i

I couldn’t point Credence out on a map even if I wanted to — and I never really cared. It was somewhere past the misplaced garden of the midwest, so lost in depression. The second left after that loomingly ominous outcrop of rock, like accusatory fingers of land. The only way to reach the place was by drive, maneuvering the dangerous road that weaved back and forth against the landscape, and I always fell asleep cutting through the thick tangled mess Mother Nature left behind millions of years ago.

Past the mountains and the trees and crossing the encompassing tributaries, fingers of the river that cradled the precious resource called Credence, the land opened up into a promising disappointment, lush and vomitously verdant. The entire city floated, the shiny crystals of water cutting past one another in a giant lake with two feeding fangs, sucking the chaste greenery empty. In all honesty, I could stand at the cusp of Credence for hours, just breathing in its mutant cyborg beauty.

Ever since the late sixties, when the first modern wave of environmentalism crashed onto the shores of a country already swept up in a rights whirlwind, Credence found itself wedged in a haven position loaded with potential and quickly launched into a hybrid of reality and science fiction. Going green was the fashion, and Credence wore it well and with pride. Its people invested in this futuristic salvation, the solar panels and windmills, proud energy saving flags strung up in the gnashing wind of politicians and cynical corporations. The inhabitants of Credence drew together, lifting a homegrown experiment onto their shoulders, and successfully pushed the bar up a challenging notch to a new height only previously a dream.

So Credence carved out a new history and definition for being green, but the city just strange enough to play hide and seek with the media was unfortunately more infamous for being that place most people chose to lock away in its chest of mountains.

Naturally, Credence was a giant organic magnet for environmentalists, scientists, bandwagoners, and a random, sociologically-interesting assortment of creatures, and it was no surprise when my aunt decided she was going to move there. Problem was, when she moved, I was little, and the world had lost its momentary fascination with going green. Credence was experiencing slight economic turbulence, and my aunt’s inability to find employment in any of the sustainable energy fields (she had some sort of vegetable degree) forced her suddenly palm-reading hands into a completely different classification of humanity.

Aunt Terry used to be like me and my mom: she could see dead people once. Apparently it was normal for us to grow out of the cursed extension to our vision, and upon learning this, although I had no strong attachment to my ghostly lens, for the first time I was some sort of fearful of losing Miracle.

My dead sister had a strange relationship with Aunt Terry. She refused to appear to her — probably because at one point Aunt Terry would have been able to see Miracle without any help from the other side — but now that Aunt Terry’s spectral sight was gone, Miracle never thought twice about helping her out. Miracle also probably took to Aunt Terry because she was one of those kinds of people who, no matter how weird they seemed to get, always went to great lengths to care for them. I suspected that before Miracle died, Aunt Terry had exhausted herself, trying to make her comfortable or ease her suffering or simply put a smile on her face, and for that, Miracle still respected and liked her.

I didn’t really care one way or another when it came to Aunt Terry. She was weird, but I could live with her. That’s why Child Protective Services shipped me off to Credence after my parents’ death; at least they let me finish my junior year of high school. I couldn’t say I was thrilled to be at some new school for my senior year, but if I had to live with any family member, Aunt Terry would always be my number one choice.

In Credence no one had traditional licenses, so mine immediately was thrown out, useless. However, Aunt Terry replaced it with a brand new bicycle, which in any other city would have placed me at the bottom of the transportation food chain next to pedestrians, but in Credence, if you owned something other than a bicycle (even a hybrid or a CNG car), there was a high probability you’d find yourself with a ticket slapped on your windshield or less civic vandalism graffitied on your (not-so) friendly environment killer.

Although I used to walk to and from school every day, Aunt Terry’s house, which was also outfitted for the eco-conscious tomorrow, was just far enough away that I had to ride my bike, and it was quite a surprise the first time I pulled up not to a parking lot but rows and rows of bike racks — which were considerately covered with solar panel awnings since the slightly marshy area would otherwise attract moisture and mosquitos, which surprisingly serve very little purpose for the ecosystem. The school along with my aunt’s house were like hobbit holes: giant, dome-like hovels made of earth all strung together. If the domes weren’t growing grass or other leafy greens, they were covered in solar panels or sprouting windmills. I was no Don Quixote, but standing and looking out over the suburbs like a prairie dog at all the shiny and spiralling could drive me crazy.

Miracle loved Credence. She played with the windmills, purposefully swooshing through them, or she would lay on the solar panels, which somehow gave her a slightly darker gray tone — as if she were tanning herself. If I were superstitious, I would say there was some correlation between all the alternative energy efforts of Credence and the change in Miracle’s attitude and behavior, but I didn’t really care. If Miracle felt more at ease, more carefree here, I was okay, and being around Aunt Terry was a plus.

Despite her fanatic outbursts, or maybe I should say because of them, Aunt Terry was one of the most forward-thinking and radical members of the Edwards family. My grandparents died before she ran off to Credence, a move my mom always said was driven by the nasty divorce Aunt Terry underwent around the time Miracle died. Aunt Terry couldn’t have her own children, so she always poured her extra love into Miracle and then me. However, she and her husband just couldn’t see eye to eye, so they ended it. But not without him thoroughly laying my aunt out to dry in the driveway and running her over like a bike a kid left in the pathway, too immature to understand completely his own carelessness. I didn’t blame my mom’s sister for running away then to her hopeful version of a refuge, where her neighbors cared as much as she did about the latest post on PETA’s blog.

My own parents never owned any pets, and quite frankly I couldn’t reason whether it was because they were already too busy between their respective jobs and dealing with me or if it was because they just didn’t want any pets. Whatever the case was, growing up without any pets was certainly balanced out by moving into Aunt Terry’s hobbit hole. She owned four dogs, two cats, a pond of various types of fish, two goats, an iguana, a rooster and a couple hens, and five or so sheep.

Perhaps I should back up and explain my aunt’s situation. She lived on the outskirts of Credence, in one of the many pocket communities scattered around the residential district. They resemble neighborhoods, except for the part where my aunt held a special position employed to provide substantial products for the other people in her pocket community. Most people had a dog or cat or two, a goat, and a sheep or so, but in addition to her psychic specialties, my aunt sold fresh milk, cheese, eggs, some produce, apples, cherries, and wool.

There were other special farmer positions in all the other pockets, too, and sometimes they would trade with each other for goods they didn’t produce or raise. The pocket communities were terraced out, and the closer the community to the industrial district, often times the less fresh produce or options offered — hence, why the trading among the special grower class.

While people were encouraged to live independently and self-provide, most of them couldn’t actually accomplish it because of their finances; instead, most people, like my aunt, found themselves working for the largest employer in Credence, a syndicate in many ways, in one field or another — and sometimes quite literally in a field.

This employer, ironically named Greene & Greener, Inc., offered a wide array of job opportunities, but their main focus was dealing with energy: producing a sustainable, renewable source, exploring the various related sciences, and manufacturing items that only ran off the alternatives. Naturally, the people served the purpose of proving the technology successful.

If people in the media worried about Apple taking the lead in technology, they must have lost their minds over Greene & Greener basically functioning as the government of Credence. Not that I was overly concerned with the politics of it all, but corporations had no place in a democratic system — perhaps, then, that the boasted freedom was merely an illusion?

Regardless their involvement in Credence’s management, Greene & Greener vaunted cutting-edge technology in both renewable and nonrenewable energy fields, though the nonrenewable was obviously outsourced, and between the United States government and other companies, the double G (as most people familiar with Greene & Greener referred to it) was quite a sought-after prize. Although Credence actually had a law enforcement task force, to say it was mediocre would be an understatement. The Credence Police Department was a noble idea poorly executed, unlike the entire city’s eco-friendly efforts, and it could barely hold back a herd of cows let alone any interloper out to steal from the double G. Thus, the double G had its own overly protective measures, and it was within its rights to do so — however, its task force was merely another field of employment, a job that ended when the workers went home. Credence was left to its own sorry police department, and fortunately, on the whole, crime was like an incandescent light bulb.

I think for all these reasons, Aunt Terry was more than happy living here in Credence; she was more than content, and while she certainly wasn’t my mom, between her through-the-roof quality of life and the entire lifestyle of Credence (which had Miracle’s spirit uplifted as well), I could probably say for the first time in my life, though as bitter and perpetually angry as I was, I was also content. And that was new.

Not that I was any more thrilled to be there. I was still in high school — senior year at that, and my parents were dead. I’d be lying if I said I had gotten over it, but being in Credence was a nice distraction. Though it’s questionable whether it was exactly the distraction I needed.

ii

Since there were no streetlights (light pollution, duh), everything around Credence operated by the sun. Quite literally, nearly everything electrical ran off solar panels, but the schedule was the number one thing driven by our little system’s star. As soon as the sunlight crept over the ridges of the mountains, the day started, and as soon as it slunk back into the crevices of the earth, the night began.

Each little hovel had a central glow stick, arc reactor type light source that fed light through tubing throughout the rooms. The tubing was filled with some crazy, gelatinous liquid that solidified and produced light when a current passed through. When the glow stick arc reactor thing was turned off, the mixture relaxed into a liquid and the soft glowing light dimmed. It must have been some kind of black light because of the way things lit up and absorbed the light, and the tubing was cool to the touch with or without a current. The exact science of it all never really captured my attention, but the device was cool.

They were working on a way to make it usable on a larger scale for the pocket communities, but until they worked all the kinks out, it was solar and lunar. But when the sky was clear, and the moon was playing with the constellations, residents would stay outside past dusk.

Needless to say, as soon as the first rays of sun hit Credence, everyone was rising and shining — and along with all my new classmates, I was heading off to school. Since we were still in summer, days were fairly long, which meant I got to help Aunt Terry with her mini farm after school. Certainly gave me a new perspective on taking your lunch to school as we also had a small garden, and literally everything I packed with me was homegrown. From fresh-squeezed juice to eggs anyway you want them, from bread made of tapioca, potatoes and corn to any dairy product from the goats, from any basic fruit or vegetable like tomatoes or peppers to basic legumes like kidney beans or lentils — I quickly adopted a very meatless and organic diet, and I had to admit, while it wasn’t that I wasn’t fond of food before moving to Credence, my appreciation for the need so basic and primal at its core had grown, much like my curiosity.

Miracle was beyond fascinated as well, and sadly most of my ideas for lunches came from her. I guessed when you can’t eat anything you have nothing better to do than dream up new ideas and combinations, or even growing tips. My dead sister was apparently a flower child, meant to live in nature like the good people of Credence, and her mind was already prepared for their way of life, which definitely helped me move from a fast food-focused diet to this one. It’s not that I was ever particularly concerned with my weight, or even needed to lose any, according to the government, but the move to Credence, the new method of transportation (aka by feet or by bike), and the new vegetarian diet answered any question I may have had about needing to be healthier and taking better care of my body. In fact, if anything, for the first time in my life, I no longer not cared about something.

If I stuck around Credence too long, I’d find myself like my aunt: a permanent fixture; part of the ship, part of the crew.

Unfortunately, school was no different, but I wasn’t too surprised that out of everything in Credence it was school that still made me want to shoot myself.

It’s not that I was a terrible student or particularly unintelligent. It was just too many stupid people doing too many idiotic things, and I had no choice but to suffer, to roast alongside them. I guessed I could have dropped out of school, but somewhere deep inside me, I knew my parents would disapprove. The least I could do for them was get some sort of decent education, not that it really mattered. But I stuck it out for them, and that was probably the better choice as the alternative was to stay at home, work on the mini farm (which I wouldn’t have minded and may have been able to pick up more useful skills watching my aunt the businesswoman in action than doodling in my notebooks) but also unfortunately be Aunt Terry’s monkey sidekick. One must never forget that my aunt proclaimed to be psychic, and when she wasn’t watering the orange trees or milking the goats, she was reading people’s palms or tarot cards. Given the choice to encourage her stupid, pointless game or stare at a board covered in equations, I would always go with school, and that was probably the real reason why I didn’t drop out.

However, after my first day at Morris-Ruskin High, which was technically a magnet school, my aunt may have wished for my academic resignation.

iii

Since I had to deal with all the Being the New Kid song and dance, I had to go in early for my wonderful first day, and that meant getting up before the sun did. Not that I didn’t have an alarm clock, because here in Credence everyone had a double G phone that served as all those handy gadgets and more, and Miracle was always keeping lookout for me, making sure I got up on time. She often woke me before my alarm even went off. Today was no different, and I rolled over, freezing, in search of my blankets, which had so kindly been yanked off me by my dear dead sister.

Since the sun wasn’t up yet, I got to use my phone as a flashlight, which was a feature that made the phone more like a glow stick (you had to turn on flashlight mode and then shake the phone to activate it), and after attaching my phone at the front of my bike, my path before me lit with a soft blue haze, I slung my backpack over my shoulders, my Miracle-designed lunch inside, and headed off for school. What fun.

Ever since my evil streak flared up my parents were finding new ways to divert my angry energy, the most obvious example the martial arts training, and I suppose because of the natural violent nature of that outlet, my mom also insisted that I take up something fine arts. While at first I resented sitting on the fragile hardwood floor in a circle, spandex leotard wrapped around me, I slowly realized that one could dance their anger out as well, and even though I wasn’t very good at anything along the lines of dance, I did have rhythm and enjoyed the relief.

But there were only so many dance recitals my dad was willing to go to, pleading on my behalf that the rough-housing of martial arts suited me better; however, my mom still demanded fine arts out of me, so to music I moved. I started piano lessons when I was in fifth grade, and again, my natural rhythm came in very handy. I threw myself into the practice like I did at the punching bag. I could lose myself in the melodies, the challenges, the emotions. I preferred Beethoven as I sympathized his busyness of the fingers for playing out the anger, and through Chopin and Debussy I came to understand that anger could be more than furiously flying fingertips across chipped keys on the old upright my parents bought at some yard sale.

I moved away from the piano ever so slightly when I was placed in a beginner theatre class in eighth grade, a class that became one of those that you take merely because you’re good enough to chill and enjoy your time, never really giving a damn about your grade. All through my old high school, my favorite exercise was when we had to reenact an assigned short story alone. Every time, I would collapse in my chair breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down the back of my neck, a workout just as taxing as sparring.

Upon moving to Credence and enrolling in this stupid high school, I never even gave it a second thought when I signed up for a theatre class, already working my way down the list in the phonebook of mixed martial arts places. Although it was a low level class, some weird accelerated elementary or whatever nonsense they labelled it to “set it apart”, I think my drama class was the most enjoyable.

Since I no longer took any MMA classes or did anything else fine arts related (outside of school, anyway), it was weird being removed from those worlds, but I understood that my aunt couldn’t pay for them, especially the MMA thing. For that, I’d have to bike out to the bus station outside Credence and hop on public transportation to the closest city. Between the cost of all that and the required time, continuing MMA training really wasn’t an option, and that probably bothered me more than not having any type of dance or music lesson. But taking the drama class was a good move.

I had applied for the intermediate course since I took so many classes in middle school, but the only one offered conflicted with another required class, or something like that. At my old high school, that would almost be unheard of, but at Morris-Ruskin High, which had a student body maybe of a thousand students, there were simply less options and less teachers. But at the heart of the matter, I didn’t really care. It was still a drama class, and I still had my fine arts outlet. There wasn’t really anything to complain about.

That being said, since it was an elementary-introductory level, though it boasted its aim was at students with a little bit of experience already under their belt, it would be a lie if I said I wasn’t bored out of my mind as we sat in a circle on the carpeted floor, reading the syllabus off our phones in a warm-up exercise that involved ridiculously pitched voices and uncomfortably stretched facial expressions. I didn’t quite understand the point of the exercise, and the reading material wasn’t exactly a high-quality script meant for dramatization — but what was I saying? Anything could be drama! Or at least that’s what my enthusiastic teacher cried as she danced across the room, as if she was unaware that she was more than old enough to be any of our mothers.

Perhaps the only saving grace was the fact that the exercise involved partners. I’m not a huge fan of meeting people as I have a knack for making them hate me from the start, but as I looked around the classroom, my palms already beginning to sweat and my throat already drying up, I couldn’t help but notice Miracle gesturing at me.

Across the giant classroom that had no seats or desks (the whole world is a stage after all) was another girl, twirling a mechanical pencil through her dyed copper red hair, her dark brown eyes flashing underneath the layers of black eyeliner and mascara. Her eyebrows had that arch to them like people do when they’re amused at the situation before them simply because they have no other source of entertainment, almost feigning interest in it all so they’ll have something to do. If I thought I was bored, I had clearly never been inside this girl’s head, and as I looked across the pond of students at her, at Miracle’s waving arms, I realized she was a senior, too, and a thespian — judging by the giant numbers and letter on the infamous leather jacket, the cliche of every high school. This girl didn’t belong in this class even more so than I didn’t.

Talk to her. Miracle commanded, jaw tight with frustration at my hesitation.

Through pursed lips, I drew in a deep breath and journeyed over to my bored peer, clearing my throat with every step. A million witty, sarcastic bites whipped through my head, but none felt right on my tongue as I mouthed them to myself as I neared this random girl. I was slowly finding myself cursing Miracle for bringing me over here. This had disaster spray-painted all over it, and I was quickly running out of spray paint.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to get her attention. She met my gaze as I stepped up to her, and she gave a curt nod.

“Oh, good.” She gave a small flick of her wrist, as if waving away worries floating in the air. “If you didn’t come over here, I’d have to go to you, and I was just so comfortable.”

Of all the opening lines I could have thought up, one like hers was nowhere near the lineup, and for a moment, like an idiot, I just stood there, my lips fishing for a response. Miracle just wrapped her arms around herself, giggling in silence, and I surreptitiously flicked her off.

“Glad I can be of service.” I half-curtsied, my voice much thicker with sarcasm than I was expecting.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you were just as bored as I was. I could see it in your face. This is the fucking dumbest warm-up I’ve ever done, so if we have to do it, you might as well be my partner. We can be that cliche pair of bored seniors together in a freshman class.”

“What are you doing in here?” I probed, motioning to her jacket. “I bet you’ve seen an audience from a real stage. This class is a joke for you.”

She nodded, half-shrugging modestly, her lips twitching into a proud smile as her eyes bashfully hid from mine. “I may or may not have played the majority of the leads in all the plays last year.”

“Like I said,” I grinned at her. “This class is a fucking joke.”

“Oh, for sure!” She threw up her hands, eyes flung to the ceiling. “But what else can you do when you’re taking AP Lit!”

I frowned. “You’re taking AP Lit? What period?”

Her nose crinkled in crooked confusion. “It’s only offered seventh period.”

Realization dawned on me then. “The same period when more advanced theatre classes happen.”

She nodded. “Poorly designed system if you ask me because this means that anybody seriously in theatre can’t take a more rigorous course as well as AP Lit.”

“Someone like you?” I prompted.

“Obviously.” She waved at the classroom. “But why are you in here? I’ve never seen you in another theatre class. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen you before.”

I thrust my right hand forward in a greeting. “I’m Ana King. I just moved here to live with my aunt.”

“Oh!” Her eyes brightened, hand sliding into a shake with mine. “I’m Marilyn Adams. Who’s your aunt?”

“Theresa Edwards.” I answered hesitantly, not quite sure how the whole psychic thing would be received.

Marilyn’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, Terry? We get our goat milk from her sometimes.”

Right. Other entrepreneurial ventures.

I nodded. “The one way out on the edge of town? Yeah, that’s my new home, or at least for senior year of high school.”

“Well, welcome to Credence.” Marilyn gave a bowing nod of her head. “What brings you this way, anyway?”

For a moment, no words came out of my mouth, and my brow furrowed instinctively as I struggled to find a voice for my history, my emotions. I could see Miracle hovering at Marilyn’s shoulder, on the edge of her spectral seat, and it made me uncomfortable how closely she was watching us.

“My parents died.” I settled on. It was short, sweet, and to the point. Far from poetic, but it did the job, and Marilyn’s face darkened a bit (as was expected, let’s be honest) as she sympathetically placed a hand on my arm.

