The Untethered Minis Presents

Untethered: Kabrina Nelson

Read the opening chapter from my upcoming novel, Unburdened: A Story of Boundaries — Bree Nelson’s story begins here.

The smell of bacon and pancake syrup clung to the air like a promise.Sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, catching on the rim of a porcelain cereal bowl and bouncing off the silver knobs of the old stove. Bree Nelson sat at the table with her color-coded binder open, making notes in blue ink and side-eyes in equal measure.

Across from her, Kevin—her twin brother, rival, and full-time clown—grinned like he had no responsibilities and no fear. Which, to be fair, was accurate.

"You over there building a NASA launch schedule or just tryna pass Algebra?" he asked, biting into a pancake folded like a taco.

Bree didn’t look up. "I’m preparing for the year. You should try it sometime."

Kevin smirked, reaching for the syrup. "I am prepared. I picked out my outfits, charged my Walkman, and made a new mixtape last night. I’m basically Ivy League."

Their dad laughed from the stove, flipping another pancake onto a plate with the kind of rhythm that came from years of Sunday morning duty. "Don’t let him fool you, Bree. He’s just trying to charm his way through freshman year."

"It worked in middle school," Kevin shrugged.

Karen, their mother, breezed into the kitchen in a cloud of cocoa butter and command. She wore her weekend cleaning clothes—leggings, oversized tee, and gold hoops that somehow never came off—and carried a laundry basket like it weighed nothing.

"You better not be talking about girls and charm before 10 a.m.," she warned. "And Kabrina, go get that younger one out of the tub before he floods the hallway again."

"Yes ma’am," Bree muttered, standing up.

"I’m serious," Karen added. "Y’all are lucky I love y’all."

Bree smiled to herself as she left the kitchen. That was her mama's love language: warnings with a kiss underneath. Bree found Karl, five years old and still obsessed with superheroes, half-submerged in bubble water with one sock still on.

"Why are you like this?" she asked, helping him out.

"I was training," he said, completely serious. "In case I become Aquaman."

Later that day, the sun was high and the neighborhood was buzzing with end-of-summer energy. Bree and Janelle sat on Janelle's porch with one of the girls, Tasha, from around the way, sipping red punch out of old jelly jars and watching boys ride past on bikes way too small for them.

"You know Kevin swears he’s going to be famous," Janelle said, sliding her sunglasses down.

"He swears a lot of things," Bree replied. "Last week he said he could beat me in chess, and he still doesn’t know how the horse moves."

They both laughed. Tasha's little cousin came running through the yard in a diaper and jelly sandals.

"Yo, remember that one time we played hide-and-seek and Kendal got stuck in a trash can?" Tasha said.

"He wasn’t even hiding. He just fell in." Bree shook her head, still laughing. "Mama almost had a heart attack."

The girls talked for hours—about teachers, crushes, what they’d wear the first day, who might get detention first. It was the kind of lazy, perfect summer day that didn’t feel important until it was over.

Dinner was leftovers and laughter. Daddy turned off the TV to tell one of his infamous "when I was your age" stories, and Kevin tried to convince Kendal that if he didn’t finish his broccoli, his hair would fall out.

Karen rolled her eyes so hard Bree swore she heard them click.

After the dishes were done and the little ones tucked in, Bree sat on her bed, nightlight on, window cracked, planner open across her lap. Outside, the neighborhood hummed. Crickets. Sirens. The distant bass of a car that didn’t know the meaning of volume control.

She was ready. Or she would be.High school was coming.And she was about to make it her own.

The first day of freshman year has arrived and Oakland High looked like chaos wrapped in bricks.

The campus sprawled wide—three stories of sun-faded concrete, busted lockers, and hallways that echoed with way too many voices at once. It was loud, messy, and full of energy. Bree took it all in with a calm she didn’t actually feel.

She adjusted the strap of her backpack and let her face settle into a look that said I got this, even if her stomach was throwing elbows.

The school buzzed around her—a blur of new backpacks, new shoes, familiar faces, and upperclassmen pretending not to care. The air smelled like cafeteria grease, spray-on deodorant, and too much confidence. Bree moved through it all with her head high and her shoulders back.

