ã€ŠBecome Leviathanã€‹


 Prologue (February 2020)

    On the coastal streets of Vallarta Palma, California, a young man with slicked-back hair in a blue-gray suit casually exited the Gregory Aquarium on Mers Avenue, and wandered towards a small coffee shop at the end of the road, out overlooking the beach. The hearty sun rays reflected off his light-olive skin, the light material of his suit breathed out the little excess heat that his body created, and the oceanic breeze grazed his exposed hands as he gripped the large synthesizer case he carried on his back.

    The sidewalk connecting the two destinations was smooth, only slightly showing its age. The small gardens in between buildings and on islands in between the roads blossomed with various seasonal flowers, delightful splashes of vibrant color amidst deep, healthy green. The young man, Jesse Herrera, gave upwards nods to every one of the few pedestrians that also sauntered around the city, and they often returned a tip of the hat back.

    The subtle leather clap of his shoes against the sidewalk came to a halt as he stopped in front of the coffee shop, checking out each of the edges of the building, a relatively low-to-the-ground old building, but trimmed with modern, slightly-avant-garde decorations on the outside, and a hand-drawn blackboard depicting the seasonal Irish creme latte in a cartoon style featuring swirls and a smiling Felix the Cat knockoff.

    "Ferris the Cat''s Coffee?" Jesse chuckled to himself, shuffling the case slightly to lighten the load on one side of his back. "This could work."

    Using his shoulders to open the swinging door, a small physical bell jingled, announcing Jesse''s arrival into the shop. The line up to the front was not short¨Chip, young, twenty-somethings, each sporting a different tropical shirt and amount of tan, stood idly scrolling through their phone or conversing with a member of the opposit e sex as they waited to order.

    Jesse did nothing in particular as he waited in line, content to just look around and enjoy the quirky, comfy atmosphere of the shop. A few bearded men in flannels and aprons moved with purpose in and out of a room in the back, loading new pastries into the glass display, each bearing a name Jesse hadn''t really heard before, but seemed reminiscient of more familiar desserts. Cake¡­ pop? He wondered. How would that even work?

    "I can help whoever is next!" Another till opened up next to the one in front of the line. Jesse gave a little wave and walked over to the counter. The blonde girl sitting behind the counter gave him an expectant, but nonetheless warm, smile, accompanied with a "and what can I get for you today?"

    "The¡­ ah, the Irish creme, por favor," Jesse glanced up at the menu, pretending as if he was almost going to order anything else, "in whatever smallest size you have."

    "Perfect! That''ll be $6.35," the barista replied back without missing a beat as she tapped something into the tablet on the other end.

    Jesse pulled out a $20, the only bill in his wallet, and placed it on the counter. "And no change, that is okay."

    The barista looked at the bill, then raised an eyebrow at Jesse. "You sure?"

    "I''m quite sure. Thank you."

    Eying the synthesizer case Jesse was carrying, the barista flashed a smirk. "You must be quite the musician to throw around money like that."

    Jesse shook his head. "Ah, I am no musician. Just someone who has learned to appreciate beauty."

    The barista rolled her eyes, but still wore a flirtatious, playful expression. "Ah, so you''re one of those musicians." She pulled a warm foam cup from the machine next to her and affixed a lid. "Well, here''s your drink¨Chope it lives up to your standards of beauty."

    He stared, probably for too long, at the smiling barista''s face before returning a "yes, thank you", carefully picking up his Irish creme latte, and turning back towards the glass wall to find a place to sit.

    The air, the sun, the pretty people, the perfect weather, the gorgeous view over the ocean¡­ everything could not be more perfect if it tried.

    Jesse was glad it was going to happen here.

    Breaking him from his moment of ponderance, Jesse felt a hand touch his shoulder, and turned around to see a yuppie in a navy polo and white shorts giving him a half-grin. "Hey man, I hate to stop you, but I have to tell you¨Cthat is a really nice suit." The yuppie stared him up and down, nodding slowly and pursing his lips.

    "Ah, si, thank you very much." Jesse replied, flashing a toothy smile. "I am glad that you like it."

    "I do, man¡­ I do." The yuppie stared down at his feet before raising his head again with an inquisitive look. "You know where I could buy a suit like that? See, I''ve got this interview for my dream job coming up in a couple weeks, and I''ve been looking for something to wear¨C"

    "Asher!" A girl with soft features and a fluffy brown ponytail that sprung up behind her green visor popped up from behind the counter, across the room from the two young men. She scanned around, locked on to the location of the yuppie, and started waving her hands over to them. "Asher! Hey! Can you do me a favor?"

    "One second, honey!" the yuppie called back from where they stood. He then turned back toward Jesse and smiled as he shook his head. "Sorry, man¨Cthat''s my girl."

    "It is no worries, my friend." Jesse patted the yuppie on the back and let out a hearty laugh. "I hate to be bad news, but this suit belonged to mi pap¨¢. I do not know where you can buy one such as this."

    "Ah. Shoot. I guess I should''ve figured." The yuppie lightly punched Jesse on the shoulder, then sighed. "Gotta say, I wish my luck would turn around, though. First time in my life I''ve needed to buy a suit, and I can''t seem to find one that works. Kinda was hoping the world would drop one on my lap." The yuppie chuckled, and then motioned that it was okay for Jesse to walk away.

    Jesse stood his ground and looked deep into the young man''s hazy blue eyes. He felt the weight of the synthesizer case on his back somehow grow even heavier. "Surely you see what the Skies Above have already given you, my friend. You are handsome and speak well. You are receiving an interview for a dream job. And your woman, the one you must treasure most, she is very beautiful." He tilted his head and brushed back a stray strand of slicked-back hair.

    The yuppie blushed, looking slightly surprised. "Oh, um, yeah. Thanks man. Truth be told, I''m kind of trying to lock that down right now, if you know what I mean¡­" he said, drawing a circle around his ring finger. "¡­another reason why it''d be great to get a suit. And you seem like you''d know at least where to begin looking¡­"

    "Of course, of course!" Jesse laughed. "But I do fear we are crowding up the front of the line." He looked back as a few bystanders idly twiddled there thumbs as they waited for Jesse and the yuppie to move away from the counter. "My friend, if you would like to sit down and talk with me, I would be happy to tell you of the best tailors over in Little Colombia."

    "I''d like that, I think," the yuppie extended his hand forward. "As you probably guessed, I''m Asher. You?"

    "Jesse." He with a firm grip, he shook the yuppies hand, noticing his skin was smooth and slightly cold to the touch. "Jesse Herrera. That spot over by the window work?"

    "I guess if you really want the sun in your face, then¨C"

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    "Hey! There you are." The girl from before had snuck up behind them and had her hand on the yuppie''s shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." She smiled at the yuppie and nodded towards Jesse. "It alright if I steal my boyfriend back for a second?"

    "Absolutely," Jesse placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. "He was never mine to take from you in the first place."

    "Aww, you''re sweet. Thank you." The girl turned back to the yuppie. "I''m sorry I have to ask, but can you pick up my dad from his surgery? Meghan says I can''t leave early today, what with the new owners flying in tonight and all¡­"

    "Oh. Sure, I guess. Right now?" The yuppie tried to stifle a grimace.

    "Yeah¡­ sorry." The girl pulled the yuppie into a hug, the flour from her apron coating his hoodie. "It''s a huge help, though. I really appreciate it."

    "No, it''s fine¡­ I mean, I was just hoping to talk to Jesse here for a little bit¨C"

    Jesse cut off the yuppie by placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing, shooting him a stern look. "No. My friend, it is no trouble. Go help your lover''s family."

    "¡­right. Right." The yuppie pulled free of Jesse''s grip. "Okay. I''ll head out. I suppose I''ll catch you around, Jesse? It''s a small city, after all."

    "Perhaps, my friend. Perhaps." Jesse nodded and blinked twice.

    The yuppie shrugged once and turned to walk away. Jesse watched as he meandered over to the long way out, the glass door near the front of the coffee shop. Let him go, let him go¡­ he thought to himself. Don''t get involved¡­

    As the yuppie reached the glass, he raised one hand in farewell to Jesse and his girlfriend, and Jesse felt his own body involuntarily raise one hand back, and a sound rise up from his vocal cords: "Wait, Asher!"

    The yuppie froze at the exit.

    "Asher, tell your girlfriend you love her."

    The girl looked at Jesse in shock, and Asher stood with his mouth open, frozen halfway out the door.

    "Sorry¨Cwhat?"

    "What I said. Tell your girlfriend that you love her." Jesse''s voice was authoritative, monotone.

    The girl wore a confused look on her face, and she looked up at Jesse with an eyebrow raised. "Sir, it''s okay, you don''t have to worry about us¨C"

    Jesse raised his other hand to motion for silence from the other girl, then nodded expectedly at Asher.

    Asher, visibly nervous, with a slight sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, turned slightly from facing Jesse to facing towards his girlfriend. "Umm¡­ Audrey. I love you?"

    "I love you, too." The girl whispered back, gripping the front of her visor as her face flushed red, and she turned slightly away and sat down on the faux-leather seats of the booth, staring down.

    Asher huffed slightly, shrugged, and then continued his exit, crossing the street and leaving the coffee shop.

    Jesse, heart pounding furiously, fell down onto the other side of the booth where the girl was sitting. He grit his teeth, pressing the nail of his index finger into the joint of his thumb just to feel some sort of physical pain.

    The girl, Audrey, eventually looked back up again, and over at Jesse. "¡­t-thanks."

    "Hmm?" Jesse shook his head, shedding his cold expression, trying desperately to portray an aura of warmth once again.

    "He doesn''t¡­ he doesn''t usually say stuff like that. I mean, the whole thing was kind of weird, but¡­ it was nice."

    "Ah. Well, do not concern yourself. I do try to not ask such things of strangers, but as you can see, sometimes I cannot help it." Jesse chuckled.

    "Mm." The girl patted her face a couple of times, then stood up. "Okay. I''ve got to step back to work, but, if I can get you anything, really¨C"

    "It''s quite alright, Miss." Jesse raised his latte up for her to see, then leaned back in the booth and up against the window. "I think I have what I need."

    Giving a small bow back, the girl scurried over back to the other side of the counter, her ponytail bobbing as she ducked around into the back.