“My mom ran off to somewhere else with another guy, and my dad routinely drinks himself into a stupor.” She shared quietly. “Sometimes it feels like my parents are dead, too.”

I stared into her eyes, noting how deep brown they were, and hers probed back in return, sending messages on a wavelength I didn’t know yet. I glanced at Miracle, who nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. I wasn’t sure if she was encouraging me to keep going or cheering on the fact that none of us really had parents.

Either way, I knew Marilyn and I were going to be friends for a very long time when our teacher called us both out by last name to admonish us for not performing our warm-up and we both turned our heads in her direction and, simultaneously retorted over warming-up with improv.

I watched Marilyn’s lips slowly spread as I felt mine do the same, our eyes locked on one another’s, as our teacher began disputing our jab. That’s when I knew that, no matter how shitty of a school Morris-Ruskin High was, because of Marilyn, senior year was gonna be all right.

Marilyn and I continued to talk throughout class, and afterward we headed off to study hall. Turned out we both had study hall for the first half of the period and then lunch followed. We sat at a table together, swapping stories from our first day, and the supervising teacher only shushed us twice for talking too loudly.

“Ugh,” Marilyn huffed, shoulders slumping as she tapped her mechanical pencil’s eraser against her open textbook. “I really wish I could smoke right now.”

My ears pricked up at this. “You smoke?”

She frowned slightly. “Yeah, why?”

Miracle, who was sitting in the chair next to Marilyn (we were seated across from one another at one of the lab tables in the study hall), rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly, but I ignored her as I told Marilyn I smoked, too.

“Ever since moving into my aunt’s place, I’ve been too afraid to really smoke.” I explained, leaning in closer. “It’s not that she would get mad or anything, but she’s just so...conscientious about everything that I’m sure me smoking would fuck something up for her, you know?”

Marilyn snorted. “Well, you are in Credence, the city of caring too much about things that don’t matter anywhere else in the U.S.”

I snickered. “Hey, it’s really not that terrible.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She sniffed, doodling a random shape in her notebook. “I’ve never been outside Credence.”

“Wait, really?” My voice was probably too condescendingly high for that question, and I cringed at myself, wincing prematurely at her response.

Marilyn shook her head. “I’ve never left Credence.”

“You should try it.” I advised, my voice caught somewhere between disbelief and disdain.

“I plan on it.” Marilyn snapped back, her dark brown eyes flashing with resentment. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

I frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Just follow my lead.” She whispered hurriedly at me, stuffing her notebook and textbook in her backpack, tucking her mechanical pencil behind her ear again.

I scooped up my belongings and, throwing a look over my shoulder at a shrugging Miracle, fell into step at Marilyn’s five o’clock.

She pressed fingertips to her head, thumb rubbing at her temple, and grimaced, her eyes crinkling with imaginary pain. She let out a low hiss, her shoulders going limp, and as she threw out her other hand in my direction, I leaned forward to steady her, flashing an apologetic smile at the teacher monitoring our study hall.

With a tight throat and a slight tremor in her voice, Marilyn whispered across the tabletop, collapsing against the leg of the teacher’s desk. “I need to go to the nurse. I think I’m getting a migraine.” She swayed a little. “I can barely focus my eyes, my head hurts so bad.”

The teacher’s eyes pinched at the corners, wincing on her behalf, as she grabbed at her forehead. He gave a short wave of nods and signed a hall pass for us, which he handed to me.

“I hope you feel better.” He whispered as Marilyn teetered a little, and it was her turn to nod, her eyes squeezed close in pained concentration.

She and I slowly made our way toward the door, and I pushed and held it open for her. As soon as the door clicked closed behind us, and we were well out of sight, Marilyn covered her mouth as she snickered, and I quietly giggled.

“Impressive.” I commended her. “I can see why you’re in all the school plays.”

She rolled her eyes, waving her hand. “That was nothing, believe me.”

She pushed open another door, and we stepped out of the little hobbit hole into warm sunlight.

A grin broke out across her face, a hand quickly saluting the sun in a makeshift visor, and cocking her head at the earth-covered structure, Marilyn motioned to me. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I questioned, unsure of where she had in mind.

“Up.” She answered simply.

At my old high school, there would have been cameras all over this little outside kind of a courtyard. Here, there weren’t any cameras I could see, but I knew that didn’t mean much as this God forsaken city was the fucking leader in technological innovation. For all I knew, the windmill on top of the particular bubble of hobbit hole we just crawled out of had weird spy cameras embedded in it. Nowhere could be safe, but Marilyn didn’t seem too worried. I wasn’t sure if I could trust her judgment. She did just feign a migraine after all just to smoke; she clearly had done this before.

As the newbie, I had no ground to make a decision one way or another, so as Marilyn climbed up the grassy outside of the school, I trudged up the round mound after her. She fell into the earth with her elbow, easing herself under the windmill, and began to dig around in her purse. I positioned myself next to her and looked out at the school and the bike rack-parking lot.

“You do this often?” I mused aloud as I glanced up at the sun.

Marilyn chuckled. “What, smoke? Or sneak out of class?”

“Both, I guess.” I shrugged, taking the second cigarette out of her open hand.

She lit up, took a couple short drags, and passed me the lighter. “I don’t know. I sneak out of class probably once a month, but I probably smoke like five cigarettes a day.”

I flicked the lighter a couple times before it caught. “Classy.”

“Well, they say these ones are biodegradable and toxin-free. They’re all organic.”

“So they’ll kill you more slowly than the others.” I handed her the lighter back, blowing out a stream of smoke.

“You?” She squinted at me.

I shrugged again. “Not one for sneaking out of class, I guess. At my old high school it was practically impossible to get away with anything.”

“Bullshit.” She called, flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette. “You were just too chicken to try anything.”

“Ouch.” I winced, not sure how I really wanted to respond to that. She certainly had a point. “Either way, I’m still not really one for sneaking out of class. If I go, I go loudly and proudly and don’t take anybody’s shit.”

She laughed, tossing her hair back as she smiled up at the windmill. “Here in Credence, you have to tread lightly unless you wanna cause any trouble.”

My lips twitched into a strangled smile, my brow furrowed in confusion. “How much trouble is caused around here? This place is like the quietest, happiest town I’ve ever been to.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’d be surprised.”

I hummed in response and ashed my cigarette.

“So where’d you come from?” She leaned back onto her elbows, blowing out a streamlined breath of smoke.

I drew my knees up into the crooks of my arms, studying my tennis shoes. “Fucking nowhere.”

“Honey, you ain’t seen Fucking Nowhere ‘til you seen Credence.” She corrected me.

“I thought you’ve never been anywhere else.” I challenged her.

“Oh, I’ve never left.” She nodded. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there’s nothing here.”

I frowned at her, slightly shocked. “Credence is the future.”

“You buy that bullshit?” Her voice edged higher. “Look, Ana, I don’t know you all that well, but you’re an idiot. This isn’t the city of tomorrow. This isn’t even a city. This is a prison.”

My lips twisted sideways as I pondered this.

“It’s a fucking green-ass, ecofriendly prison,” she tacked on, “but it’s still a prison. People come in, and they can’t get out. Worse, they don’t even want to.”

“A lot of places are like that.” I softly pointed out. “Life is really just a series of prisons. You’re always living in one or another, and some of them you can’t escape, others you just don’t want to, and then there are always the ones you can’t get out of fast enough.”

Marilyn put her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe. “Is that why you came to Credence? You were running away from one prison to come to this one?”

For a moment, I couldn’t quite speak. I just blinked and sighed.

“That, and I had no other choice.” I eventually admitted quietly.

She nodded, letting silence fall between us.

I copied her and used the bottom of my shoe to put out my cigarette. “Thanks for the smoke.”

“It sucks.” She announced, to the side adding, “No problem.”

“What sucks? Credence?”

She shook her head. “No, that your parents died and now you have to be here.”

I shrugged. “I don’t really mind. I like it here. The pace of life is slower, and expectations and stresses are different here. I kinda wish I had moved here earlier.”

Marilyn rolled her eyes. “You only say that because you know what it’s like outside.”

I groaned. “Just fucking buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out, Marilyn. It’s a pretty easy problem to fix.”

Her eyes darkened. “Yeah, if you have the money.”

“So raise it! Jesus!” I leaned back into the grass, throwing an arm over my eyes to shade them from the bright sun.

“With what? Grow it alongside the corn?” Marilyn snapped gruffly, twirling the cigarette butt between her thumb and forefinger.

I snorted with laughter. “Whatever floats your boat there, Ms. Bitter.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head a little. “You’re an asshole.”

“I get that a lot.” I retorted, rolling over onto my stomach. “But hey! Takes one to know one!”

Marilyn erupted into giggles, an unexpected response making me groan with laughter.

Suddenly, a chill darted down my spine and through my toes. Frowning, I looked up to see a concerned Miracle phasing through the grassy roof.

You gotta go! She signed at me, eyes alight with fear. A teacher’s about to come out here!

“Uh, Marilyn, shouldn’t we go back inside?” I prompted hurriedly, rolling back over and sliding down the little hill.

Marilyn pushed herself back into a sitting position, grumbling. “But I was just getting comfy.”

Miracle waved at me frantically.

“Yeah, well, I think we should go.” I urged, eyeing the door, my heart beginning to pound in my ears.

“Relax.” Marilyn drew out the word with an arrogant certainty to her voice. “Like getting caught even matters. What are they going to do?”

“Well, I guess we’re going to find out.” I sharply interrupted her, jaw tight, as the door swung open.

A young woman looked at the two of us, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was just too shocked to say anything or actually didn’t know what to do. Marilyn plopped down beside me, narrowing her eyes at the confused teacher.

“Do-do you have a hall pass?” She eventually snapped back, giving a little shake of her head and righting her already straight glasses.

I produced the one from my pocket, curious if we were actually going to get out of this one, but as her brow furrowed, her eyes crinkling at the corners with realization, I knew we weren’t.

“Skipping class instead of going to the nurse?” She accused, her hands falling on her hips as she oscillated between staring at Marilyn and then her new sidekick.

Marilyn rolled her eyes, thrusting her wrists at the woman. “So arrest me. What do you want?”

She sniffed, her back straightening her short stature maybe another eighth of an inch. “Please, come with me.”

I inwardly groaned as she lead us to the principal’s office. First day here, and I was already getting in trouble.

On our walk to the front office, Miracle fell in step beside me, so I pulled back a little, letting the experts navigate the slight maze of hallways.

This is a new record for you. Miracle’s lips twitched with a smile, her eyebrow quirked with a look I knew all too well. She was caught somewhere between being impressed and disappointed, awkwardly commending me with a shake of her head.

Shut up. I signed back. I tried to get us back inside. It’s not my fault this time.

Liar. Mischievousness danced in her eyes. If you hadn’t gone out there to begin with, there wouldn’t have been a problem. It’s your fault for following her.

Who are you? My face crumpled in a crooked look of “fuck you”. Mom? Just because you showed up to warn me doesn’t make you a hero.

Well, aren’t you touchy today? She frowned at me. What do you think Aunt Terry will say?

My lips pulled back in annoyance. Right...Dammit. Hopefully she won’t care.

Miracle’s hands covered her grin as she silently giggled, her eyes disappearing with squinted laughter.

I rolled my eyes. Great. Not that I really cared about Aunt Terry’s emotional reaction, but I was slightly worried about what she might do about it. I mean, if she tried to predict my future, I knew I’d get a bucket of If you don’t turn your life around now, you’ll end up in jail or a failure, or some shit, but I didn’t really care. I was more concerned with how her seeing me as a delinquent could fuck up everything else. What if she kicked me out? What if she did take disciplinary action? There was nowhere else really for me to go, and the last thing I wanted was to end up in a foster home, trying to graduate from high school.

My mom and dad were so much easier to figure out. I suspected that they probably expected bullshit out of me, but I guessed after Miracle, they couldn’t get too attached or something and therefore granted me a bit more independence early on. That is, my disciplinary action was to take MMA lessons and learn how to channel my anger. What punishment.

Upon arrival to the principal’s office, the teacher who discovered me and Marilyn directed us into the inner office, where we both took seats across from an empty desk. Several minutes later, the principal walked in. He was holding a tablet in his right, flicking his left wrist as he scrolled down whatever page he was looking at, and, without looking up at us, he asked us what happened.

Marilyn and I exchanged glances, not too sure what to say.

The guy looked up at us, and I realized he was probably only early thirties at the most. His wire-rim glasses were that thin square shape, and they accented his sharp jawline wonderfully.

Why the fuck was such a young, attractive man our principal?

I eyed Miracle who was leaning on his desk, chin in her hands, elbows planted firmly on the glass desktop. She was studying him, too, her head cocked to the side, fascinated.

“So, what’s up, guys?” He repeated. “What’d you do?”

“Uh, we — well,” Marilyn stuttered. She seemed a bit flustered, and it definitely wasn’t because of getting caught.

Miracle glanced at me. Is this guy for real?

I gave a half-shrug.

The guy nodded and turned his attention back to his tablet. “Well, according to our...monitors, it looked like you guys were...smoking—” He swiveled the screen toward us. “—on top of the school. See it?”

He pointed to the screen, which was displaying the smoking gun of our asses lounging about on the roof in the bright sun, cigarettes between our fingers or lips.

“So,” he began, turning the screen off and looking up at us again, “let’s talk about this. What’s wrong here? Why is this not okay?”

“We’re...not supposed to smoke on the roof?” Marilyn asked slowly, eyes wide and locked on his face.

He nodded. “Good, that’s very good, Marilyn. Now can you tell me why?”

“Because it’s...a smoke-free zone?” Her shoulders swung up in a deep shrug.

The principal smiled. “Excellent! You’re very smart.”

Suddenly a storm thundered through his eyes, and his jaw tightened. “Now, Marilyn, if you’re so smart and knew all these things, can you tell me why you were smoking on the roof?”

Her face crumpled, and she withdrew into herself, her shoulder slumping over.

“It was my idea.” I heard my voice speak up. “I hadn’t really gotten to see the outside of this place, and...I suggested we go smoke.”

Both Marilyn’s and Miracle’s eyes bugged out at me in shock. The principal wasn’t as moved, but he slowly nodded for a moment, as if letting my words truly sink in.

He smiled gently. “Ana, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, Ana, first off, welcome to my school.” His hands made a welcoming sweeping motion. “It’s great to have you, and I hope you enjoy your senior year. But let’s set some things straight. I don’t know what your old school was like, but here at Morris-Ruskin High, we do not allow smoking on school grounds, understand me?”

I instinctively nodded, his deep brown eyes enveloping me. Geez, he’s hard to look away from. No wonder Marilyn just melted under his scrutiny.

“Second of all,” he continued, “we’re trying to grow grass on the roof, so we’d appreciate if people would stay off it. We understand that it’s irresistible, but please, control yourself a bit. You are almost adults, so it’s time to start being a little more mature.”

He pushed himself out of his chair, letting the tablet slide out of his hands and onto his desk. He began pacing around a bit, creating a circuit around us.

“While I should confiscate the cigarettes still on your person, as legally you are underage for smoking, I won’t.” He informed us sternly. “Know why? Because that’s not my legislation. First and foremost to me, you are my students, so that is how you will be punished, as students.”

I was starting to worry just what he had in mind. What was he going to do? Subtract ten points from Gryffindor? He couldn’t actually touch our grades, but I guessed the rules here in Credence could be different. Anything could really go, I supposed.

Marilyn flicked large, fearful brown eyes at me. Her fingers were tightly wrapped around the arms of her chair.

Our principal leaned in close between us. “Detention.” He decided quietly.

He straightened up, nodded once, and then returned to his chair. He sat down, his fingers weaving together, and he narrowed his eyes at us.

“Yes, I suppose two week detention will have to do.” He absentmindedly tacked on.

“But auditions are coming up!” Marilyn spoke up, her eyes alight with angry realization and self-harming fear.

The principal nodded again. “So they are. You’ll have to work something out, Marilyn.”

She shook her head, eyes cast downward.

Of all the things he could have thrown at us, detention sounded like the lightest punishment, and I certainly wasn’t going to argue. That meant I wouldn’t be able to help around the house as much, but all things considered, I could have ended up missing class or something worse. Detention was manageable. Not that I wanted it.

Marilyn seemed a bit distressed as we both stood. The principal didn’t look up, waving a goodbye, and Marilyn and I made our way back through the maze of the front office. When we entered back into the stream of students who were in the midst of changing classes, I turned to Marilyn.

“He never gave us a detention slip or anything.” I realized with a frown.

She shook her head. “We’re paperless here in case you couldn’t notice.” She tapped her phone. “Our profiles are flagged, and we’ll receive push notifications concerning the fucking detention we have to serve. If we don’t show up, they’ll know, believe me.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “I take it you have firsthand experience with trying to skip detention.”

Her eyes flashed with bitter defiance. “The last time I got detention was such bullshit, too. Then, when I tried to skip, it just...they extended my detention by a whole other week. My theatre teacher was more than a little upset over that one.”

“Sucks.” I commented, patting her shoulder. “Will my phone tell me where I have to go?”

“It’s the same room as our study hall.” She informed me, her eyes nervously flicking around the rapidly emptying hallway. “Hey, look, I gotta go to my next class. I’ll catch you later in detention, all right?”

“Sure.” I nodded. “See you later.”

I watched her throw glances down two perpendicular hallways before rushing off. I shook my head, meeting Miracle’s gaze.

“She can dish it, but she can’t quite take it, can she?” I mused aloud.

Yeah, she really likes to push her limits, but once she hits them, it’s like she doesn’t know what to do. Miracle agreed.

“She’s kinda like a dog,” I cocked my head, my tongue flitting across my lips, “chasing cars. She wouldn’t know what to do with one if she caught it!”

Miracle’s eyes rolled, her head falling to the side as the crooked smile spread across her face. She was groaning, and as her eyes came back to mine, her head began to shake.

I just do things. She finished out the quote, that crooked smirk plastered on her pale face, and I laughed.

Come on, I signed. I better go to class, too.

Yeah, you fucking bum, always getting into trouble. She mockingly stuck her tongue out at me.

Fuck you. I flicked her off with pleasure.

I pulled my backpack around to dig my phone out and began to scroll through the various emails, looking for the one with my class schedule. Upon rereading the location of my class, I made for the map stored on my phone, but Miracle caught my attention with a wave.

I can show you where your next class is. She notified me with an encouraging smile.

I nodded. After you, little sister.

I trotted alongside her as she floated down the hallway, signing at me about the various things she was exploring while I was in class and smoking.

I arrived at my next class, and not surprisingly, I was late. I wriggled out of trouble with my only Get Out Jail card, offering up an apologetic smile and quietly announcing that I was new. Since it was my first day (and the school year’s), my AP Lit teacher was momentarily forgiving — but I better not get used to it and expect her to permit such shenanigans on a regular basis.

I nodded and took my seat, Miracle still signing to me.

We read something by T.S. Eliot.

The class dragged on too long but finished too quickly, and much too soon for comfort, I found myself sitting at a table across from Marilyn in detention. It felt more like Round Two of study hall rather than punishment, but I tried not to enjoy being forced to do my homework, the challenge that it was.

As suspected, Aunt Terry was less than thrilled when I biked up to the house. She was waiting for me, standing outside with her arms crossed over her basically flat chest. Her phone had also received the push notification of me having detention, and instantly, my status was downgraded to irresponsible. I was grounded in addition to my detention, but Aunt Terry’s penalty wasn’t anything like my parents’. Instead of not being allowed out or denied internet, I was ordered to grow and care for my own patch of garden, so after completing the rest of my homework, while she worked on dinner, my knees met the moist dirt, my hands picking and pruning a new patch of land for my very own square of life, dreams of luscious green leaves waving in the gentle autumn breeze dancing on the screens behind my eyelids.

