Revolt & Whimsy

by b Kori

- - - -

Revolt & Whimsy is a cross-over anthological series featuring five black women in beautifully selfish roles.

Through each new land, creature, and peril, our five protagonists are forced to gruesomely feel and individually conquer their worlds. From violent decadence to benevolent self-righteousness, their actions, their motivations, will oftentimes leave no one rooting for the main character but the main character.

©2021, b.Kori, LLC. All rights reserved.

Kayla

EPISODE 1: ‘CAKE LARD & OTHER THINGS HIPS ARE USED FOR’

- - -

Ice-cream soda, cherry on top

Who’s your boyfriend?

Let’s find out!

ABCDEF

Shella: “You landed on F, Kayla! That means Freddie’s your boyfriend, eww!”

Freddie: “I wouldn’t go out with Kay. She doesn’t have hips!”

“Huh?” Kayla and Shella both pivoted to look at Freddie.

Freddie: “I heard my brother tell one of his friends that he likes girls with big hips.”

Kayla hip bumped Shella: “My mom bumps people out of the way with her hips.”

Shella: “They're how you swish your skirts, too!”

“And…and you need 'em for the conga line!” Kayla wiggled her hips and punched her arms up in the air.

Freddie picked up the ropes: “Come on, Shella. It’s your turn.”

Buttoning our shirts

Swishing our skirts,

I’ve got hips

So, close your lips!

Yes, no, maybe so. Yes, no, maybe so….

George skidded up on his bike, interrupting their rhymes: “Oops, almost got y’all, didn’t I?”

Kayla rolled her eyes: “You mean almost killed us?”

Before he could offer a sarcastic retort, Shella wondered: “You like girls with big hips, George?”

George was four years older than the kids and loved to push the limits of their gullibility. Freddie and Kayla looked at each other and then back at Shella. They knew George was going to mess with them, scare them with some made-up story. Like the time they were riding bikes around town and ended up near the woods by the bay. George stopped them maybe 100 feet from a break in the trees and recited the legend of a water monster who requires payment in the form of some sacrificed soul to exit her woods. The kids brushed him off but right as they were about to cross into the woods, George crouched in the bushes and belted out a guttural 'Run For Your Lives!' They were halfway down the road before he fell out from his hiding spot in gut busting laughter.

“Hips, huh?” George nudged his cousin, Sylvia, as she peddled up to the group. “Well, you know something about hips, after they get too big, people slice 'em off, melt 'em down and use them as lard in their cake batter.”

Sylvia grinned: “Some folks say they make great dog treats, too!”

Kayla shook her head: “You guys are lying!”

George: “Suit yourself! Next time your grandma bakes her famous chocolate cake, you'll know how it gets its delicious home-grown flavor!"

George and Sylvia cackled down the street as the kids tried to shake off their vivid lies. Even though it was always a prank with them, it was also always so convincing.

- - -

Kayla stretched out of bed and slid on her robe: “You’re hella wack. You know that?”

George rolled over in bed: “Good morning to you too, Kay.”

Kayla: “Remember when you told us lard is made from human hips?”

“What? No. Oh, wait!” George kicked under the sheets as he snorted with laughter, “I do remember that! We were probably like 11 or something, man. We used to fuck with y’all so much!”

Kayla looked down at her open robe: “Not much has changed.”

“I did save your life though.” He pushed off the bed and wiggled on his pants, “That Bay Siren? She woulda gobbled y’all up. Or whatever Sirens do.”

Kayla: “Sing you to death?”

George: “That’s what they do? Then you could be a Siren with that Whitney impersonation.”

"Well, Sirens have beautiful voices – so you're right: my Whitney would put me in their ranks." Kayla stuck her tongue out at George, "But, yea, the Siren song was so mesmerizing that sailors would capsize their ships in search of the source; they'd lose their whole crew to a rocky shoreline.”

George: “How do you know so much about Sirens? You don't believe in all that stuff, do you?”

Kayla began making her bed: “No, I just remember from school. I do think that stuffs cool though - myths, monsters, magic.”

George, skeptically: “Mmm.”

Kayla: “Hey, you heading out? I’m about to hop in the shower – gotta go see my grandma.”

George: “You mean go to work?”

Kayla tossed her pillow at him: “Same thing, punk.”

- - -

Kayla bounced her khakied leg while she got through the voicemails on the nursing home’s office line. She looked at the unmoving clock, trying to guess how long it would be till she could check on her grandmother. Every part of her wanted to abandon her post, but if her boss got in and her morning duties weren’t completed, it’d start up an argument she couldn’t afford to have. In the middle of leaving a follow up voicemail, Kayla got a text from Shella.

-Hope Georgie-poo’s bootycall didn’t make you late for work ;P
-It wasn’t a bootycall. It was a dick appointment :)
-Ha! Ok Miss Empowerment. Yo, Freddie’s back in town and wants to meet up for drinks tonight. You down?

“Kayla!” Kayla’s boss dropped her work bag on the desk, snapping Kayla out of her text, “Did we get through those voicemails?”

Kayla snatched up the headset: “Getting through them now.”

“Remember: only current employees can use their discount on rooms. If we have to stay on top of you like this, we won’t be able to keep you," her boss jangled off in her kitten heels.

With the Monday morning bustle, it was nearly two hours before Kayla got through her morning checklist. She stood to finally go see her grandmother when her colleague burst into the office.

“Kayla, your grandma's having an episode. The nurses are on it, but I thought you’d like to know.”

That morning, Kayla's grandmother found an old letter from her deceased husband - the handwriting was disturbingly familiar. She began pacing in her room before marching up and down the hallway. When the new nurse approached her, to see if she was alright, Kayla's grandmother dove deep into an anxious fit. Kayla stood in the doorway of her grandmother's suite as two experienced nurses helped to settle the elderly woman's breathing. Eventually one took her for a walk in the garden. The other updated Kayla.

Nurse: “She’s had a rough morning, but she’ll be okay.”

Kayla: “I've never seen her like this before.”

Nurse: “That letter got her pretty riled up, but we hired a new nurse yesterday. Reesha. I think that's what started it all. A new nurse can be very disorienting. Reesha was trying to help, but with the state your grandmother was in, an unfamiliar face was the last thing she needed. We paged Dr. Samuels - he'll be by tomorrow morning. We'll keep an eye on her until then. But you already know, Alzheimer's only gets worse with time, sweetie.”

Angry and helpless, Kayla sulked over the bathroom sink. She looked up at the mirror and imagined punching it. With slit knuckles, she picked up a trash can and slammed it into the three remaining mirrors. She kicked in the sinks until water spouted from their exposed pipes and screamed as glass shards rained down behind her. Blood dripped from her knuckles, water sprayed the forest green walls, and her chest heaved with angst. In a blink, she was back to reality, silently wiping her eyes in the uninjured mirror.

Back in the office, Kayla's boss paced with her paisley clipboard, “Kayla, we’re down a Sales Associate today. We need you to take their noon tour.”

Kayla uttered an apathetic 'Mhmm.’ Her boss to peered over her slipping glasses. “You know," her boss began, "you are expected to hop on tours every now and then. It’d be nice if you could iron your polos and look presentable.”

Kayla gripped her fists and plopped down at her desk.

-Down for drinks. So down for drinks.

- - -

Kayla slammed her chugged beer mug on the bar and turned to her friends: “Another?”

Freddie and Shella looked at her with pinched foreheads.

“Girl, what’s up with you?” Freddie sipped his beer, “Ooh, is it George?”

Kayla: “No, it’s not George. George is fine.”

Shella nudged Freddie and giggled: “’Sholl is.”

Kayla laughed lightly: "Nah, it’s my grandma. She’s really not doing too good.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I was just thinking about her the other day.” Freddie rubbed Kayla's back and waved the bartender over, "Shots? Can we get three, no, six tequila shots, please?”

While they drank, Kayla told them about her day, all the way down to her imagined bathroom demolition. They had care and kind words, but Kayla wanted more. She wanted her grandma back.

“I wish I could wave a magic wand and make her okay. I just…” Kayla trailed off as her eyes started to water.

Freddie: “This is going to sound crazy, but Jeremy Denton told me about this healing water out in the woods. He said he gave it to Sophia’s grandma for her hip and the next day she was running around with Jeremy’s little son like she was in the prime of her life.”

Shella sucked her teeth: “That is the fakest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Freddie: “I’m for real! He said there's this legend. A water fairy or something. She blessed the bay like a million years ago, and if you drink from it, your sickness is cured."

Kayla turned to Freddie quickly: “The Bay Siren. The one George and Sylvia used to tease us about. Remember?”

Freddie: “Ugh, how could I forget? Popping outta bushes and shit."

Kayla: “Do you think it’ll work on Alzheimer's? The water?”

Shella: “Uh, Imma need y’all to come on back to reality. Forest water isn’t gunna magically heal anyone."

Freddie: “My brother and I went over to their spot when I got in today. Sophia’s grandma doesn’t move like someone in her 80’s, like, at all.”

Shella: “I think we’re feeling those shots and we need to stop filling Kay’s head with this stuff. Kay, girl, I know this is hard, but…”

“She's all I got left, Shella. And I’m losing more of her every day. And my boss…she rides my ass, looking for any reason to fire me. I can’t afford to keep my grandma there without this job." Kayla looked at her friends, "This is the second time I heard about that Siren today; it has to be a sign. I think we should go get some of that water.” Kayla grabbed her purse but Shella pushed in back down.

Shella: “I don’t believe in any of this, but doesn’t this little fairy tale end in one of us being sacrificed?”

Freddie shrugged: “Jeremy said the legend is just a story. The water probably just has, like, amazing minerals in it or something.”

Shella: "Kay, at least sleep on it. We don’t need to be venturing into nobody’s woods at night."

Kayla said, “Fine,” but she had already made up her mind. She was going to find that water. She texted George to:

-Meet me at the woods in an hour. Bring flashlights and a to-go mug.

- - -

George called to Kayla as he rode up: “Kay, this is crazy. It’s 1 in the morning. Just come back home with me.”

Kayla: “How's your grandma, George?”

George: “Kay...”

Kayla: "How is she?"

George: "She's good, Kayla. She's good."

“You don’t know how much I'm willing to give for my grandma to be 'good'. I can't lose anyone else, George! Look, there’s a chance that some magic water, damn near in our backyard, will give me my grandma back. I don't care how small it is, I'm taking that chance.” Kayla turned to walk into the thick woods.

“Wait. Wait, I brought back up.” George got out of his car and Freddie and Shella followed suit, “We figured you’d be too stubborn to leave.”

Kayla put her hand over her heart: “You guys came?”

Shella: “I was praying the whole way over that you’d change your mind, but I also wasn’t going to let my best friend wander into the woods by herself."

Freddie: “But we not doing this mess sober!” Freddie took a swig from his flask and handed it to Shella.

George: “Kay, baby, are you sure you want to do this? Right now?”

Kayla: “Positive. Look, if we don’t find anything in 20 minutes, we go home and forget all about this. Deal?”

Shella, wincing from her flask shot: “Don’t say we don’t love you, girl.”

The group headed into the dark woods, each waving their flashlight through the thick foliage. Another soft light suddenly appeared to the left. They carefully maneuvered over branches and leaves to get closer. It was too silent. They could hear their hearts beating. Kayla craned her neck, trying to see what was behind a crooked tree and found an unconscious George. They thought he was unconscious, until he roared ‘Boo!” He snorted alongside his friends’ yelps, creating an amusing cacophony .