    Jesse shifted slightly in his spot, then removed the straps from the synthesizer case and placed it on the table, putting one palm over the top of the case, and using the other to sip his seasonal drink. The sun through the glass mildly heated the top of the case, warming his hand, imparting a sort of natural sleepiness. The streets outside featured relatively few passers-by, and each walked with a casual gait of having no real place to go, just drinking in the rays and the cool ocean breeze.

    The wood grain and dark, foresty colors that made up the coffee shop, combined with the low, idle chatter of the customers sitting around, helped Jesse lose the cold, dark feelings that had gripped him just moments ago and eased him into the same serene peace he had felt walking in. With his environment at peace, he began to reach once more into the depths of his mind, and initiated the disconnect.

    Jesse felt the conversations of the people around him become no longer words, no longer sounds made by intelligent creatures, just natural mumbles, chirps, and squeaks that filled the air around him. The faces in the background blurred, losing their recognizable features, becoming mere pink, fleshy fauna. In the human-crafted tables and booths, Jesse could now see their true forms, trees and plants and ores and stone, a habitat shaped for these humble creatures.

    And as the very world melted, Jesse felt it sink, and the salty oceanic air now became the ocean itself. People and their colorful clothes, each for a different purpose, now fish with different chromatic scales, desperately, biologically attempting to scare off predators and attract mates. The shop was just another reef, shapes in three-dimensional space that offered shelter, community. The water flowed around each of their gills, giving oxygen to all creatures, uncaring of who would receive its blessing.

    Jesse also began to grow uncaring. He felt his coarse skin piece itself apart, layering and folding into their own tough, sharp scales, his slick hair coalescing into majestic blue fins that spanned down his whole body. His limbs fused into his body, as his torso thickened and his legs lengthened and joins to become a long, winding, vicious tail. As he transformed, the rest of the world rapidly shrunk, the reef around him becoming a mere floating snowglobe around his massive frame.

    Everything was so small. Everything mattered so little. Every piece of their tiny lives, their swimming about, their ecosystem, the inconceivably short amount of time until they all died anyway¡­ Jesse saw it all out of one colossal, burnt-yellow, lizard eye.

    That''s what had bothered me, he thought to himself, feeling the water rush around his gills. The self-involvement, the pride, the lack of gratitude for the beautiful things he was given in his life¡­ Jesse blinked a house-sized lid over that lizard eye. He is just like me, before¡­ before I knew. Before I realized I could become¡­ this. Jesse kicked his tail and felt the curvature of the Earth cave just a little as he propelled forward.

    How I would hate to be human again.

    The world felt right once again. Jesse remembered who¡­ no, what he really was. What he had always been destined to be. Jesse concentrated on the throbbing blue heart in the center of his body, and as he blinked twice, watching the real world flood back, he felt that scaly, massive heart shrink and embed itself deep into the chest of his very soul.

    The coffee shop was reality again. People still talked. His hand still rested on the synth case. But with a deep breath, Jesse knew he had finally completed his transformation¨Cand brought the Leviathan back with him.

    And now, it was time.

    He opened the synthesizer case, and sitting peacefully in the dark foam lay an assault rifle, cleaned and polished, its glimmer not hiding, but proudly displaying the slight wear on the paint around the trigger and magazine holster, echoes of its proud years of use. With great care, Jesse quietly loaded the magazine, and affixed it up into the frame of the gun, blocking its view with his frame and blazer.

    Jesse tightened one hand around the long, perforated barrel, and another on the grip. Drawing a deep breath, he placed a foot on the cushion of the booth, then hoisted himself up until he was standing on top of that wooden table.

    He didn''t announce himself, but the crowd''s eyes were drawn as he made himself taller than all others, and they noticed what he held in his hand. Gasps peppered the room as eyes widened for a split second, before someone, in a moment of lucidity finally yelled out, "he''s got a¨C"

    Pow.

    Jesse stood with his rifle pointed up towards the sky, a bullet hole now leaking sunlight down from the ceiling. For one brief eternal stop in time, the crowd froze. Jesse cleared his throat and stared out among the tiny, inconsequential fish.

    "O humble creatures of the land by the sea, I have searched and learned of my true nature. I am a Great Leviathan, one of the true gods of this world, and I have come to send a message."

    The crowd murmered, some cowered, and some drew out their wallets in anticipation. All stared with great confusion and panic. Jesse studied each face of the fish, drinking in the worry, the regret, the fear, and closed his eyes in reverent prayer as he appreciated the beauty of the moment, before opening them back up again to see the girl from before walking up to him, approaching the table where he stood, and tapped his foot with her index finger.

    "Please, sir, Jesse, right?" She looked up, tears begging in her eyes. Jesse met her eye contact. "Y-you don''t have to do this. You''re a nice person, right? You helped me out back there with the¨C"

    Shaking his head once, Jesse cocked back the gun, pointed the barrel right at the girl, and pulled the trigger.

    Her face still frozen in an eternal plead for her life, blood sprayed out from her chest, and Audrey collapsed to the floor. The shell clicked out of the rifle and clinked off the wooden table and onto the fake leather of the booth chair.

    Jesse coughed and turned back the crowd, and screams broke out among the people as they scattered, toppling over each other as they frantically scraped to the exits. Jesse cocked the gun once again, and dropped his voice to a whisper, drowned out by the chaotic shrieks and furniture falling over. The sunlight from the hole in the ceiling beamed down sporadically on Audrey''s face, as customers climbed over her body to futilely attempt their own escape.

    "Hear me: in my own name, I damn us all."

 Lalo Returns a Turtle (May 2005)

    An unseasonably hot late-May sun beat down on the smooth concrete comprising the driveway and sidewalk around the Herrera household, a faux-watery mirage increasingly glistening off each of its pieces the farther away you looked. It wasn''t just the light that was hot, either¨Cthe air itself had a bone-dry taste to it, the kind that makes you thirsty if you so much as breathe too hard. Even the rocks-and-cacti landscaping in front of the house seemed maladjusted to the warmth, with the sparse green succulents appearing more brown and cracked with each passing minute.

    Of course, none of this would be a problem, thought Eduardo ''Lalo'' Vasquez-Herrera, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of his car, if we had just sprung for a normal lawn like everyone else in the neighborhood. The designer denim of his True Religion jeans provided little protection against the frying-pan metal of the black Honda Civic supporting his weight.

    "Oi, Mijito! Sometime this year, maybe?" Lalo rapped the outside of the garage. On cue, the door rolled open with a crinkly groan, and a small, dark boy with an equal amount of grass stains and minor scrapes on his stick-like legs stumbled out into the blistering heat. "A-ha! Now where was that speed at the game ten minutes ago? Where was this Jesse?"

    The boy scowled back. "Jerk. If you''re not going to give me time to change out of my uniform, I''m not coming inside the store with you." He reached down to brush off his socks, in a vain effort to remove already-caked mud that had snuck deep into the fibers of the cotton. "And Mama said you''re not allowed to call me Mijito anymore. I''m not a baby."

    Lalo pulled open the driver''s side door, its hinge emitting a small squeak as it reached the end of its arc. He clicked his tongue and grimaced¨Cyet another thing to fix once he got back. The blue Adidas shoebox perched on top of the Civic shuddered with the swing of the door, lost its grip on the edge of the roof, and began to fall.

    Halfway down to the ground, Lalo''s eyes darted to the side, and his arm extended instinctively, slowing its descent and bringing it up into an tuck underneath his shoulder. "Ah, there you go, little friend." He tapped the box with his other hand. "Can''t have you taking a tumble, now."

    "Whoa." Little Jesse had already made his way into the passenger side, with beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the oven-like interior. "Good catch."

    "Of course¨Csome of us actually work on developing our reflexes." Smirking, Lalo jumped into the driver''s seat and dropped the shoebox onto Jesse''s lap. "And the price of admission for this show is carrying the box the whole way there."

    "I am working on it, idiot. You didn''t have to deal with someone like Val Esperanza back when you were in the league," Jesse pouted. "And this box stinks. Can''t we just put it in the back?"

    "No way. I''m not letting any of that touch the new seats. Kills the vibe with the ladies." Lalo flicked his little brother''s forehead. "Speaking of which, why don''t you try to put the Herrera moves on that Val girl? Maybe she could actually show you how to play football¨Cyou know, once she finishes laughing at you for getting put on the bench by a girl," he laughed as the engine roared to life.

    Jesse put both his arms on the shoebox, angling his face away from his lap. "Pfft, nah, she''s stuck-up. Doesn''t even talk to anybody at the games. I heard her parents are too loaded to show up to her games, but they pay for her to take private coaching three times a week."

    "Tsk. Sounds like a waste of money. She''s gonna give it up like that," Lalo snapped his fingers, "as soon as she gets into middle school. Nothing makes a chick stop acting like a boy like finally getting attention from some." He elbowed his little brother across the driver''s console.

    "I don''t know. She''s pretty good. Coach says she could get a scholarship and go pro if she kept trying."

    "A scholarship? For girl''s football?" Lalo scoffed as he flipped up the air conditioning and whipped the car out of the driveway. "What a fuckin'' world. Hope those fancy University people don''t mind when she gets knocked up freshman year by some white boy and ends up back here and flat broke."

    Jesse bit his lip and furrowed his brow. "Val wouldn''t do that. She''s different."

    Lalo ruffled his brother''s hair and laid back in his seat as he floored the pedal and swerved out of the neighborhood, tires squealing and trailing smoke pouring out of the exhaust behind them. "Ah, see, Mijito, that''s a good thing! That will bring her down to your level, and then she might be able to ignore how badly you suck at football."

    Jesse fell silent and stared out the passenger window.

    Ah, he''ll get it someday. Lalo smiled to himself, gunned the engine and flicked on the stereo, last night''s Chief Keef album jolting mid-808 into the poorly-EQ''d speakers, the old iPod Nano connected to the aux cord vibrating in the cupholder.

    The ride continued with much of the same, with rattling hi-hats and overloud bass backing slurred auto-tune lyrics, only somewhat muffled by the ironically unmuffled engine. Jesse would occasionally sniffle, but his face was glued to out the window, blocked from Lalo''s view¨Cwho himself barely cared, as he turned in and out of strip malls, trying to retrace his steps from the previous weekend.