From that darkly promising morning to the heavily pregnant evening, was the first day. Apart from my questionable decision making skills, it was a pretty good first day.

iv

Marilyn wasn’t the only one to run into a problem with having detention after school for two weeks. The second day of class, our drama teacher announced that this year, all the intro to drama students had to work in the school productions, whether it was crew or whatever else. I rolled my eyes across the classroom at Marilyn, and she mimed blowing her brains out.

Dutifully, albeit very begrudgingly, I showed up at rehearsal after detention, trailing behind Marilyn who rushed down the middle aisle of the auditorium. She threw her bag at the foot of the stage and vaulted over the lip, skidding across the black platform and sliding right into her position, her teacher shooting her a stern look of disapproval but not saying a word. I plopped my backpack next to hers and made my way around the stage, trying not to provide any distraction as the talent ran through their lines. I watched someone pass off an extra copy of the script to Marilyn who took it with a flash of her smile and warm brown eyes, and I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms, taking in the scene before me.

When our intro teacher poked her head out from offstage, angrily waving at me to join her and my fellow classmates, my groan wasn’t as suppressed at it should have been, Marilyn snickering at me. I was assigned to work lights, a pair of gloves thrown at me from who knows where, and I set to work, studying the various schematics for their corresponding scenes.

All in all, practice wasn’t terrible, but it lasted way too fucking long. Even Marilyn, who was some sort of professional at this, was exhausted by the end, and as I kneeled on the ground, my knee drawn up under my chin, studying the schematics, my practice not quite over, Marilyn’s fingers curled around my wrist and yanked me out the emergency exit with her.

The palm of her hand produced a cigarette, and before I could accept her offering, she was lighting one up between her lips with her other hand. I took in the chipped dark paint on her fingernails as I plucked the extra smoke from her hand.

“Stressful day at work, honey?” I teased, wrapping my lips around the butt as I took the lighter from her, too.

Marilyn growled her sigh, throwing her hair back as she vented to the setting sun. “Goddamnit, fucking detention. Are you fucking kidding me?”

I chuckled as other students poured out the door, and Marilyn motioned with her head, taking this smoking party farther away from the exit — and a potential extension on our detention.

“God.” Marilyn scoffed. “At least the script for the straight play this semester is going to be an interesting one.”

“What is it?” I inquired, drawing in another breath of smoke.

Her eyes flicked to mine, a vein of sarcasm coursing through them. “Our Town.”

My lips twitched into a smirk. “Fitting.”

She laughed, ashing her cigarette as she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Thanks for smoking with me.”

“Like I had much of a choice.” I pointed out, shoving my left hand in my pocket, my other hand ashing my cigarette.

“Well, thanks anyway.” She said, squatting next to a flower bed, rocking back onto the thick heels of her boots. “I hate smoking alone.”

I squinted at my cigarette, gauging how many drags I had last. “Yeah, don’t mention it. As long as you’re providing the smokes, count me in.”

She snorted, a smile playing on her resistant lips. “Whore.”

“You know my weakness.” I grinned at her. “What can I say?”

Her brow furrowed in a mock frown, her voice deepening, and she pinched her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. “You can say no to drugs, Ana.”

I laughed, bringing my own cigarette to my lips again. “No way. Life’s not fun when you can’t get fucked up.”

“Amen!” Marilyn screamed, throwing her arms wide and tossing them toward the darkening sky.

We dissolved into giggles together and finished our cigarettes, putting them out on the bottom of our shoes again.

“If you’re so eager to give this place the middle finger, why don’t you just litter?” I mused aloud, rolling the butt back and forth across the pad of my thumb with my forefinger.

Marilyn shook her head. “I don’t care how much I hate this place. I’m not gonna fuck the environment just to fuck the people. The land and water and everything gets all wonky with litter, and that’s really all any of us have, y’know? I’d only be hurting myself.”

“Hm.” I chewed the inside of my cheek, pondering this. I flicked my butt into the trashcan by the door. “Well, I still have shit to do. See you tomorrow?”

Marilyn nodded, slinging her backpack over her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. We can play M.A.S.H. in theatre tomorrow.”

I met her hard eyes with my own and gave her a curt nod, slightly crooked smile hanging on my lips. “Better bring your tablet.”

Her brown eyes crossed before looping over in one of the top eye rolls I’d ever seen. “Yeah, right,” she snipped, lips puckered in a smirk she couldn’t overcome, “we’re using your tablet now, bitch.”

With the politest smile I could muster, lips parted and eyes twinkling, I flicked her off in a wave, and she burst into laughter.

“See ya!” She called as she headed toward the bike racks.

Shaking my head in a silent sigh, I pulled the emergency exit door open and parted the blackout curtain. The stage was dark with only the emergency lights on, and there was no one else around that I could see. I worked my way through off- and backstages, and when I broke past the final curtain, I jumped, startled to see Miracle twirling about on the stage, an oddly comfortable and ghostly pale beacon in the middle of the black.

“Jesus, Miracle, you gave me a fucking heart attack.” I muttered.

Her hands folded over her mouth in voiceless giggles, and I flicked her off, too, my lower lip sliding between my teeth in a smile.

Watch this. She commanded and promptly pranced, shifting her nonexistent weight from one foot to the other, spinning across the stage.

I applauded her, and she gave a deep curtsy. “I always knew you came to my dance practices.”

She grinned at me. Wanna dance with me?

I rolled my eyes, mocking a plie, my feet stumbling over one another as I fucked around. Miracle scrunched her face up at me and began to dance around on the tips of her toes.

“Oh, come on!” I groaned. “That’s not even fair!”

Miracle ignored me as she continued to float across the stage, arms fluttering like the ghostly wings denied to her. She lightly came to a halt, ankles coming together, and with a gracious wave of her arms, she beckoned me.

I shook my head. “What do you want, you cheater?”

Check it out. Miracle pointed. I followed her fingers, my eyes falling on the upright painted with a matte black. In the dark, I hadn’t seen it. My lips curled up in a smile.

You should play.

I looked into her pleading eyes, and my chest rose and fell with a nasal sigh.

Please. She begged, her eyes shining with a kind of purity.

I shrugged, yanking the bench out from the piano. “Why the hell not?”

I carefully tilted back the key cover. Staring at the yellowed keys, I hesitated. “On second thought, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

I glanced up at my dead sister. “This could go a lot of different ways, and there’s only one that’s acceptable.”

She cocked her head at me inquisitively.

“No one catches me.” I answered her unasked question, placing my curved hands over the keyboard, fingers lightly finding a position.

I let them strike a few chords. The piano was surprisingly in tune, and despite its appearance, it had a great touch, the keys jumping back with my nimble fingers.

My hands fell into a simple, familiar place, and before I could stop myself, my lips parted with a strangled voice.

“Best thing ‘bout tonight’s that we’re not fighting.”

My throat began to tighten as the tears began to build up, my voice warbling just a little bit as I pushed through it. “Could it be that we have been this way before?”

“I know you don’t think that I am trying.” My thumb slipped and hit its target’s neighbor, and I cringed, not daring to meet Miracle’s eyes.

I hit the chord again, forcing myself to continue, my tongue not as thick as it was.

“I know you’re wearing thin down to the core.” I softly raised my hands just a little, the toes of my right foot suddenly at the pedal.

“But hold your breath, because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you over again.” I fought against the contagious smile threatening to conquer my lips. “Don’t make me change my—”

“Excuse me!”

My hands defensively snapped to my sides, my body jolting me into a standing position and spinning me around toward the stage.

“You can’t be in here.” Some guy toward the back of the auditorium informed me, hesitantly taking a step forward.

My mouth was too dry, for the first time in a long time, my tongue struggling to find the words.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized. “I was just...working crew, and...Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m new.”

The guy stepped close enough for me to make out his features, and I realized it was another student who was on crew — except this guy actually moved shit, not just pushed the switches for the lights.

“You’re the girl who was late to practice.”

It wasn’t even a fucking question.

I inwardly groaned. “Yeah, me and Marilyn. Look at that, my wonderful reputation precedes me.”

He chuckled and stopped at the edge of the stage, knuckles rapping lightly against the black. “Marilyn already has you wrapped around her finger, eh?”

I frowned. “What?”

He grinned and hopped up on the stage, finally fully stepping into the light. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt that was way too tight, his lean muscles outlined under the stretched cotton, and his right hand tugged at his jeans wrestling to stay around his slim waist, boxers poking over the waistband.

“You’re new, and Marilyn has already gotten you into trouble?” He prompted, lips pulling back in a smile that revealed shiny, straight teeth.

“Oh, that.” I spun around a little on my heel, making for my backpack. “It was a mutual decision to fuck around.”

He pulled a rag out of his back pocket and ran it across his face, his green eyes shining secretively. “You don’t have to bullshit me. Marilyn is practically my best friend.”

My eyes must have betrayed me, the surrounding skin and my brow scrunching around them incredulously as disbelief shot through them, for this mysterious voyeur gave a bark of laughter, pocketing the rag again.

“I know, I know,” he tacked on, “probably not exactly a great thing to boast, but...I’ve known Marilyn for forever. She and I look out for each other.”

My eyebrow arched into a point. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, point being,” he flashed one of those expensive smiles again and thrust his right hand forward. “We’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other. If you’ve hit it off this well with Marilyn and you barely know each other, you’re gonna be around a lot. I’m Josh.”

Intrigued, I shook his hand. “Ana.”

He motioned to the piano. “You’re pretty good.”

My eyes squinted a little in suspicion. “Thanks. My mom made me take lessons.”

His lips slid sideways with a crooked smile as another compliment escaped the prison of his perfect pearly whites. “Your mom must have a great appreciation of the fine arts then.”

I nodded, answering offhandedly, “Yeah.”

“Well,” Josh said, nervously filling the awkward silence between us. “It was nice to meet you, Ana.”

I leaned over to pick up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. “Yeah, same...Josh.”

“Anyway, I’ll probably see you around and stuff.” He remarked, his fingers knitting together as he casually shifted his weight from one foot to the other, abdominal muscles rippling ever so slightly.

My head automatically nodded in agreement as I began backing toward the emergency exit. “Yeah, probably. See you around.”

He gave a little wave with his fingers and dropped his gaze. I slowed passing through the curtains and, with immense curiosity, shamelessly watched him walk back toward the box. I had wondered where he came from. He’d fucking been there the whole time, dicking around with the various electrical systems. With my luck, he probably thought I was a fucking weirdo, talking to myself.

“Speak of the devil.” I mumbled under my breath as Miracle appeared at my side, peering through the curtains with me.

Her eyes flashed a frown at me.

“We’re just getting in all kinds of trouble, Miracle.” I whispered to her.

It’s all you, sister. She threw up her hands apologetically, as if to absolve her from any blame.

I shook my head at her, grinning. Playing the piano was your idea.

She merely shrugged, eyes wandering everywhere but to mine.

Fuck you. I flicked her off. I knew it was going to end badly.

Why do you keep listening to me, then? Her fingers moved angrily. Apparently, all of my ideas only disappoint you and get you in trouble.

Relax. I held up a hand, my gaze softening. It could have been a lot worse. Instead, he’ll just think I’m musically talented and weird as fuck. I can handle that.

Then why are you mad at me? She scowled.

I’m not. I just fucking told you it wouldn’t end well. My odds—

Never tell me the odds, she cut me off, turning her head away briskly, eyes squeezing shut so as not to read my sign.

I chuckled as she cracked an eye open at me. On a scale of High School Musical to...I frowned. I can’t think of any other good movies to allude to here, I admitted, and Miracle snickered.

Whatever, I brushed it off. Regardless, it could have been weirder and worse, so no worries.

I peered through the layers of curtains again, watching Josh swing his rag around at his hip, lips puckered in a whistle, as he made his way down toward the stage.

Come on. My focus turning back to Miracle, my hand gave a little wave. Let’s go home.

She nodded supportively.

I quietly and quickly opened the emergency exit and headed off toward the bike racks. I pulled my phone out and strapped it to my shoulder. The double G phones had this really cool thing where if you rolled one across a surface, it would stick to it in a gravity-defying stunt. It was physically impossible to pull the phone off the surfaced it was attached to. To pick it back up, you had to roll it again, and of all the random new technology I’d had to adjust to ever since coming to Credence, this was about the only one (or part of one) that I felt should be shared with the entire world. A phone that would attach to any surface (as long as it wasn’t liquid, obviously) could be useful in any setting. Why keep this fruit in the Mesopotamia of technology?

Aunt Terry had a client at the house when I biked up the path, so I kept my music blasting as I put up my bike and headed into my little hobbit hovel. After finishing my homework, I made sure to check on my scratching ground of garden, and I plucked a couple weeds from among the seedlings.

Pushing all thoughts away regarding my pathetic high school cliche of a meeting, my stupidly not by chance but choice encounter with Mr. Josh, who was way too fit and pretty for his ratty apparel, I went into the kitchen and, with a little inspiration from Miracle, prepared dinner. Aunt Terry was pleased and thanked me by not reading my palms — as, no doubt, she was saving me from knowing my own doomed fate. Past her ridiculous get-up that I think fooled even her, Aunt Terry really was a cool woman, and somewhere between her fourth glass of wine and fifth cigarette, she returned to earth, pulling a deck of cards out from a box of knickknacks, a tarot card accidentally thrown in with the jokers.

“I’m going to teach you Diamonds.” She announced.

I frowned, caught somewhere between the thought that my aunt was truly insane and serious curiosity. “That’s not a game.”

She squeezed an eye closed at me, her finger pointed in my direction. “That’s what you think, honey. Biggest Edwards’ family secret.”

“Diamonds?” My eyebrows arched so high in disbelief my scalp hurt a little.

“Exactly.” She clicked her tongue at me, drunken fingers surprisingly adept at shuffling. “Here are the rules, sweetheart. Diamonds are trump, you want to catch tricks, you don’t have to follow suit, and aces are low.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Wait, what?”

“Diamonds are the suit on top, followed by spades, then hearts, then clubs. The deuce of clubs always leads, so clubs are on the fucking bottom. But if you wanna win a trick, play a diamond.” She explained further, dealing the cards into three piles.

I frowned. “Why are aces low, and why is there a third pile?”

Miracle eyed me, but I ignored her, knowing full well Aunt Terry couldn’t see her.

Aunt Terry waved her hand, a laidback laugh on her lips. “Well, it can’t just be us, silly. It’s like having a computer player in a videogame.”

My nose scrunched doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Oh, just trust me, Ana. I do this all the time, dear.” She persisted soothingly, patting my hand.

I shook my head, my eyes giving a little roll. “Whatever, Aunt Terry.”

We tried for a couple rounds of Diamonds, but honestly, I didn’t quite grasp the concept of the game. Leave it to my mom and aunt to make up a fucking ridiculous game that outside of its origin was really rather useless. My aunt gave up before I did however, exhausted from her day of transplanting an apple tree and representing the other side. Extra tired from the wine, Aunt Terry wished me a good night and made off for her bedroom, hand trailing along the curved earth wall, and I watched her slowly work her way down the hallway, just to make sure she didn’t hurt herself in her slight drunkenness.

Miracle helped me clean up after dinner, and I rewarded us by snitching a cigarette. As I headed back toward my green hidey hole of a hovel, which was actually slightly separated from the rest of Aunt Terry’s house, I struck a match and lit the smoke. I took a couple puffs and then passed it off to my dead sister. The light in Aunt Terry’s room dimmed and flickered a little, and Miracle and I snickered as Aunt Terry cried out in fright, begging for the spirit to open up to her.

I rolled my eyes, leaning backward against the grassy dome roof. I took a deep drag and offered the cigarette to Miracle, but she waved her hand.

I rested my head back to study the stars. Here in Credence, light pollution was so low — and there just wasn’t anything else for miles around — that at night you could see the band of the Milky Way stretching across the sparkling bruised sky. The only divider between the lake that pulsed with waves at the corners of Credence and the vast expanse of the crystal sky was the shimmering line where reality melted into a reflection.

Out here in all this nature, knee deep in awe at the magnificent swirls of space dust and matter deceivingly at our fingertips, it was difficult to comprehend the difference between floating in a sea of stars and disappearing in the crashing waves of bullshit threatening to drown you.

“The firmament: the hero the entire world deserves, but not the one it needs right now. This heaven is a silent guardian.” My lips twitched prematurely with giggles at my joke.

“A dark night.” I delivered, my bright eyes locked on Miracle’s. Her whole face dissolved in a grin, caught unawares, shoulders shaking uncontrollably with the sudden eruption of giggles.

I sighed contentedly, sending off the day with a salute. “And yet, another damn good day.”

v

Josh’s prediction of me hanging around Marilyn with increasing frequency was nothing short of on point, though to be fair, Marilyn made as many plans to chill with me as I did with her. It was mutual, but seeing how I was the newbie, it was always her friend groups and events and aspects of her life that we ended up taking part in together. I didn’t mind the expansion of my friend list, and it was always thrilling to bike along the roads in a permanent race with Marilyn on our way to wherever. I always felt like the kids in that scene in E.T., where they’re all biking through the yards in an attempt to throw off the police, and speeding down the smooth asphalt offered a different kind of outlet, my hair curling around the edge of my helmet in the parting wind curving and bowing at my cutting presence, never telling me to stop.

I sat on top of my earth bubble, hugging my knees to my chest, and watched the warm afternoon sun play hide and seek with the fleeting, wispy clouds. The air was starting to cool already, and although it hadn’t begun to show in the trees, I knew autumn was knocking on Mother Nature’s door, summer a houseguest beginning to stink.

Miracle sat cross legged on the grassy roof with me, picking dandelions.

“You know, by not getting their roots, you’re really only helping the weed.” I informed her, wriggling my toes in the cool grass, worming them toward the soft, moist dirt beneath.

She stuck her tongue out at me, translucent fingers weaving the stems together in a crown.

“Hey, you better watch it.” I warned her, nodding my chin toward Aunt Terry’s bubble. “If she sees floating dandelions, she’ll lose her shit.”

Miracle giggled but kept at it.

“Hey, Ana!”

I looked up at the road as Marilyn rode into view past the trees. A grin broke across my face as I waved at her. I slid down the hill and jogged over to her as she threw her bike to the grass, and we ducked inside the main hobbit hole, heading into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Marilyn.” Aunt Terry smiled warmly as she poured herself a glass of lemonade. “Would you like something to drink?”

She nodded eagerly. “Ms. Edwards, is it okay if Ana spends the night with me?”

Aunt Terry gave her a light reproachful look, handing her a mug of lemonade. “Marilyn, please, call me Terry. Hell, call me Aunt Terry if that makes you feel better. Ms. Edwards just makes me feel old and responsible.”

I rolled my eyes as Marilyn politely giggled.

“And I don’t see why not,” she continued, glancing at me. “You’ve finished all your homework?”

“Yes,” I groaned. “Jesus, I’m a senior in high school. I’m not an idiot.”

Aunt Terry shook her head at me, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Get outta here, ungrateful kid.”

“With pleasure!” I thanked her, my own lips spreading with a grin.

I ran back to my hobbit hole, strapping my feet into my sandals and quickly grabbing my phone and a toothbrush. I rolled the phone onto my shoulder, sliding the toothbrush in my mouth, and went back outside to unlock my bike.

I tossed the toothbrush back in the sink and joined Marilyn, who was graciously complimenting Aunt Terry on her lemonade and gorgeous orchard.

“Come on, let’s go!” I urged her, already pushing against the ground with one foot and down on the pedal with the other. My bike jolted a little with the propelling motion, and I started down the main road, Marilyn hot on my ass.

“So where we going today?” I shouted at her as we pedalled down the asphalt.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “Oh, god, Marilyn, what do you have in mind?”

She chuckled lightly. “I think it’s time for you to meet Lucas.”

“Lucas?” I prodded her.

She nodded and waved her hand that we were taking a left. “Yeah, he’s my drug dealer.”

My eyebrows shot upward at the unexpected tagline. “Your what now?”

