my friends just don't go to our school…" Jesse mumbled, pulling his long, black hair back with his fingers.

"Well, it makes me think that it wasn't really fair to judge you for all of that. I mean, I don't really agree with what my big sister does, either, so I guess I shouldn't've held it against you that your older brother's a turtle murderer." Upon completing her sentence, Val froze, a bit of panic creeping across her face. "Wait… he's not here, is he?"

"Nah," Jesse yawned. "He moved out. Lives downtown now."

"Oh." Val paused. "I'm… um, sorry?"

"It's no big." Jesse waved a hand, then let out a forced chuckle. "He's… yeah. He was tough to live with. Probably a good thing he's out of the neighborhood."

"Mm." Val fidgeted in her spot. "Well, so, I'm kinda doing this project, and I thought, hey, maybe this is a good thing to reconnect over, since I could really use someone with your… uh…" she stared at his shoulders, where average-sized but toned muscles poked out from his skin, "…capability."

Jesse's surprised expression turned to mellow regret. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I can't buy you beer. Every convenience store owner in the city had run-ins with Lalo, so they definitely already know I'm not old enough to–"

"No–no, nothing like that." Val lightly punched his arm. Jesse did a double-take as his face lit up again. "I'm building a treehouse in my backyard, and my mom says I have to have someone help me lift stuff and make sure I don't injure myself. And, you're, um, pretty tall. And look strong."

"Oh… jeez." Jesse nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I mean, y'know, I've been working on it. Eating a lot of protein. Lifting weights in the garage. Guess it must be paying off, if I was your first choice for something like this."

"…sure." Val half-responded through tight lips. "So you're in?"

Jesse looked back inside, scanning the kitchen behind him. "Er, I guess so. Nobody's around at home today, anyway."

"Great!" Val clapped her hands together. "I was thinking we could ride our bikes back to my place, then hit the Weiss Hardware a couple blocks away, and then carry the wood from–"

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You want to… carry enough wood for a treehouse across across town? Y'know how much that would weigh, right?"

Val pouted. "Well, we could find a cart or something and maybe ask the store owners if we could…"

Shaking his head, Jesse reached up and grabbed the keys next to the hook. "Here, we'll take my dad's truck." He stepped out of the doorway onto the driveway. "Here, c'mon! You should see how big the steering wheel is, you could literally–"

"Hold on," Val grabbed Jesse's arm, then attempted to stare him down. "First off, you're not coming around my place dressed like that. Second, aren't you too young to drive?"

Jesse stared down where she was holding his forearm. "Er, well, it's not like anybody really cares about all that, right? I've done it a hundred times–the cops have way better things to be doing in this town."

"So you've never been caught?"

"Caught?" Jesse laughed. "I mean, they see me. But I'm a safe driver, y'know? It's not like I'm a menace on the roads. Been driving this old thing for a couple years now, haven't even been pulled over once."

"You promise?"

"Yes, yes." Jesse raised a mock hand to the skies. "On the honor of the Herrera family name."

"…that's encouraging," Val mumbled. "…I guess it's okay. Go change." She tilted her head back towards the door.

"Aye-aye, captain." Jesse grinned, loosened his arm from her grip, then patted her on the shoulder as he sprinted back into the house.

Val had barely sat down on a slightly-too-warm rock outside the house before Jesse triumphantly opened the door, still dressed in the same oversized jersey, but now sporting basketball shorts and a dirty, beat-up pair of generic-brand Jordans. "Ready?" He twirled the truck keys in his hands over.

"That's… not–" Val exhaled. "Fine, fine. Let's go."

"Alright, so!" Jesse waltzed into Weiss Hardware, its automatic sliding doors greeting him like a royal court to a king, the cool air of the inside blowing his hair back. "What's on the list? What do we need?"

Val wobbled forward, legs quivering beneath her, eyes glued down at the sidewalk in front of her. "W-we shouldn't… be… alive…" she whispered, then stuck out a hand to balance herself against the walls of the entrance. "Who taught you to drive?"

"Hermano." Jesse looked forward, scanning each of the signs at the top of the aisles. "I mean, he's a jerk, like you said, but he's a really good driver, too. He even won some street races before he went to pri–er, moved out. Best teacher I could've asked for."

"Ha. Ha." Val attempted to regain her composure, standing up straight and joining Jesse and looking down the aisles. "Well, the first thing we need is wood. Enough for a floor, some walls, and a roof."