Kayla kicked him: “George, seriously!?”

George, still laughing: “I couldn’t help it!”

But then another soft light glowed further out than George’s. They heard a howl, like a wolf but softer and more melodious.

Freddie trembled: “George is…is that you too? "

George: “Nah, man. I only got one prank in me tonight, I promise.”

Shella: “Has it been 20 minutes, Kay?”

“Not yet,” Kayla ventured deeper into the woods, towards the soft light. The rest of the group reluctantly followed. The dim light grew more brilliant. It was the mouth of the bay, reflecting in the moonlight.

“It’s…glimmering. ” Kayla ran towards the water, “This has to be it!” She excitedly dipped her mug into the water and capped it off. “This is going to work. I know it.” She got quiet and smiled reverently at her mug.

“Oookay, great. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Freddie and the rest of the crew started back toward the car, all but Kayla unsure of the shimmering water’s purported powers.

They could see the street breaking through the trees when a deep rumble shook the ground. A white fog enveloped the group. Mystic winds twisted up the surrounding plants and branches and the group crouched in fear.

“Sweet, sweet babes,” a melodic voice sang out, “Surely, you won’t be leaving with a piece of me without leaving me with a piece of you.”

The water in the shimmering bay shot towards the night sky. Shella begged Kayla to give the mug back but the voice called out that it was too late.

“You’ve already disturbed me, my dears.” A woman’s face appeared atop the forming hurricane. Raging waterfalls rained down her towering cyclone torso. “And my deal says I get to collect!”

“Run!” Kayla barreled through the winds. Aqueous tentacles slid along the forest ground, reaching towards the group. Kayla and George broke through the trees and Shella turned to look for Freddie.

“Freddie!” Shella watched as the slimy extremities entwined Freddie's ankle and heaved his flailing body into the bay.

George’s hands reached through the wall of trees to pull Shella into the car. The three of them skidded off before riding the few minutes to Shella's home in silence. George unsure of what to say, Kayla consumed with thoughts of her grandmother, and Shella traumatically trying to decipher what she just saw.

In Shella's driveway, Kayla was the first to break the silence: “We should all try to get some sleep."

Shella: “What are we going to do, Kayla?”

Kayla: “Right now, we should just take a minute. To rest. And we'll regroup in the morning."

Shella: “Regroup? This isn’t a fucking school project, Kay. We need a real plan.”

Kayla pushed out of her seat and whipped around to open Shella’s door.

Shella remained in the car: “Kayla, we have to do…”

Kayla: "What, Shella? What do we have to do tonight, right now? What?"

Shella: "Well, I don't..."

Kayla: "Know. Exactly. You don't know. None of us do. So, let's get some sleep and come back with clear heads tomorrow."

Shella: "But Kay..."

Kayla: "Rochella, get the fuck out of the car!"

Shella slid out in bewilderment and Kayla slammed the door behind her. Kayla returned to her passenger seat and Shella stood in the driveway as George pulled off.

- - -

George wanted answers as desperately as Shella, but he was certain his probing would only add more perturbation to the fire. He asked Kayla to sleep at his place, partly to keep an eye on her. Kayla agreed but only because she needed George’s car. She waited until he was deep asleep to peel off with his keys and her mug.

She keyed into the nursing home and first stopped to nab the master key from the office. Her being there didn't break any technical rules, but the night guard in the hallway was certainly surprised to see her.

She quickly came up with a lie about a forgotten charger and, after the guard moved on, she bounded up the stairs to her grandma’s floor. Her sleeping grandmother rolled onto her back at the sound of the door opening. The wind blowing through her open window momentarily stunned Kayla into a frightening flashback of the night's events, but she shook it off and went to her grandmother’s side. She gently poured a thin stream of water into her mouth. Her grandma coughed a bit on the water before blinking her eyes open. Kayla quickly grabbed her hand, “Grandma?”

“Kayla?” Her grandma sat up and rubbed her forehead, “What…what’s going on?"

“Let’s get you home, Grandma. I’ll explain there.” She rushed her disoriented grandmother through the back entrance and buckled her into George’s car.

“Kayla, I don’t understand. What is going on? And my head! It’s killing me!”

“How you feel, Grandma?” Kayla focused squarely on the road in an attempt to control her own short breathing. She continuously shook off flashbacks of what happened to Freddie, convincing herself it was worth it to her to have her grandmother back, “You feel okay? You feel...you ok, Grandma?”

Her grandmother, Jacquelyn, blinked. Her wincing pain started to lessen, “I feel alright, I guess. A bit blurry though. The last thing I remember is eating breakfast with you. You were telling me about school. Where were we? Kayla, why was I sleeping there?”

Kayla pulled into their driveway. “Let’s get inside and I’ll explain."

Jacquelyn totaled her car about three years ago and wound up in the hospital. That accident was what convinced Kayla that her grandmother needed more supervision than she could offer alone. But treatment and care was expensive. Kayla dug until she found a local nursing home whose employee perks could alleviate most of her financial concerns. She soon found that for every ounce of worry the job lifted, her boss added ten more.

After Kayla helped her grandmother onto their couch, she handed her the old hospital records to convince Jacquelyn that she'd been in a coma since the accident. Kayla wasn't proud of the knots her desperation and half-truths were tying but she was too deep into her mission to give up.

Jacquelyn: "That place just looked so much cozier than a hospital."

Kayla: "It was more of a recovery ward."

"Recovery ward..." Jacquelyn shuffled through the papers.

Kayla: "It's just great to have you back. I missed you, Grandma."

"Yes, it is so nice to be home." She sat the folder down and pulled her granddaughter in, "And, so nice to see your face."

Despite it being nearly sunrise, Kayla asked if they could make her famous chocolate cake together. They mixed the ingredients. They greased the pan with Crisco. They laughed at all the times Kayla's mother attempted the cake and never got it right. And how peeved her mom was when the one time her dad made it it was nearly perfect. And how they missed them both.

They fell asleep on the couch, waiting for the baked cake to cool. Kayla twitched in her sleep, recalling the night’s horrors over and over. Suddenly, it was bright white in her dream. She saw a young Freddie, sitting at a kiddie table while a young Shella jumped rope to the side. She somehow knew she was supposed to walk up to Freddie, but she looked for an exit instead. There were none. Freddie stood and turned toward her. With alarming speed and a demonic bend in his neck, he pulled out the chair, and forced Kayla in his place. He stood over her laughing maniacally with a blood-stained mouth. He stooped to whisper, “Welcome to my hell, Kay. We’ll never escape.” She noticed she’d been shoveling something into her mouth and looked down. It was her grandmother's chocolate cake, running thick with blood.


Raina

EPISODE 2: ‘A TASTE’

“Marlow got the girls to stock everyone’s station last night. And Alyse got the truck all set up.”

“How ’bout back home? They still got ol' dude, right? That part gotta go perfectly, Glenasia.”

Glenasia nodded, "T, we ready.”

Raina caught a flash of the Martians' plumed, neon coat just as she stepped out of the port-a-potty. Even though they were all over Mars, the longest conversation Raina ever had with a Martian was her order at a restaurant. Her stomach growled in anticipation of the Chicago-bred delicacies that awaited her but to witness the Martians interact casually with each other was another kind of once-in-a-lifetime.

Nosily, Raina craned her neck to better hear the colorful beings and collided with a festival map, tumbling to the ground with it. The two Martians shot their dark, thickly whiskered eyes in Raina’s direction.

The green one, T, nodded to the blue one, Glenasia: “Yo, store that hoe. We poppin’ this shit off now.”

Raina couldn’t even let out a scream before Glenasia's turquoise claws made it all go black.

- - -

Lily: "Raina ever hit you back?” The Martians at the lemonade booth handed Lily and Naomi their 64 oz refreshments, dripping with condensation.

Naomi: “Nope. Wonder where that girl is.”

The girls were on Earth for the 24th Year Tour, where all 24-year-olds spend an Earth year seeped in black American history. The Martians were ordered, by the Ministry, to operate reimagined events, perform historical reenactments, and lead tours of American ruins for the post-Earthlings. The young adults were split into 13 different groups spread across 13 different cities. The year was 5010. This group was in Chicago and on the itinerary that day was The Taste.

Two towering Martians had just handed James a juicy turkey leg when he spotted Lily and Naomi sipping and perusing.

“Yo!” James threw his arms around the girls.

Naomi exaggerated the weight of his arm and giggled: “James! You’re always playin!”

James: “My bad, queen. You can just breathe different on Earth. Feels good here, right? Y’all been enjoying yourselves?”

Lily: “I’m not gunna lie: Earth is pretty stellar. But it’s probably because our parents aren’t here.”

James: “Speaking of them, have y'all seen Raina? The Ministry Lineages are supposed to take a picture by the entrance in 5. She should be in it. I texted her but she hasn’t responded.”

Lily: “We’ll let her know when we find her.”

"Dope. Stay beautiful ladies!” James bounced away.

Naomi: “Such a flirt…”

Lily: "Like you mind."

- - -

Raina slowly fluttered her eyes open to the taste of a stale cloth gagging her mouth. She slumped dizzily in a white fold out chair, an itchy rope restraining her hands. She was in the back of a semi-trailer. There were a few dense computers propped on tables; one screen surveilled the rows of 24th Years sitting crossed-legged on the festival grounds. Martians marched through the segmented crowds with guns, keeping the post-Earthlings quiet and contained. Another screen spotlighted a kneeling, hand-bound man with a sack covering his face. He was back home but clearly in the Martian's quarters.

“The girl is waking up." An orange Martian blew bubble gum between her protruded lips while she spoke into a walkie talkie, “What I’m supposed to do with her?”

“She up up?” The walkie screeched back.

“Naw, she bouncing her head and stuff. Want me to knock her back out?”

“Nah, I’m coming.”

Raina was still half out of it when she heard three taps on the semi’s roll-up door. The orange Martian lifted the truck door with her claw and in leapt the green and blue Martians.

T: “Hope she wasn’t causing you too much trouble, Alyse.”

Glenasia: “Can’t we just kill this hoe, already?”

“This is Raina Evans, y’all. This a Bishop’s kid.” T squatted in front of Raina. Her almond-shaped eyes deepened and spread as she studied the girl.

Glenasia: “Ahh, so she got deep pockets. Let’s get her pops on the phone then.”

T used her claw to snap off Raina's gag and Raina’s heart palpitated: “Wait…you guys want money?”

T mocked: “You...you guys want money? Spoiled bitch.”

Alyse: “Yo T, you said if the cash don’t start rolling in in fi’teen we start busting heads...times up, boo.”

T hurried to the computer and giddily radioed out: “Times up, you lil Earth roaches!” She shimmied her shoulders as two Martians stepped in front of the camera and yanked the bag off the kneeling man's head. It was a Ministry Cabinet member. Raina knew him well. The Martians simultaneously swiped their sharp claws against his neck and watched the mahogany blood grimly river down his convulsing throat. Raina inhaled. She turned her head towards the sound of the outraged 24th Years, protesting on the festival grounds. T radioed out again, but Raina didn't know who she was talking to. "We gave y’all 15 whole minutes! But our bags is empty! Ladies, I think we gotta turn this up. Should we try killin’ one of they kids next?” The Chicago-based Martians roared with approval. T clicked off and Alyse and Glenasia stood lock-armed while their brightly feathered leader inspected the hostage.