She flashed a smile at me. “You heard me.”

I shook my head. “And here I thought Credence was boring.”

Marilyn’s shoulders shook a little as she laughed, leaning over her handlebars. “Oh, honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

My jaw dropped with bellowing laughter, my voice done up with pure mirth, and Marilyn and I exchanged glances joyously.

Eventually, we rode up a narrow dirt path that took us away from town, and with the light from the setting sun, the shadows cast were long, dark, cool patches. It felt more and more like the approaching fall, and as we weaved through the trees, ducking occasionally under branches, I wished that I had brought a jacket.

Once the trees gave way, we burst into a grassy meadow, a tiny hobbit hole curving up from the earth maybe a football field’s length away, and our greeting came in the form of several dogs barking up to us, chasing alongside our bikes. Upon coming to a stop, tilting my bike to the ground, I offered my fingers to the dogs’ noses, and when their sniffs deepened into slight growls, I knew they were smelling Aunt Terry’s dogs on me. A light attached to the windmill flickered on as we neared the hobbit hole, and I nervously flicked my eyes to Marilyn, whose face had already relaxed into an expectant grin. Time had taught me that look wasn’t deserving of just a drug dealer, and my stomach tightened anxiously with the realization that the glassy sheen in Marilyn’s eyes wasn’t just addicted longing for tripping down the rabbit hole.

A gangly looking guy with short, spiky hair burst out of the front door, arms thrown wide as he took Marilyn in an embrace. He was muttering something under his breath, making sure to roll his cheek against her temple, lips whispering the same phrase into her ear, and a smile I’d never seen crossed Marilyn’s lips.

“No, no, it’s been too long.” He softly drew back, pressing his forehead to hers in a smooth move that forced her to raise her chin and therefore meet his probing eyes.

“I’ve been busy.” Her lips involuntarily curled upward as she tried to push him backward, her fingers instead gripping his shirt and tugging at his hair.

Embarrassed, I turned my head and knelt beside the golden retriever hugging my legs. I scratched behind his ears, and he happily licked at my face, my face scrunching up with giggles as I jutted my chin out of his reach.

“So, who’s your friend?” I heard Lucas quietly ask Marilyn. I glanced back at the two of them, but Marilyn was heading back toward her bike now, the back of her hand wiping at the corner of her mouth.

“This is Ana.” She introduced us with a wave of her hand, righting her bike again.

I stood again, also picking up my bike, and offered a small smile. “Hey.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes at me, swinging his head back to look me over. “You a mick?”

My eyes squeezed closed as my face twisted into a processing look, lost in the loops of confusion. “A what?”

“You know, a mick.” Lucas unhelpfully rephrased, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking backward as Marilyn led her bike around his house.

I followed her, shaking my head. “I can’t say I know what you mean.”

“Like, a McCormick or whatever,” he finally spat out, eyes shamefully cast downward.

I snickered as Marilyn shot him a look of disgust.

“You’re such a fucker, Lucas.” Her lips pulled back with scorn. “Way to stereotype.”

“I don’t really mind.” I cut in, tossing my helmet over the seat of my bike. My fingers involuntarily flipped through the slight curl in my reddish brown hair. “I can see why you’d think I’m of Irish or Scottish descent.”

My mouth twisted with the sarcasm, my voice piercing with the snarky wit in the best Irish accent I could muster. “But believe it or not, laddy, m’last name is King. I’m very much so British.”

Lucas grinned, giving one of those curt, little nods one gives when they realize they’ve been outplayed, outwitted. “My apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t know you were royalty.”

Marilyn groaned, her eyes rolling in her head, and she shackled her bike to a thick black water pipe running along the outside of Lucas’ house. “On second thought, maybe you guys shouldn’t know each other.”

“Besides,” Marilyn tacked on, “King can still be Scottish, just like the last name McCormick, you idiots.”

“So you are a mick!” Lucas flung an accusatory finger at me victoriously. “Ha!”

I laughed good naturedly. “Apparently. And here I’ve been thinking I came from Britland.”

“Well, either way, you’re from across the pond,” Lucas pointed out.

“Guess that’s all that really matters.” I agreed jokingly, and Marilyn growled again, grabbing both of our wrists and hauling us back in the direction of the front door.

“So, Ana King.” Lucas nodded approvingly. “Has a nice short ring to it. Did your parents slam you with a ridiculously long middle name to make up for the lack of letters in your first and middle names?”

“Sorta,” I admitted. “Can’t say I’d ever really thought about it, but yeah. My middle name is Jennifer.”

“Ana Jennifer King.” Lucas pondered, wrapping his finger around his stubbly chin. “I like it.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” I responded as Marilyn finally let go of my wrist, and I flopped onto a red bean bag chair in the middle of what was passing for a living room.

“Does he fuck with everyone like this?” I asked her as she did the same in a teal blue bean bag chair.

She nodded wearily, her eyes fluttering upward, her love interest a joke told too often, a beaten dead horse.

I chuckled, and Lucas, who had disappeared into another room, joined us again, this time a water bong in one hand and a lighter in the other.

“So other than Britland, from where do you hail, Ms. King?” Lucas prompted, curling his feet under himself as he sat on the floor between us.

He pulled back the rug, which revealed a black metal box buried in the earth floor, and as he worked on the lock, I shrugged and blew my breath out in a streamlined sigh.

“Does it really matter?” I responded almost absentmindedly as he lifted a ziploc bag out of the box, taking a pinch of bud out before replacing it and locking the box again.

Lucas nodded slowly, staring into the distance for a moment.

He looked up at me. “No, I guess it doesn’t. Because what matters is the now, and you’re here now.”

My lips spread into a smile, my eyes catching Marilyn’s. “Exactly.”

She nodded in agreement, her eyes darkening, her mouth pinching into a slight frown, and she turned her gaze to the small, round window.

Lucas lost himself in the packing of the bowl, unaware of the depressed silence Marilyn was drowning in, and I sat there with bated breath, unsure of what to do. I glanced at the familiar pale shadow wandering down the hall. Miracle threw a glance and a smile over her shoulder at me, gesturing that I should speak up. I gave her a slight shake of my head and instead watched Lucas light up and take a hit.

Marilyn broke out of her dark reverie and accepted the bong from him, and as she took in a breath, Lucas exhaled smoke, resituating himself so that his back was to Marilyn’s knees.

“So, how’d you guys meet?” He asked me, fingers waving at me then Marilyn.

“Theatre class.” I answered as Marilyn shook her head.

Smoke falling upward out of her mouth as she spoke, Marilyn grumbled, “That fucking class, oh my god, Lucas, I hate it.”

Lucas chuckled, his laughter dissolving into a coughing fit. “Not much of a surprise there.”

“You have no idea!” Her eyes widened angrily as she leaned across the rug, arm outstretched to hand the bong off to me.

I met her halfway, fingers curling around the glass tube. “It is awfully brutal.”

“And guess what our straight play is this semester?” Marilyn tacked on, shoving her shoulders back into the bean bag, her arms crossing across her chest.

“What, babe?” Lucas softly gave in, brushing his fingers down her leg distractingly.

“Our Town.” The smile in her eyes shone through the wall of bitterness but didn’t quite make it to her lips, still in a stiff grim line.

Lucas dutifully shook his head in disbelief. “But you have a main part, right?”

Her lips cracked with a small smile. “I mean, I don’t have a secondary character, but I’m not the main girl.”

Lucas squinted at her, trying to read the slight curve to her mouth. “Is this...an okay thing?”

She laughed. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m the main girl’s mother-in-law Mrs. Gibbs.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Lucas exclaimed, pulling himself up on his knees and winding his arms around her. She squealed with delight and surprise, curling into herself in a girly attempt at being shy, but Lucas reached past the bars of her arms and pressed his lips to hers.

I choked on the breath I was trying to hold and pushed it all out in a rush, hoping they hadn’t noticed I’d already taken a couple hits. When Lucas turned back to me, I thrust the bong in his direction, and Marilyn’s fingers slid through his hair longingly as he laughed and juggled playing musical chairs with her and lighting up again. When the commotion was settled down again, Marilyn was in Lucas’ lap and holding the bong as he rubbed his eyes and blew out a stream of smoke.

“You guys want some dinner?” He surveyed, pushing a lock of copper hair behind Marilyn’s ear, revealing her numerous cartilage piercings.

She shook her head, rubbing her nose against the tip of his. “I can’t.”

He groaned. “You’re not on another diet, are you?”

Marilyn bashfully dropped her eyes, only for the warm brown to peek through the thick dark lashes. “Maybe.”

Lucas sighed and gently removed Marilyn from his lap, standing up. He pointed at me. “You want some grub, Mick?”

I shrugged. “It’s whatever, really.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah, come on, you’ll like this.”

I pushed myself out of the bean bag chair and followed him down the hall, which opened up into a meager kitchen.

“The last time I had a shipment come in, the guy threw in a couple of these for free.” His hand waved at his chest boastfully. “Because I’m such a nice guy.”

I chuckled. “Whatcha got?”

He flipped open a couple of cupboards, which were mainly bare, but he gave a little whoop of glee as he hit the jackpot. Three boxes of Cap’n Crunch cereal stood erect on the shelf, and my lower lip slid between my teeth in an attempt to curb my sudden excitement.

“No fucking way!” I struggled to bite back the giddy screech into my fist.

Lucas nodded proudly. “I am the top dealer of all things imported and wonderful.”

I giggled, grabbing at a box and tearing back the cardboard. Lucas rifled through some drawers on a search for spoons, extracting two and then plucking two colorful “plastic” bowls from the drying rack next to the sink. I eagerly poured cereal to the brims of the bowls, and Lucas spun around in a little dance, improvising an Irish jig with an accompanying jingle, and flung the refrigerator door open, pulling out the only container of milk among the various bottles of alcohol. He sloshed some milk on top of the Cap’n Crunch as he ran through the new jingle again, and I followed suit, clinking my bowl against his, even throwing in a little harmony. He knocked his spoon against mine with a wink, and we dug into our vitamin fortified dinner.

I joined him in an awkward little stomping jig, twirling around one another, and when Marilyn appeared in the doorway, arms crossed as she casually leaned against the frame, we called her in to join us, Lucas adding some personalized lyrics to our little show. She rolled her eyes, half a smile cracking over lips, but she shook her head at us.

“No way, I don’t fraternize with weirdos.” Her lips twitched with the sarcastic jab.

Lucas barked with laughter, spinning me one last time, and Marilyn replaced the milk in the fridge, pulling out a can of beer. She popped the tab and took a large gulp.

“Diet, my dick!” Lucas jokingly snapped at her, waving his spoon accusatorily at the can in her hand, and Marilyn’s face flushed as she giggled. “Beer is chock full of calories, babe.”

“What, really!” Marilyn’s eyes widened as she stuck her tongue out at him.

Lucas darted forward, his lips enveloping her mouth, and their respective hands cupping the beer can and cradling the plastic bowl of cereal gravitated out from their bodies, which magnetized one another. His free hand slid to her waist, and her hips curved upward to him in response to his soft touch and quiet whispers. Their lips met in another tangled dance, and Marilyn slid her free hand’s fingers into Lucas’ short, spiky hair, curling them around his jaw.

I slurped down the rest of my sugary milk and placed my bowl and spoon in the sink, moving so painfully slowly so as not to jolt them out of each other. I tiptoed back to the living room, Marilyn’s gasps floating after me quickly followed by a gruff groan, and I hurriedly snatched up a lighter and pack of cigarettes lying on the floor. I eased open the front door and silently latched it closed behind me. I crawled up the grassy outside of Lucas’ hobbit hole, finding a familiar niche under the windmill.

The lighter sparked a couple times and after a good shake and fiddling burst into a squatty flame. I quickly lit a cigarette, dragging sharply on the deathstick.

A full moon rose above the sky, and as I stared out at the field surrounding Lucas’ little house, I amused myself by imagining the perverse shadows of the trees giving birth to jerkily stumbling and staggering undead creatures. I made a pistol with my hand and mimed headshot after headshot, supplying my own sound effects.

A sudden bark shot up at me, and I jumped, startled, shakily laughing at myself when I realized my new best friend had merely announced his presence.

“Come here, boy.” I whistled to the dog, and he climbed up the hill. He lay at my side, head pressed against my leg, and I scratched at his belly. “What a guard dog you are, puppy. You just want to be everybody’s friend.”

He panted happily, tongue flopping around in his mouth, and he pawed my hand when I paused to ash my cigarette.

“Impatient little motherfucker, aren’t you?” I cooed, patting his side contentedly.

When his hackles rose sharply, a low growl emanating from his throat, I frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, looking out at the field. Even with the moon as bright as it was, I couldn’t make out anything.

A dash of white phased through the roof, and the dog at my side lept to his paws, howling at Miracle, who rolled backward with pleased giggles. I shook my head.

“Fuck you, Miracle. You’re a bitch.” I patted the retriever soothingly. “It’s all right, puppy. She won’t hurt you.”

Miracle reassuringly patted his head, but as she leaned forward, he instinctively drew back, growl deepening.

“Can he see you, Miracle?” I questioned her, reaching to scratch behind his ears.

She nodded, but when the poor creature began whining, I let go of him. He scampered down the side of the hobbit hole and darted back around toward his own residence.

“Jesus, Miracle.” I scolded her lightly, taking one last puff from the cigarette and dropping it in the metal can duct-taped to the base of the windmill.

She rolled her eyes. At least I’m not hiding like a little scaredy cat from something real.

I flicked her off. “Excuse me for not wanting to watch them fuck.”

She giggled. What, that doesn’t get you off?

My eyes flashed warningly at her, not even gracing her jab with a snarky retort.

“It’s kinda like catching your parents.” I pulled out another cigarette and slid it between my lips. “A different kind of loss of innocence, y’know?”

Believe me, Miracle signed, settling down next to me. You have no idea how awkward it was walking in on our parents.

I shuddered. “I don’t want to know.”

I lit the cigarette with the crappy lighter. “How old do you think Lucas is?”

Miracle held up her hands, one forming a two and the other a four.

“Twenty-four?” I scoffed. “No way!”

She nodded. I found his high school diploma. By his graduation year, he’s either twenty-three or -four.

My brows knit together in an amazed frown. “How the hell did you find his diploma?”

She rolled her eyes. Please, Ana.

I chuckled. “Right, I should know better than to ask.” I pulled my knees up to my chest as I pushed out another breath of smoke. “What’s he doing with Marilyn? How the hell did they even meet? They were probably never in school together.”

Miracle shrugged. Loneliness loves company.

I shot her a gagging look and then returned my focus to the moon. “I don’t think they understand that they’re both lonely, y’know?”

They just know it works. Her pale lips drew back in a smile shining like the soft moonlight, and I nodded in solemn agreement, the cigarette crackling as I tugged one last breath out of it.

The front door gently eased open, and Lucas poked his head out first.

“Up here.” I called, and he turned his chin up toward me, a grin fanning across his rosy cheeks.

“Marilyn said you’d be up here,” he admitted, lifting the ends of his ratty jeans and hiking up the short hill. He collapsed against the windmill next to me, a cigarette sliding between his fingers before he was even conscious of his reaching for one.

I tossed the pack to the grass and passed him the shitty lighter. “She doesn’t want a smoke?”

He shook his head, his lips buzzing against one another briefly as he huffed out a breath of smoke. “Nah, she’s taking a shower real quick.”

I frowned. “Are we leaving?”

“Aren’t you guys spending the night?” He prodded.

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t really know. I thought when she said I was gonna spend the night with her, she meant like at her house.”

Lucas spluttered with laughter. “Yeah, no, no one fucking goes to her house, not even Marilyn.”

I glanced at Miracle, fully aware that the dark perplexed glint to her eyes was reflected in my own. “What do you mean?” I carefully probed.

“Her family is really fucked up,” Lucas explained simply. “Her dad’s real abusive and shit.”

“Oh.” I blinked, trying to swallow the embarrassed lump in my throat. “Is there..uh, does she...”

“Look,” he leaned toward me, his voice a low murmur. “Marilyn is an escapist. It’s who she has to be to survive.” He gave a half-shrug, ashing his cigarette and turning back toward the moon. “I mean, she’s obviously not the only one, but out of everyone she does it the best. Otherwise she’d be a piece of shit like me, useless and a fucking dealer.”

My tongue was a large, uncooperative mass, thick and dry. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold Lucas’ gaze.

“She walks a thin line between being just another fucking hollow automaton and a batshit insane motherfucker with fried egg for brains.” His voice cracked a little as he stamped his cigarette out on his pants, his lower lip trembling.

His eyes locked on mine, tears angrily shining in the suddenly hard moonlight, a cruel chameleon lending the proper setting for every scene, and for the first time since arriving in Credence, I found myself cursing Mother Nature and her nightly mistress.

Lucas tightly gripped my wrist, wrestling with the tears threatening to choke and shred him. “I love her and give her everything I have, but it’ll never be enough. One day, she’ll fall off the tightrope, she’ll slip from that fucking highwire, and I can’t promise I’ll be there to catch her. Worse, I can’t promise that me catching her would save her from losing her mind. She needs so much more than this fucking city can offer her.”

I fought back hard against the tears restricting my throat, noisily clearing it in an attempt to find my own voice. “She needs you.” My voice was so nonexistent, so scratchy and voiceless that I wasn’t even sure if I’d actually spoken.

“She needs you,” I repeated slightly louder. “You both need each other.”

His sarcastic huff of laughter, so cynical and fraught with incredulity, caught me off guard as he threw his head back, his eyes looking at but not seeing the stars.

Marilyn must have been gifted with a fantastic sense of time, for right as the tears brimming in Lucas’ eyes burst past his quaking internal dam, she pushed the front door open.

Her arms akimbo, a crooked smile hanging on her lips, Marilyn stood at the base of the roof. “Jesus, Ana. What did you do? I know you aren’t exactly Miss Sunshine, but goddamnit, you’ve fucking killed the mood.”

The teasing twitch at the corners of her mouth looked so out of place, and I just swallowed my voice, dropping my gaze with a shrug. Lucas patted the grass he cleared as he slid away from me, making room for Marilyn, and she joined us under the windmill, pulling a cigarette out of the pack laying on the grass.

She sighed into the cigarette, drawing in a deep whiff of the Marlboro. “Fucking love that smell.”

Lucas lit her cigarette, forlornly studying her smiling beauty.

Marilyn leaned back against the windmill, casting her eyes to the stars. “What a beautiful night,” she quietly commented. “What a fucking day.”

I nodded, eyelids fluttering with the tears I was trying so hard to stifle. “Yeah, it’s been an interesting one, for sure.”

“Interesting, but good.” She concluded with a decisive nod.

My eyes found the blurry grass between my toes. “I guess you could call it a good day.”

vi

The morning of the opening night for Our Town started with a howling, and as I jolted up in bed, sheets tangled about me, my hair no doubt resembling Rebecca Black’s, I groggily peered out the window to see Aunt Terry, wearing a ridiculous feathered headdress, doing some awkward chicken dance in a curious figure eight that even Sandra Bullock would be jealous of. This alarm was less than satisfactory, so it was more than amusing when I dubbed a lil poetry to her squawking.

Rubbing my arms in the chilly September air, I made my way across the round yard to my insane aunt.

“What are you doing?” My teeth chattered.

Aunt Terry stopped gurgling at the blue morning, eyes lolling in the back of her head, to grin enthusiastically at me. “Oh, good morning, Ana! Happy Equinox!”

I blinked at her. “Yeah, same to you. Now, what in the hell are you doing?”

She preened the feathers fanning out from her headdress, one particularly ornery red one poking her in the eye. “Well, when all the stars and planets align, the spirits get restless. I just want to demonstrate that my body is a temple always open to them.”

My lips rounded in the beginnings of all the words my mind wanted to throw at her. Instead, they landed on, “You wanna be possessed?”

Her hands clasped together with a bright clap. “Only if they want to!”