Jesse scratched his head. "Are treehouse roofs made of wood?"

"Well, what else would they be made of?"

"I dunno, like… roof… stuff? Like tiling, I guess?"

"I think that goes on top of the wood of the roof."

"Er, sure. That sounds right." Jesse swerved back and nabbed a long cart, bringing it forward with the same aggro with which he had driven the car. "This big enough?"

"Should be a good start," Val mused as they walked down past each of the aisles, before stopping at the carpentry section. "Ah, here we go." She marched up to the counter in front of the shop, where various workers were cutting pieces right behind.

"Can I help you?" A skinny older gentleman, well past retirement age, smiled warmly at the teenagers as they approached, his voice weak and with a slight whistle.

"Yes," Val placed both her hands on the cold false granite of the counter, and she could feel the exposed skin on her forearm picking up all the little flakes of sawdust. "How much wood do you need to build a treehouse?"

"Well, that depends," the old man bobbed his head. "Just a one-room? Maybe a cabinet or two?"

Val nodded. "Sounds like exactly what we're looking for!"

"Alright, alright, that's a good start. And what dimensions?"

"Er, uh…" Val looked over to see Jesse missing from the cart, distracted by a showroom display of shiny power tools. "Y'know… regular dimensions? Kinda normal sized, I guess?" She shot the teenage boy a mean look and gestured him back over. "Jesse? You wouldn't happen to know the dimensions of a regular, normal-sized treehouse, right?"

"Nuh-uh." Jesse shook his head. He had brought back a particularly large drill with a gleaming tip. "Sorry, mister, I didn't see a price tag on this one?"

"Those run about $600, just for the base set. You'll need to provide your own drillbits," the man replied, raising a finger gesturing towards Jesse–who now looked disappointed–indicating for him to put it back where he found it. "Well, Miss, I can probably help you figure out what you're looking for. What can you tell me about the height and circumference of the tree you're trying to build on?"

"I… uh…" Val stuttered, trying to picture it in her mind, then held out her arms in a wide arc. "Well, it's about this big, if you just kinda… imagine… that this is part of the circle. Kind of a standard, average-sized big tree?"

The older man's smile faded just a bit. "I appreciate your effort, Miss, but… I'm afraid I can't help you without much more information. Now, if you can get some measurements, and maybe an adult to help you, then I can–"

"Ugh," Val groaned as she rubbed the space between her eyes. "Look, we're kind of in a hurry. We've got to get this thing built today, and we don't have time to go back and get–"

"Er, sorry, Miss? You're trying to build a treehouse in a day? And you don't have measurements?" The man raised an eyebrow that deepend all the wrinkles on his forehead into dark crevices, situated above the massive fuzzy caterpillar itself. "Given your experience level, I'm not sure if that's exactly advis–"

"Christ, don't you understand?" Val rolled her eyes and slapped the counter in frustration.

The man jumped back, surprised at the outburst.

Val closed her eyes and took a handful of deep breaths. "Sorry, sorry. This is just, really, really important to me." She opened her eyes and scanned around the carpentry section, before she settled on an impressive-looking pile of two-by-fours near the front. "Here–I'll just buy that stack right there."

"Okay, okay." The man stared down at the old keyboard in front of him, identifying each letter as he typed it into the terminal, then turned the screen towards Val. "That stack there will run you about $1200."

"Twelve hundred!?" Val gasped. "That is insanity! Doesn't wood literally grow on trees?"

The man's smile had faded completely, and he now wore a flat, disapproving expression.

"Hmph." Val shot him a dirty look back, then reached in her back pocket, producing a plain polyester money folder with a couple bills, which she then pulled out and flipped through her fingers. "How much will… fifty bucks get?"

The man sighed loudly, and went back to hunt-and-pecking numbers into the machine.

Val waved over Jesse. "Hey!"

His head perked up, and he jogged back over from the power toys display, whose drill section was now in disarray–likely from Jesse's various inspections. "What's up?"

"You have any cash on you?"

"Nah."

"…of course."

"You need me to get some? I got a few guys who owe me a little bit." Jesse pointed his thumb behind him. "Just a quick trip downtown is all."

"No, no, the less driving I do with you today, the better," Val sighed, exasperated. "It's fine. Let's see what we can manage."

The old man at the counter flipped the screen back over again. "Well, there's not much we can do for you in the way of any sort of proper material, but we can get you a good stack of plywood, although I really wouldn't attempt to build a treehouse with–"

"Perfect." Val slid the money over the counter, then glanced at the screen. "We'll take it. Jesse? Five boards?"