T: “This worked out better than I could have planned. Ministry kid just fell in our lap.”

Raina: “This is your plan? Kill people till someone gives you money?”

Glenasia: “What? Like yo daddy won’t rip his wallet open once we say we offing his little girl?”

"My “daddy” cares more about that piece of shit you just killed than he does me." The Martians frowned but Raina continued unflinchingly, "Are you broadcasting to the post-Earthlings back on Mars? How?”

"We’re hooked up to every major news station." T said haughtily, "Turns out we made a few friends cleaning all y'all nasty ass buildings."

Raina: "What do you need the money for?”

“This ain't a goddamn interview!” She pulled Raina’s phone out of her pocket and turned to the blue one, “You ain’t take her phone?”

Glenasia: “You ain’t tell me to do all that.”

T rolled her eyes and pulled Raina’s chair close to her. Her talons stabbed holes through the thick plastic and poked Raina’s thighs. “You gon’ ask yo pops for a milli. We not telling you shit else.”

With a few clicks and swipes, Bishop Evans' holographic head floated above Raina's device - the call live streamed for all the 24th Years to witness.

Bishop Evans: “Raina? Raina, where are you?”

Raina: “I’ve been taken captive, Bishop. They're asking for a million dollars, or I’ll be killed next.”

Bishop Evans: “Figures you get caught up in all of this, Raina. A million dollars? You wouldn’t even know what to do with that kind of money and you expect me to just hand it over to those birds?”

T and Glenasia shot each other perplexed glances, but T held the phone steady on Raina. Raina sucked in her cheeks and cocked her head to the side. She'd heard her father call the Martians birds before, but it hadn’t sounded so condescending before then.

Ignoring his wife's demands to speak to their daughter, the Bishop continued: “The 24th Year Tour is supposed to be a lesson in your people's history. A celebration of how far we've come. Theft, crime, vulgarity… these are the exact debase practices we left white folks to deal with and you see how well it ended for them. Yet here you are: rolling around in it. You are a Bishop’s daughter, Raina. How do you still not know what that means?”

Raina tightened her mouth. T whipped the phone around to her long, green face, her feathers rippling: “You mutha…”

Bishop Evans: “Silence! To the 24th Years: don't fret. These birds’ wings will be clipped. As for you T, you will not receive a single penny from us. The Ministry has instituted a nation-wide banking lock-down so no post-Earthlings can acquiesce to your monetary demands. If you cease this nonsense now, we can meet to discuss your concerns when you’re back on Mars. If not, the Militants are already in route with orders to squash this tantrum by any means necessary."

T: “You sound just like yo pops, Bish.”

Bishop Evans leaned in: "We try to keep you busy, we give you jobs, we shelter you, but your futility remains inextinguishable. A piece of advice before I go: civil unrest doesn’t do a damn thing. Trust me, we tried."

Raina's mother yelled a rushed, ‘We're coming, Raina. We're on our way!’ just before Bishop Evans ended the call. Raina slowly rolled her eyes up to meet T and Glenasia’s. They stared at each other in silence and in knowing.

Glenasia went to untie Raina.

T aht’ed: "Her dad's an asshole. Don't mean we can trust her."

Raina persisted: “What's your plan?”

Glenasia nudged T and nodded eagerly. T sighed and engaged the curious girl.

T: “We wanna fly the rest of our sisters out here. We already got a plug at the Celestial Sector who’ll make it happen, it’s just expensive as hell.”

Raina: “What do you want to do when they get here?”

“Be free? Shit, we live longer than y’all - what makes you think we wanna spend all that time being servants?" T tossed the phone on Raina's lap, "When the post-Earthlings first showed up, the Ministry said we could coexist, you know, be all communal and shit. Then they started up with all that 'bird' stuff and it just went downhill."

Raina: “I know post-Earthlings moved to Mars 400 years ago but to be honest, our history lessons had more to do with us leaving here than us going there. I remember my 12th Year teacher saying you all understood our plight, and you wanted to help us acclimate, get back on our feet after we abandoned Earth. I guess I just didn’t question it. I was too focused on navigating my father’s pathetic attempts to impress to my granddad - be his puppet from beyond the grave. It’s all about lineage with him. ‘Raina, you are the descendent of a righteous pioneer. If you felt honored at all to come from this line, you’d be a lot more respectful.’ Then he’d call me a disappointment. Say I should be thankful for the Ministry’s rules because they make black people's lives better on Mars than they ever were on Earth."

Alyse: "Sure, it's great. For y'all."

Raina huffed: "Yea, it's great…What do you know about my grandad?"

"He's the one that formalized it. Legally shitted on us." Glenasia took a seat on the floor of the semi, "His idea of education was job training. How to cook y'all food, how to take care of human babies, how to clean, make a bed... We can't be or do anything else, by law. Your pops was right, though. Civil unrest doesn’t work. That’s why y’all just up and left Earth, stopped asking, stopped fighting. And you see this place went to shit without y’all."

T: “That's why we not tryna take Mars back. If anything, y'all will give us some small token of fake freedom and pat y'allselves on the back. We want to really be free."

Raina nodded because she understood but her throat was hot with guilt. In all her efforts to stamp out the Ministry’s dated philosophies, she still neglected an entire demographical injustice. She wanted to respond but frantic bangs on the truck startled them all. Glenasia pulled the door up and in slid a bloodied purple Martian.

All three Martians rushed to her side: “Yevy!”

Yevy, painfully: “They’re escaping. There's a group of guys trying to start the ship now.”

T covered Yevy’s wound with the pads of her taloned hands and looked around frantically, “You gon’ be alright, man. What happened to the guns we put in everyone’s station? Why didn’t you call us?”

Yevy: “You ain’t watching the camera?”

Alyse flipped to the festival view to see slain bodies - Martian and human - and rows of lock-armed 24th Years blocking off access to the spaceship's landing dock.

Yevy: “The boys got into our backup station and started passing out our guns and walkies. I think that blockade is there to give the boys time to figure out the ship. They already killed Prexy, Urian, and Olifia."

T’s eyes widened and set, “This is war. Glenasia, get Marlow up here. See if she can get Yevy straight.”

Glenasia saluted, strapped a gun to her back, and leapt from the truck in search of Marlow.

T looked at Raina, “Sorry but your people acting dumb. We gotta correct this shit.” T started forward, but Raina called out.

Raina: “Wait!”

T stopped herself.

Raina: “Kill the Ministry chairs. All of them.

T scrunched her face, “Girl, we got bigger…”

Raina: “Kill the Bishops and untie me. You gotta trust me.”

With Yevy wincing on the ground, T knew she didn’t have a lot of time to think. She untied Raina and waited with Yevy.

- - -

The festival grounds were tight with violent energy. Raina saw her warrior peers at the ready. Martians and post-Earthlings were plotting, launching surprise attacks, shots firing from both sides, but no one broke the human barricade. She tiptoed cautiously under a covering of leafy trees, trying to avoid any action. She felt a tug on her shirt, someone wrapped their hand around her mouth and pulled her into a huddle of trees.

Raina: “Lils, Nay! Are you guys okay? Why are y’all hiding?”

Lily: “We're trying to stay alive! It’s too crazy out there.”

Naomi: “Yea, we're waiting for the ship. James said it’d only take him a 10-15 minutes to learn the controls.”

Lily, concerned: “Where have you been?”

Raina: “A few of the Martians kidnapped me but…”

Naomi: “Oh, my God! Did they hurt you?”

Raina: “No, they were actually pretty cool…”

Lily: “You talked to them? Like had a real conversation?"

Naomi: “What were they like up close?

Lily: "Were you scared?”

Raina: “Chill, chill. Yea, no, they’re like us, normal. We have more in common with them than we think. I don’t know why we have to be so separate on Mars. It's the Ministry that we need to be concerned with...”

Suddenly, T’s voice shook the festival grounds, “You post-Earthlings and your mass genocide. It’s cute y’all think you can stop us!”

Raina broke through the trees to see the live stream. All 8 Ministry chairs were hand-bound and kneeling, with Martians holding up each brutally beaten face by a mouth gag.

“We taking all of your so-called leaders the fuck out!” There was grief in T's voice. She painfully enunciated each word, “Don’t fuck with us!”

That was the que for the Martians back home to use their thick, hooked claws to slice all 8 throats on the live stream. The Ministry's split-neck, blood-spouting decapitation was nauseatingly nightmarish. At once, the Martians let go of the gags. Bishop Evans’ lifeless body thudded on the rocky surface. Screams erupted from the audience on Earth and Raina watched as a tribe of 24th Year girls charged at the Martians.

Lily pulled her friend back to safety: “You’re going to get yourself killed! Are…are you okay?”

Before that day, Raina hadn't measured the depth of her hatred for her father. She was never close to him. Couldn't think of a time she agreed with him. Still she thought his death would have, should have, shook her more than it did.

Raina: “I'm good, actually. But I gotta keep moving.”

Lily: “Girl and do what?"

Raina: “It's time to end this for real. Here’s the plan…”

- - -

T: “What’s the fucking plan, Raina?”

“T, I’m so sorry,” Raina watched as Glenasia and Alyse sprinkled flower petals over a sheet covered Yevy.

T: “The plan, Raina!”

Raina: “With the Militants on their way, priority is getting off this planet. James is a Ministry Lineage and he’s the one flying the ship back. I think he’s your ticket. I can convince him that his first act under the new Ministry should be moving you guys to Earth and that it’d be best for peace relations. He’s respected - the post-Earthlings will listen to him. So, I can go talk to him and you should start gathering your girls..."

T: "Stop, stop. There's no way I'm getting on that ship. And neither are any of my girls."

Raina: "T, our troops have way more and way better weapons than what you've got here. With their locater technology, you won't be able to outrun them. Look, James is going to figure that ship out real soon and if you're not on it, you'll end up in a war you can't win."

Glenasia: "I don't know, T. Getting on that ship sound like a trap."

Raina: "Staying here is a trap. Our troops didn't play nice before the Ministry was killed. They're coming to demolish you. I'm sure we can find a way to keep you all separate from us on the ship and…"

“Nah, I'm with Glenasia. We can't go back to Mars. And we definitely can't get on that ship." T paced the width of the truck, "Tell James to leave some of his boys here, with us. He's going to have to send back for them eventually and when he does, he sends my girls."

Raina: "Why would he do that?"

T: "For you. You're staying behind too and the crew he leaves behind is to protect you from the troops' attacks and in his mind, from us. But if he wanna act funny and not send my girls, we got a little hostage situation with his boys. Collateral and shit. But we can keep the part where you convince him this is best for Mars or post-Earthlings or whatever. You just gotta do it before he launch outta here."

Raina: “T, are you sure? The Militants..."

T: "We already in a war. Ain't no sweet, 'let's-just-talk-this-out' shit bout to happen. We stay. We fight. And we got a backup plan if James wanna act dumb."

Raina: "Ok, ok. Get your girls up to speed and to safety. I'll go catch up with James.”

- - -

Raina: “Seriously. The old regime is gone. They’re dead regardless of if you send the Martians here to Earth.”

James: “The old regime, Raina? Both of our fathers are dead! And those birds are the reason why!”

Raina: “Don’t call them that.”