    Close to giving up, he pulled into the farthest plaza at the edge of the retail part of town, where only two palm trees rose up out of the sea of asphalt so bleached that it was impossible to tell if colored lines had ever once been painted on top¨Ceither way, orchestrated parking was well out of the realm of possibility.

    Lalo was unsure if this was the place he had found¨Cbut he vaguely remembered in his crossfaded haze being obsessed with the particular way the neon of an orange body bled into a white stripe, and so he figured that the shop with the clownfish in its logo was the most likely candidate. He pulled right to the door, with his car angled horizontally against the curb, taking up a theoretical three parking spaces (though again, the lack of lines made this conjecture at best), rotated and flicked out the keys, and jogged up to the door, with little Jesse wandering right behind.

    He swung open the glass door. A gust reeking of saltwater and fish waste arrested his face, causing him to scrunch his nose in disgust¨Cthough he noted that, at the very least, the air was finally sort of cool.

    "Welcome to Hector''s Aquatic Pets and Reptiles!" A curvy, shorter girl on a ladder at the back of the store turned around and called out as she grabbed a bag of flakes from the top shelf. "I''ll be with you in a moment!"

    Lalo waved a hand in greeting. "You got the box?" Jesse nodded and placed it in Lalo''s hands, who then placed the Adidas shoebox on the granite counter, its surface grimy and stained with various fluids and flakes. He sighed and scanned around the store, trying to remember which aisle he had found those snakes with which he had telepathically communicated during that same outing last weekend.

    The girl was still up on the ladder, and was now trying to grab a much heavier bag of feed from the shelf. Lalo slicked the sides of his hair back, fluffed up the top, and leaned against the counter with one thumb looped around his True Religions before he called out to her. "Need help up there, mama?"

    Jesse rolled his eyes.

    She turned back in mild surprise, then paused. Lalo could tell she was undressing him with her eyes¨Che knew he had such an effect on women, and had picked out this particular tank top, gold chain, and hairstyle to maximize his appeal for this situation. He had even done a handful of reps with the dumbbells in the garage to give his arms and back just a little extra pump; he had remembered the employee that had been here last time as a particularly flirty middle-aged woman, but it was all just as good that it was a chick about his own age.

    Maybe even better.

    "Ah¡­ uh, sure! If you don''t mind?"

    "Not at all. Not¡­ at¡­ all." Lalo drew out his words as moved over to the ladder, then began his ascent up to the top where she already was.

    "Oh gosh¡­ I don''t think this ladder is rated for two people, do you want me to step off?"

    "Just stay right¡­ there." Lalo stood behind her on a step below, reaching his longer arms up to the bag, ''accidentally'' spooning the employee girl in the process. He slung it over his shoulder, then descended first, followed by the girl, whose hand he held to steady her on her way down. "See? No need to worry."

    "I suppose so¡­" she cooed, batting her long, fake eyelashes. Her nametag, now visible, read ''Sadie'', with cursive so flourished it was barely legible, but with a little heart over the ''i''. "Can you bring that over to the counter for me?"

    "Of course. Sadie, was it?" Lalo spoke with a breathy voice, lowering its pitch about half an octave below the normal.

    "My, my¡­ how did you know?"

    "You pick up a few things when you get around." Lalo flashed a devilish smile.

    Jesse started to raise his fist to his face, intending to cough loudly to stop the cliche playing out right in front of him, but as he tried to do so, his elbow bumped into a small, unstable stand of beach-theme stickers on top of the counter, which fell over and clattered its plastic hooks against the granite.

    The teenagers from across the store snapped their faces up to the source of the crash¨Cboth bearing an expression of frustration at the child for interrupting their moment. Lalo mouthed a "seriously? now?" in his little brother''s direction, before regaining his composure.

    "Sorry, I was just¨C"

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    "Jesse, could you please clean up your mess? Let''s not give our already-busy friend here more work to do just because you cannot control your own body." Lalo admonished, gesturing towards the spillage before turning back to Sadie. "After all, somebody so lovely has absolutely no business cleaning a floor."

    "Oh, thank you!" Sadie blushed, again, and placed a hand on Lalo''s upper arm. "So, what brings a handsome stranger like you in today? Was my ''lovely'' self that compelling?"

    "I do wish that were the case," Lalo put his arm behind Sadie''s back and led her back over to the counter, "but I must admit, I do have some particular business to take care of with your store." He rapped the top of the shoebox. "You see, I purchased an animal from your store last weekend, and unfortunately it''s not looking like it''s going to work out."

    "I see. That''s unfortunate." Sadie nodded as she popped behind the counter and wiggled a computer mouse, the default Windows XP background reflecting in her eyes. "That''s kinda weird though, since most of our pets here are extremely friendly¨Cwhat was the issue you had, exactly?"

    "Well, you see, it is not an issue with the creature itself, so much¡­" Lalo tried to piece the words together in his head, cracking the knuckles on his thumb. "The purchase was made during a more¡­ optimistic state of mind, but schedules are schedules, and obligations are obligations, and I ended up not really having the capacity that I thought I would have¡­"

    "Oh!" Sadie''s eyes glittered with recognition. "You must be the ''slick young thing'' my mom mentioned to me¨Cthe one that brought home Tommy Turtleson last week. We were sad to see him go, but she said you seemed like a responsible young man."

    "Right! Tommy was its name." Lalo snapped his fingers as his face lit up.

    "You called it ''the Shellbong'' all night, anyway¡­" Jesse piped up from the floor, where he was still picking up stickers.

    "Regardless¨Cand it''s quite sad, I agree¨CTommy and I were not a great fit. As such, I''m here to see if I can return our little shelled friend¡­" Lalo looked down, shifting his eyes back and forth. "Er, and have payment remitted, as well."

    "Well, there''s usually a restocking fee of fifty or so, but¡­ we may be able to make an exception for friends of the family¡­" Sadie gave a sly grin, then put her elbow on her desk and her chin in her hand, looking up at Lalo and slightly pursing her red lips.

    "How considerate. I''m sure the Shellbo¨CI mean, Tommy, must''ve loved spending all day in the company of such understanding and beautiful people. I can''t help but feel jealous. Perhaps we could discuss our friendship over dinner tonight?"

    "That sounds like a wonderful idea." Sadie stood back up, double-clicked something on the computer, typed a few things, then grabbed the warm sheet of paper as it choked out of the nearby printer. "So, you''ll just need to fill out a few things here¨Cjust your name, reason for the return, and then we''ll need to do just a quick look-over of¡­"

    Jesse sighed. His older brother''s ''smooth-talking'' voice always grated on him. It wasn''t so much the the tone, or the words¨Cit was the veneer of absolute confidence, compassion, and understanding, backed by absolutely nothing other than a sociopathic charisma and admittedly great genetics. He knew that Lalo only brought him along because having a little kid there made him look like he was good with children, something every teenage girl seemed to buy hook, line, and sinker.

    A particular sticker, buried underneath the generic-as-can-be ''Fun in the Sun!''-s, caught Jesse''s eye, a creature with sea-green scales and vicious maw poking out with holographic flash from the suns-with-sunglasses. Fishing it out, he held the sticker in his hands, its hard plastic solid and heavy in his hands, and as he moved it around, the image changed to show the creature opening its mouth to reveal savage, serrated rows of teeth. ''Legend of the Palma Leviathan'', the Papyrus font beneath the creature read.

    He''d never seen anything so beautiful¨Cuntil the bell on the door rang open, and a pair of canvas Vans atop ripped jeans stood in front of him. His eyes followed up the wiry legs to see a dark-haired, heavily tanned fellow sixth-grader with her hair in a low ponytail and a white stained ''Hector''s Aquatic Pets'' t-shirt.

    And yet, in those beaten-up clothes, she was the prettiest girl Jesse had ever seen.

    "Hey! Sis! I''m back from the game!" The girl stepped forward, and, not seeing Jesse, promptly slammed her shin against his knee¨Cto which he let out a little yelp. She jumped back and immediately kneeled down next to him. "Oh, shoot! I didn''t see you! Are you okay?!"

    Jesse''s eyes were glued shut as he tried to fight back tears, not wanting to cry in front of this new girl or Lalo. Something about the way that shin hit his knee felt familiar, the small amount of muscle that pressed into him feeling like titanium at its thinnest and yet like tough rubber at its thickest. It''s almost like he''d been hit like this before¡­

    "V-Val¡­?" He pried his eyes open.

    "¡­sorry, do I know you?" She cocked her head to the side.

    "We''re¡­ on¡­ the same¡­ team. Just played a game together?" Jesse was still fighting back tears, trying to not let his voice break.

    Val''s expression grew concerned. "You sure? I mean, I''ve seen the uniform before¡­ wait, one second¡­" She put her hand on Jesse''s back, then leaned him forward while she peered over his head. "Oh! The Herrera kid! Sorry, I''m really bad with faces."

    "S''okay." Jesse mumbled, then sniffled. "What are you doing here? Your parents need some feed for their sharks? Don''t you have servants for that?"

    "Ha, what?" Val stood up. "I''ve been working here for a while, and we definitely don''t own any sharks¨Cthat I know of, at least. This is my dad''s store."

    "Oh. Do you have foreign clients or something? Or¡­" Jesse hushed his voice and leaned up towards Val''s ear. "¡­is this a front for illegal animal sales?"

    Val gently shoved him back down. "Look, uh, no. And if it were, I definitely wouldn''t be telling some random from my soccer team."

    "Soccer?"

    "Football, sorry. My dad gets mad when I talk like a European." She looked up towards the cashier counter, looking at the two teenagers making googly-eyes at each other. "Who''s that up there making eyes with my sister?"

    "My brother." Jesse stood up, holding the once-fallen stickers in his hand. "Half-brother, really. He''s kind of shady." He put the stickers back on the stand, though he palmed the Leviathan and began to slide it into his pocket, just out of sight of Val.

    Her eyes darted down to his hand as it moved. "So are you, apparently." With lightning speed, she grabbed his wrist and Jesse''s heart skipped a beat¨Cboth from being caught and from her touching him. "Whatcha trying to take, there?" She opened his fingers and saw the sticker inside.

    "Oh, this must''ve stuck to my hand¡­" Jesse looked up and to the left.