I blinked and nodded slowly, processing my feathered aunt. “So, spirits like it when you dress up like a bird?”

She sighed like I was the bird brain, rolling her eyes. “I’m performing an ancient Missouria ritual. It’s an invitation to the spirits.”

“Naturally.” My shoulders pinched up in mock ignorance, and I waved at her. “Well, don’t hold back on my account.”

Aunt Terry half-smiled at me graciously, and bringing her elbows up behind her shoulders, she began her squawking again, throwing her head back up at the rising sun.

I shook my head at her in disbelief and skirted her flying limbs, heading inside for the kitchen.

I sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a bowl of cereal, mindlessly shovelling crunch into my mouth. Miracle perched next to me, amusement bright in her eyes.

I slid my eyes sideways at her. “What a way to start the day, eh?”

She giggled. You’ll never get bored, that’s for sure.

My hand waved the spoon in agreement. “Good point.”

The rest of the day I must have worn my face twisted up with a mixture of tired annoyance and entertainment, for even when Marilyn was standing backstage, her eyes closed, makeup caked thick on her eyes and cheeks, she took in a couple deep breaths and commented, “Jesus, Ana, what happened today? Even with my eyes closed, I can tell your constantly on the edge of laughter.”

I shook my head. “Just more proof that my aunt is insane.”

She cracked an eye open at me, the same corner of her shiny red lips easing out of character with a smile.

“Good luck!” I wished her with a grin, slipping my hands in my gloves, and tacked on, “Oh, and happy equinox!”

Her entire face broke into a giggle. “Get back to work, wench.”

“May the Force be with you, too!” I shot back and disappeared through a blackout curtain — and nearly into the chest of some guy.

I looked up, shocked, at the man wringing his hands and peeking through the curtain. I frowned.

“Excuse me,” I called to him, noting how he didn’t seem to hear me, lost in his own world. “Sir?”

Recognition blinked on in his face, and he turned his attention to me, even more surprised than I was by the sudden encounter.

“Sir, you can’t be back here.” I narrowed my eyes at him, my gut tapping on my shoulder about something, but I couldn’t place it. “You need to go sit in the audience.”

The guy, tall and easily in his late forties, dare I say early fifties, just blinked at me for a moment, and I watched the gears turn in his eyes, eventually clicking into place. He nodded.

“Of course,” he surrendered. “Sorry.”

With that he walked around me, making sure to avoid me with an awkwardly wide circle. My brow lowered with a curious yet confused frown. What the fuck was that?

I threw a probing glance over my shoulder before shaking my head and returning to the task at hand: managing the lights.

That guy looked slightly familiar. Maybe he worked at the school, in the library or something, I didn’t know, but I’d seen his face somewhere before.

I shrugged and pushed the guy off a cliff in my mind, wiggling my fingers in my gloves, sweat starting to build up.

“Hey, Ana, don’t forget to wear a walkie.”

I looked up as Josh tossed a headset at me. “No problem.”

He tapped the part that hooked around my ear. “If you need anything, just hit the button. I’ll be on the other end in the box.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Josh, just like in dress rehearsal last night. I may hang out with Marilyn, but I’m not mentally challenged.”

His eyes squinted as he laughed, his voice a delicate gruffness. “All right, all right, I’ll stop bossing you around. I just don’t want your first show to be a stressful experience.”

“Please.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Nothing in this stupid town is stressful.”

His nose scrunched sideways as his lips twisted with a grin. “You’d be surprised what Credence has lurking in its dark shadows.”

I shook my head at him. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse, whatever lies in wait.”

“If you say so,” he teased jovially. “Anyway, if you need me, just holler.”

I hit his arm with the back of my hand. “Yeah, whatever, boss.”

Josh pushed past me, and something tugged at me to call out to him before he could disappear.

“Hey, wait, did you see a guy back here just a minute ago or so?” I prompted. “He seemed kinda lost, and I was just wondering where he came from.”

Josh’s lips curved downward with a frown devoid of acknowledgment. “Can’t say that I did. Did he need something?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just directed him toward the audience.”

“Hm.” Josh paused a moment, leaning back to peer around the curtain he held open with two fingers. “Strange.”

He turned back to me. “If he comes back, let me know, all right?”

I nodded, half a smile hanging on my lips. “Yes, sir!”

He patted the top of my head belittlingly. “At a girl.”

“Fuck you!” I tossed back at him as he darted between the curtains before I could bat his hand away.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the switchboard awkwardly level with my head. This job was totally meant for someone with a little more height. Not to mention, the system was a little outdated. For Credence being such a hypermodern city, the theatre department’s equipment was sorely lacking. Maybe it was so when the team went to competitions elsewhere they would know how to work all the tech.

Or maybe, the government of Credence was made up of a bunch of lazy money whores who couldn’t stand to share with the dirty sandbox of high schoolers. Yeah, that was probably it.

Despite their backward ways of tech, here in the backstage land of our town, the opening night went smoothly, and when the house lights went up, sweat uncomfortably trickling down the back of my neck, my hands nervously shaking inside their gloves, adrenaline coursing through my veins, I was both quaking with excitement and relief, Josh’s voice in my ear.

“Good job, newbie.” He congratulated me, and I thanked him, shooting back an equally complimentary remark.

“Will I be seeing you at the after party?” He inquired as I turned off my meager workstation, hanging my gloves on the nail pegs.

“As long as you tell me how to get there, I guess.” I started making my way through the curtains.

“Done and done.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Let’s find Marilyn.”

“Copy that, Red Leader.” I saluted the box, standing upstage. “Going offline.”

“Make sure you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I cut him off. “Stick the headset in the box, got it.”

He chuckled. “See you in a few.”

I twisted the little knob to the off position and slid the earpiece off. As I tossed the headset into a small plastic bin along with all the others, I noticed the man from earlier, standing at the edge of the stage. His attention was turned in the direction of the back of auditorium, but his fingertips were drumming the stage softly. I approached him slowly.

“Did you enjoy the show?” I asked curiously, his head snapping up to me with the same look of shock registering in his eyes.

A gentle smile overcame his lips. “Yes, it was well executed.”

“Do you have a student in the theatre department?” I prodded conversationally.

He narrowed his eyes at me slightly before replying. “I have an invested interest, yes.”

I nodded, not quite sure what that meant.

“Hey, Ana!”

My eyes darted away from his unconsciously, and I saw Marilyn making her way through the crowd, still wearing her stage makeup. I grinned and went to introduce the strange man to her, but when I swivelled back to him, the crowd had swallowed him up.

“What are you looking at?” Marilyn glanced around confusedly.

“Er,” I stuttered, spinning back on my heel, spotting Josh push his way through the crowd, and then waving. “Josh!”

He broke free of the audience, a grin on his face. “Marilyn, outstanding performance!”

“Well, slam me up against a wall and fuck me silly!” She greeted him, kissing his cheek. “Why thank you, dear! You were magnificent, too! If it weren’t for you and Ana’s tech work, this beauty would have gone unnoticed!”

“Impossible!” Josh’s brow furrowed with mock grovelling.

Marilyn giggled. “We ready to smoke this joint?”

His eyes rolled upward as he gave a little shake of his head.

“Where are we going?” I snickered.

She winked at me. “I love corrupting you.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, too bad I beat you to it.”

She took my elbow, sliding her hand in the crook of my arm. “Onward! I can’t be late to the after party!”

Josh fell in step behind us as she dragged me with her. “It wouldn’t be a party without you, dumpling!”

Her nose turned upward slightly, the pride glowing in her rosy cheeks, and she did that little dance with her chin people do when happiness is buzzing around their stomachs so much they can’t keep it in, resulting in her long dangling earrings to jingle against the sides of her neck.

We worked our way out to the bike racks, Marilyn nodding and smiling at every compliment paid her, and in no time, we were mounting our bikes and pedalling off toward the celebration, which wasn’t hard to locate considering the other bicyclists obviously herding in a direction together. We all eventually rolled up to this series of earth domes, bikes just strewn about on the grass, some linked to something solid like a tree or pipe but most just chained to each other or nothing.

Marilyn stood in front of the main dome, fists resting on her hips, and she grinned in admiration. I followed her gaze to the windmill. Tons of phones had been rolled to the surface, all on flashlight mode, a beaming beacon, and casually leaning against the tower was Lucas.

Lucas jumped to the ground, knees propelling him into a roll, and he popped back to his feet before Marilyn, swooping her into a backbending kiss, Marilyn’s foot swinging upward. The two of them were quite the spectacle, and several of the bystanders even offered a little applause.

I rolled my eyes, muttering to Josh, “Come on, they clearly don’t need us.”

He laughed and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “After you.”

Together we made our way to the kitchen, and I picked through the ice chests, eventually extracting a soda.

“Can I get you a beer or something?” I asked up at Josh, squatting next to one of the chests, my hand hovering over the ice.

He shook his head. “I don’t drink.”

“Water it is!” I dug out a water bottle.

Here in Credence, nothing was plastic, but a cheap and light alloy more easily recycled. Josh didn’t even look as he caught the drink I pitched to him.

“So,” I popped the tab on the soda, “You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, but you do swear.” I slurped the extra off the top, tacking on, “Sometimes.”

Josh chuckled, grinning widely. “Yeah, not really...for me.”

“You one of those religious guys?” My eyes pinched up, anxious worry peering in the window of my brain.

“Uh...” His hand subconsciously met the back of his neck in a scratch, his fingertips brushing a gold chain.

“Shit.” I groaned. “You are.”

His lips twitched with a smile. “I kinda identify as Catholic.”

My eyes involuntarily rolled. “How the hell did you ever end up hanging around Marilyn? That hot mess is practically your antithesis.”

“Actually,” he pointed at me, sipping his water, “we met at church.”

My jaw dropped. “No way.”

He nodded and pulled gently on my elbow to make room for some guy pushing past me to get to the drinks. “It was like sixth grade or something, but yeah, she was visiting mass with her mom.”

I frowned. “Her mom?”

“Yeah, she was apparently...” His eyes did that nervous shuffle as he tilted his head back and forth, hesitantly searching for words

“Looking for...some...peace of mind, I guess.” He settled on, losing himself in a gulp of water.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Meaning what, exactly?”

He cleared his throat, a little pink coloring his cheeks. “I don’t know if Marilyn would want me telling you about her homelife.”

“Unbelievable. “ I shook my head at him, a small smile on my lips. “A gentleman, too. Who are you, Josh?”

He laughed into his hand, trying to disguise it as a cough. “That question I can answer.”

I giggled. “Oh, so you’re fair game?”

“Within reason.” He winked at me. “Come on, we can talk better outside.”

We pushed our way back through the thick wall of people. Several someones had kindly lent their speakers to the cause, and there must have been a full stereo system in each little hovel. The entire place thudded with some electronica, occasionally some random Red Hot Chili Peppers or The Strokes slipping into the mix.

Josh grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the doorway currently blocked by two different couples, everyone lost in someone else’s mouth.

“Thanks,” I muttered to him, shaking my head. “Everyone loses their minds in these kinds of settings.”

“Precisely why I don’t do anything.” He explained, one-handedly lifting a thick log onto his shoulder. “Come on.”

I fell in step with him on his other side to avoid the tree trunk. “Jesus, that thing has to weigh like a hundred pounds. How do you do that?”

His lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Magicians never reveal their secrets.”

I crossed my arms, my eyebrow arching in a challenge. “How often do you work out?”

Josh laughed, shaking his dark brown bangs out of his eyes. “Every day. Besides, this really isn’t that heavy. It’s probably only fifty pounds. You could probably carry it.”

“You may have a little too much faith in me.” I tapped his other arm jokingly.

Josh set the log down on the outskirts of the junkyard of bikes, without even a huff or a struggle. “There we go.”

We took our seats, and my eyes instinctively found the moon, the slight sliver that it was.

“You can always see the stars better when the moon gets out of the way.” He remarked, a hand leaning on his knee.

I nodded. “Who knew outshining the stars could be a bad thing?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, here in Credence, the largest contributor to light pollution is the moon herself.”

I grinned, taking a drink of my soda. “So ironic.”

Josh motioned to my soft drink choice, a teasing smile on his lips. “How come you aren’t drinking? I thought you were wild like Marilyn.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.” I tipped my can at him. “Nah, just not feeling it tonight.”

“Besides,” I added, “I do have to go home tonight, and not that my aunt would mind, I just think it would be kinda wrong if I showed up wasted, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Josh’s fingers drummed his water bottle. “Do you like living with your aunt?”

“Oh, that reminds me. Happy equinox!” I knocked my can of soda against his drink. “My aunt woke me up doing some native american ritual for the equinox.”

His shoulders shook a little as his hand flew to cover his mouth, attempting to stifle his laughter.

“I love her, I really do.” I continued. “I love living with her. She may be crazy, but...in a way, she’s exactly what I need.”

He nodded. “That’s good. We really like having her here in Credence.”

My brow quirked. “What, are you the mayor?”

“Uh, well, no, but my uncle sorta is, so I kinda feel like Credence is mine, too.” Josh picked at the hole at the knee of his jeans.

“I didn’t know your uncle is the mayor.”

“Oh, well, he isn’t exactly the mayor.” Josh rephrased. “He’s Richard Greene, CEO of Greene & Greener, Inc.”

For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice, my eyes wide. “No shit.”

He nodded.

“So because your uncle is practically the voice of Credence, you can speak on his behalf?” I teased him.

He grinned at me crookedly. “I spend a lot of time with him and shadow him at work a lot.”

“So are you a Greene, too?” I undid the velcro of my sandals.

He nodded.

“Excited to inherit Credence?” I flipped off my sandals with my toes and brushed them across the tickling soft grass.

His thumbs tapped his water bottle again. “Yeah, I guess.”

I cocked my head at him. “You aren’t bummed about having to split the will with cousins and other family, are you?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, his eyes growing a bit shinier as he started slipping inside his head. “No, no, it’s just me.”

I froze for a moment, trying to read his cryptic body language. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes locked on mine. “What for?”

“Whatever it is I made you think of. It’s depressing you.” I waved at his deflated chest.

He shrugged. “You and I are not so different.”

“You chose the way of the hero?” I jokingly continued the quote.

His face drained of emotion, and I snorted at the cold confusion in his eyes.

“Spiderman?” I prompted. “The one that came out when we were like six or something?”

A gate unlatched behind his eyes, and ease flowed back through them, a relieved smile commandeering his stiff lips. “Of course. I love that movie.”

“For a second, I thought I’d lost you.” I bumped my arm against his teasingly.

He shook his head. “Yeah, you did.”

“Anyway, what did you mean by we’re not so different?” I pressed.

“You live with your aunt, I live with my uncle, your parents are dead,” His voice began to trail off. “My parents are...basically both dead.”

I sighed, resting a comforting hand on his knee. “Was it recent?”

He patted my hand reassuringly. “My dad died when I was really little. I don’t remember him much, but I do remember my mom. She didn’t...die...She...”

His shoulder slumped with the heavy sigh, and he brought the water bottle to his lips, pausing a moment before drinking, and with a couple blinks lost himself in the moon.

Josh focused his eyes on mine. “She tried to kill herself. Something snapped in her after my dad died, and all of my childhood she was seeing these doctors far outside Credence. They didn’t help much, and eventually my mom just...deteriorated. I came home from school one afternoon. I was in seventh grade, two weeks before Halloween, and as I walked through our house, calling for my mommy, I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

My eyes darted back and forth between his, my head involuntarily giving him quick shakes. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to finish it, Ana.” He cut in slowly and pointedly, his eyes laden with a deadset ambition driving out the sorrow. “I’m not ashamed that I found my own mother in the middle of trying to hang herself.”

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at anything. I clenched my teeth together so hard my jaw spasmed in pain. Even with my eyes squeezed shut as tight as they were, I couldn’t get that last image out of my head: the last time I saw my mom, standing there in the corner of that fucking bathroom, moving on like there were no other choices.

I felt Josh soothingly rub his hand on my leg. “It probably isn’t nice of me to talk about my parents. Your loss is still really fresh.”

When my eyes flicked open at him, I fought to see past the angry tears obscuring my vision. “I’m not ashamed to talk about them either, Josh. I’m just still angry.”

“It was an accident.” His velvet voice was so soft, so pure. “My father’s death was an accident, too. It happened in his lab. My mom couldn’t accept the randomness of Life’s choices. Life doesn’t care who or what you are. Life just takes until you have nothing else to give. It drove my mom to insanity, the lack of purpose. Look, I know it takes time—”

My laughter was dry and brittle. “Time?” My voice hardened, anger glinting through. “Josh, time isn’t a cure. Time doesn’t make hot tea stop being tea. It just makes it stop being hot. Time merely changes the state of being, so sure, now it’s a hot topic. Three years from now, my parents’ death will be as cold as they are, but the anger will never dissipate. There are no thermal laws of dynamics for bitterness.”

Josh tapped his fingertips on my thigh, pushing his sigh through his nose. “I can’t say I agree, but if that’s what you believe, go for it.”

“Belief has nothing to do with it.” I raised my chin in a challenge.

His lips cocked back in a crooked smile. I knew that look in his eyes. It was pity.

I shook my head. “I’m not unhappy, Josh, so don’t feel sorry for me. I’m at peace that Life stole my parents from me.”

“You’re holding a grudge against Life.” He took a sip of water, his lips curving upward around the neck of the bottle. “I wouldn’t call you at peace.”

I chuckled. “Okay, yeah, I guess you could call it more of an impasse.”

Josh narrowed his eyes at me, drawing in a deep breath. “You know, you aren’t like most people.”

I tipped my soda can, dangerously close to being empty, in his direction. “It takes one to know one, good sir.”

He smiled at me kindly. “I guess you do belong in our little group of Misfit Toys.”

“Marilyn and her company?” My lips twisted into a wry smile.

As if on cue, our fearless leader and her bodyguard tumbled out of the edge of the forest ten yards from us. Josh rolled his eyes tiredly, only slight amusement playing in his eyes.

“Hey, you two!” I called, Lucas’ hand sliding around Marilyn’s waist and pulling her in for another kiss, and when they looked in our direction, the recognition dawning in their eyes, their faces broke into huge grins.

Sometime during their romp in the woods, which was the only hypothesis I was entertaining due to their appearance, Marilyn had lost her thin, ripped leggings, ultimately resulting in Lucas losing his apparel, in a gentlemanly offering up his baggy jeans. Unfortunately, the two of them had concocted the brilliant plan to use Lucas’ shirt as a belt, the sleeves even stuffed into the belt loops resourcefully. So as a boxers-clad Lucas and oddly decorated Marilyn clung to one another, struggling to stay on their feet, they giggled at each other and made their way toward us.

Upon reaching us, and believe me, it took entirely too long for them to stagger our way, Josh and I were waiting for them, standing next to our log. Marilyn greeted me with a kiss on each cheek, and Lucas pulled Josh in, one hand curving to the small of his back and the other cupping his jaw, and tenderly pressed his lips against those of an unsuspecting Josh who was too stunned to even react.

Marilyn shoved Josh back, fingers curling around Lucas’ neck, yanking him toward her, her fingers woven through his hair. “Boo, you whore.”

They entangled themselves in one another with a tongue-wrenching kiss, and I giggled, twisting slightly on my ankle to guffaw over my shoulder. “Oh my god! Best application of that quote!”

Josh eyed me, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and he wiped the back of his hand along his lower lip. “What did you guys take?”

Marilyn’s face lit up as she turned to Josh. “Holy shit, Josh, you have to try it! I can see why they call it ecstasy.”

She and Josh exchanged shy smiles, and I groaned, my eyes rolling. “I think it’s time to take you guys home.”

Marilyn’s eyes flashed at me, lips firmly done up in a pout. “You will do no such thing.” She commanded emphatically.

I threw up my hands apologetically. “Jesus, your highness! Didn’t mean to step on your toes!”

She flicked me off, her lips dissolving into a smile, and Lucas dipped his mouth to hers again.