James: “That’s what you care about?”

Raina: “You know how my father was. You heard how he spoke to me. Don’t try to make me feel guilty.”

James: “Why would you be guilty?”

Raina: “I wouldn’t. I’m saying... James, you are the next indoctrinate to the Ministry. You have the power to make real change back on Mars. The post-Earthlings are already primed for your reign. Send the rest of the Martians here and make history. Lead Mars the way you know is right.”

James: “I'd rule better with your counsel, Raina.”

Raina: “I’m just a call away. You're already so much more progressed than the old regime. That's how I know you can do this. Honestly, I think I could be of more use here. Especially with the troops on their way. I just wanna make sure T and the rest of her girls are straight.”

James: “I just don’t know why you’re taking their side.”

Naomi jogged up to the duo: “We’re all loaded onto the ship. We’re good to go, Captain!”

James: “Thanks, Nay. Hey, would you grab some of that mild sauce before we take off? It’s fire on some chicken.”

“Yea, of course!” Naomi skipped off.

Raina: “You don’t know the full history, James, trust me. They’ve been through…a lot. They deserve a chance to just start over, be free."

James: “Well, you're right about the troops. They're going to be blind with rage so I'm fine leaving a group of my guys back. But their only job is to look out for you, Raina. I don’t have any allegiance to those birds…"

Raina: “Martians...”

James: “But I’ll admit not having the Martians around will definitely make it easier to maintain order back home. If you say moving the Martians to Earth is best for Mars, best for post-Earthlings, then I’ll heed you.”

Raina: "Thank you, James. I promise it is."

James: “Be careful, friend.”

Raina nodded as James squeezed her shoulder and walked off, joining Naomi at the ship's door. Lily exited the ship and asked James for a second to say bye to Raina. James nodded as he needed the time to prepare the crew that would stay back.

Lily hugged Raina: “You sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?”

“Yea," Raina smiled, "I think I’m supposed to be here. And I won't be by myself.”

Lily: “You’re brave, Raina.”

Raina: “Not any braver than you. You're about to see the world change. Mars'll never be the same.”

Lily: “About that. Just for my sake, for something to hold onto during our trip back, all of this craziness is to set things right, right? It’s all for a better, more virtuous future…right?”

Raina: “The future is already here, Lils. This is for today.”


Myra

EPISODE 3: ‘HER ANGER’

How can you say her anger isn’t righteous? It’s carved into her DNA. It’s her ancestral mode of survival. It’s in her. You can’t tell her her anger isn’t well-placed, isn’t deserved, isn’t ladylike. Fuck a “ladylike.” Black women have sunken in their chests, hid their hair, and averted their eyes for centuries; black women have twisted themselves into positions they couldn’t even recognize just to keep their body to themselves. For centuries. But she should smile, now? She should speak softer and unfurl her brow, now?

For what?

For you?

— —

This black woman isn’t quite a woman yet. Just a 15-year-old but also already 15 years old. The hands of time have wrung themselves dry dripping centuries of angst into her. Living off the Gulf Coast with her reserved father Kalvin, and shady cat, Pierre, her small home didn’t feel shabby before her mother passed. She tries to hate it, but her father owns it, and she knows how much that means to him. He is a natural born provider but five years without his wife, and he is still novice nurturer. But he tries. For the girl though, nurturing is the farthest thing from her mind.

“Can you believe that, Pierre?” Pierre gives a low yowl in response and goes back to staring out the window. “Stupid white girls! It’s like she’s purposely missing the point.” She wants to curse more at the morning news host’s racist tirade – but she’s going to be late.

Every day in the summer, she helps her father sell plates to beachgoers. At 9am, her father wriggles on his cap and jostles their family food truck the short distance to the boardwalk. She’ll find him around lunchtime when the crowds are biggest, hungriest and in the mood to spend.

The summer heat during her mile trek riles her up even more, twirling her thoughts into a rage-filled loop. A bead of sweat travels from her scalp down a dangling coil. She does it on purpose sometimes, ingest nasty news and biased reporting. She does it because it twists and tightens her face up in a way that she hopes will discourage men too grown and too knowing.

Before her mother got sick, she would do the opposite in the morning. Her father would play music while her mother prepared grits and toast and the three of them would dip and spin to jazz until her father left out. After they had finished the dishes, her and her mother would march to the boardwalk together. Breakfast always felt luxurious, and the streets always seemed empty back then.

Before soon, the streets filled with demons and roaches and she navigated them like an obstacle course. Her father switched from music to the news, and so she did too. She began camouflaging herself in her fathers’ too big t-shirts and the same old pair of plaid shorts in hopes of not standing out too much. She leaves the house now like she just sucked a lemon: sour.

Despite her efforts – the mean mug, the clothes, tying her hair up – none of it thwarted her street-dwelling adversaries.

“Smile, sweetheart. I bet you got a good one.”

“Shirts a little big, curly hair. I got one that’ll fit you better…”

“Where you headed, lil baby? Can I walk with you?”

She holds her head tall and keeps her eyes forward but each day the comments dig deeper into her. Usually, they don’t get too close but today there are two men sitting in the front yard of a house she thought was abandoned. She wipes the sweaty coil from her face and realizes she’s forgotten to put her hair up. Her loose curls bounce around her shoulders, each tap feeling too much like a finger.

“Nice hair, today,” the one with two gold teeth whistles.

“She tryna show out for you, man,” the pudgy one nudges.

Gold Teeth turns up his music and two-steps in place, “You don't wanna come dance with me? Can I at least get ya name?”

She'd rather sit in the memory of hip bumping to her mom's hums during this same trek, but she needs to stay alert. She stares straight ahead. She contemplates moving into the street but worries that will only make Gold Teeth chase her.

Gold Teeth: “You can’t hear me? I know you know me. I see you damn near every day, slangin’ that fried gator…best part of my day!”

She inhales. She remembers them from the truck. Her father had to shoo them away once or twice before.

“I’m fucking 15! Leave me alone!” She yells as she swiftly passes the lawn. She doesn’t notice the friend rounding the back alley to cut her off. She gets to the end of the block and feels her heart thumping in her chest.

The friend steps out in front of her: “What you say?”

“Leave me alone.” Said firmly but her insides are mush.

"I just wanted your name." Gold Teeth comes up behind her and twirls a curl in his fingers.

“Everything alright, Myra?” An unfamiliar voice calls from just up the block. There’s a greying, slender woman with a walking cane that she doesn’t appear to need.

"Uhh, coming Nana!" Myra wiggles from between the two men and runs up to the lady, who puts an arm around the girl and guides her up the block. The men don’t chase. They wave a hand, as if it’s not worth the work, and cackle all the way back to the lawn.

Once the threat is decimated, Myra jumps back: “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Your mother told me,” The Greying Lady replies.

“My mother died five years ago. Who are you?” Myra’s unrelenting furrow shot daggers at the woman.

“I know, Myra. I can explain but we should probably keep moving.”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you start talking! I coulda handled those guys by myself, just like I can handle you!”

The Greying Lady taps her cane three times on a yellowing patch of grass near the sidewalk. Right before Myra’s eyes, the patch turns a vibrant green and grows to the length of the surrounding grass.

“What the…” Myra steps a few paces backwards, “A…a witch? Witches aren’t… Who…what are you?” If the lady hadn’t mentioned her mother, Myra would have sprinted straight to the beach. But, before today, Myra didn’t know witches were real and if this one knew her mother, she had to find out more.

"I’m not a witch but I do have relationships beyond this world. Don't be scared. I'm here on behalf of your mother, Pamela. She wants to contact you.” The woman reaches out her arm, seemingly to touch Myra’s shoulder, to console her.

“You’re not taking me, witch!” Myra jogs off slowly and looks back. The Greying Lady lifts her cane parallel to the sidewalk. Myra levitates - her hands glued her side. The Greying Lady guides the floating girl down several blocks.

“Hey. Hey! Let me go!” Myra frustratingly tries to kick and punch, but she can't move. “How is no one seeing this?” She grumbles.

They enter a small, quaint house. A familiar smell hits Myra’s nostrils. Alligator cakes? She hadn’t had those since her mother died.

“Ok, we’re here.”

Myra falls to the living room floor. She jumps up to strike, but her fist goes straight through the Greying Lady’s cheek. She falls back again in horror. Finally, tears roll down her face before she completely collapses into a fit.

Between heavy tears, she coughs out, “Why are you doing this to me? What are you? And where is my mother?”

“Your mother, my dear, is gone. I’m Janessa’s grandmother. Few great-greats back.” Janessa was Myra’s mother’s best friend, and like an aunt to Myra. She was there for all of Myra’s big moments and a few of her saddest. “I haven’t had to communicate with anyone outside of our family for decades. We needed to talk in private, so I figured I'd just give you a lift,” the Greying Lady smiles.

“Are…are you making jokes!” Myra rocks with her head between her legs. “Ohhh, I’m crazy. No! I’m sleeping. That’s it. Pierre is going to wake me up soon. I just need to wait it out. All good!” Myra breathes deeply and pulls on her hair with wide eyes.

“Oh dear.” The Greying Lady disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a glass and a bowl, both filled with water. She sits them on the table. She gently lifts the girl by the armpits and situates her at the table as well. The girl stares blankly and silently at the materials before her. The lady wraps Myra’s shoulders with an afghan and sets down a plate of alligator cakes. “Eat, child. And drink some water.”

Myra takes a cautious bite. She can’t deny that they taste just like her mother's. The nostalgia sits heavy on her heart. It awakens something in her that she doesn’t want to feel. She chucks the plate at the wall and throws the blanket from her shoulders. She pushes her chair from underneath her, “Screw this! Dream or not. I’m outta here.” She marches towards the door, but the Greying Lady animates the chair. It scoops up the girl, returning her to the table.

“God! Just say it! Say what you have to say so I can go!” Myra yells.

“Your anger...”

“Of course I’m angry. You kidnapped me, you…you monster!”

“No, your anger. It’s why I’ve been asked to contact you. And it seems that Pamela has good timing.” She waves her cane over the bowl of water just as one of Myra’s tears falls in.

“Mom!” The girl pops up, nearly knocking over the bowl containing her mother’s conjured image.

Her mother’s eyes blink open, “Oh, Myra!”

“Mom! Mom,” Myra holds her face close to the bowl, her eyes full of tears, "Can you come back, mommy, please? Can you come back to me?”

“I wish I could, Mymy. But I love you, baby, I love you so much and you should always know that. But listen, Myra, I don’t have a lot of time. I see your heart. It’s so dark, Mymy. But it doesn’t have to stay like that. You have to find the joy in life again. Find your spring again, baby. Oh, ohh, I’m getting pulled back. I gotta go Mymy, but I love y…"

“No! No! Mom, come back!” Myra sits back in the chair awestruck. Quietly, she asks, “What is she talking about?”

The Greying Lady meets Myra’s eyes. “Janessa speaks to your mother every day. Yesterday, your mother spoke back. She said she needed to see you and talk to you. To tell you to heal your heart.”

“Is this about me yelling at the TV? Those news anchors are jerks!” Myra slams the table with her fist.

The Greying Lady smooths Myra’s furrow with her age-old thumbs, “If it isn’t the news, it’ll be social media. If not social media, it’ll be your neighbors. Jerks have existed since the beginning of time. The trick is not allowing the world’s hate to become your own.”