    "Sure, sure. It''s a cool design. I don''t love what it represents, though." Val peeled the sticker off of his sticky palm and put it back on the stand. "Stuff like this either scares people from going in the ocean, or gets a bunch of crazies out there trying to find something that doesn''t exist. And why do that when there are a ton of fun, friendly animals that are actually in the ocean?"

    "I guess, y-yeah." Jesse responded, still shook.

    "Mm." Val mosied over past the counter and hoisted herself on the window sill, just behind Sadie. "What we got here, Sis?"

    "Oh, Val. You''re back." Sadie didn''t even look up, still focused on watching Lalo fill out the sheet of paper. "He''s just filling out some paperwork so he can return Tommy."

    "Whoa, really? Tommy Turtleson is coming back?" Val jumped down from the counter and looked up at her sister. "I missed him so much!"

    Sadie let out a half-sigh, half-groan. "You know we have to sell pets in order to make money, right? Don''t let Dad hear you say things like that."

    Val''s eyes scanned around the store. "Whatever. Where''s Tommy? I want to feed him again."

    Lalo ignored Val entirely, and Sadie shrugged her shoulders.

    Jesse grimaced, then pointed at the shoebox on the counter.

    With that same speed, Val gripped the shoebox, her short fingernails failing to peel off the tape that sealed the box. "Come on guys, you can''t just keep him like that in there, he''s going to suffocate without air holes!"

    "I don''t Tommy minds so much at this point¡­" Jesse rubbed his sweaty hands together. Lalo remained unperturbed.

    Val''s fingers finally caught hold against the tape, and in one motion she flung open the top of the box. A rotten, awful smell poofed out from the box, overwhelming everyone in the vicinity, and Val stood, dumbfounded, looking into the box.

    Jesse moved forward. Inside laid Tommy, legs splayed out, head bent at an unnatural angle, prone and upside down in the box, not moving a single millimeter.

    "T-¡­ T-¡­ Tommy¡­?" Val stuttered, reaching into the box and pulling out the turtle carcass, cradling it in her palms.

    Sadie watched as well, a disgusted expression creeping across her makeup''d features as she turned to Lalo. "Y-you¡­ you didn''t say¨C"

    Lalo raised his hands in mock arrest. "What? You didn''t ask."

    "W-was he¡­" Sadie tripped over her words, "er, had he¡­ you know, passed¡­ before you came here?"

    Lalo shrugged. "Like I said, it just didn''t work out." Jesse faced away and pretended to browse the stickers, secretly watching Val''s face as it scrunched and melted.

    "Look," Sadie gathered her wits. "I don''t know if we can accept a deceased¡­ pet, but maybe we could work out some sort of store credit¨C"

    Cracking his neck and strecthing out his fingers, Lalo frowned. "Look, I''m not trying to be a pain, but I spent good money on that little guy, and it''s not like I''m going to be walking out with another animal if the last one didn''t work out."

    "You monster." Val growled from beneath the counter, holding Tommy''s body against her chest. She stood up and accosted Lalo. "You killed Tommy!"

    "Hey, sis, let''s not be rash¡­ he''s a customer, after all¡­" Sadie held her sister''s shoulder.

    "You both need to leave." Val snarled. "Now."

    "Listen, you''re clearly worked up. Why don''t you go kick the ball around outside again, and then when you''re calmed down we can talk about¨C" Sadie tried to push Val out of the cashier area.

    "Shut up." Val snapped back. "You''re defending him? Just because he was nice to you? News flash! Some handsome boy isn''t going to marry your pregnant ass because you let him murder helpless animals and still get his money back! And if he does, that doesn''t make him any less of a piece of shit."

    Jesse backed away towards the door. Lalo rolled his eyes.

    Sadie clutched her stomach. "You¡­ know about¡­?"

    "Yeah, I do." Val planted her feet right outside the counter. "And you know what? You''re just as bad as him." She pointed at Lalo. "I bet you would kill Tommy, too, just to get in this monster''s pants."

    "Whoa, now, ladies, there''s a lot of emotions running high, here." Lalo spoke calmly, with an assured tone. "I''m just trying to run some errands with my sweet little brother, here. So why don''t you just refund me, take back your little friend, and we''ll all move on with our lives."

    Sadie drew out a long breath. "I''m sorry, my sister is extreme, but she''s sort of right¨Cwe can''t let you return a deceased animal¨Cwe''re just a small family business, and we can''t really eat a loss like that¡­"

    Val continued to glare at the brothers.

    "Well, looks like this situation has also turned unfortunate." Lalo gripped the bottom of his tank top and began to lift up.

    "No¡­ no¡­ don''t do this, Lalo¡­" Jesse mumbled as he shielded his face and leaned against the door.

    Above Lalo''s six-pack abs, on top of one of his well-formed pectoral muscles, laid a fresh tattoo¨Ca whaling spear wrapped by a snake. He looked down, then up at the sisters. "I''m assuming you know what this is?"

    Both girls gulped, both slowly nodding.

    "Good. Then you know that it''s really best if you don''t cause trouble for me and my brother, here. You must understand, I really, really wouldn''t want any accidents to befall your fine store, especially because of one bad customer experience. Wouldn''t you agree?"

    Sadie nodded again. Val still stood, frozen.

    Lalo turned to Val. "And you, as well, understand what I am saying?"

    Val held Tommy even tighter to her chest, then bolted out to the back of the store and out the exit by the ladder.

    Even though she was already gone, Jesse waved a slight goodbye.

    "Ah, good, now we can speak like adults. You''ll be providing a full refund, correct?"

    Turning the key, Sadie opened the cash drawer, grabbed a small pile of hundreds, and silently placed it on the counter, next to the now-empty shoebox.

    Lalo slid the money off the counter and flipped through the bills in his hands. "Ah, you even threw in an extra couple for my trouble! How thoughtful." He stashed the bills in his pocket and gestured to Jesse. "Another successful trip. Thank you for your service, and God bless your beautiful store."

    Sadie choked out a goodbye as the two brothers swung the door out of the store.

    As they drove away, Jesse looked and saw Val, face marred by tears, with a soccer ball in between her folded legs, still staring down at Tommy.

    Yep, Jesse thought to himself. As usual for us.

 Prom Queen (April 2012)

    All of the sudden, Audrey''s shoulders tensed up in an incredible squeeze. The haze of the entire night cleared up in a millisecond, and her senses became sharp again. Uncomfortably sharp.

    A few stray dark hairs poked out from between his eyebrows, hinting at a unibrow that had just been plucked by an amateur. His lips were wet, probably too wet, except for a dry, cracked piece at the edge of his mouth, where a small scab had started to form. Their shape was uneven, the top lip just a mite too flat, the bottom lip just a tad too swollen as it puckered forward. She could smell the sour tang of the punch of his hot breath.

    As he leaned further in, even the small, micro-details of his face exposed themselves. Tiny acne scars littered his forehead, his giant pores gaping like miniature valleys on the moonscape of his cheeks. The sweat from all the dancing had made his skin sticky with a slight sheen that smelled like salt and microwaved hot dogs. Underneath the car''s indoor lighting, coupled with the night outside, the short blonde hair on top of his high hairline seemed to fade away into the yellow glow, and this balding effect, coupled with the emphasized lines on his face, seemed to age up her prom date about 25 years.

    In reaction to this sudden sensory overload, some reactionary part of her brain pulled her whole body away, and pressed the back of her head against the cold passenger-side window.

    She had hoped he wouldn''t notice, that he''d just continue to close the distance between them, but he stopped and opened his eyes when his torso bumped into the console, causing him to pull back himself and open his eyes.

    "Oh." He looked off to the side, depuckering his lips, his eyes, once a bright and shining emerald, now appearing a sickly dark green. "¡­something wrong?"

    "No¨Cit''s¡­" Audrey struggled to put words together, a monumental task as her mind still tried to digest the overwhelming amount of detail about his person. "I¡­ I don''t know. Sorry. That was weird of me."

    "It''s, uh¡­ it''s fine." He reached up to the collar of his suit and pulled his loosened bowtie down, scrunching it in his sweaty palm. "Do you¡­ want to, um¡­ try again?"

    Her own hands squeezed on the lap of her frilly, midnight-blue dress, which looked a soulless, unfeeling black in the car light. She pressed her molars together, grinding them slightly back and forth. "I¡­ yeah. We should try that again."

    When he pulled his eyes up, and stared back at her, she noticed she couldn''t meet his gaze anymore. "Uh¡­ okay. Here goes."

    She felt a wash of relief when he closed those sad, green eyes again, then drew a deep breath, closed her own eyes, and tried to lean forward, trying to force her own lips to un-tuck themselves from her teeth. The weight on her head from her tiara slowed her movement, feeling less like an ornament and more like an anchor.

    Without warning, that nervous tic in her neck flared up, and her head jerked to the side with incredible force, flinging the crown against the wooden dashboard of his father''s brand-new Lexus. The impact made a metallic ding, its echo dampened by the leather interior, and the crown thunked to the driver''s side floor as both of their eyes shot open once again.

    They stared in shock for a minute. Audrey could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks, and little tears welling up at the sides of her eyes.

    Eventually, her date sighed, then reached down towards the pedals, picked up her crown, dusted it off, and held it out back to her. "Look, it''s okay. We don''t have to¡­ you know. If you don''t want to."

    "No, I do¡­ I mean, I thought¡­ I just¡­" Audrey let out a sigh of her own, then stared out the front window. Frank Sinatra''s baritone croon eked out of the speakers on a low volume¨Cthe only part she could hear, even though she knew there was a whole horn and string section behind this particular song. "Sorry, I don''t normally get tics like that¡­ they only happen when I''m¡­ er¡­"

    "Nervous?" He grimaced and leaned back in his own seat, finally taking his expective gaze off of her. "Yeah. That makes sense."

    Audrey gingerly reached out her left hand and took the crown back from him, gripping its pointed edges a little too tightly, her knuckles whitening against the fake gold. The trees of the park outside were silhouetted against the faded stars in the night sky, the beach just beyond reflecting and blurring those same faded stars in a splotch of shimmering light. "¡­I''m sorry," she exhaled. "I don''t know what''s wrong with me tonight."

    "It''s fine." His eyes still glued forward, he turned the key to the engine, the car''s muted purr welling up out of the white hood in front of them. Audrey knew what that meant¨Cthe wet spots at the edge of her eyes threatening to drip down her cheek. "You want me to drive you home?"