I sucked in a breath, eyebrows arched with disbelief. “All right, well, I’m going home.”

Josh nodded, echoing my sentiments, and fell in step beside me, muttering under his breath. “They’re going to kill themselves experimenting one day.”

I frowned up at him, realization clicking. “Oh, yeah, you’re supposed to be taking care of each other, you and Marilyn, right? What happened to that? Credence’s bad boy steal your love?”

Josh snorted with laughter. “Hardly.”

“Jesus, how did you get to be the only normal one around here?” The corners of my lips drew back in disgust at the pounding house, bodies pressed wall to wall.

“Time out.” Josh grabbed my arm, twirling me so he could look in my eyes. “If you think I’m normal, you got another thing coming to you.”

He motioned to the hobbit holes. “They’re the normal ones. This is what normal teenagers do, get fucked up.”

His finger appeared before my nose. “You and I are the weird ones, Ana.”

My brow furrowed. “I take offense at that. I’m just as normal as any of the rest of them are.”

“You don’t believe that.” His eyes pinched with that look people get when they’re calling another person’s bluff and it’s so obvious it pains them.

My jaw tightened, my eyes cutting through his unforgivingly. “Belief has nothing to do with it.”

“I am no different from these idiots.” I spat, snapping my wrist at the earth domes.

Josh leaned in closer, his hard eyes level with mine for the first time. “Then I’m right there with you.”

I shook my head. “You’re so much better than this.”

“If you’re normal, and it takes one to know one, then I’m normal, too, whether you like it or not.” He countered smoothly.

“You don’t believe that.” I whispered harshly to the short distance between us.

His eyebrow twitched in an upward arc, snark shooting through his eyes. “Belief has nothing to do with it.”

“You can’t lie to yourself forever.” I gently drew back, resigned. “Belief is everything to you.”

His lips softly spread into a smile. “To each his own, I suppose.”

“I resent that.” My nose crinkled with the delivery of my jab. “It should just be everybody’s right.”

Josh rolled his eyes, mouth relaxing into half a grin. “Sorry to diminish your womanhood.”

I chuckled. “No you aren’t.”

Josh stood his bike up with his foot, fishing it out of the pile deftly by hooking his foot around the frame. “You know how to get home?”

I nodded, engaging in an intricate game of Jenga with the other bicycles. “We should do this more often.”

“Banter bitterly?” Josh offered sarcastically.

I studied him for a moment, my face gradually collapsing into a grin.

“No,” I quietly argued, giving a little shake of my head, eyes alight with a mischief tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Party.”

Josh laughed. “Lucky for you, there are plenty more after parties for me to accompany you to.”

“Oh, they can just be your average after school party, too,” I clarified. “You know, like, we go home and eat sandwiches or something. Those are my favorite parties, especially if a smoke is thrown in.”

Josh leaned toward me, winking. “Cigarettes cost you extra.”

“Like you need any more money.”

His face curled into a look of hurt. “That’s low, Ana.”

“I’ll see you later?” I prompted, throwing my leg over the frame of my bike and settling into the seat.

“As you wish.” Josh bowed deeply, fluttering his hand graciously.

“Fuck you.” I stabbed an accusatory finger at his chest. “You could never be the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Josh tossed his head back as laughter tumbled out of his mouth. “That’s what you think!”

I shook my head. “I better leave before you hurt yourself.”

As my foot slid into place, Josh gave a little wave. “Catch ya around.”

Smiling, I gave a little salute with my first two fingers and pedalled off.

My legs pumped hard to put distance between me and the hobbit hole still bumping with a sick beat, and in no time, with a familiar chill down my spine, translucent spindly child fingers wrapped around my shoulders. I shuddered at her touch but welcomed her presence.

I waited until we arrived at home before admitting, “I missed you tonight, Miracle. Why’d you disappear on me?”

She cocked her head at me, eyes narrowed. I figured you’d like alone time with Josh.

“Really?” My harshly flat voice slung back at her.

She shrugged innocently, and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re unbelievable.” I grumbled as I crawled under my covers, holding them up as Miracle slid between the sheets with me.

You don’t like him? She prompted me.

I sighed, my eyes meeting the ceiling. “Jesus, Miracle, how many times do we have to go over this? No, I’m not interested. I don’t care how awesome of a guy he is.”

So you admit he’s awesome! Miracle threw her finger at me excited. Ha!

My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. “Miracle,” I groaned.

Okay, okay, she signed, surrendering. But you guys are kinda like two sides of the same coin.

I weighed her sentiment, juggling with the various jokes, and settled on, “I mean, yeah, I may think we make our own luck, but we’re no yin and yang. If we’re the same coin, then my side must be made of clay and his steel.”

Miracle silently huffed, her arms crossing her ghostly chest.

I yawned, chuckling to myself. “Relax, Miracle.”

She rolled her chin toward me, her eyes meeting mine.

“I do like him.” I whispered. “He’s a really cool guy. I just don’t want to suck his face.”

“Or anything else,” I added with a shudder.

Miracle grinned. I like him, too.

“The ayes have it, then,” I muttered, my eyelids growing heavier. “Here, here.”

I rolled onto my side, snuggling under my thick blanket. “Or is it hear, hear?” I mused aloud, eyes falling shut.

“All in all,” I yawned again, “a pretty fucking successful day.”

I cracked an eye open at Miracle, half a smile hanging on my mouth, and she nodded in agreement.

Yeah, it was a good day. She said good night, tapping her pale fingertip against my nose.

vii

“Remember, remember the fifth of November!” I bellowed, solemnly addressing the kitchen table.

Aunt Terry at the other end peered over her mug of coffee at me. “Honey, it’s the twenty-sixth of September.”

I groaned. “I know, it’s from the movie V for Vendetta.”

“Oh, Guy Fawkes!” Her face perked up with a smile of recognition. “Viva la revolucion!”

I smacked my hand against my forehead, eyes squeezed closed, and I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or sigh. “That’s Castro, Aunt Terry.”

She giggled. “Did Castro have his aunt make him his Halloween costumes, too?”

“It’s for Marilyn’s birthday party.” I reminded her, giving a little shake of my head.

“Right,” she nodded, brow and mouth turning in that way they do when people obviously don’t believe you.

“It’s a costume party. Everybody go as your favorite movie character.” I relayed, getting up to put my empty bowl in the sink.

“I still don’t understand why you chose Alvin. I thought the chipmunk movies were terrible.”

I shrugged, throwing a leg across the tree stump that served as one of the chairs. “I really liked the cartoon when I was little.”

“But those aren’t movies.” She wagged her finger at me.

“Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes, my wrist flicking with a nonchalant wave. “Marilyn won’t care, and she won’t even know the difference.”

“Who is Marilyn going to dress up as?”

I snorted. “God only knows.”

Aunt Terry’s lips smirked as they met the rim of her coffee mug. “Well, I hope you have fun tonight. Don’t be home too late.”

“Depends on what you consider to be too late.” I pointed out.

She chuckled. “No later than four, got it?”

“Oh, yeah,” I nodded. “That’s plenty enough time.”

“Now, go on.” She shooed me away with her fingers. “If I were you, I would take a change of clothes, or at least some for warmth. It’s going to be cold tonight. You shouldn’t ride home in just that dress.”

I saluted her. “Shall do! Thanks, Aunt Terry!”

I snagged my costume from the laundry room, which had these crazy high-powered washing and drying machines. Courtesy of the big double G company, they’re ridiculously energy efficient. They were pretty decently sized as well, for the amount of space they didn’t take up, and they could handle loads as large as any Maytag I’d ever operated.

My costume was more or less a huge red sweater that hung to about mid-thigh, and just like my model character’s this sweater had a giant golden “A” sewn on the front. My aunt also had some old red high top Converses lying around, which she so graciously lent to me to round out my costume.

My mind buzzed with excitement and nerves, and as I pulled on the huge fat-man-sized sweatshirt, dancing around my room to whatever Starfucker was playing on my phone, I numbed my anxious mind and sweaty palms with a cigarette. I tossed a pair of leggings and a beanie in my backpack, wrapping the clothes around the present for Marilyn, a pair of earrings and matching necklace.

Miracle slowly glowed into being, perched on my bed, and my phone lost connection with Pandora, the music halting abruptly.

I saluted her with a single finger greeting. “Nice outfit. You coming to the party, too?”

Miracle preened herself, eyelashes fluttering with a mature pride. It sounds like fun.

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s gonna be like all the other stupid parties.”

She crossed her arms, mouth downturned. Then why are you going?

I shrugged. “Good question. Probably because Marilyn is my friend, and it is her birthday party after all.”

I took a deep drag on my cigarette. “Besides, costume parties are always fun.”

Yeah, every girl becomes a whore and every guy a peacock.

I snickered. “Peacock.”

Miracle giggled, too.

“So what are you anyway?” I motioned to her get-up.

She narrowed her eyes at me, hurt. What am I? Her hand waved over her super short dress and rounded up toward her springy, curly hair. I’m Shirley Temple!

I nodded. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. It works for you.”

She gave a polite little curtsy, ducking her head, too.

“Yeah, and the black and white is really a nice touch.” My lips quirked into a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle my laughter.

She flicked me off. Don’t you need to be leaving or something?

“I’m just sayin’!” I threw up my hands apologetically. “I’ve seen you run around in technicolor, but I think the grey scale really adds to the effect of your costume.”

Miracle rolled her eyes. You’re going to be late if you don’t leave soon.

I took one last puff before stamping out the cigarette. “Relax. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

I tossed my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed my phone off my bed, and after strapping it to my shoulder, I mounted my bike and pedalled off. The party was at Lucas’ hobbit hole, and it felt like there was never any other choice. Between Lucas and Josh both dancing around the subject of Marilyn’s homelife, I’d gathered enough to figure out anything related to her outside of school, theatre, or Lucas really wasn’t kosher for discussion, regardless who my conversational partner was.

It didn’t bother me much as I had secrets of my own I preferred not to share, but as I pumped my legs hard in the direction of Lucas’ residence, racing against the setting sun, I wondered what kept Marilyn from really getting the fuck out. She had so much for her and so much against her. She was a dark Disney movie waiting to happen.

As I rode across the field, my new best friend of a golden retriever came barking at me, happily wagging his tail and padding alongside me. I scratched behind his ears, cooing to him as usual, and chained my bike up to the same black pipe as always. This party was much smaller than the ridiculous after party, but there was already an uncomfortable amount of bikes strewn about Lucas’ yard.

When I entered through the front door, I really shouldn’t have been surprised when Marilyn clad in that famous white dress, hair pinned under that infamous blond wig, greeted me with a bragging twirl and well-practiced smile.

I applauded her. “I should have known you’d pick Marilyn Monroe.”

She giggled, throwing an arm around my neck. “Come on, let’s get you a drink!”

“Happy birthday.” I grinned, handing her the tissue-paper wrapped gift.

“Oh, thanks!” Her voice inched up easily an octave, and the excitement that scrambled across her face reminded me more of a little kid at Christmas. She tore into the present and hugged me again, thanking me half a dozen times for the jewelry bunched in her fists.

“You’re welcome!” I patted her on the back.

“Now you really must have a drink!” She rushed off toward the kitchen.

I waved at the small crowd of kids passing Lucas’ bong in the living room and followed Marilyn into the kitchen, where she was busily mixing Coke with rum, in a proportion I knew I was going to regret accepting later — but what the hell! It was her birthday party! She and I knocked glasses together, and each took a gulp of our celebratory drinks.

My mouth puckered at the strength. “Jesus, Marilyn, you know I have to go home tonight!”

She laughed, her gestures oddly similar to those of her character’s. “Says who?”

“Hey,” I motioned to her dress. “Didn’t you say favorite movie character? Marilyn Monroe was an actress, not a character.”

“I beg to differ.” Marilyn fixed a fist on her hip, waving her glass in an explanatory circle. “She was in that movie that came out not too long ago. You know, that one that’s like a weekend with Marilyn or whatever it was called.”

I nodded. “True, actually, I forgot about that.”

“Besides,” She leaned toward me. “I highly doubt Alvin from the Alvin and The Chipmunks movie is really your favorite character.”

“Well, there are just so many to choose from.” I countered. “This was the easiest costume to put together.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so cheap, Ana!”

I laughed. “Where’s Lucas at? I wanna see his costume.”

She waved excitedly. “Oh, come here! I love it! I think it’s perfect for him!”

“Where are we going?” I ducked under one of those decorative banners that read in multi-colored letters “happy birthday”.

“Out back.” Marilyn replied over her shoulder. “He’s got a bonfire going out there. Well, maybe now he does. He was having some trouble.”

She giggled and pushed the door open, hollering invitingly, “Lucas! Ana’s here!”

A gangly guy with long black dreads, a ridiculous hat atop them, wearing a loose white button down and baggy brown pants, half-stuffed into some boots, spun around on his heel, and my hands met my mouth in astonishment. My eyes widened as they took in his, hidden behind the smoky eyeshadow and thick eyeliner.

“No fucking way.” I whispered between my fingers.

Lucas sauntered from fireside to where Marilyn eagerly swayed back and forth, squealing like the fangirl she was trying to suppress, and I stood by the door. His boots came to a halt in the grass, and as his lips curled up in a small smile, he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Tell me, love.” His gruff voice dripped with a certain air of seduction I didn’t know he could possess. “Have you ever heard of the Black Pearl?”

I shook my head, spellbound.

He took a step toward me, fingers curving around my jaw. “She’s the fastest ship in these waters...and I’m her captain.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my lips. “Careful,” I quietly warned him teasingly. “That sorta thinking’ll get you into a mess.”

His fake dreads brushed my nose as his lips did my cheekbone and ear, his voice dangerously soft. “It already has.”

I instinctively giggled, throwing my arms around his neck. “So fucking badass, Lucas!”

He clicked his tongue. “I prefer Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“Oh, of course!” I apologized, my brow furrowed in mock seriousness.

He chuckled and gestured at my dress. “Nice. Alvin is such the perfect match for you.”

“I thought so, too.” I agreed, glancing at the birthday girl. “Marilyn wasn’t as thrilled.”

Lucas shook his head at her. “And you call Mick here the Negative Nancy, you ol’ hag.”

“Fuck you, too.” She snapped lightly, giving a little head shake.

“Is Josh here yet?” I inquired, peering around at the other people around the bonfire, searching their faces for a familiar one.

Marilyn frowned and swiveled around in her pointy heel. “I don’t actually know. I don’t think I’ve seen him, but I have no idea who he’s supposed to be dressed up as.”

Lucas joined her, also turning about. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen him, but I know he’s definitely coming.”

Marilyn addressed us again, her brow knitting together in worry.

“What?” Lucas prompted.

“Where’s your drink?” She asked him, shaking her half-empty glass in her hand at him. She glanced at me, miming for me to join her in hassling Lucas.

I nodded. “For real, Lucas. How could you do that to her? See? I still have my drink.” I took a sip for emphasis, immediately regretting it as I’d already forgotten how strong it was, and he chuckled.

His fingers wrapped around the lip of my glass. “I’ll take this one since Miss Monroe here obviously poured you more than you can handle.”

“Hey!” I cried defensively but gladly allowed him to pull the drink from my hand.

“I’ll go get you another.” Marilyn offered.

I shook my head. “I think I can manage.”

Lucas laughed. “Yeah, otherwise who knows what you’ll end up with!”

Marilyn crossed her arms, huffing at him, but she turned to me. “Hey, did you see the karaoke set up in the bedroom? I did it just for you!”

My cheeks reddened. “You shouldn’t have.”

She shook her head. “Nonsense. You’re going to sing for everyone, and you’re going to enjoy it. Otherwise this birthday girl will cry and make a scene, and everyone knows we don’t want that.”

“You manipulative bitch.” My lips twitched with a grin, and even Lucas snickered.

She flashed me her pearly whites. “You know me so well! Now, go get yourself a drink and pick out a song! I want you to sing to me!”

“Isn’t ‘Happy Birthday’ good enough?” I whined.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a pussy. Phone a friend if you have to.”

I laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s the spirit!” Marilyn clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Now, get boozy! This party is leaving you behind!”

I gave a deep bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

With that, I returned to the kitchen, and I pulled another tumbler out of the cupboard. I poured a finger of rum in it and topped it off with a couple fingers of Coke and a bit of squeezed lime, using a fork to stir it.

Taking a sip and nodding with approval, I headed into Lucas’ bedroom, which was easily twice the size of his living room. How much such sense that architectural planning made was beyond me, but I had learned not to question Lucas as he often had maybe half as many reasons as I did curiosities. And that was only on a good day.

Sure enough, there was a karaoke machine set up with large speakers on either side of the room, and I instantly found myself wondering how I had missed the sounds of amatuer singing, figuring the other speakers around the house pounding with strange psychedelic punk must have been drowning out their voices. For the first time, I nodded appreciatively for Lucas’ odd taste in music and toasted the air for it, taking a nice gulp of my Coke and rum.

This room was less packed as the others, but there was still a good crowd of two dozen people or so. On the bed, along with a couple standing on the mattress and sing-shouting their favorite top hit of the nineties, were various binders with song choices wrapped in plastic, and as several groups sifted through them, tossing ideas back and forth, not hesitating in their slightly drunken stupor to shoot each other down, I wiggled my way between a Cinderella and a Jasmine to snag a binder.

I retreated to sit by the dresser and began scanning the choices. Not that I particularly wanted to sing in front of all these lunatics, the animals that they really were, growling and snapping at one another’s throats, smiles plastered on with social grace, but I knew Marilyn really would like the gesture.

Miracle sat down next to me, and I slid my tumbler in her direction. She took a quick sip, eyes darting about with reasonable paranoia.

“What should I sing?” I mused aloud, half to her and half to no one.

What are you in the mood for?

I shrugged, leaning back against the cool earth wall. “None of these is really standing out to me.”

Get a different binder. Miracle suggested, pushing the tumbler back to me.

I nodded, scooping the drink up with me.

I tossed the binder in my hand back on the bed and asked for a different one.

“As you wish.” A masked character obliged, placing another binder in my outstretched hand.

My eyes widened as a grin crossed my face.

“Why hello, Man in Black.” I greeted Josh. “Clever costume.”

He motioned to my huge sweater. “Same. Leave it to you to really think outside the box.”

“Alvin is hardly outside the box. He’s practically every little kid.” I countered, crossing my arms, careful not to spill my drink. “When’d you get here?”

“I’ve been hanging in here for a while.” He glanced back at the bed. “Little known secret, I love karaoke.”

Half a mischievous smile hung on my lips. “Would you care to join me then?” I proposed. “Marilyn really wants me to sing something for her.”

His green eyes flicked to mine behind his black cowl, excitement flashing through them. “You mean it?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we could sing a duet.”

He groaned. “Oh, Ana, I’m not that good.”

“I bet you are.” I argued, challenging him with a raise of my chin.

He grinned. “I don’t make any promises.”

“Come on, then.” I patted his toned arm cloaked by his costume. “Let’s go pick out a song.”

We returned to my seat by the dresser, Miracle nowhere in sight.

“So, did you choose to be the Dread Pirate Roberts only because I said you would make a terrible one?” I probed, flipping my binder open.

He chuckled. “Actually, my costume is...kind of a mix of characters.”

“Oh?” I glanced over at him suspiciously. “Who? Him and Zorro?”

His head swayed back as his lips parted with uncontrollable laughter. “All right, a mix of lots of characters.”

“So, who are they?” I demanded, closing my binder, dissatisfied with its options.

“Well, you already guessed the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride, and apparently Zorro.” His hand waved a bit, effortlessly working with the binding glove, and he looked to me. “But my costume is also this character from this book.”

I groaned, shaking my head. “Cheater, cheater. A book character doesn’t count!”

Josh rolled his eyes. “It’s actually a really cool book. It’s called Hero. You’d probably like it.”

I perched my chin in my palm, eyeing him, amused, and raised my eyebrows at him.