"That’s cute. Why don’t you put a hashtag on that and make it trend on Instagram for a week. I’m outta here."

"Myra..."

"No! You don’t get to show up after what, 1000 freaking years, and hit me with some hallmark shit about how I should act in this world." Myra walks towards the door but pauses to continue, "You know, my dad was watching this panel yesterday, all super professional black men, and one of ‘em said, 'if I need something done well, I hire a black woman to do it.' And everyone applauded! And someone in the audience agreed, 'if black women don’t do it, it won’t get done.” Applause, again. I was confused because none of it sounded like a compliment to me. It sounded draining. I just wanted to scream ‘don’t get it done! Stop saving the world!' It can’t possibly all be on us." Myra picks up the afghan and sits at the table, "It’s one thing from white people. I’ve just stopped expecting anything from them. But, honestly, I'm starting to not expect anything from black guys either. You know last year, the basketball team made a "fuckable list," ranking the freshman girls on a scale of angels to rats. Guess where the black girls fell on that list? And, well, I made it pretty high up on the list, but I didn't want to! And when I went to talk to some of the other black girls in my grade about how dumb the list was to begin with, all they had to say was ‘at least you’re not a rat’. And they're right! The damn scale doesn't even make sense but at least I'm not a rat. It’s all so fucked. We’re supposed to save the world, but we can’t be too strong. We’re coveted, we're copied but we're constantly told to dim our lights. White people hate us ‘cause we’re black. Black boys hate us ‘cause we’re girls. But we’re supposed to save them both! And the worst part: despite me knowing all of this, I still feel guilty when I can’t." Myra chokes down the lump in her throat, embarrassed of this candid admission despite her shoulders feeling markedly lighter.

"I know what it's like to get pushed and prodded every which way. Black womanhood comes with a lot of weight, guilt. Renouncement." The Greying Lady goes over to her mantel and rubs her hands along an auburn tignon. "At the risk of sounding too hallmark for you: for every ounce of pain you feel, remember the gallons of life in you, the power in you. Shoot, I’ve seen black women do more with a look than a white man could ever do with a gun."

"Yea, but those guys today...They harassed me and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. And I know it’s because I left my hair down. Usually I put it up, I just forgot…"

While Myra continues, the Greying Lady picks up her tignon and immediately spins into a memory. Caught between the two, the Greying Lady gently laid four fingers on her contractual partner's hand as he pointed a gun at the love of her life. She whispered, "I'm only loyal to you," and he lowered his weapon cockily. The weight of familial responsibility broke her back, but the mind-melting guilt drove her mad. There were a lot of perils her female peers had to face during the late 1700s, but having two lovers, one offering unending adventure and the other, generational stability, wasn't one of them. What she did, how she manipulated nature to have them both, she never felt proud of, but she'd do it again 5 times over.

The Greying Lady settles back into the present and hands Myra her tignon. "Look, your only job, ever, is to live your life. If you don’t want to protect white women, work for white men, or fight for black men, don't! You said it yourself: just don't get it done." The Greying Lady gets up to pour the bowl of water over her spidering plants, "The biggest lie black women have been told is that it's our responsibility. The "it" can be anything. Lord knows, everyone has given us an it to take care of but it's never ours. Unless God Himself tells you to pick up a burden, it's not yours to pick up."

"Just stop caring? That's the lesson?"

"It's less about not caring and more about who you're centering. Are you your first priority?"

Myra taps her finger in a spilled water droplet on the table.

"You’ll learn your power. You'll love it actually." The Greying Lady leans on the table, "Have you told your father about those men that've been messing with you?"

"No, I mean, he has enough to worry about."

"You are the only thing he worries about. Trust me. Tell him. Let him protect you the way he wants to. And the way only he can." The Greying Lady grabs a broom and begins sweeping up the remains of Myra's alligator cakes.

"You mean now?"

"Got something else to do?"

"First you kidnap me and now you’re kicking me out?" Myra crosses her arms and remains planted in her seat.

"You are a fiery one. Where'd all that fire come from, I wonder?" The Greying Lady chuckles and continues to sweep, "Well someone threw gator cakes all over my floor, so I need to tend to that. And, you have a story to finish."

"Who's?"

"Yours, sweetheart. And everyone's that's attached to you," The Greying Lady nods towards the tignon, "and only the ones that are attached to you."

Myra rubs the fabric gently, "Will you at least tell me what you are? A witch? A ghost?"

"Oh, much more powerful than that."


Janessa

EPISODE 4: ‘BRUNCHED’

“This place is cute. How'd you hear about it?” Melanie took her seat at the brass patio table.

“I was going for a run around here the other day. Smelled bomb." Janessa finished scanning the short menu, "Already know what I’m getting!”

"Sunday brunch was such a good idea, girl. Thanks for finding the spot again. One of these Sundays I’ll have the energy to find one. I'm just so tired by the end of the week."

"Mm, I wonder why," Janessa huffed.

Melanie parted her lips, half-offended but not surprised. She waited until the approaching waitress took their orders and returned to the kitchen before responding, “He really is trying.”

"But is he? You told me he quit his job to live 'unbound.’ What does that even mean? He was a singer, he got half interested in stocks. He didn’t even apply to culinary school, just talked about it for 3 months. Then a fake ass non-profit ‘leader’."

"He was teaching keyboarding to highschoolers!"

"Does he even know how to type?"

"Mhmm," Melanie exaggerated her hesitation, "He does that little index finger thing..."

"So no. No, he doesn't. And now he's trying to be an author."

"He finished two chapters..."

As the words, "you need to leave his ass" spat from Janessa's mouth, the waitress arrived with their drinks. Smiling avoidably, she offered a quick "Food'll be right out," before returning to the restaurant.

Janessa continued, restraining a laugh, "I'm sorry, sorry. I’m only bringing this up because I’m your friend."

"Yea, but he’s my friend too, my best friend. I’ve known him...

Melanie: Janessa:

"...my entire life. " "...your entire life."

"I know," Janessa sipped her breakfast cocktail and reached for Melanie's hand, "I also know you’re not in love with him. And, sorry, but he’s taking all of my friend’s energy and money, and he’s not offering her what she deserves."

Melanie half-smiled and blew out a puff of air. Throughout their meal, her mind replayed the lifetime of good memories her and her boyfriend, Grant, made together. She knew her friend was right, though. Her and Grant weren't supposed to be lovers. But gently untangling their lives wasn't an option; those knots had to be cut.

As the waitress removed their plates, the girls wrapped up their conversation about Janessa's dirty thirty trip to her hometown of New Orleans.

"Girl, I'm already starting to pack," Melanie threw her arms up and breathed in the patio air, "I can feel the sun, taste the daiquiris, and hear the music I'll be shaking my ass to all up and down Bourbon Street."

"My 30s are going to be the shit and there's truly no other way I'd want to ring in my new decade than with my girl. But you're packing already? We don't leave for another month!"

The friends laughed with their full bellies before Janessa sighed, changing the mood, "Hey, I'm sorry for coming for Grant earlier. That wasn’t fair."

Melanie looked up at her friend, "You really don’t think he’s gunna pull it together?"

"He hasn’t in five years. And more importantly, it’s not your job to take care of him until he does."

"I do love him, though."

"But you're not in love with him."

"Just seems like a waste of five years. What even would I tell him? How do I tell him? We live together!"

"He lives...with you."

"Nessa..."

"Okay, okay. What about going on a date? Seeing what else is out there might make it a little easier to let go."

"Absolutely not! I am not cheating on him."

"Mkay, so just hear me out..."

"What did you do?"

"I said hear me out!" Janessa patted the air with her hands, "They added a new guy to the finance team at the firm and girl, he’d be perfect for you."

"Ahh, just sucks that I'm not a cheater."

"We all went out last weekend and he’s hilarious, he's outgoing. He did karaoke with us. He’s a gentleman, tall, fine!"

"Why don't you date him?"

"Not my type. But he has you written all over him. Adventurous, extroverted, athletic. He would gladly do all that hiking and nature shit that you can't get me or Grant to do with you."

"Well, I’m still in a relationship so I can’t entertain anything until I figure that out."

"Mmm, right. I did already give him your number and told him he could ask you out next weekend. So, you might be getting that call."

"Janessa!"

"Look! Grant literally doesn’t even have to know. Just get 1 little drink with Ulysses…"

"Ulysses?!"

Janessa laughed, "I know, I know. The names a little...old school? But he’s great. Seriously! Just get one drink with him."

"You said he's fine?"

"Fine girl!"

"One drink."

Janessa grabbed her friend's hand and squealed before waving the waitress over to order another celebratory round.

- - -

Before keying into her condo, Melanie's Motorola lit up with an unknown number. She answered to reluctantly accept Ulysses' proposal for a drink that upcoming weekend. She could feel her anniversary photo leering at her as she entered her foyer. Between the mimosas and her guilt, the pit in her stomach deepened and bubbled. Determined to fall in love with her boyfriend, she primped in the entryway mirror and tipsily sexy walked into the living room. Grant hunched over a legal pad scribbling intently - balled up paper littered his feet. Melanie continued walking towards him, flinging off her blouse with strained allure.

"Hey baby..."

Grant side kissed Melanie, "Hey babe."

"Can I see what you're working on?" Melanie pivoted for him to see her fully.

"The new chapter? It’s not done yet." Grant's eyes flashed between his notes and her chest, "Oh hey, what's up with you?"

"Nothing. Just missed you," Melanie bended to rest her hands on her boyfriend's knees.

"Hold on Mel...Mel!" Grant jumped up, sending Melanie to her butt.

"Jesus, Grant! I thought you'd be into this!"

"I am! I definitely am. But you were smearing the ink," Grant flipped the pad over and placed it on the coffee table. "Man, you either hounding me to get this thing off or you’re asking for attention. Which do you want?"

"All I said was that I missed you."

"C'mon, guilt trip. I can’t win with you."

Melanie scooped up her shirt, "It'd just be nice if you could be a little romantic, a little spontaneous. We don't even talk like we used to. It's like I'm living with a stranger."

"So we're going from guilt trip to drama queen, huh? And how can I be romantic when I never see you? You spend all your time with Nessa." Grant hocked her name as if it were venomous. Melanie had already stomped off towards their bedroom.

In the bedroom, Melanie faced more photographic evidence of her waning relationship. Polaroids that used to make her laugh, made her sigh. One from their childhood even forced a tear down her cheek. They were maybe 8 or 9, playing 'explorers' in her backyard. She flung the tear away, but her grief sat with her. She knew that by dating him, she ruined her relationship with her best friend.

- - -

“Melanie?” A veined, tanned hand rested on Melanie’s shoulder. The touch was gentle, but she jumped anyway. “Sorry!" the deep voice apologized, "I’m looking for someone."

Melanie turned to see over 6 feet of bulk and brawn, “Yes! Yes, I’m Melanie.”

“Oh good. Ulysses. Nice to meet you.” He took a seat at the bar, next to her, and continued, “Kinda nerve wrecking trying to find a stranger in a bar.”

“I can imagine. I’ve never actually been on a blind date before.”

“Really?” Ulysses held a finger up to get the bartender’s attention.

Melanie stared at his bulging bicep muscle and lightly slapped her thigh to pull her attention back to the conversation, “Nope, heh. For a while, I was in or I kinda still am in this thing…”

“Janessa told me you have a boyfriend. What’s your drink?”