"Aye-aye, captain." Jesse grabbed the flimsy plywood boards out of the metal basket, and loaded them up the cart.

Val nodded back at the man, who barely had time to pick up the cash before she flipped around and began to leave. "Pleasure doing business!" she waved back, Jesse trailing right behind.

With an effortless vault, Jesse hopped up into the back of the truck, grabbed two pieces of plywood, sat on the rim, then slid down over the side. Val herself was still in the back, trying to figure out how to grip the large board without throwing immediately off-balance.

"So, why do you want to build a treehouse, anyway?" Jesse called out as he leaned his boards against the side of the garage, then jumped back in the truck.

"Oh, y'know, like a thousand reasons." Val kept staring at her own piece. "I don't really get a lot of chances to work with my actual hands, y'know? I mean, football's fine and all, but it doesn't involve building anything, and everything else I do is all brain stuff."

"So you're building a treehouse… just to build something?" Jesse flipped over the side of the truck again.

"No… I mean, not exactly. It's partially that. I mean, just think about having a treehouse! Remember all those books growing up where some group of kids had a treehouse and all sorts of adventures and memories and stories happen?" Val gingerly gripped the sides of the plywood board and lifted it up onto her lap as she sidled over to the rim of the truck. "And nobody, seriously, nobody has a treehouse around here. I don't even think I've ever even heard of anyone ever having one. But I just can't understand that–especially when I'm sure we all know that having one would be cool."

"I guess." Jesse extended his arms out, and guided Val down as she took her one piece over the edge. "Probably some kids have a treehouse, though. And, I dunno, it kinda feels like maybe we're a little old for that stuff–honestly, I'd probably rather a decent ride."

Val leaned against the garage. "I feel like you're missing the point."

"I feel like you don't really have a point." Jesse laughed. "But s'okay. I'm along for the ride. And it's cool to hear that you're still playing the game."

"Oh, yeah." Val chuckled back. "You still playing, too?"

Jesse shook his head. "Nah. I went on for a little bit, but… well, y'know, I'm not very good. That, and Pops got worried when some of the other boys in the club started ditching practice to smoke by the church. So I work for him most days after school, now."

"So you don't even get to just be a kid, anymore." Val reached in the open cooler by the garage, tossed Jesse a plastic water bottle, and cracked open her own. "That sucks."

Jesse shrugged, then downed the entirety of the bottle. "Not really. I like driving." He noticed Val wince. "…even if you don't." he joked, crushing the bottle between his palms.

The interior door to the garage swung open, and a tiny little figure stepped out, black hair beginning to stick up in resistance to being glued down with water just a little earlier that morning.

"Diego!" Val called out.

"Whoa, whoa!" Jesse smiled and gestured towards Diego as his little steps propelled him forward. "Who's this guy? I thought you only had the one sister!"

"Sadie's kid. He's cute, but he's a punk." Val picked up Diego and tried pushing his hair back down. "Aren't you! And your hair, too!"

"What's good, little man?" Jesse stepped forward and extended a palm upwards. Diego slapped his own palm down on Jesse's with all the little force he could muster. "Ooh, good return. You give a lot of high-fives?"

Diego stared back, then stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"Ah, he… Diego doesn't really talk," Val jumped in, then set Diego down, who went and stood next to Jesse, staring up at him. "It's kind of a thing, right now."

"No worries." Jesse patted the kid's head. "Pops says Lalo used to be that way, too. He didn't get over it until like the second grade, and he's been on a tear ever since."

Val shot him a dirty look.

"Er, not the best example, I guess. I'm sure it's a different thing. Plus, Diego seems like a way better kid."

"I certainly hope so." Val replied, then scooped Diego back up again. "I'll go inside and grab some tools, yeah? You mind bringing the supplies to the backyard?"

"Sure! Let's get this thing started!" Jesse picked up a piece and sauntered out of the garage.

Val waited patiently until Jesse was out of earshot, then sat Diego on the counter. She looked out the window as Jesse, bouncing the plywood in his hands and whistling as he walked along, approached the tree in the distance. She sighed and turned to Diego, who stared intently back up at her, then over at Jesse, then back at her.

"It's okay, Diego." Val nodded, whispering under her breath. "I won't tell him about what you showed me."

Diego nodded back then raised his arms up towards Val.

She hugged him back. "I won't tell anyone."