“Hey, coming from the chipmunk!” He huffed, a smile reworking his frowning lips, and he focused his attention back on his binder. He tapped a song title. “Hey, what about this one?”

I leaned forward as he spun the binder so I could see which song he meant. My eyes met his again, my lips curving around the humorous remark I wanted to fling at him.

“Really?” My eyebrow arched into a point. “Of all the songs?”

He shrugged. “Well, I already know you know it. Besides, I’m sure you have it in you to make a duet out of it.”

I gave one of those nods people do when they agree but are still caught off guard by even the subject matter, an idea crossing their mind they’d never considered before. “Yeah, probably.”

“See? There you go!” Josh grinned, his hands leaning on his knees.

“I don’t know, though.” I hesitated. “This song really...hits a spot for me, in the sentimental kind of way. If you know what I mean.”

His eyes darkened, and I wasn’t sure if it was the black of his mask, but somehow the green sunk into a charcoal grey, a sort of seriousness about them I still wasn’t used to seeing.

“Then, we can do a different one.” His voice was so quiet.

I blinked, and I forced the lump in the my throat down. “No, no — we can sing this one...It would be...good.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, really, the only reason why I relate to this song is because of my parents.”

He cocked his head at me. “How so?”

A slight smile briefly hijacked my lips. “Uh, my, uh, my parents and I always kinda had a sort of love-hate relationship, not to mention they were about one step away from finalizing their divorce before they died, only to be forever bound with the kiss of death.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. “How ironically romantic, no? So, I kinda just imagine...that...they have this song running around in their background a lot.”

His eyes crinkled as his lips pulled back in a grin, chuckling. “I can see that.”

“So, we...we can sing it.” I rap my knuckles against the binder. “And you’re right. I have a killer harmony line to go with it.”

“I knew it.” He teased.

“Well, stick it in the lineup, and I’ll go get Marilyn!”

He nodded, and we both rose to our feet. As he approached the queue of singers, I made my way back out to the bonfire. The speakers outside of Lucas’ bedroom were blasting “Animals” by Neon Trees, and all the people surrounding the fire were either singing along at the top of their lungs or dancing on one another.

Dodging the various exhibits in tonight’s zoo, I squeezed between the bars of the cage made of flailing arms and legs, and I managed to worm my way close enough to Marilyn Monroe to grab her wrist. She didn’t appreciate the gesture, yanking herself out of my grasp before even processing who it was.

“Get off, fucktard!” She yelled, but upon completing her one-eighty, her face relaxed into an excited smile. “Oh, hey, Ana! Enjoying the party?”

I nodded. “Yeah, got that song for you. Josh and I are going to sing a duet.”

“Excellent!” She spun Lucas around by his shoulder. “Ana and Josh are going to sing!”

Lucas winked at me and then addressed the crowd around the bonfire. “Hey, everyone, to the bedroom!”

Someone screamed something about an orgy, and Lucas chuckled, yelling back, “Only in your dreams, Darth Vader!”

I grumbled under my breath as we headed back inside, and I made a point to drag the bottle of rum into Lucas’ bedroom with me, diluting the Coke in my tumbler with the liquor. I took a good couple mouthfuls of the hard stuff, washing it down with my rum-heavy Coke, and working my tongue around my teeth a little, I tried to swallow the numbness slowly settling over me.

A black clad Josh was twirling a couple of mics in his hands, laughing with the DJ who was more or less in charge of cueing up songs both for the house speakers and for the karaoke. His eyes were randomly scanning the growing crowd, lips wrapping around another joke, and when his eyes landed on mine, they lit up with recognition. He walked over, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and he thrust a microphone into my hand.

Nodding at the DJ, he gave him half a crooked smile, and I couldn’t help the suspicious furrow in my brow or narrowed eyes as they flit back and forth between the DJ and Josh.

But the karaoke machine gave those clicks signaling the beginning of the song, and I quickly found myself consumed by the massive screen on the earth wall, my voice fishing for the beginning notes.

As “Fall For You” moved into the chorus, I broke off to harmonize, and at first, Josh glanced at me hesitantly, his voice momentarily dropping out completely. I gave him an encouraging smile and moved to more of a descant.

Marilyn, on the edge of my vision, stood only a few feet away, at the head of the crowd and the foot of the bed, and the entire time, under her manicured hands tightly clasped over her mouth in excited awe, a huge grin was plastered on her face.

When the song ended, and after Josh and I had politely bowed and thanked the buzzing crowd, Marilyn dashed forward, wrapping us both in the same hug, her arms tight around our necks.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She fiercely whispered between us, tears glistening in her eyes as she pulled back. Her eyes oscillated back and forth between ours, earnestness burning in them like I’d never seen before. “This has seriously been the best birthday ever.”

“Well, it is your eighteenth.” Josh pointed out with a grin. “If it wasn’t the best, there’d be a problem.”

She giggled and pulled Lucas into our little circle as we headed back toward the dresser again, where my tumbler was resting, and even though I was already swaying as I walked, I downed the remaining liquid in the glass, giving very little fucks as to how drunk (and therefore how hungover) I was going to be.

“At a girl.” Lucas patted my back. “I knew you had it in you.”

I threw him a disapproving glare, and he chuckled.

Marilyn jumped up and down a little. “I wanna sing a song, too.”

“I’ll get you a book of song choices.” Josh offered, disappearing among the other masked creatures.

“I was thinking about doing ‘Animals’ by Neon Trees.” She admitted, glancing at me. “What do you think?”

Lucas groaned. “Babe, the DJ has already played that song like ten times.”

“Three.” She swiftly corrected him. “It’s only been three times, and I love that song, so fuck you, Lucas. It’s my birthday. I can fucking sing that song if I fucking feel like it.”

I nodded, half-shrugging at him. “She has a very good point.”

He rolled his heavily made-up eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s never fair when both of you argue with me. I’m destined to lose.”

Marilyn patted his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “It’s okay, dear. You’re going to lose anyway.”

“Oh, really?” He challenged, sliding his hands around her waist, his lips meeting her rather exposed neck and collarbones.

She giggled, and suddenly Josh broke back into our threesome, binder in his hand.

“This crowd is terrifying.” He muttered as Marilyn snatched it from him. “Who invited all these nuts anyway?”

Lucas grimaced. “You know, I was wondering the same thing.”

“Please,” Marilyn waved her hand calmly. “Everybody knows a party at your place practically has an open-ended invitation.”

She flipped through the binder. “What’s a good everybody sing along kinda song?”

“Y.M.C.A.” Lucas jokingly supplied, and Marilyn whacked him squarely in the chest with the back of her hand.

Josh chuckled, fingers readjusting his cowl. “Bohemian Rhapsody is a pretty good one.”

“Oh!” Marilyn’s eyes lit up, and her bottom lip slid between her teeth. “That’s such a classic! It’s seriously impossible not to sing along to that!”

“Fight!” A voice in the crowd near the doorway belted out, and Lucas snapped to his full height, instantly going from punk pirate to intimidating homeowner. He shoved partygoers out of his path, and Marilyn grabbed my wrist, leading me along as she followed hot on his heels. What she wanted out of this was beyond me, and the fuzziness between my ears just patted me on the top of my head, instructing me to enjoy the slightly twinkling lights.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lucas bellowed, towering over the freshman scuffling in his living room.

The two boys immediately broke apart, and Lucas grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks, dragging them to their feet.

“Well!” He screamed in their faces. “Listen, faggots, this is a no fight zone, so either get your shit together or get the fuck out. You hear me?”

Both of them scrambling and scratching at Lucas’ grip, undoubtedly painful, they whimpered a little, nodding furtively, more than the fight scared out of them.

Lucas threw the James Bond and Salvador Dali to the rug, both of them just a little too tipsy or buzzed to control their flopping limbs, and they collapsed into a tearful heap on the floor.

Lucas shook his head, nose scrunched up in disgust at their foolishness, and he pushed through the still audience to his front door, a cigarette sliding from his fingers to his lips in a move I had yet to master — or even really to witness the behind the scenes explanation. That man certainly had a magical way with cigarettes.

He cupped his lighter as he puffed away, trying to get it to light. “Goddamnit.” He ground his teeth. “Fucking freshman. Idiots.”

Marilyn soothingly rubbed his arm, tenderly caressing his cheek with her bright lips. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

He turned sad eyes and a small smile to her. “No, I’m sorry. It’s your birthday, baby.”

She shook her head, gently brushing her nose against his with each shake, a soft smile on her lips. “And you’re certainly making it fantastic.”

I rolled my eyes, an involuntary half of a grin cropping up on my face, and I turned away to give them some privacy, only to find a disheveled Josh forcing his way through the crowd, finally catching up with us.

Some guy in the doorway grabbed at him, and Josh shoved him away, lips in an annoyed sneer. “Fuck off.”

My eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Holy shit, Josh!”

Hard eyes met mine, his lips set in a grim line. “What?”

His voice cut through the cool air, and I backpedalled, throwing my hands in a move of surrender. “Jesus, I’m sorry!”

His green eyes rolled behind the cowl, jaw still taut. “Whatever.”

The guy from the doorway stepped forward again, hand reaching for Josh’s shoulder, and the moment the guy’s fingertips made brushing contact, Josh spun on his heels, yanking the guy by his wrist to the ground.

“I said fuck off!” He shouted down at him.

Lucas stepped around Marilyn, his hands at her elbows, and he stepped up to us.

“Is there a problem?” His mouth was still set in a perturbed frown. “I really don’t have the patience for bullshit.”

The guy on the ground, also wearing a cowl in a costume I didn’t recognize, shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I just...I just—”

Lucas squinted at the guy. “Hey, shithead, where’d you get that costume? What kinda dumbass joke you trying to play here?”

The guy fished for words glancing at me and Josh for assistance, and I just shrugged at him. “No, no...”

“You know he isn’t welcome around here.” Lucas bent over and curled his fingers around the bit of the guy’s costume at the front, jerking him to his feet.

“Hey, faggot!” He howled into the guy’s cowl. “I said he isn’t welcome here! Take your sorry ass and your fucking shit costume and get outta here before I beat your ass! Got it?”

The poor guy obviously scared shitless gasped and choked on words, and Lucas flung him back against his house. The guy stumbled a bit as he pushed his bike to a stand, but within seconds, he was biking away, pedalling with all his life behind his legs.

Lucas clapped a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Sorry that dipshit was giving you a hard time.”

Josh flicked partly amused eyes up at the drug dealer. “I think you made up for it quite enough, though, wouldn’t you?”

Half his face pulled up insecurely, grimacing with a twinge of regret. “Was I too harsh?”

Josh shot him a look. “Really?”

Marilyn drew in a deep breath, a cigarette now between her fingers. “Yeah, I’d say you could have been maybe just a bit easier on the guy.”

Lucas shrugged. “Oh, well. No one else will ever make the mistake of crossing me.”

“You do have them absolutely terrified of you.” Josh chuckled. “How do you do it?”

I frowned, shaking my head confused. “I don’t get it. Was it his costume? I mean, if you were kicking him in the face because he was coming onto Josh, that’s one thing, but...what’s really at play here?”

The three of them just stared at me a moment.

“What?” I prompted slowly, suddenly feeling very much the fool, my cheeks reddening shamefully.

“You don’t read or watch very much news, do you?” Marilyn blew a stream of smoke at the night sky.

I shook my head. “Not particularly. Why?”

“Look, I know you’re still kinda new to Credence and everything,” she began, the smile on her lips matching the ones on Lucas’ and Josh’s, “but there’s seriously no way you haven’t heard...”

All of their faces refused to give anything away, and I blinked in confusion. “Heard what?”

“The Phantom?” Lucas urged with that voice people use when they’re on the edge of laughter they’re so full of disbelief.

I shook my head, my mouth failing to produce any sort of conversation.

“The Hero of Credence?” Marilyn’s eyebrows were so close to the fringe of her wig, and it was suddenly so obvious that she wasn’t a blond, given such the stark contrast.

I raised my shoulders in an ignorant shrug. “Never heard of him.”

Marilyn rolled her eyes in defeat, and Lucas shook his head disapprovingly.

I glanced at Josh, and he gave me a small smile.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t make any news outside of Credence.” He softly came to my rescue. “He’s not widely popular here either.”

“Who is he?” I questioned, curiosity suddenly burning at the forefront of my mind.

A conflicted smile flashed through his eyes and rode the crests and valleys of his moving lips, struggling to find the right description.

“He’s, uh.” Josh cleared his throat. “He’s a superhero.”

“He’s all right.” Lucas corrected with a flat swipe of his hand, eyes pointed with rejection.

I looked back to Josh. “Like, a superhero superhero? He has super powers and all that jazz?”

Josh gave a half-shrug. “He hasn’t exactly cooperated with the media.”

“He’s more a no comment kinda guy.” Lucas tacked on, and Marilyn hushed him, quietly telling him not to be so harsh.

“If he was really a superhero, he’d do more for his people!” He spat back at her. “He’s just another double G goonie, trying to save them a pretty penny.”

Josh nodded at the ground. “The Phantom surely is a controversial topic. I can’t believe you hadn’t heard of him before now.”

“Well, if Lucas isn’t exactly a fan, I can’t see why I’d be part of a lot of discussions concerning him.” I countered. “What does this guy even do? What makes him so super?”

Lucas threw up his hands, his head shaking. “Of course you’d want to know more about him!”

“And you don’t!” I challenged him, purposefully positioning myself in his line of sight. “He’s your savior! You should care more than I do!”

He rolled his eyes and pushed past me. “You belong to Credence now, too, so you know. He’s your savior, too.”

I crossed my arms out of amusement, sliding my gaze to Marilyn. She shrugged in response as Lucas muscled his way inside.

“He’s just jealous he can’t fly around at night on a hoverboard.” Her lips twitched with a teasing smile, and she and I broke into giggles.

“So he has cool tech?” I probed, digging a cigarette out of my bag.

Josh nodded. “Yeah, he’s sponsored by Greene & Greener. That’s why Lucas doesn’t like him very much.”

“Ah.” I nodded as I lit up. “Typical drug dealer verse the big bad government?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

Marilyn rolled her eyes. “Oh, give him more credit than that. The write-ups that appear in the paper and the clips that they show on the news are very critical of The Phantom. They’re basically accusing him of sleeping with double G and only wanting our money. Because that’s really who sponsors him.”

Josh scowled at her. “For the last time, the guy isn’t paid! You can read all the line items on a Greene—”

“Save it!” Marilyn cut him off with a flick of her wrist. “I really don’t need you explaining to me how your uncle’s company ruins lives again.”

He clenched his teeth together, eyes angrily hardening.

“Why do you hang out with her?” I asked him, my head swaying a little as I turned to him.

“Believe me,” he slowly slid his sharp gaze away from her to me, “I’m starting to think I regret the decision.”

Marilyn breezily laughed it off, playfully touching a hand to his elbow. “Oh, you love me, Josh. Don’t kid yourself.”

He jerked his arm away from her. “I’m not going to get mad at you on your birthday, but I just want you know that I’d really prefer if you didn’t criticize my family’s company right now, all right? Is that too much to ask for?”

Her eyes softened, even pinched up at the ends with genuine worry, and she nodded. “Yeah, Josh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go too far.”

“Yeah,” he agreed dejectedly. “You never do. It’s okay, Marilyn. Thanks.”

“Wow, this Phantom guy really is controversial.” I concluded, watching the two of them interact. “Tell me again what makes him super?”

“Well, he has super strength.” Marilyn waggles her eyebrows at me, bringing her cigarette to her lips.

“Really?” The excitement in my gut mixed with the curiosity and too much rum was making for quite a nice buzz.

She nodded. “I saw him once lift an entire windmill single-handedly.”

“Literally.” She leaned in. “He only used one hand. No magic. He lifted that thing all by himself.”

I glanced at Josh. “Have you seen him, too? He’s not just like your guys’ Loch Ness Monster or whatever is he?”

Josh’s lips cracked into a crooked smile. “No, he’s very much real. I saw him at a Greene & Greener event once. His super strength is impressive.”

“Is that his only super power?” I egged them on, curiosity eating at my stomach.

Josh nodded. “Other than that, he relies on our tech to get him around really.”

“But what does he do?” I shook my head. “I still don’t think I even believe you guys.”

Marilyn laughed, her eyes crinkling in a way so true I knew they weren’t just fucking with me, in some elaborate hoax.

“He mainly watches over Credence.” Josh summed up. “He protects businesses, homes, and individuals from robberies and such affairs. He mainly serves to protect the interests of Credence.”

“Here is where Lucas and Josh differ about The Phantom’s intentions.” Marilyn patted Josh’s chest. “Lucas is convinced that The Phantom only works to better the double G and doesn’t really care about her people.”

“And I know that Greene & Greener works to take excellent care of its people. Credence would be nothing without the fine people who live and work here, and if it weren’t for Greene & Greener, Credence nor their employment would exist. For all intents and purposes, Greene & Greener makes Credence what it is. So forgive me if I believe when The Phantom is serving to protect Credence, he’s not just looking out for her infrastructure but also her people and its fundamental backbone that is Greene & Greener.”

I shook my head, an impressed smile on my lips. “Jesus, Josh, you better go into politics or something one day. You have such a wonderful way with words.”

Marilyn snickered. “Look at that, Joshie! You’re made to continue in the family way!”

He flicked her off.

“Oh!” Her face scrunched up. “So feisty tonight, Josh! When was the last time you had an orgasm, young man?”

Josh rolled his eyes. “None of your business, birthday girl. You don’t hear me asking about your sex life.”

“That’s because you can hear it.” She grinned, tapping her finger on his chest teasingly.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling underneath the cowl, and I giggled, too.

“Speaking of which!” Marilyn’s eyes were suddenly bright. “Once all you freeloaders are outta here, this birthday girl is gonna be getting some birthday sex!”

“Well, congratulations.” Josh laid a mocking hand on her shoulder.

“You’re just jealous these tits aren’t yours.” Marilyn jokingly grabbed her boobs, juggling them in his direction.

His nose scrunched up, his head shaking. “No, thanks, I’m good.”

My eyes involuntarily rolled as I faked gagging. “Stop it, you two. You’re making me sick.”

Marilyn giggled. “Come on! Let’s go sing ‘Animals!’”

“I thought you wanted to do ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’” Josh frowned, his cowl only partly hiding his mock hurt.

“I don’t know,” she tapped her chin, lower lip jutted out as she pondered her options. “Just really feeling the mood of ‘Animals’.”

“Well, it’s your birthday.” Josh waved his hand at her in a reminder. “Like, you’d forgotten.”

She chuckled and slid her hands into the crooks of both our elbows. “Onward, wenches!”

“As you wish.” Josh yielded with thick seduction dripping from his gruff voice.

Marilyn gave a low squeal. “What a gentleman!”

I rolled my eyes, falling in step beside them.

All in all, two Lucas provoking incidents aside, Marilyn’s birthday party was good. The entire day was good. But as everyone crammed into the bedroom, Marilyn shout-singing into the microphone, I looked around at all the creatures. Miracle was nowhere to be found, and I had to wonder to myself if she just really disliked large crowds as much as I did. Even with the alcohol numbing my mind, I wasn’t one hundred percent thrilled to be drowning in a sea of bodies. For a moment, I considered sneaking off to the living room to fly with the other creatures, joining in the bong passing, but at the core, the where really didn’t matter. In every single room, it would be the same. Always a bountiful, beautiful ecological mess of creatures waiting to swallow me up.

Despite their abundance, their goodness evaded me. As their hot bodies rubbed together on the mathematical brink of multiplication, I stood in their center, absolutely appalled that their behavior could be labelled fruitful, hearing them suffocate in their wildness.

But it wasn’t my party, and it wasn’t my place. So I grabbed another mic, and together Josh and I joined Marilyn in song, embellishing her birthday with a little harmony.

Credence had a superhero. How about that? What would Miracle think? What did I think?