“Chardonnay. And I do. That doesn't bother you?"

"Eh, technicality. If you're here with me, it's pretty much over anyway, right?"

"For someone in finance, you’re not that concerned with technicalities.”

“Work-play balance, ya know.” He winked and grinned, revealing rows of bright white teeth, “So, does this guy know you’re going out on dates?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Melanie thanked the bartender as he sat her wine in front of her, “This is the only date I’ve been on. And I only came to appease Janessa. She swears she knows what’s best for me.”

“Ah, she seems like a great friend. She just went on and on about you. And, between what she told me and what I’m seeing,” Ulysses looked her up and down, “you're the whole package.”

“And see,” Melanie put her wine down, “I almost got all goofy over that. But this cannot be a purely physical connection – that was the deal.”

“What deal?”

"With Janessa. For this to potentially continue, I need to actually like you. I can’t just be attracted to you.”

"So, I’m a double dog dare, huh? Well, it’s your lucky day. I'm going to take that as a challenge. Let’s get out of here. Have some real fun."

"Promise you won’t kill me?"

Holding an extended hand to Melanie and 3 fingers to the air, "Scout's honor."

- - -

“Finally! What took you so long to get here!” Janessa bounced in her chair as Melanie hastened to the table.

"First of all, this place is super sketchy. There's no signage anywhere."

“I gave you directions!” Janessa waved the air, "Forget all of that. How was the date?”

“I think Grant knows what’s up. All morning he was like, 'Nessa? Again? Really? You're hangin' with Nessa? Again?' And you know what he said before I left? He said, ‘I’m starting to think you not always going to see Nessa.’ Do you think he knows?” Melanie fiddled with her menu.

“I think he’s a hater.” Janessa rolled her eyes, “Tell me about the date, already. How was it?”

Melanie looked up and started grinning.

“Oh, it was like that?” Janessa clutched her metaphorical pearls.

“No! No, we didn’t do anything like that. But you were right - he's fun! So, we started at this cute little bar, but his friend owns The Power Rocket, so he got us in after hours and we rode go karts and the Tummy Tumbler. We stole some ice cream out of the kitchen freezer. I felt like a little kid! And he was like a lot more open than I expected. His mother died during childbirth, so he was raised by his father. Said they were super close, and they loved to go fishing..."

"Wait, pause. His friend?" Janessa wondered.

"Yep. He said he gave him a key but to honest it kinda looked like he just broke the lock." Melanie laughed. "He is crazy buff."

The waitress arrived to take their orders. Her green eyes contrasted her dark skin, and her locs were piled twistedly atop her head, "What can I get started for you?"

While Janessa ordered, Melanie finally took in the venue. The simple geometry of the space and its sterile white walls starkly opposed the colorful menu. She waited until the waitress retreated to ask once more.

"Girl, what even is this place? It's like an abandoned art gallery in here."

"I think it's just new. I heard the owners aren't from around here. They're probably still getting settled," Janessa shrugged. "Anyways. Grant?"

"I don’t know," Melanie's shoulders slumped. "It's easy with him. Even after a fight, we just jump right back into our routine."

"That sounds like history not chemistry."

"I definitely felt the chemistry with Ulysses last night. I just can't believe I ruined such a great friendship. I honestly thought we’d be friends forever, no matter what, but these last five years…they’ve felt like an eternity."

"But you’re still not ready to walk away?"

"I don’t think I’ll ever be."

A deep agonizing groan bellowed from the kitchen. Melanie’s eyes bugged, "What the hell was that?"

Janessa sipped her water, "Will you calm down? They probably just dropped something back there."

"Or they're being haunted by the artists that were murdered in this creepy ass place,” Melanie saddled her purse and nodded towards the door. “We should go."

The waitress hurried out of the kitchen, "Bayou shrimp ‘n grits and red beans and rice. Sorry about that noise. One of the busboys bumped his ol’ head back there. Enjoy your meals, now. And these mimosas are on the house."

"Well, cheers to that!" Janessa laid her napkin in her lap and inhaled the Creole aromas wafting off her plate.

The waitress returned to the kitchen just to exit moments later with two steaming bowls of gumbo. She sat them in front of two other women before bowing away. The diners held hands and leaned over their bowls, steam engulfing their faces. The waitress posed in the kitchen doorway, eyes glued to the diners, lips murmuring inaudibly.

"Biiiitch!" Melanie leaned in.

"I know! I didn't see gumbo on the menu!"

"I'm not talking about the damn gumbo. There's some spooky shit going on in here. We should definitely go."

"Have you tried your food? This is too bomb to run out on." Janessa gripped her mimosa, "Sip on your drink and relax."

Melanie sipped and winced, "Whoa, it’s just champagne in here, right?"

"You’re such a lightweight. So, are you going to see Ulysses again?"

"He did ask me out next weekend. I just can’t believe he doesn’t care that I have a whole live-in boyfriend."

"He can probably tell the relationship is dying. Just waiting for it to be official."

"I felt so horrible when I got home. I just got in the bed with Grant! After being on a date! I’d be so hurt if he did anything like that."

"Even if Ulysses isn’t it, you’ve got to get from under this Grant thing so you can live your life. Stop buying groceries for two, stop doing chores for two, girl you said even the sex is…"

"So vanilla. What's a girl gotta do to get tossed around a little bit?" Melanie whined and giggled, "I wish I could just poof him from my mind entirely. Make all of the memories go away, good and bad."

"Let’s send him off, then." Janessa stood with her glass, "To Grant: relationships come, and some are hard to let go. Those we honor and we let die."

"You're so extra," Melanie rolled her eyes, but stood and toasted with her friend, "Ugh, are you sure these aren't mixed with tequila? Or...absinthe?"

After Melanie settled into her meal, the gumbo customers gathered their things and headed to the exit. One was greeted by a chiseled, chocolate adonis and the other by an olive-skinned gentleman with a million-dollar smile. Both kissed their respective ladies on the forehead before leaving.

Before Melanie could comment, the waitress returned with the bill, "Take your time with this, ladies. There's some coupons in there for a free pot of gumbo next visit." With an accidental, or seemingly accidental, graze of Melanie's hand she bowed back to the kitchen.

"God, this place is weird," Melanie shook her head before downing the last of her spine-shivering mimosa.

- - -

The following Sunday, Melanie flew through the entrance of that week's brunch venue disheveled and uneasy but not because the building was as unmarked and unassuming as the last.

"Nessa, Grant is gone! I woke up this morning and all his stuff was just gone. No toothbrush, no clothes, nothing. And his number is disconnected. Do you think he found out about Ulysses? Why didn’t you answer your phone? I called a million times!"

"Oh, my phone's been acting super weird lately, my bad girl. But sit, sit! I’m excited to hear about your second date!"

"The date? Grant is missing, Nessa!"

"You said his stuff is gone. He’s probably not missing. He probably skipped out. C'mon, sit! I ordered drinks for us."

Melanie sat, sipped, and shivered, "Not these strong ass mimosas again."


The petite green-eyed waitress sat two bowls of gumbo in front of them. Steaming hot, just like before. "Welcome back, ladies. Enjoy that gumbo."

"This place is so weird, Nessa. Why’d we come back here?"

"Free gumbo!"

"Something doesn’t feel right. Why are they always in abandoned buildings?"

"The food was bomb last time, right? You’re just stressed. You need to get some food in you." Janessa reached for Melanie’s hands and bowed her head.

"What are you doing? We’ve never prayed over our brunch, before."

Janessa huffed and looked at the waitress, who was already chanting under her breath. Janessa snatched her friend's hands and quickly recited, "Relationships come but some are hard to let go. Those we honor and we let die."

Melanie’s eyes glazed over, her neck hinged down, her head hovered inches above her bowl. The steam from the gumbo engulfed her face as she began to chant with Janessa.

“Relationships come but some are hard to let go. Those we honor, and we let die.”

“Relationships come but some are hard to let go. Those we honor, and we let die.”

“Relationships come but some are hard to let go. Those we honor, and we let die.”

Both ladies devoured the addictive chunks of fleshy meat and slurped down the savory, scarlet stock. Neither looked up until their bowls were empty. Melanie lifted her head but stared forward blankly until Janessa broke their silence.

“So, you were saying about Grant?” Janessa poked.

“Who?”

“Uh, I mean, Ulysses. You were talking about your date last night...with Ulysses.”

“He’s so great, girl!” She gave a full rundown of their date night adventures. The barbeque joint and subsequent bonfire under the stars perfectly matched the heat she felt in her belly during their first kiss. “He’s actually picking me up from here and we're going paddle boarding. He comes up with the best freaking date ideas!” Melanie giggled and turned to see him just as he walked past the windowpane, “Oh, he’s here. Cool if I head out?”

“Of course! I’ll walk out with you.”

They stood and walked to the exit. Ulysses was standing in the doorway.

“How was the food?” The grinning man gave Melanie a kiss on the forehead.

“Delicious! The meat was tender, and perfectly fatty but I don’t know what it was. Did she say that was beef, Nessa?”

“Not sure.” Janessa grabbed her friend’s hand, “I’m just happy it was dead.”


Tallie

EPISODE 5: ‘OVER TEA’

TALLIE: You here?

JUNE GRACE, leaning against the sink: Long time, no see.

TALLIE: I didn’t know where else to go.

JUNE GRACE: So, you came back home? Last place I thought you’d flee to.

TALLIE: That's the point, right?

JUNE GRACE: Mmm. I’d ask how ya doing but I’m guessing not so good.

TALLIE, tracing the rim of her mug: Which do you think is harder: life or death?

JUNE GRACE: Well, I'd say the first is burning alive and the second is...conscious numbness.

TALLIE: Who wouldn't choose numbness?

JUNE GRACE: You'd choose it until you realized you signed up for an eternity of nothing. Couple'a flames eating you up would sound comforting.

TALLIE: The options are shit or shittier?

JUNE GRACE: You asked which is easier. Ain’t nothing easy, but life is always worth it.

TALLIE: It’s worth being burned?

JUNE GRACE, leaning on the kitchen island, propping her chin in her palm: How long you been gone now, Tal?

TALLIE: 14 years.

JUNE GRACE: Jesus. Well, welcome back. Hey, pass me one of them cigarettes.

TALLIE, toying with the pre-roll in her cardigan pocket: This ain't a cigarette. But are you sure you can smoke this? Or anything?

JUNE GRACE, tapping the granite: Put it here. Got a few years older and you think you know something.

Tallie places it on the kitchen island. June Grace pinches it but can’t lift it up.

TALLIE: Want me to set it in your mouth?

JUNE GRACE: Naw, it’ll end up right back on this counter. Maybe you did learn something in those 14 years.

TALLIE: Doesn’t feel like it.

JUNE GRACE: Oooh, now that sounds like a love story.

TALLIE: Stories. Ones I’m tired of carrying. I’ve tried it all, June Grace. I tried commitment, gave it my all and couldn't get past a month. I tried a hoe phase... or two.

JUNE GRACE: Mmm.

TALLIE: I tried love and self-love. The second was more confusing than the first! Now I'm back here.

JUNE GRACE: Sounds like you tryna prove something. Tryna get life to love on you.

TALLIE: Wouldn’t that make it easier?