    "N-no." Despite her stutter, her response was automatic. Her stomach turned at the thought of spending any more time in this car, with him. "My house is just a couple minutes from here. I¡­ I could use some fresh air right now. After the dance and everything. I mean, I''m just really warm. And a little stuffy. You know? Some fresh air might be nice."

    He glanced down at her shoes, still in heels, and at the puffy sleeves on her dress, delicate and blowing in the air of the A/C. "You sure? I don''t mind. And you''re not really¡­ er, dressed. For a walk, I mean. By yourself."

    "It''s fine. Really, it''s fine. I''ll just go." Audrey pulled the handle and pushed against the car door with all her weight, practically falling out before she steadied herself on her heels. Shutting the door behind her, she walked over past the front of the car and over to the driver''s side.

    He was already rolling down the window, his head slightly stuck out of the frame. "Are you sure you''re sure? I really¡­ I thought we were having a good time."

    She looked out towards the ocean, folding her arms to shield the skin around her collarbones from the slightly chilly ocean breeze. "No, no¡­ you were great. Tonight was great. Really. I had fun. I just¡­ need some fresh air."

    "Well." Through the window, she saw him shift the car into reverse. "I guess I''ll see you at school on Monday?" He bit his lip.

    "Yeah. Yeah!" She nodded enthusiastically, then held out her right hand vertically towards the open window. "Thanks, Derek."

    He stared at her open hand, then looked back up at her. "A handshake?"

    Audrey looked down at her extended hand, then pulled it back. "Er, sorry. My bad." She massaged her palm with the other hand. He was still standing there, wearing a dumbfounded expression, seemingly waiting for something. "So¡­ have a good night¡­?"

    "Er, yeah." He shook his head as if to wake himself up, then waved a hand. "Have a good night, Audrey." With that final motion, he pressed down the gas pedal, pulled out in a curved shape, and took the car out of the parking lot.

    It wasn''t until she saw the white car turn the corner back towards town that Audrey finally released the tension in her shoulders.

    The ocean''s waves crashed against the shore. The moon hung right above the city, its glow cutting into the handful of tall buildings that littered the skyline, a handful of office lights on despite it being a late Saturday. The sloped road leading up to the city gleamed with headlights, each winking in and out of existence to Audrey''s eyes.

    Something about dealing with people, remembering that they existed, and feeling the nuance that sculpted each of their individual lives¨Csuddenly, it all felt so overwhelming to Audrey, so she turned back towards the park and the beach in front, in its empty and unpopulated simplicity.

    She''d never felt like this before. Her body was moving on its own, her mind a cacophony of six different voices¨Cthe adult, chewing her out for acting with such immaturity; the child, throwing a tantrum that she put herself into such a foreign and scary situation; the girl, pining away for her likely-now-lost fairy-tale high school romance; the boy, bullying her for being such a weird emotional wreck; the teenager, laughing at her for being so uncool about everything¡­

    And finally, there was Audrey herself, in the corner, surrounded by critics on all sides, trying to protest that it couldn''t possibly be her fault¨Cit was something, something else that made her screw up.

    It was the cold steel of the playground swings in her shaking, wet palms that finally shut everything up and brought her back to reality; and then, there she was, swaying barely, effortlessly, back and forth in the breeze.

    "aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" she screamed out into the grey ether of the night, her voice giving out at the tail end. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid¡­" she mumbled repeatedly, hoarse and gasping in between the words.

    Her body moved on its own again¨Cone of her hands was now pressing the edges of the tiny cross on her necklace. She knew wouldn''t go with the dress when she put it on before the dance, but the thought of leaving it home on one of the most important nights of her life was too much to bear. All night she thought it felt too big¨Cflicking against her skin as she had danced, leaving tiny red marks right beneath her collarbone¨Cbut now, it seemed all too small, unable to guide her out of whatever she was feeling.

    It was when she looked down at her feet that she started to notice something was wrong¨Cthe tiny wood chips between her toes revealing a sore lack of the high heels she had remembered wearing just a moment ago. I should go find those, probably, and keep them with the crown¡­ she thought to herself. ¡­oh, shoot. When did I drop the crown!?

    The panic overtook every other emotion she had been feeling¨Cafter all, Mom would kill her if she really had lost it¨Cand she slipped off the swing, whipping her head around and despearately scanning the entire park, when she noticed a tiny silhouette off by the tennis courts.

    "Hey!" A voice, husky but unmistakably a woman''s, called out to her from behind the gate. "You! In the dress! You care if I keep this?"

    "Ah¨C" Audrey started, now more shocked than panicked. "Um, no, sorry, I actually need to bring that home, if that''s alright!" she yelled across the playground, then stood up and began to jog up towards the courts.

    The figure moved up towards the edge of the chain-link gate. "So¡­ do you just enjoy hucking your valuables towards the ocean for fun or something¡­?"

    As Audrey approached, she could parse more detail of the silhouette¨Ca girl, probably two years her junior, wearing a lacy black dress that was all too tight around her skinny legs and torso, cut off just above the knees, holding something lit and glowing in her mouth with two fingers, and, in the other hand, holding the Prom Queen crown against her waist.

    "Not exactly." Audrey hugged her own shoulder. "Just¡­ going through some stuff right now. Needed to take it out somewhere, I guess."

    The girl chuckled, coughing from the smoke in between little laughs. "Prom, huh? I hear you." She gestured down at her own dress, which Audrey now noticed had a single sizable rip on the side of the torso. "Me too."

    Audrey laughed back, weakly. "Glad someone else gets it. Though¡­ it looks like your night went a little differently than mine." She gestured to the tear in the other girl''s dress.

    "Oh, this? Don''t worry¨Cit''s not what you think. I did that myself. Stupid thing was making it hard to breathe." She tilted her head to the side, then wound up, and threw the crown with all her might towards the tennis net¨Cwhere it bounced off, then bounced once on the ground, and landed upside-down.

    "Hey¡­" Audrey grimaced. "Don''t throw it. I kinda need that."

    "Sorry, it looked fun when you did it." The girl smirked, then took another draw. "And it was. I think I''ll have to keep it for myself."

    Audrey raised an eyebrow. "Um, no. That mine. I earned it."

    The girl laughed¨Cthough it might''ve been more accurate to call it a cackle. "Excuse me, how''d you earn this? By being some kinda popular cheerleader slut? Believe me, that''s not an accomplishment. Besides, it''ll look cuter on me."

    Audrey let out a frustrated sigh. "I''m not a cheerleader. Though some of my friends are, and they are perfectly decent people. C''mon, give it back."

    "No way. I don''t do favors for strangers. You haven''t even told me your name, Miss Not-a-Cheerleader-but-probably-a-whore."

    "Audrey. Now can I have my crown back?"

    "Nice to meet you, Audrey." An evil grin crept across the girl''s face. "Now you ask what my name is."

    "Fine. What''s your name, random tennis court smoker and jewelry thief?" Audrey could feel the exasperation leaking out of her mouth¨Cit wasn''t a feeling she terribly enjoyed.

    "Xanthippe." She jogged over and picked up the crown, then sat down and rubbed the central jewel in its center with her fingers. "But, since my parents were on drugs when they named me, you can just call me Xan. Or ''Tennis Court Smoker'', since that sounded cool when you said it."

    "Okay, Xan, if you could please stop fondling my crown and give it back."

    "Hmm. I don''t know. You did say not to throw it, and there''s sorta this huge gate in between us¡­" Xan looked up and down, mockingly measuring its height with her eyes. "And you said not to throw it, and this gate only locks from the inside, sooo¡­"

    "Look here," Audrey huffed. "Clearly, we''ve both had a heck of a night, and I don''t want to have to climb this thing and make it worse for both of us. Help a sister out."

    Xan didn''t budge an inch. "You''re not climbing jack. Not in that frilly poof of cloth. So unless you plan to strip for me, right in the middle of this park, you better start talking nicely to the one person who can open the gate for you, sister."

    "Ha. You think I won''t?" The exasperation was morphing into a sort of psychotic, self-destructive energy. Audrey was also not a fan of this sensation.

    Xan laid down on her side, one hand propping up her hand, the other still possessively rubbing in between the gaps in the crown. "Bet."

    Audrey gripped that same part on the lap of her dress, and tried to rip it back with all the force she could muster. The entire front side tore open, exposing the stockings underneath, just barely above her knees. She recoiled back in shock.

    "Jesus Christ, you actually did it." Xan spoke with whispered admiration. "Okay, okay¨Cdon''t take any more clothes off, I''ll let you in." She stood up, walked over, undid the lock with a natural, one-handed motion, and swung open the gate.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Irked by the feeling of wind on only her front half, Audrey reached down and tore the rest of the circle of fabric off, and, as she stepped out and away from it, the wind kicked up, and blew the poofy midnight-blue fabric out into the street. The two girls stared at the shiny material as it danced under the street lights and down the block.

    "Welp. Didn''t know littering was going to be on my list of activities for tonight." Audrey groaned.

    "Hey, at least now we''re both criminals, sister." Xan waved her in with her free hand. Resigned, Audrey trudged onto the court, its rubbery surface cool against the soles of her feet. Xan flicked a switch that lit up the court, then meandered over to a box on the side of the court, and produced two rackets and a beat-up tennis ball. "How ''bout a game?"

    "I dunno, it''s late, and¡­ I mean, I really just want to get the crown back and go home."

    "Cool¨Cwe can play for the crown, then. Makes things a little spicier." Xan bounced ball a couple times, catching it silently with her palm towards the sky.

    "Not that I don''t love the game, and if you give me your number, maybe we could play some other time, but right now, I just¡­" Audrey''s sentence drifted off, and she began idly playing with her cross necklace again.

    Xan eyed the cross, her expression growing concerned. "Ah, shoot. I try not to toke around Christians. You''re not gonna rat me out, are you?"

    Audrey shook her head. "Do I look like the kind of person who''d try to get you in trouble for something like that? Believe me¨Cthe kids at our school would''ve never voted me as prom royalty if they heard I was a snitch."

    "Huh." Xan took the joint out of her mouth and stomped it out on the ground. "Thought you''d be on about ''saving my eternal soul from sin'' or something like that."