I addressed the crowd: was this the real life? What strange holed-up fantasy had I fallen into?

viii

Leading experts claimed we only used ten percent of our brain — and since only eighty-three percent of statistics were conceived off the top of the brain at all points in time, this ten percent still went untouched, thanks to society and its innate ability to swallow every set of numbers.

However, all those experiments and dietary suppletives, suggestions for us to add to our daily lives, paled in comparison with their current competitor, obviously a much more fitting match for taking us back to our original highly functional brains.

“What is this again?” I inquired, the muscles of my jaw bunching near my ears, my molars itching to meet.

“MDMA.” Lucas supplied.

“Madomma.” Marilyn’s cheeks were bright pink already as she leaned back against the grassy roof of Lucas’ hobbit hole.

I chuckled as Lucas groaned, rolling onto his side and brushing the copper bangs off her forehead.

“Ecstasy,” he whispered in her ear, voice soft with just a hint of gravel.

“They should name it Essence.” I countered, staring at all the stars straddling the greenish bruise of a belt stretching from horizon to horizon. “Holy shit, these stars...”

“Essence?” Marilyn pondered, lighting a cigarette. “Why Essence? I think Ecstasy does a pretty good job already.”

I couldn’t break away from the multitude of twinkling gaseous balls of light. “Because I feel like someone has taken extract of Ana and then somehow drowned my brain in it. I feel so...me.”

A smile settled over Lucas’ lips. “You know, if I call it Essence and say it’s even stronger than normal Ex, I could probably up the price.”

“Oh, shush, don’t talk business.” Marilyn waved her cigarette in his direction, leaving a wispy smoke trail.

“Hey, is Josh coming?” My eyes finally flicked from the dazzling firmament to the forest, and a grin eased onto my lips, adrenaline and excitement coursing through my veins, which felt like pure energy dripping down my spine, a chill ushering in the needles to the back of my neck. I rocked forward onto my feet and used the momentum to propel myself down the roof, greeting him with a wave and a howl.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Marilyn prodded, propping herself up on her elbows.

I threw an annoyed glance over my shoulder at her.

Josh rode up to the house, majestically dismounting by riding standing only a single foot on a pedal. He waved at us. “How’s it going?”

My hand found his, weaving my fingers through his. “Oh my god, Josh, I know you don’t like putting substances into your body, but you have to try this one. It makes you feel like you at one million percent.”

His eyes narrowed at me, his other fingers curling around my chin as he tipped my head back. “Enjoying yourself, eh?”

“Why do you ask?” My brow furrowed.

He chuckled, his fingers sliding around to scratch the top of my head. “Your pupils are ridiculously dilated, and you’re talking really fast.”

My stomach melted at the tickling sensation atop my cranium, and I whined a little when Josh stopped. His eyebrow arched in amusement, he continued lightly scratching my scalp, his fingertips working around to my neck as well.

Hand in hand, we climbed the curvy hill of a roof to join Lucas and Marilyn under the windmill. Lucas’ golden retriever padded up the hill, too, and I left Josh to cuddle and pet the friendly creature, who panted happily at my touch. His soft fur felt so inexplicably light and feathery, like my fingers were covered in liquid warmth in the form of dog smell and fur, the steady thud of his content tail against the tickling grass.

“Jesus,” Marilyn scoffed, her face scrunching up with disgust, “how come I never get that tactile?”

Lucas chuckled. “It’s her first roll.”

Josh shook his head, drawing his knees up toward his chest and latching his hands together. “I don’t get you guys.”

“Hey, Ana.” Marilyn softly cooed at me, fingers aimlessly wandering across my forehead and cheek.

I glanced up at her, face buried in the neck of the golden retriever, involuntarily groaning into the fur, my voice deep in my throat.

“Try this.” She whispered, fingers offering up her cigarette.

For a moment, I merely appreciated the thin, rough paper encasing the filter, my skin cells locking in with the chemically treated surfaces that were reacting with the oils on my fingerprints. I slowly wrapped my lips around the paper, tongue lightly flicking against the spongy filter, and as I drew in a breath, the end of the cigarette crackled and glowed, a tiny firework symphony. My throat warmed with the smoke, my lungs shuddering with the trail of wispy kisses it left down my spine, and I blew the smoke out my nose, my sinus cavities rattling with the air. My vision sharpened ever so slightly, as if it were possible, my senses crisper than before.

“Wow.” I nodded, pulling a mouthful of smoke before handing Marilyn the cigarette back. I pushed the smoke out of my mouth and breathed it in through my nose. “One of the best cigarettes I’ve ever tasted.”

“Right?” Marilyn waggled her eyebrows at me, a grin casually leaning on her lips.

Josh rolled his eyes. “Why did you guys invite me over again? To babysit your sorry carcasses?”

“Why do you insist on being sober?” I inquired, pushing myself onto my stomach, throwing an arm around the golden retriever.

He half-shrugged.

“Is it because you’re religious?”

“Partly.” He scratched my dog behind his ears. “I also just have to keep my body in tiptop shape.”

“Do you also watch your diet?” I probed, caressing my cheeks and nose with the golden fur.

Josh nodded, and Marilyn snorted with laughter, tossing her cigarette butt in the can under the windmill.

“Please, he hardly gets enough meat.” Her lips twitched, and I frowned, unsure by what she meant.

Josh shot her a glare, jaw taut, and Lucas chuckled.

“Aw, lighten up, man.” Lucas commanded, digging his nails in the dirt.

I glanced from Marilyn to Josh to Lucas and back expectantly. “I don’t get it.”

Marilyn’s brown eyes flashed with a roll hinged on giggles. “It means he—”

“Marilyn!” Josh cut her off, hands spread in a defensive demonstration. “Really?”

She shrugged, waving a hand at me. “Well, she’s gonna find out eventually, and you might as well break her heart before she completely falls in love with you. She’s already always asking about your whereabouts.”

Josh’s eyes nervously slid to mine, and I met him with a vigorous shaking of my head.

“I really won’t be falling in love with you.” I admitted, the fur fluttering with the puffs of air. “I promise.”

Lucas shook his head. “You say that now. This boy attracts more women than he cares for.”

“That’s because they’re all more than I care for.” Josh muttered through tight lips.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You really don’t have to come out to me just because you’re afraid I like you. I really don’t like you like that, I promise.”

Josh’s lips curved into half a smile, eyes flicking from Marilyn’s to Lucas’ proudly. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, hey!” Marilyn held up a hand, her eyes thin, suspicious slits in my direction. “Wait a minute. Are you playing a coming out card to keep him from playing his? Because if it turns out you’re both gay, I’m going to lose it.”

My cheeks reddened, and I lost myself in the thick fur of the puppy in my arms. He smelled like the earth, and I could feel the tiny flecks of dirt trapped in the coarse strands abrasively scratching against my lips.

Josh groaned. “Wow, Marilyn, think you could have a little more tact than that?”

She pushed air out between her lips, giving that raspberry-esque noise. “Whatever, I feel it needs to be addressed.”

He sighed, and Lucas patted Marilyn’s knee. “I agree with the prude on this one.”

“Oh, thanks!” Josh grumbled sarcastically.

“Well?” Marilyn’s voice challenged me.

I drew in a deep breath, pushing it out through my nose before raising my chin. My eyes found hers. As much as I really didn’t want to do this, I understood it was necessary, so I grew a pair and grit my teeth.

“No, Marilyn, I’m not gay.” I matched her stare.

Her lips twisted into a frown of disbelief, not really sure what to make of me, and Josh cocked his head, his brow also knit together curiously.

Lucas rolled onto his side, head propped up by his elbow attentively. “If you aren’t gay, then what are you, Mick?”

My eyes darted to his, and my palms began to grow sweaty. For the first time in a long time, I found myself silently wishing for Miracle to come to my rescue. Why did I have to drown alone?

I cleared my throat, licking my lips anxiously. “I...I, uh, don’t really identify on the sexual spectrum.”

“Meaning?” Lucas prodded gently.

“Meaning I’m asexual.” My voice was so quiet but still way too loud.

Josh’s eyes pinched up with a smile, and I couldn’t tell if the smirk was full of pride at my coming out or snootiness at my meager attempt at being different.

Marilyn shook her head, fake copper curls brushing along her exposed collarbones. “I don’t get it.”

“Yeah,” I dropped my gaze, my fingers awkwardly shuffling between drumming on the cool grass and entangling themselves in my puppy’s fur. “It’s...easy and not to explain.”

Josh chuckled, his head nodding a little. “Yeah, and I thought explaining homosexuality to my uncle was difficult.”

I frowned up at him. “Yeah, how does that work out with being religious anyway?”

His nose crinkled, the memories flooding his eyes, and he grinned at me. “God and homosexuality mix about like gasoline and styrofoam do when they collide into napalm. Not the most stable, peacekeeping results.”

A smile jumped to my lips, and I buried my nose in the fur again, chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah, the Pope hates homos.” Marilyn waved her hand breezily. “Now, explain this asexual thing to me because all I’m thinking of are sponges.”

I nodded, lips reset and pressed into a line.

“It’s all right.” Lucas quietly encouraged. “Here in Credence, all are welcome. We don’t give two shits what the Pope thinks or what colors you fly.”

I glanced up to see his lips lose a wrestling match with a smirk and twist into a grin as he laughed. “Mainly because we just need more people in our population and no one else wants all the gays.”

Josh playfully punched him, his head shaking, and Lucas guffawed harder and gripped his sides as he rolled about in the grass, his entire body quaking with laughter.

“Continue.” Marilyn gently smiled at me. “I really do want to know.”

I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Can I get a cigarette first?”

She nodded. “Sure thing.”

As she procured one from her slightly crushed pack of Marlboros, I drew in a shaky breath, my eyes sliding back up to the twinkling audience, and I smiled at the way the arm of the Milky Way cut through the sky.

I took the cigarette from Marilyn, and after I lit it, I looked each one of them in the eye, my teeth grinding together and my tongue tightly smoothing over them before I opened my mouth to speak.

“Imagine yourself, doubled over, fingertips steepling against the rubber, your eyes fixed on the horizon, the finish line, your goal.” I started softly. “You’re a runner. You race, you run, you sprint with all your might, you dash as quickly as you possibly can, competing with and against all the others infinitely fanning out to your right and left. Together, you all run this great race, for as long as you have the life to run.”

A small curve took over Josh’s lips as he gave me a nod to keep going.

“The gun shoots off, shattering the world around you all as your muscles react, jumpstarting you, thrusting you into the race, the sea of racers, and as you dash down the rubber, all your muscles screaming and growling with the strain, you realize you’re falling behind. How could this be? You’ve trained for this, were built for this. You’re no less a champion than your neighbor, your competitor.”

My teeth snapped back together, crunching against one another harder this time, and my voice stuck a little in my throat. “You look around, frightened, angry. Everyone is surpassing you, and the world tunnels through a weird fisheye lens. Is everyone getting taller, or are you shrinking? You can’t quite tell.”

My lips trembled, and I tried to stop their quivering by shoving the cigarette between them. The flush of nicotine only calmed them a little, tears beginning to form in my throat.

“Then, your shoes start sticking to the rubber, melting together, sinking in the quicksand, and for the first time you look down. With a jolt and a metaphorical slap in the face, you realize you don’t even have feet. You’re half-fish, and you have no place in this land race, the road of rubber dissolving into the cooling sea. You splash in with relief, freedom coursing through your veins, and you speed off, cutting through the currents. You were made for this.”

My voice, soft as the cool autumn breeze whispering through the grass, sounded so far away.

“It’s like waking up from a dream. Swallowing the blue pill and unplugging.”

Marilyn’s lips eased into a grin, her eyes disappearing as they scrunched up with happy memories, and she nodded, too, as if she understood.

“This is what discovering yourself feels like.” My lips peeled back into a smile, too, and Josh’s eyebrows slowly arched to two points, a shiny gleam to them as he undoubtedly reflected upon his own realization.

“You aren’t like everyone else.” He quietly added.

I shook my head. “No. You aren’t racing toward the same goal, and at first you feel cheated. You feel so alone in this dark ocean, tagged with freedom. But slowly, with time, you begin to understand you’re not completely alone. Most people don’t even know the ocean exists, all landlocked with their race, but every now and then somebody will stumble by. You’ll exchange words. Maybe they’ll accept the existence of a world outside their own, maybe not. Regardless their acceptance, your world exists, you exist, and you can’t believe anything they hold to the contrary.”

“You are just as real as they are.” He angrily whispered, tears now brimming in his eyes as his jaw muscle spasmed.

For a moment, I could only lay my hand over his, my thumb softly stroking his skin. I drew in another deep breath and met Marilyn’s eyes again.

“This is what it feels like being me, looking into the face of everyone I know, seeing that hollow look in their eyes.” I bit my lower lip, my molars scratching at my cheeks to butt heads. “It’s like they’re under a spell, enchanted. They’re happy, and I have no place trying to extract them from their goals, bumping around in their enamored glow, kissing smiles plastered on their faces. They’re like the dead souls in the middle of the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie. You’re a ghost to them.”

My eyes locked on Josh’s. “I didn’t need to put a name to it, but if you’re not one of them, what are you? An identity crisis, and they just don’t know how to file you.”

Josh sighed, withdrawn, his knees curled up under his chin, and as my teeth ground together, I flung myself to my feet, my own tears and memories playing before my eyes now.

“So here I stand, arms flung wide, eyes offered upward — just look under ‘A’!” I shouted at the heavens, my voice cracking. “I’m that wild, and wildly coveted, card in your average deck of playing cards; in this fucking game called Life, are aces high or low? As long as we’re aiming to catch no Hearts, I’m on top.”

I flicked my wrist in a little hand wave, an unknown movie scene before me. My voice quieted, and as I shook my head, I unleashed the lions, released the kraken, opened up the floor.

“Let the games begin.” I murmured into the breeze just passing through, carrying my words away to whatever ears would bear to hold audience to them.

I collapsed back into the grass and jabbed my smoldering cigarette into my pants, making it choke and whimper against the denim, and my teeth screamed at me, my jaw smothering them, screeching with no fucks given.

“Goddamnit!” I grunt through tight lips. I cast my eyes heavenward. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

The trembling began deep in my chest, the tears sneaking through my throbbing throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing the nightmare behind them.

“Do you know how hard it is?” I yelled into my tightly curled fists.

“Uh oh.” Lucas shot up, eyes wide with fear. “She’s about to have a bad roll.”

Josh, who was the closest, slid across the damp grass. I yanked my arms back from his reaching hands, and as his mouth settled into a thin line, he calmly yet firmly gripped my shoulders, forcing me to fold into him. He tugged me into his lap as my knees drew up, and he placed a hand between my shoulderblades, his other soothingly stroking my scalp and neck.

He quietly hummed in my ear, hushing me softly as my body shook with the sobs.

Marilyn scooted over, too, her hand meeting my arm, and through my blindingly angry tears, I could make out the gentle curve to her lips, the shield dissolving in her eyes.

“No, honey.” Her voice was so calm, such velvet. She leaned in close, and I could feel her careful breath on my hot cheek. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“How can I be?” I wailed, coughing against my thick tongue.

She smoothed back the strands of hair matted against my sweaty temple. “You said it yourself. You were made for this.”

“For this heartache? This pain?” My fingers clawed at my eyes. “I’m fucking broken, damaged goods.”

The hand on my back began to doodle dizzying patterns down my spine.

“Ana.” Marilyn called to me, so clear.

Josh’s other fingers curled under my chin, and he raised my eyes to his — my swollen, leaking eyes no match against his green eyes, so steady and strong.

“You are beautiful.” His words resonated through every inch of him, and his fingertips buzzed a little on my skin. “You were made beautiful, in His image.”

The shaky breath I drew in whistled through my cracked lips.

“I can’t be.” I searched his eyes, grasping at their strength. “I can’t fuck. How can I go forth and multiply?”

The backs of his fingers caressed my cheek, half a smile perched on his lips, and Marilyn tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Honey, there’s more to being fruitful than reproducing.” She softly replied.

Lucas leaned over her, his arm outstretched toward me, and his fingers carefully tapped my nose. “You get to do all those things we fuck around too much to accomplish.”

“You get to move mountains.” He whispered, a grin creeping over his face.

I slowly looked from him to Marilyn, who greeted me with a smile so tender — and I briefly wondered if she looked like her mother at all. My eyes slid up to Josh, whose lips still held a crooked curve, and he winked at me.

Over their shoulders, a soft glow appeared, and I met Miracle’s eyes. She stood there, hands clasped in front of her, and I tried as best as I could to express my sorrow with my red, shiny eyes. I sniffed, instinctively wiping a hand under my nose, and I longed to be able to apologize to her with words.

Her head dipped with understanding, her fingers at work. You never owed me an explanation.

My eyes darted between her particularly blue ones, two more twinkling lights in the night sky.

I always knew, Ana. Her lips twisted into a gentle smirk. I am your sister.

I blinked, my chest rising with a new breath, another breeze playfully strumming the dark blades of grass.

I’d like to think it’s better this way. She quirked an eyebrow at me. It’ll be easier for you and I to rule the galaxy together.

My hands slid over my eyes, rubbing the tears from them, and I pushed my hair back out of my face as I collected myself. I steadied my breathing before meeting their gazes.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and my cheeks reddened with embarrassment as I ducked my head. “Sorry for crashing your party.”

Marilyn shook her head, waving her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“For real, Mick.” Lucas grinned. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

I peered up at Josh, my shoulders sheepishly attempting to retract my head into my nonexistent shell.

He scratched the top of my scalp, that crooked smile of his relaxing into a full curve. “Well, you were right about this stuff making you feel like yourself one million percent.”

I giggled, dropping my gaze. “Yeah, sorry for the word vomiting.”

He snorted with laughter. “You’re adorable, Ana. If you think after this eye-opening encounter, I’m going to judge you any differently, you obviously underestimate why I still hang out with these fools.”

“Hey!” Marilyn and Lucas echoed one another, and I shoved him gently.

“Watch it.” I teasingly threatened. “I know your secret now. Who knows what I can do with it?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you were the only one who didn’t know at this point.”

I cocked my head at Marilyn, eyes flatly glaring at her. “Really, bitch?”

She shrugged, her lips struggling not to give in to her laughter. “I thought it was obvious.”

Lucas chuckled. “I didn’t.”

Josh groaned, fingers curving around my ears as he continued to sketch squiggles across my skin, and I giggled.

“You were made in His image, too.” I quietly told him.

Josh’s fingers froze, and he glanced down at me, surprise etched in his eyes.

I nodded. “You heard me.”

“I thought religion had nothing to do with it?” He challenged me, a low arch in his questioning eyebrows.

I shrugged, returning his smirking gaze. “It has everything to do with it for you.”

He shook his head at me. “You’re unbelievable.”

I winked at him.

We all dissolved into unrestricted laughter, and I rolled out of Josh’s comforting embrace to lie next to him in the grass, my eyes instantly reaching the sky. A joke concerning kings and the inner workings of stars leapt to my mind, but I shushed it, holding it a private audience in my mind, allowing a smile to worm its way out.

Miracle joined us, wriggling her shoulders into the grass and dirt, and I returned the grin on her face as we both signed our love for one another. The hair on my right hand stood on end, my skin crinkling with the ice crackling through my veins, and Miracle weaved her fingers through mine, lovingly resting her head against my shoulder.

We touched down with success, and as my mind wandered back to the big screen of stars, talent wound up in swirling mathematics and dancing theories, the vast expanse weighed upon our chests, filling our lungs with early October air and our minds with sparkling, outlandish dreams, prayers fluttering along the arm of the green-lit space dust of a belt, in and out of the void, the mysterious dark matter. Somewhere, perhaps, between those two realms tightly hugging each other, so snug only neutrinos and quarks dared to bridge the atomic gap, lay the sleeping giant, not long put to bed, as large as they were infinitesimally small outshining every other small-brained king in the sky.

Behold — it was very good, and not another spectacular summary had ever been made before nor would any afterward be able to match it.

Next Chapter: V. Rested