JUNE GRACE: I just told you ain’t nothing easy. Seems to me that you need to be taking some of the blame. You can't, or if you... you have to admit that you're sitting there, and ain't no one making you sit there, sit there and be sad. Blaming the world for you being stuck. And it's your fault anyway. It's your fault!

JUNE GRACE twitches, catches her tone, and turns toward Tallie: Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to fly off like that. I'm just saying, you really think the scariest beast you’ve encountered came in the way of some scraggly boys?

TALLIE, peeling her eyes from June Grace and casting them on her tea: I was at this party once and I got into a huge fight with...you know something? I can't even remember his name. Anyway, I left but he drove, so I just started walking. I didn’t really know where 'cause we drove two hours from the city to see his hipster friend’s barn house. Literally, it was half barn, half house. It still had barn animals and hay on the ground, on purpose. It was fucking....

JUNE GRACE: Little girl!

TALLIE: Sorry.

So, I was walking. We passed a small shopping center maybe a mile from the barn and I was going to try to get an Uber from there, from one of the shops. But on my walk I saw a woman limping up the road, maybe a hundred feet ahead of me. And, you know, we were walking in the same direction so she couldn’t see me. And we were in the ‘burbs for real, like the houses were ginormous, the lawns were massive and so the houses were super spread out. And the limping lady...I didn’t know what to do. I thought what if she’s crazy or being followed or something, I didn’t want to approach her, but I also wanted to make sure she was safe. And then, she just, lunged into a row of bushes surrounding someone's yard. Like, just crashed through the wall of branches and leaves and kept going. I could still see her shadow limping towards the house, so I run up to the hole she made in the bushes and she's standing on the porch to this mansion, looking directly at me. Then I see her stomach, cut open, and she’s cradling her dead baby still connected to the umbilical cord. And, she was crooked, or leaning, her ankle bone was on the floor. And, then she drops the baby and drags it as she limps backwards into the house.

JUNE GRACE: Well, you've always been seeing things. I remember a curious 8-year-old exploring attics they shouldn't have been explorin'.

TALLIE: I know! That’s how I know she wasn’t real.

JUNE GRACE: She wasn’t?

TALLIE: I mean she wasn't alive. But I couldn’t help but feel like she specifically sought me out. Like she thought I could help her. But I was too scared. So, I just ordered the most expensive Uber of my life and went home.

And there was another time. I was getting ready for a date, and this boy, ugh, he was so cute. So, so cute. But anyway, I was shaving my legs in the shower, and I just gouged my leg with my razor. I don't know how it happened, maybe I wasn't paying attention, or the razor slipped, but it was such a deep cup - stinging under of the water. I got blood everywhere searching for gauze. But eventually I got myself to the ER. And the doctors handled it, I was fine. It was deep, but I was fine.

That’s not the crazy part... The crazy part was the lady next to me in the ER. She’d overdosed and was barely holding on. So, the whole time they're sewing up my leg, I’m watching this lady next to me fight for her life, or I guess for her death? I don’t…for a second, I saw two of her, one pushing against the one lying down, like it was trying to get out. But she just disappeared and the one lying down, kept fighting. It was subtle but the strain, she was straining. When the doctors discharged me, I just went up to her and pushed the air where the spirit was. I felt myself push her spirit back into her. She looked at me, the one lying down, and smiled, very faintly but I swear she said thank you before she died. And then I got outta there.

JUNE GRACE: Well, that’s good, Tal. That’s real good for her.

TALLIE, after sipping her tea: June Grace, why are you still here?

JUNE GRACE, sniggering: You think you can help me? You think you can save me?

TALLIE: I just…yes, I think I could help. I know I don’t know everything…

JUNE GRACE, lighting up with pale eyes and windblown hair: You can’t fix shit!

JUNE GRACE, immediately returning to her common form: Tallie. Tallie, I’m so sorry. I can’t seem to hold my temper these days.

TALLIE: It’s okay! It’s okay. I’ve actually started looking into this a lot more. I think you’ve just been here too long. I guess conscious numbness really can wear on a person.

JUNE GRACE: Oh, right. We started all this up because of your love story.

TALLIE: Stories. And you’re right. It was a lot more than just boys that made these last 14 years so...ah. Barn Boy and Shaving Boy were both much, much longer stories. But I guess I wouldn’t change ‘em.

JUNE GRACE: You wanna know why?

TALLIE: Why?

JUNE GRACE: ‘Cause living is worth the burns.

TALLIE: I’m gunna miss talking to you, June Grace.

JUNE GRACE: What are you talking about?

Tallie's mom, OLIVIA, coming down the stairs: Tal, did you fall asleep with the TV on again?

TALLIE, to June Grace: Go, go. But be in the attic at 8am sharp. We’ve got some work to do if we’re going to find a way to help you pass on.

June Grace starts to shake her head, but Tallie’s mom rounds the corner. June Grace disappears, hiding a contented smile.


*Each R&W volume introduces a new supplementary 6th storyline.

BONUS EPISODE: ‘SONYA & SOPHIA’

Sophia’s feet hit the floor just as her mother cracked the last egg into the skillet. She brushed her teeth while jumping into her joggers and sliding on her varsity shirt. Smoothing her tousled hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her backpack before sailing down the stairwell and skirting into the kitchen.

“If you woke up on time, you wouldn’t have to fly around the house all crazy like that.” Lauren handed her daughter a stacked breakfast platter.

“It’s gameday, Mom. Gots to get all my rest!” Sophia flashed her a smile before shoveling cheesy eggs into her mouth. “Will you and pops be there?”

“You know your dad can’t miss an opportunity to tell real coaches everything he thinks they’re doing wrong.”

“I heard that. And let’s be clear…” Wayne ambled into the kitchen and poured his second cup of coffee before beginning again, “they got to state last year because of my direction.”

Lauren giggled, “All you did was yell ‘shoulda let So-fifi run!’ That’s not direction.”

“Well, I was right.” Wayne squeezed Sophia’s shoulders, “When So-fifi runs, we win!”

“I can’t run in every event. Then we’d definitely lose!” Sophia licked her fork before dropping her dishes off in the sink, “Thanks for breakfast, Mom. I’ll see you both at the field later.”

“Have a good day at school!” They shouted in unison.

Sophia sighed lightly at the bottom of the school's staircase that day. Track scholarships were already rolling in and she was a shoo-in for Athlete of the Year, yet she still felt unseen. Or maybe only partly seen.

“What’s up, Legs!” Dalvin called from the top step. Yasmin sucked her teeth and shook her head at him.

“You know I hate when you call me that. It just sounds…creepy.” Sophia jogged up the stairs to reach her friends.

"No, this..." Dalvin strutted along the step and paused to rub a hand up the side of his thigh, "is creepy.”

Yasmin shook her head at Sophia, “Remind me why we hang out with him?"

“Blackmail, duh," Dalvin leaned against the wall, "I still have that picture of you picking your nose in 6th grade, Yas.”

"Oh my God."

"Yep! And I got Sophia in that 1950s fit you was rocking the other day," Dalvin grabbed his stomach in exaggerated laughter.

"What’d I miss?" Yasmin inquired.

"He saw me heading out to Beachton last month to visit my grandparents. For the past couple of months, my grandma has been taking me to her church's women's group brunches, and she asks me dress up. I dunno though, it's been kinda cool having to dress up. I don't really have a reason to do it any other time."

“Aw, that sounds cute! But I'm surprised she can get you to dress up. I thought you were going to break your ankle in those heels on homecoming.”

“Don’t remind me.”

- - -

Sonya’s feet hit her fluffy, white rug at 5am sharp. She started her day with 10 minutes of meditation while her charcoal facemask dried before diving deep into the remaining hour and 20 minutes of her morning routine. Skin care, light makeup, hair into a sleek topknot. She pulled on the outfit she laid out the night before and checked that her notebooks were in their color-corresponding folders before heading downstairs for breakfast.

“Sonya,” her father stood as she walked into the dining room. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before grabbing his briefcase and his traveling mug. “I’m headed out. Have a good day at school, sweetheart.”

“Have a good day at work, Dad.”

Sonya’s moderately sweaty mother sat Sonya's bowl of oatmeal on the dining room table. She gave her husband a kiss before him and his keys jingled out of the door. Sonya started in silently on her oats, running through the day’s to-do list. Yearbook before first period, she needed to ask Mr. Thillian for a letter of recommendation, then Poms practice, post-poms froyo to listen to Destiny's boy problems, then back home to start on her honors lit essay. She unconsciously let out a sigh as her mother re-entered the dining room sipping her post-workout smoothie.

“Something wrong, Sonya?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking through my day," she took another cinnamon-spiced bite.

“Don’t forget, we have Joanie’s birthday in the park tomorrow.”

Another sigh, "Right."

“And, sweetie, you know I love the bun, but could you try something else with your hair? It’s so pretty when you let it down.” She gave Sonya a kiss on the forehead, “Lock the door when you leave. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

Sonya placed her bowl in the sink before heading off to school. She parked in the student lot and pretended to avoid seeing Jeremy strolling towards her.

“Damn, all legs today. You tryna break my heart, S?"

Sonya looked down at her skirt and back up at Jeremy. “I'm sure you have plenty of other options, JD.”

“None as beautiful as you,” he just barely stroked the side of her chin before hopping back to his crew.

“Jeremy, being Jeremy,” her friend Evelyn rolled up, shaking her head. “Hey, did you finish applying to that marketing internship? Apparently, Mr. Thillian has 15 letters to write already.”

“Great. I was going to ask him today. Maybe I’ll ask Mrs. Henderson instead? But that’ll have to wait ‘til lunch. We’ve got to get to yearbook.”

“We’d better hurry. Penny wants to make the cover Disney themed. Like, girl what?”

“I've heard. With all the stuff we have to stay on top of, we are so not babies anymore.”

- - -

“Alright. Be good, have fun.” Wayne gave his daughter a wet kiss to her temple and waved to her grandfather, “Let me know if she gives you any trouble, Richard!”

“Oh, she won’t! Drive safe now,” Richard waved back as he welcomed his granddaughter into the house. “How you doing, sweetie? Give your grandpops a hug.”

Sophia dropped her bag and smiled as her grandfather’s beard scratched her forehead.

“Mmmm, it’s been too long,” he said mid-bear hug.

“I’m here every month, Granddad," Sophia laughed between forehead kisses.

“Well, a month is too long. Your grandmother is out getting something for the picnic. She should be back soon and you all will be heading out of here shortly.”

"Picnic? I thought it was a brunch. And I thought it was tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to ask her about all them details. I just know she has a picnic today and you’re going. Go ‘head - get yourself settled before you need to head back out.”

Sophia took her bag up to her room and flopped down on the king size bed. She always felt like she was at a luxury vacation home when she visited. She had her own bathroom, her own TV, and a balcony that the sun shone magnificently upon every morning. She spun in the warming spring weather and inhaled like it was a new flavor of air.

“’Phia! Come on down here, dear.”

Sophia zipped down the staircase and skipped into her grandmother's arms, rocking contently in her tight hug.

“Phia bo bia! Did you get taller in just a month?” She pulled her granddaughter away to look at her, “Shootin’ up like a beanstalk! You got that from your daddy. We’re all little shrimps on this side.”

Sophia playfully agreed and helped her grandmother with the groceries. “So, what’s this picnic we’re going to?”

“It’s the church’s 30th anniversary tomorrow so the ladies wanted to do something other than our regular brunch this weekend. And you know what? We’re going to be late. Go get changed. And let your hair down? It's so pretty down."