    "I mean, I do care. I wouldn''t do it and I certainly don''t encourage it." Audrey sighed and sat down on the court¨Cthe surface felt equally nice through her stockings on her calves. "But that''s between you and God. Supposedly He sent us down here to learn free will, and the least I can do is respect that¡­ as long as you don''t try to force it on me." She gave a nasty look to the pile of ash on the once-clean tennis court. "¡­or deface public property."

    "Hey, I''m not the one with her prom dress flying out around the streets like a plastic bag," Xan laughed, grabbing a plastic bag out of her purse on the ground. "First stone and whatnot."

    "Mmm." Audrey laid down all the way on the court, letting herself close her eyes and finally cut out some of the world''s sensations.

    "You, uh¡­ you really think God cares?" Xan paused in between her words, and Audrey heard some light tapping, paper folding, and the flick of a lighter. "About us in general, not the whole drugs thing. I mean, look at us tonight¨Ctwo girls, with ripped dresses, alone in the middle of a park on prom night. That really make you think we have a loving ''Father in Heaven'' and all that?"

    "Ha." Audrey gave a light chuckle. "I mean, I can see what you''re getting at. But I''ve never really doubted it¨Ceven tonight, I guess. I don''t know your story, but I can say pretty squarely that it went badly because of me and my own choices. I like to think God''s up there right now, and he understands what I''m going through, and when I''m ready to move forward, he''s gonna help me be better about¡­ well, everything, I guess."

    "That''s a really positive attitude for someone in your position." Xan took another hit, letting out a barely-noticeable moan of relief. "I dunno. I feel like random stuff just happens, and sometimes it sucks, and sometimes it''s good, and sometimes it''s our fault, and sometimes it''s not." She rolled the tennis ball over to Audrey, who now had her eyes open and was staring up at the stars.

    Audrey caught the rolling ball in her left hand. "Well, beliefs aside¡­ isn''t that just a more depressing way to live? Wouldn''t it be nice if no matter who you are, or what you were going through, you knew that there was somebody up there who cared about you?"

    "Maybe." Xan hugged her knees to her chest. "But then I''d worry that he''d just be pretending to care in order to get what he wants. Just like everyone else."

    Audrey sat up and looked over at Xan, whose hands were now shaking, flicking small bits of ash from the blunt over her own dress. "That''s¡­ a really sad thing to think. Even for people in our position."

    "Mmm." Xan took an extra-long draw, holding her breath for longer than seemed humanly possible, and closed her eyes.

    Standing up, Audrey walked over by the box and picked up a tennis racket. "Maybe a game would be nice. Probably wouldn''t hurt to think a little less right now."

    "Yeah? You think so?" Xan''s eyes lit up. "You wanna do the bet?"

    "Sure," Audrey laughed. "At this point¡­ why not, I guess?"

    "Hmm¡­" Xan thought to herself, putting her fist to her chin as she stood up. "I bet we can make it even spicier. Let''s say¡­ if you win, I''ll give you the crown, and I''ll quit smoking weed."

    Audrey did a double-take. "Seriously? Just like that?"

    Xan shrugged. "Sure. My boyfriend says I''ve been doing it too much lately, anyway. Might as well go cold turkey."

    "¡­okay, then. And if you win?"

    "I get to keep the crown, and throw it any time I''d like." Xan spoke matter-of-factly, until a smile crept into her tone. "And, you have to hit this. Just once." She waved the blunt around in the air.

    "¡­you''re kidding. You know I can''t do that."

    "C''mon, it''s just once! I only buy the good indica, trust me. You''ll feel super relaxed, have a nice walk home, then wake up tomorrow feeling perfectly normal, I promise. Like it never happened."

    "Hmm¡­" Audrey mused it over in her head. The same self-destructive impulse still rumbled beneath her own conscious thought, she was sure¨Cbut at the same time, she knew something that Xan didn''t. She stuck out her hand. "Okay, deal."

    "Heck yeah." Xan shook her hand, then picked up her own racket. "No takebacks, yeah?"

    "No takebacks," Audrey parroted back, trying to stifle her own grin. "Especially after I tell you that I was a three-time gold medalist at regionals back in fourth grade."

    "Oh, no kidding?" Xan smirked. "That reallyyyy sucks for me¨CI''ve never even played a tournament, much less a professional one."

    "It would appear it does." Audrey gripped the tennis racket and took her position at the edge of the court. "Should I explain the rules to you? Or would you rather just lose quickly?"

    "Mm¡­ I think I''m good. I tend to get tired after my fourth or fifth blunt. Best if it''s a quickie." Xan tapped the racket against the artificial clay.

    "Your funeral. Love-Love." Audrey tossed the ball into the air, the green fuzz peeking out around a dark silhouette in the floodlights. She wound her whole body back, then sprung her whole arm forward like an elastic band, rocketing the ball to the other side at a blinding speed. She caught Xan''s expression as it came down¨Cthe other girl looked calm, almost bored, and lazily raised the racket just barely to her right.

    To Audrey''s surprise, the ball hit the ground, reflected right off Xan''s racket, and bounced up in a painfully slow arc, just barely taller than the height of the net itself. She dashed forward, her powerful legs launching her forward towards the very front¨Cbut it was too late.

    The ball flopped over the top, fell down to the other side, and pattered weakly towards Audrey, who stared dumbfounded at the ball as she tried to slow her own momentum.

    "Oh, wow! Nice to finally have some luck tonight." Xan clapped her hands together. "Mind if we switch off serving? Since it''s only one game, and all."

    "Yeah, sure, that¡­ that should be fine." Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Audrey lobbed the ball back over to her opponent''s side, then backed up to her own position.

    Xan lazily tossed the ball in the air, then gently brought her racket up to meet it just as the ball reached its peak. The serve was slow¨Cbut oddly¡­ calculated, Audrey mused, eyes tracing the ball as it floated delicately over to the back of the other side. With that same whipping-elastic force, she slammed the ball over to the other side, before noticing that she had lost sight of where Xan stood.

    Right up against the net, Xan stood ready, racket up and angled slightly downwards. The ball smashed against her racket, which somehow seemed to kill all of its momentum, and the ball once again fell weakly to the orange clay right below, far out of Audrey''s reach.

    "Oh myy." Xan started again, holding a hand up to her mouth in mock surprise. "Who would''ve thought that a ball going that fast would hit my little old¨C"

    "Okay, okay, stop." Audrey walked up and thunked Xan lightly on the head. "You''ve clearly played this game before, you don''t need to act dumb." She bit her lip. "And besides, I didn''t know we were gonna play on a clay court."

    "Your fault. You even sat down and felt it beforehand." Xan stuck out her tongue. "And besides, Daddy likes it when I act like a brat."

    "¡­Daddy?"

    "¡­my boyfriend. Sorry."

    "Oh yeah? And where is he, anyway? Doesn''t a child like you have somewhere else to be?" Audrey huffed.

    "I''m sorry, aren''t you also alone in the middle of a park on a Saturday night? And here I thought we had a real connection." Xan wagged a finger back at her. "Serve it already, Prom Queen."

    Audrey grit her teeth, wound back, and, sacrificing accuracy for power, recklessly slammed the ball, and, as it sliced through the wind like hot butter on an expensive chef''s knife, was thrilled to watch Xan as she quickly switched to a scared look and jumped off to the side, far out of the range of the ball.

    "A-ha! Take that!" Audrey shouted, pointing a finger over the court. "Not so smug when I actually try, huh? What, can''t be bothered to hit it back?"

    Xan shrugged, re-adopting her listless expression. "Not when it''s out-of-bounds, no."

    "¡­absolute bull," Audrey half-mumbled, half-growled, though silently admitting that she hadn''t even seen where it had bounced¨Cshe was too busy looking at her opponent. "Fine. Love and forty. Game point. My serve."

    "Y''know, it really is good stuff," Xan said as she yawned, stretching her arms up into the air, her not-even-tied-up hair falling around her shoulders. "I''m pretty sure God only gets mad if you smoke skunk. Here, let me start on your roll while you serve the ball."

    Audrey was too livid to try and figure out how much Xan was actually joking. She drew a deep breath and tried to focus the rage into strategic thinking. It was clear that Xan knew this particular court well, and was counting on Audrey not being used to the short bounce of the ball. If she could just account for that in her own play, it''s possible that she could catch her opponent off guard¨Cand if she could do that, surely the mental torture would slip up, as well.

    With calm precision, Audrey tossed the ball upwards, and made a reasonably-fast strike for the center of the court. And now, just like in the car earlier that night, she could see again.

    Xan''s legs jolted forward in a strict fashion, her arm mechanically moving in a straight arc to prepare for the backhand. Her whole body was robotic¨Clike a machine that needed to conserve the most power possible while playing. Audrey felt her own body move like a river of water, flowing up towards the front of the net to return with a soft tap over the edge, putting Xan in the same position as she herself had been in on the second point.

    Predictably, Xan stepped forward to catch it, and, using the most efficient and straightforward movement possible, extended the arm to bop the ball back up. Audrey smiled¨Cshe had figured Xan would have at least one level of counterplay against her own strategy. Audrey angled her racket upwards and tapped the ball with just a little bit more force this time, causing it to soar high above both the girl''s heads, right over to the back of the court.

    Gasping, Xan lurched backwards, but it was too late¨Cthe ball was already heading towards the ground. She looked at Audrey, and for one moment, Audrey relished the surprise in her eyes, until Xan tripped over her own backstep and fell while bringing her racket up¨Cwhere it met the ball, lobbed it back over, and plopped down on the back of Audrey''s side, completely out of her reach.

    "You''ve¡­ got¡­ to be¡­ kidding." Audrey''s eyes widened and she crumpled into a sitting position on the ground. "There is no way you did that on purpose."

    "Dang, so it landed in-bounds?" Xan laid flat on her back, breathing heavily. "Yeah, uh, that actually was luck. I definitely did not have that."

    A bead of sweat dropped off Audrey''s hanging forehead and splashed onto the clay.

    "Good job, there, sister." Xan choked out as she turned over and dry-heaved a few times, clutching her stomach. "That¡­ was one of the better games I''ve played this year. Ugh, that fall was really rough, I''m gonna puke."

    "Gross," Audrey exhaled. More sweat dripped to the ground. "So¡­ you''re secretly a pro, huh? Felt like I would''ve seen you at a game or two. Or at least heard of you. To get that good¡­ I imagine you''ve been playing since grade school, too?"