She didn’t run things here—yet—but she had plans.

Kevin had already disappeared into a crowd near the gym, dapping up half the basketball team like he owned the place. Bree rolled her eyes. Of course he’d find his people in the first ten minutes. He was charming, quick with a joke, and just reckless enough to be likable without being annoying.

She loved him. But she also wanted to trip him sometimes.

Janelle walked beside her, rattling off her class schedule like she was prepping for a campaign. "I got Mr. Ramirez first period. I heard he gives extra credit if you volunteer to read out loud, so you know I’m already gunning for valedictorian."

"You don’t even know where the classroom is yet."

"That’s irrelevant," Janelle said, waving her off. "Vision, Bree. I’m manifesting."

Bree laughed and double-checked her own schedule. She knew exactly where she was going, and she’d already mapped out her locker route. She was here to handle business. High school was step one on the road to health administration—hospital work, leadership, making actual change. She already had her volunteer hours lined up for the year.

She wasn’t here for distractions. She wasn’t here for drama.She was here to build something.

Her first few classes were solid. Teachers seemed decent. No surprise quizzes. She sat near the front, answered when asked, and didn’t do too much. First impressions mattered, but Bree wasn’t trying to peak too early. Let them think she was just another smart girl. Let them underestimate her.

That would make it easier to own the room later.

She ate lunch outside, sitting on the far edge of the quad with Janelle and a few girls from the neighborhood. She didn’t know most of them well, but she nodded, smiled, and stayed quiet when the conversation turned to who got cuter over the summer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She just had a different playlist in her head.

Back home, the house was full again—Karl yelling about his missing Tonka truck, Kendal claiming he had no homework when he absolutely did, Kevin already on the phone making plans for the weekend. Bree headed straight to her room, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the edge of her bed, exhaling for the first time all day.

She pulled out her planner, checked off everything she’d done, and circled a note at the bottom:

Hospital orientation – Saturday. Confirm with Mom.

Bree smiled to herself. One day down. Three years, eight months, and fourteen days to go.

She’d survive this place.More than that—she’d thrive.They just didn’t know it yet.

By the end of the first week, Bree had the lay of the land.Classes were decent. Teachers already knew her name. Kevin had secured starter status and was acting like a local celebrity. And Janelle had somehow talked her way into the freshman rep elections by Thursday. Business as usual.

Then came Lacy.

She transferred in that Friday—just slid into the lunch period like she’d always been there. Bree clocked her from across the quad: braids down her back, confidence that looked effortless, and this quiet stillness in her eyes that didn’t quite match her smile.

Nobody said much at first. Just that her parents were Navy, recently retired and settling in Oakland so Lacy could finish high school in one place. Bree didn’t press. But she noticed. The way Lacy scanned the room like she was mapping it. The way she sat a little too straight. The way she only spoke when spoken to, but when she did? Every word was wrapped in grace.

It wasn’t instant, but it didn’t take long either.

By the end of the second week, she was eating lunch with them. By the third, she was part of the group.

Lacy had this way of adding something without taking anything. Like seasoning.

Janelle said she was glamorous. Kevin said she was mysterious.

Bree just... watched.

And the more she watched, the more she saw.There was something under all that shine. A sadness Lacy didn’t talk about. A tension in her smile. Bree recognized it—not because she’d lived it, but because she’d spent her whole life seeing people. The real stuff. The cracks they tried to patch.

And maybe that’s why they clicked. Not over hobbies or favorite movies or matching notebooks—but something quieter. Something closer to truth.

They walked together after school sometimes, exploring little pockets of Oakland like they were mapping a world of their own. The corner store that always had peach rings. The mural off 96th that changed every few months. The library no one used but them.

Lacy didn’t open up right away. But Bree didn’t need her to. She was patient.

She could feel the weight Lacy carried, even if she didn’t know the name of it yet.

The friendship felt easy—until it didn’t.

Because somewhere along the way, he showed up.Older. Brooding. Always watching. And when he was around, Lacy changed.

Quieter. Shrinking. Less sparkle, more shadow.

Bree noticed. She always noticed.But this time... she didn’t know what to do with what she saw.