“Yes, Gramma.”

- - -

Sonya’s aunt helped her 5-year-old daughter blow out her birthday candles while the crowd cooed. Sonya’s golf clap faded while she absentmindedly made her way to the punch.

Her mind was occupied with all the things she needed to get done before the weekend ended. By the time she’d gotten to Mr. Thillian he already had 20 letters to write and couldn’t take any more. She leaned on the table while taking a sip of her punch. The table creaked, snapping her out of her mental to-do list and causing her to drip a fat red drop of punch on her baby blue dress. She threw her head back in defeat, “Ugh!”

One of her aunts handed her a napkin, "Everything okay, Sonya? You seem stressed."

She accepted the napkin and began blotting the stain. "Just lots of homework and club things. And I need a teacher to write me a letter of recommendation, but my number one choice is too busy, and my backup is on vacation and it’s due in a week, so...”

“Well, sweetie, why did you wait until the last minute?”

“I just had so many other things piling up, you know.”

“You should use a planner. Time management is key. I fill out my planner every Sunday evening. Always keeps me on track. I also…”

“Thanks Auntie. A planner sounds like a great idea. I’m going to try to get this stain out before it sets.”

“Oh, good idea, good idea.”

She peered in the bathroom mirror and mocked her aunt's non-help, “Get a planner, darling. Oh, you don't have a planner? My oh my! A planner would solve everything! World hunger, even!”

“Wow, talking to yourself? Either you're crazy or you’re the only sane one in a group of crazies,” a voice called from one of the stalls.

Sonya was surprised by the interruption but sniped back, “I’m crazy but you’re talking to strangers while on the toilet?”

“So, you admit you’re crazy?”

“Ugh!” Sonya huffed and stomped into another stall to relieve herself.

“You’ve got to be crazy to not leave a public bathroom when there’s stranger in there calling you crazy!” The voice laughed heartily before the toilet flushed and the metallic locks clicked open. Over the sound of running water, the voice asked, “So, who are you in the bathroom trying to avoid?”

“Honestly, it’s not any one person. Just seems like no one gets how tough it is being in high school. I’m so tired! But when you’re just a high schooler, all people say is….”

The two in unison: “What do you have to be tired about?”

Sonya flushed and opened her stall. Her conversational partner turned from the paper towel dispenser and met Sonya’s face.

The two spun around each other with open mouths: “Whoa.”

“You look just like me.”

“You look just like me!”

Sonya slowly washed her hands while her mind went totally blank, “How is this possible? Are we sisters?”

“I doubt it. I can't really see my parents giving a kid up.”

“Same. Plus, my mom’s horrible with secrets. She’s told me every birthday gift she’s gotten me before I opened it.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Sonya.”

“I’m Sophia.”

“So, do you live out here?

“No, just visiting my grandparents. I’m here with my grandma for her church's anniversary picnic. What about you?”

“Yea, my family doesn't live too far from this park. My little cousin is having her birthday party here today.”

The bathroom door opened slightly, “Phia, we’re getting ready to pray over the food. You coming?”

“Uhh, coming Gramma! Just washing my hands!” Sophia flipped the sink on. “I gotta go but should we…”

In unison: “Get each other’s numbers?”

The girls giggled as they exchanged information.

Sophia stared at Sonya for a few seconds, “This is unreal.”

They faced the mirror and in unison agreed: “Unreal.”

- - -

The next day the girls met up at Sonya’s house. They spent hours talking about track and yearbook, family and friends, dreams and fears. They felt like they’d known each other for years.

“Man, I do not want to leave but my dad is coming to pick me up in like an hour. I should spend some time with my grandparents before I head home."

“Of course, but I really think we should do something with this. Like, we could totally trick people."

Sophia sat up on the plush bean bag chair, “What are you thinking? Like trade places?”

“For a day? We go to each other schools? I’d love to be track star for a day.” Sonya jumped up and struck a Heisman pose, “I played basketball freshman and sophomore year. I can definitely hang.”

“You’re just mixing up all your sports, girl,” Sophia laughed. “There’s no way we’d get past our families though.”

“That’s true,” Sonya plopped down on her bean bag chair. “What if we just take the bus to each other’s towns’ tomorrow after breakfast? Completely swap schedules, extracurriculars and everything. And we switch back before we go home.”

“We should trade phones too. For when our friends text us in school.”

“And we should trade clothes! You can borrow whatever you want from my closet. All I want is that varsity jacket.”

"Easy deal!"

Sonya squealed and opened the doors to her walk-in closet. Sophia’s jaw dropped. She picked out a pleated skirt, a halter top and an oversized cardigan. And she couldn’t pass up the 4-inch combat heels. While Sophia marveled at her options, Sonya practiced her “cool pose” in Sophia’s varsity jacket.

The duo ended their planning meeting with a big hug and grins that they couldn’t peel off if they wanted to.

- - -

“What’s up, Legs! Yo! Legs! Fine, what’s up, Sophi-ah,” a caramel boy with short, shiny curls and a bright white smile waved his hand frantically.

Sophia warned Sonya about Dalvin's horrible nickname for her, but in the moment, Sonya couldn't remember his name. “Yes! Legs, right, that's me! Hey, uh, Arms,” Sonya grimaced before heading over to Dalvin and Yasmin.

“Arms, huh?” Dalvin checked out his biceps, “I’ll take it.”

Yasmin groaned before heading up the steps.

Dalvin and Sonya followed behind, “Something's different about you, Sophia.”

“Uh, nope. My hair, maybe? No, I mean nothings different but if you notice that something is different, it might be my hair,” Sonya inhaled and pushed the air out slowly through her side-parted lips.

“Yea, something is definitely off.” Dalvin stopped and turned her shoulders to face him, “I know I kid a lot, but you can talk to me.”

Sonya was taken aback. Sophia painted Dalvin as this pretty lame, ultra-goofy dumdum. He seemed sweet and sincere to her. And sorta cute?

She touched the side of her face and shook her head, “It’s nothing. Just a little off today. But thanks. Thanks for asking.”

He threw a lanky arm around her shoulders, “I got you girl. You know we gotta stick together like uh arms and legs.” He shook his head in embarrassment, but Sonya giggled under his arm.

- - -

Sophia got to Sonya’s school bright and early for yearbook. It was time to choose the final cover design and as President she had to lead the meeting.

“Ok, I know we’ve had some disagreements about what the final design should be, so I think it’d be best if we put the vote up to the student body. We still have time before we need to go to the printers so what about a 1-day only social media vote and whatever wins, wins!”

“Love that idea!”

“Of course, they should be the ones to choose anyway!"

“Totally! I can help make the poll.”

After bossing out in her yearbook meeting, Sophia felt empowered. A leader on the track team, sure, but leading a meeting felt different. Mid-dopamine release, she ran into a teacher who appeared jumbled enough before the collision.

“So sorry! Wait, are you Mr. Thillian?”

“Sonya, of course it’s me. You’ve known me for 3 years. You feeling alright?”

"Oh, I meant, hey it’s you, Mr. Thillian!” Sophia's finger-guns were goofily uncharacteristic for the charming athlete.

He frowned, "If you come down with a fever or anything, be sure to see the nurse, alright? I’ve got to going on these assignments.”

“Hey, Mr. Thillian. If I helped you grade today, do you think you could get around to my letter of recommendation?”

Mr. Thillian paused and adjusted his thin frame glasses. “You know, I got through most of my recommendations this weekend. I’m just so behind on homework now that I didn’t think I’d be able to get to yours.”

He looked at the messy pile of papers and packets in his arms, “You know what? That sounds great, Sonya. And what a glowing letter it shall be. Can you come by during your free period?”

“You bet!” Sophia bounced off to Sonya’s locker, feeling completely untouchable.

“Yo, S,” a muscled, mocha arm slid around her shoulders, “I didn’t see you this morning. You get here early or something?”

Sophia turned to a smooth faced boy with deep waves in his black hair, “Oh, you’re definitely Jeremy."

“The one and only but, it's JD to you,” Jeremy squeezed her shoulders tighter with his arm. "You feeling alright?"

“I feel great," Sophia smiled at the boy before punching in the locker combination, "And I did get here earlier than usual. We had some big decisions to make at yearbook this morning.”

“I know you held it down, Madam President. Yo, Imma see if I can get a hall pass from that assistant teacher we got for history. He never writes the time on them things! I’ll catch you later,” he graced her chin gently and Sophia nearly fell following his hand.

- - -

All day at school people kept congratulating Sonya on Sophia’s record breaking meet the week before. Teachers offered her extensions on papers, the lunch ladies let her cut the line, and she was nominated for an award to be presented at the Athlete’s Dinner. Sonya had never gotten so much attention or so many passes in her life. She was starting to get nervous about practice later. Her JV basketball talents wouldn’t hold a candle to a track prodigy.- - -

All day at school people kept congratulating Sonya on Sophia’s record breaking meet the week before. Teachers offered her extensions on papers, the lunch ladies let her cut the line, and she was nominated for an award to be presented at the Athlete’s Dinner. Sonya had never gotten so much attention or so many passes in her life. She was starting to get nervous about practice later. Her JV basketball talents wouldn’t hold a candle to a track prodigy.

She pulled out Sophia’s phone to tell her that she needed to bail when a call came through from “Mom.” Instead of answering, she called Sophia to ask what she should do. No answer. Another call came in from Mom and she couldn’t not answer.

A hesitant, "Hello?”

“Sophia,” called a raspy voice, “Sophia, I slipped. I need you to come home. You dad is probably in a meeting at work and can’t hear his phone going off. I need your help, Phia.”

“I can call 911 from school and meet you…”

“No, no. It’s not serious enough for 911. I just need some help getting up and getting ice.”

“Of-of course.” Sonya checked the Home Location saved in Sophia’s phone and booked it there. She tried calling and texting Sophia to no avail. She unhooked the metal gate and fumbled to find the right key on Sophia’s keychain. She pushed in to find Lauren, back bent across her wooden stairs. She was clearly in more pain than she led on.

Sonya rushed to her, “Oh goodness! I have to call an ambulance. I don’t think I should move you myself!"

"No, no, it's fine." Lauren tried to push up from her elbow and fell back in terrible pain, “Ohh! Oh, I think you might be right.”

Wayne and the ambulance arrived at the same time. Wayne and Sonya rode to the hospital with Lauren and waited with her until she was x-rayed and awaiting results. Careful to not alarm his injured wife, he took his daughter's doppelgänger into the waiting room. “I so appreciate you helping my wife today. I do, but I’m going to need you to tell me who you are and where exactly my Sophia is?”

Sonya’s eyes widened before sinking. “I’m so sorry, sir. My name is Sonya. Sophia should be here in 5, 10 minutes max. When I got in touch with her about your wife, she hopped on the first bus back from Beachton.” Sonya told him the whole story and how the plan was to switch back after track practice.

“You did fool me at first! I mean, the resemblance is just… unreal. But I know my So-fifi. We’d better give your parents a call now, huh?”

As much as she didn’t want to, her parents would expect her home soon. Despite the bumpy landing, Sonya and Sophia thought their switch was epic. When Sophia arrived, they gave each other a full download and each one told the other how wrong they were about Dalvin and JD. They swore that after they suffered whatever punishment was surely on the way, they’d plan a million lifetimes of adventures.