    "Nah, nothing like that." Xan practically crawled over to the side of the gate, where she hurled into the bushes. "I play here with the seniors at Palma Retirement ''bout three times a week, or so. Saw it while my mom''s business was on contract to clean the place a few years ago. Thought it looked fun. But hey, if I can beat someone that''s gonna go pro¡­"

    "Ha, as if." Audrey laughed. "I quit playing three years ago. Lost a comp and and threw a real temper tantrum about it. Mom said I couldn''t do competitions anymore until I learned to be a better sport."

    "A temper tantrum? Wouldn''t you have been like¡­ I dunno, 14?"

    "Hmm." Audrey wiped her forehead, then chuckled. "Yeah, thereabouts. Does sound silly when you put it that way."

    "Crazy." Xan sat up and dragged her arm across her mouth. "But you''re still competing, huh? Y''know, with the Prom Royalty stuff and all?"

    "I guess. It just seemed attainable and fun. Nowadays I mostly just want to settle down and be¡­ normal. Happy." Audrey sighed with a weak smile. "For a long time, I had nothing but tennis and God, so when that got taken away, all I really had was¡­ well, God."

    "And God wanted you to blow the entire football team so you could make Prom Queen?" Xan teased¨Cwhile ironically trying to steady herself into learning up against the chain link fence where she had just thrown up.

    "Y''know, I really don''t know where that stereotype comems from." Audrey walked over and sat herself down next to Xan. "People vote for people that they like¨Cand you really don''t have to do anything special to get them to like you. Just be nice."

    "Please." Xan rolled her eyes. "I''m sure you had to make eyes at some people to get it to happen. Like that date you just ditched in the white Lexus."

    "Derek?" Audrey grimaced. "Well, he was my boyfriend. I''m not so sure, now."

    "Yeah? Your fault, or his?"

    "Mine." Audrey swallowed a lump in her throat. "I¡­ uh¡­ well, it isn''t good to say this, but¡­"

    Xan bumped her shoulder. "Go on."

    "Well, he tried to kiss me and¡­ I kinda realized I don''t like him. Like, at all." Audrey let out a guilty half-laugh, not sure how to cope with her own confession.

    "Oh gosh. You guys sound like such high-schoolers."

    "Excuse me?" Audrey nudged her back. "You''re like¡­ what, 15?"

    "Yeah, but my boyfriend''s older. Much older. So it avaerages out." Xan winked. "Honestly, I''m kinda jealous. High school drama would be a nice change of pace, maybe."

    "I''m scared to ask." Audrey paused. "But I am curious."

    Xan sighed. "We''ve been dating for a long time¨Cfour or five years, I think? He never remembers our anniversary, anyway, so I just try to not keep track anymore." She had already rolled another blunt from somewhere, and started taking her characteristic long draws again.

    "That''s¡­ well, I really try not to judge, but that''s really messed up. Are you, um¡­?" She paused. She never felt sure how to talk about things that were actually serious.

    "Okay? I''m not sure. I''m probably screwed up in the head from being ''activated'' so young but¡­ well, to be honest, I try not to think about it. Life is what it is, and what happened, happened." Xan laid her head on Audrey''s shoulder. "And besides, lately I''m more worried about his drug problem than the age gap."

    Audrey eyed the blunt in Xan''s mouth rather conspicuously.

    Xan sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But he does the hard stuff. Fentanyl. Cesalt. Amphetamines. That kinda thing. Stopped paying his rent so he could keep getting pills. I imagine he''s gonna OD sooner or later."

    Audrey hugged her closer. "I know I''m just some random that you played tennis with, and I know I said I''d let you live your life but¡­" her voice dropped to a concerned whisper. "Well, I can''t hear about this and not worry about you. We have to do something."

    "Do what?" Xan''s voice cracked. "Report him to the police? Get him locked up so he dies alone, shiv''d in a prison cell, bleeding out on a concrete floor?" Her tone was nearing hysterics before it dropped in pitch. "I¡­ I can''t do that to him. I know he''s not a good person. I know we are not good together. But¡­ Audrey¡­ I still love him. I really do. And I don''t know how to kill that part of me, because believe me, if I could¡­"

    Xan took another hit and exhaled. Audrey squeezed her even tighter.

    "I would. I would in an instant." Xan spoke softly. "But I can''t."

    The two girls sat there for a while¨CAudrey unsure what to do other than stay close by, and Xan heaving and smoking and weeping, sounding worse with each passing minute.

    The crickets chirped. The wind rustled the palm trees above. The ocean crashed against the waves. Audrey''s mind began to wander, and she thought of the love that Xan had found, how it felt so overwhelmingly strong, nothing like how she had ever felt with Derek, but how it kept her trapped, miserable, always passionate, but never really happy. Would she ever find love like that?

    Did she actually want to find love like that?

    Something in Xan''s purse buzzed. She sniffled and reached inside, looked at the phone, pointing its screen away from Audrey''s face, then threw it over the fence and out towards the beach.

    "¡­who was that?"

    "Nobody. Nobody that matters anymore." She buried her face deeper into Audrey''s dress. Audrey stroked Xan''s long, black hair.

    "So¡­ you did win the game and all, so you can keep the crown," Audrey tilted her head "And, well, if it makes you feel better, I guess I can smoke with you tonight."

    Xan sat up and raised a barely-visible eyebrow through the tears and sweat. "For real? You don''t have to do this¨Chonestly, it was childish of me to put that on you."

    "No, no, it''s fine." Audrey shrugged. "You and I gotta be sisters tonight, like you said. And besides, you said it''s not a sin if it''s the good stuff, right?"

    "Huh. I guess I did say that," Xan laughed, then grabbed her purse. "Aaaand that''s why I now absolutely cannot let you have any of it."

    "Er, what?" Audrey laughed herself. "C''mon, I''m letting you get what you want. Just don''t put too much in there, it''s my first¨Cand only¨Ctime."

    "Nope. Nuh-uh." Xan shook her head. "Last thing I need is for you to like it. If we''re going to be sisters, I can''t have you addicted just as badly as I am."

    Audrey rolled her eyes. "Oh come on. Everyone knows it''s not chemically addictive. Just one hit! That''s all!"

    Xan hid her purse behind her back. "Okay, now you sound like the addict. I liked you better when you were still a good Christian."

    "Alright, fine." Audrey stood up. "I didn''t want your skunk trash, anyway." She locked hands with Xan and pulled her up next to her. "Can you promise me something?"

    "Sure¡­ what?" Xan stared into her eyes. It felt like a deeper stare than anything Audrey had felt before. She liked the feeling.

    "Get out of that relationship. Take care of yourself. If we''re going to be friends, I can''t watch you suffer like this. It''ll hurt me, too."

    Xan smiled, wiping her nose with her arm. "¡­okay. That''s a deal. As long as you promise we''ll be friends like you said."

    "That''s not even a deal." Audrey drew her into a hug. "That''s just something I''d do for you anyway." Audrey felt another sniffle on her shoulder. "You got a place to stay tonight?"

    "Not really, anymore."

    She pulled away, still holding Xan by her tiny shoulders. "You should come stay with me for a while. It''s okay. Mom was already pissed when I told her I was gonna bring somebody home on prom night."

    "¡­you sure?"

    "Yeah. I''m sure."

 The House That Val Built (September 2009)

    It was a sort of ambiguous emptiness¨Cas if you were looking at an already-completed puzzle, then back at the box, then back at the completed puzzle, and something in your brain insisted that there was some missing element that the puzzle didn''t get right; but that couldn''t possibly be the case, right? It''s not like there are any more pieces to pour out of the box, and each of its sides form perfectly straight lines.

    Valerie Esperanza narrowed her eyes as she stared out the window, her chin resting on her hand; her arm resting on the decrepit wood of the kitchen table; her torso leaned up against a simple window peppered with dust, smudge, and the occasional dead bug; her body sat down on top of a brightly-colored plastic chair which itself sat on a plain linoleum floor; and her mind outside in the crisp fall weather, zooming in circles around the middle-aged apple tree in her backyard, analyzing every nook and cranny to figure out what about it now annoyed her so much, when it probably hadn''t changed in decades, and¨C

    A squishy something wrapped in denim bumped against her bare knee. Val''s eyes shot down to meet the expectant gaze of a small toddler, who smiled, then promptly proceeded to vomit all over her leg.

    Val sighed, nodded her head once at baby Diego, stood up, and slung a handful of paper towels over the splash. "Sadie!" she yelled up the stairs, growing increasingly unsatisfied with how poorly this particular cheap brand absorbed the liquid, "Diego just puked all over me! Can you come grab him?"

    No response.

    With a little effort, she managed to wipe the rest of the mess off her own leg¨Cnoting her luck that it hadn''t soiled any of her new shorts¨Cthen turned to clean up the poor kid himself. "Jesus, and it''s all over the new overalls, too¡­" Val shook her head. She hoisted Diego up onto the plastic chair, where he now stared out of the window while sucking his thumb. "Y''know, if you keep this up, I''m not gonna buy you any more clothes, no matter how short your old ones get."

    The second she had cleaned up most of the non-soaked parts, Diego had already long interest in whatever business he had with her, and was now pressing his wet little face against the window.

    Val chuckled. "You feel it too, huh buddy?" Grabbing him by the waist, she hoisted up his tiny frame into the elbow of her arm, angling him away from her clothes, and booped his nose with the other. He flinched, then smiled back at her. "Should we go wake up Mommy? Yeah? Tell her that it''s her turn to hose you off this time?"

    Diego nodded.

    A quick dash up the stairs later, Val pushed open the cracked door with her shoulder, breaching assaultive house lighting upon its vampiric inhabitant. "Hey! Lazy butt!"

    The figure shuffled and groaned under the blankets.

    "C''mon. I know you heard me. I cleaned him up like the last four times."

    "Hmmmf¡­ gmmf, dmmf."

    "Alright, well, if you''re not going to get up and get him, I suppose I could just¡­" Val sidled over to Sadie''s bedside, and placed the little vomit-ridden child right on top of the comforter.

    Sadie''s nostrils flared once, and she whipped upright in bed. "Oh Christ Valerie, what in the f¨C"

    Val raised a hand. "Chill, chill. You''d''ve had to wash the bedding anyway. See?" She pulled up a section of blanket near the edge of the bed that was already suspiciously stained. "¡­dare I ask if this was him, or you?"

    Sadie snarled. "Get out of my room, you little¨C"

    "Hey, whoa, no reason to get upset!" Val had already backed out towards the entranceway. "Just figured, y''know, you might want to actually act like a mother once in a while."

    "Oh, you wouldn''t dare¨C" Sadie started, just as Val pulled the door shut.

    Cautiously backing away and watching the door for any sneak attacks, Val stepped down the stairs one by one until she reached the second-from-the-bottom, where she plopped herself down and sighed.

    She''s looking worse than before, Val thought to herself as she shifted her toes around the worn, tan carpet. Wonder when she ate last. She stared over at her now-abandoned breakfast¨Ca soggy, depressed bowl of plain Cheerios, now waiting for its inevitable end down a garbage disposal¨Cbefore putting her head in between her knees, which still smelled vaguely of vomit.

    The front door swung open, now shining its own pillar of autumnal sunlight into the dark house. Val leaned over to spot the new arrival.

    "Oh! Mom! You''re back kinda¡­ early, huh?"

    Mom shrugged and gave a weary smile, the stains on her navy-blue scrubs becoming apparent as she stepped out of the harsh light, the ironed-on patch reading ''Palma Retirement'' starting to peel at the top edge. "Yeah. I guess they''re sending some of us home before our shift ends, now." She seemed to struggle to get her arms out of the zipped grey hoodie that covered her back, but eventually found her way, and hung it up on one of the two empty hooks next to the door.

    "You see Dad on your way back?"

    She shook her head. "No. He called me and said the Aquarium folks are dragging out the meeting again."

    Val smirked. "They must be getting pretty desperate, huh?"

    "Well, that''s the hope, I think." Mom sat down on a plush reading chair¨Cthe only reasonably upholstered piece of furniture on the entire floor¨Cand massaged her temples. "Sadie going to be awake enough to take Diego to Dr. Hatchett today?"

    "¡­Maybe. She seemed pretty awake a moment ago, but she''s still shut up in her room."

    Mom exhaled slowly. "¡­that''s fine. I can take him. He needs to go, one way or another, anyway¡­ I''m really worried."

    "I don''t know Mom, Diego''ll figure it out eventually¨Che''s a really smart kid!" Val bit her lip. "¡­and we can''t keep covering for her. She has to be there for him."

    Mom stood up and walked toward the kitchen, still wearing that tired smile. "Oh honey," she said as she ruffled Val''s hair, "some things you just can''t wait on people for."

    The sound of a handle turning drew both their attention up towards the stairs¨Cwhere the door to Sadie''s room creaked open, and Diego came stomping out. His eyes widened at the sight of his grandmother, and he began his awkward measured steps down the stairs, letting out little grunts with each bit of progress.

    "Hey sweetheart!" Mom''s expression widened into a beam as she scooped up the toddler from the stairs, then held him up to eye contact. "Wow, you stink. Could you go outside by the hose and take this off? Then just wait for me?"

    Diego nodded excitedly.

    Val rolled her eyes. "¡­not your job¡­" she mumbled behind her teeth.

    Squirming out of her arms as she put him down, Diego sprinted as fast as his tiny legs would allow towards the back screen door, which he slid open with deft skill, then disappeared behind the wall to the outside.

    Once he was out of sight, Mom shook her head. "It''s just not natural. I mean, both you and Sadie were talking my ear off by the time you were walking around like him."

    "Mom, really¡­ I mean, maybe he just doesn''t have anything to say, yet?" Val raised an arm and patted her mother''s shoulder.

    Even as they walked to the kitchen, Mom didn''t stop shaking her head, alternatingly grinding her teeth. "That''s a really sweet thought, cricket, but¡­" she washed her hands with an abnormally strong grip, "that''s just not how kids work."

    "I''m gonna build a treehouse."

    Mom tilted her head. "Why?"

    "I don''t know¨Cthere''s like a million reasons." Val continued staring out the window, watching the branches sway in the slight summer breeze. "It would be really nice to have my own little space, y''know? Have some place to bring my friends when they come over, where we don''t have to deal with all the¡­ y''know¡­ moods. In the house. And when Diego''s old enough, we could hang out in there, since you know Sadie wouldn''t be caught dead in a treehouse."

    "I suppose that makes sense. It''d be better if he got some more sun¡­" Mom shrugged, the plastic straw clinking around the ice in her convenience-store tea. "But I''m not sure Dad will have the energy any time soon to help with something like that¨Cyou know how things have been with the store lately, and¡­"

    Val held out a flat palm and shook her head. "Who said anything about Dad? I can just build it on my own." She resumed resting her chin on her hand and turned her head, looking her mother in the eyes. "It''ll be my own project. Like he did when he was a teenager. It''s in my blood."

    Mom drew a skeptical look. "Honey, I really don''t think that compares. It''s a lot of work, y''know¨Cyou have to gather supplies, for one, then have a basic understanding of carpentry, and, well, maybe more fundamentally, be able to lift everything up there¡­"

    "What, and starting an aquatic pet business isn''t a lot of work?" Val grimaced. "I can do things. I''ve done a lot of things! More so than Sadie." She grit her teeth.

    "You know, you really shouldn''t be so tough on her. She''s gone through a lot." Mom drained the last of her iced tea, and stood up to throw away the cup, the plastic chair squeaking against the linoleum as she pushed it back in.

    "Fine. I''ll be nice." Val huffed. "But when have I ever not figured it out? Mathletes? The school play? Soccer? I think I''ve deserved a little more trust than that¡­"

    Mom peered out the window, scanning the backyard for the resident toddler. "Well, it''s just¡­ something like that is really involved. What about soccer? What would be so wrong with your project being becoming the best soccer player you can be? You''ve already come so far!"

    "That''s not a project, Mom." Val crossed her arms and leaned back. "A project is like¡­ building something. For the future. Beyond just myself. I mean, what will I leave behind when I die? If I''m just a soccer player¡­" her voice dropped, "¡­everything''ll just¡­ disappear."

    "Oh, sweetheart¡­" Mom walked over and kissed her forehead. "You''re far too young to be thinking like that. You should just do what makes you happy." She leaned down with her hand on Val''s shoulder. "Because that was your father''s real project¨Cmaking a safe, stable home for our family. So you can pursue whatever fulfills you."

    Val sighed, then directed her wistful gaze back out the window. "But Mom, that''s the thing¨CI really think building a treehouse will be fulfilling. It''s real. And it''s not just for me, either. Do you just not think it sounds like a nice idea?"

    Mom bit her lip. "I don''t know, Val¡­ you''re a hard worker, and I love you, but¡­ well, like your sister, you can be a little stubborn, even to the point of hurting yourself¡­"

    Val placed her hand over her mother''s, which was still resting on her shoulder. "C''mon, Mom. Have I ever let you down?"

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "¡­I guess not. You''ve always been my superstar." Mom smiled. "Alright, well, I guess we can see if Dad or Uncle Miguel can help you get started sometime next weekend¨C"

    "Next weekend?" Val grew a little concerned. "Mom, I have to start on this today! Who knows how much longer we have before it gets too hot outside!"

    Mom rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure. Just¡­ make sure you have someone with you while you''re working. A spotter, or something."

    <hr>

    "¡­are you serious?"

    A weary, Jesse Herrera stood in the doorway, six feet tall, fourteen years old, dressed in an oversized soccer jersey and pajama shorts that extended just barely past the hem of the top. He rubbed his eyes with both fingers, clearly unadjusted to the mid-morning sun, towering over Val.

    "Dead serious." Val nodded, straining to look upwards to find his face. "Look, it''s not like I''m cool with¡­ y''know, how things went down. With Tommy. But I know I''ve been kind of cold to you for the past few grades, and, well, when I see you sitting alone at lunch¡­"

    "¡­my friends just don''t go to our school¡­" Jesse mumbled, pulling his long, black hair back with his fingers.

    "Well, it makes me think that it wasn''t really fair to judge you for all of that. I mean, I don''t really agree with what my big sister does, either, so I guess I shouldn''t''ve held it against you that your older brother''s a turtle murderer." Upon completing her sentence, Val froze, a bit of panic creeping across her face. "Wait¡­ he''s not here, is he?"

    "Nah," Jesse yawned. "He moved out. Lives downtown now."

    "Oh." Val paused. "I''m¡­ um, sorry?"

    "It''s no big." Jesse waved a hand, then let out a forced chuckle. "He''s¡­ yeah. He was tough to live with. Probably a good thing he''s out of the neighborhood."

    "Mm." Val fidgeted in her spot. "Well, so, I''m kinda doing this project, and I thought, hey, maybe this is a good thing to reconnect over, since I could really use someone with your¡­ uh¡­" she stared at his shoulders, where average-sized but toned muscles poked out from his skin, "¡­capability."

    Jesse''s surprised expression turned to mellow regret. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I can''t buy you beer. Every convenience store owner in the city had run-ins with Lalo, so they definitely already know I''m not old enough to¨C"

    "No¨Cno, nothing like that." Val lightly punched his arm. Jesse did a double-take as his face lit up again. "I''m building a treehouse in my backyard, and my mom says I have to have someone help me lift stuff and make sure I don''t injure myself. And, you''re, um, pretty tall. And look strong."

    "Oh¡­ jeez." Jesse nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I mean, y''know, I''ve been working on it. Eating a lot of protein. Lifting weights in the garage. Guess it must be paying off, if I was your first choice for something like this."

    "¡­sure." Val half-responded through tight lips. "So you''re in?"

    Jesse looked back inside, scanning the kitchen behind him. "Er, I guess so. Nobody''s around at home today, anyway."

    "Great!" Val clapped her hands together. "I was thinking we could ride our bikes back to my place, then hit the Weiss Hardware a couple blocks away, and then carry the wood from¨C"

    Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You want to¡­ carry enough wood for a treehouse across across town? Y''know how much that would weigh, right?"

    Val pouted. "Well, we could find a cart or something and maybe ask the store owners if we could¡­"

    Shaking his head, Jesse reached up and grabbed the keys next to the hook. "Here, we''ll take my dad''s truck." He stepped out of the doorway onto the driveway. "Here, c''mon! You should see how big the steering wheel is, you could literally¨C"

    "Hold on," Val grabbed Jesse''s arm, then attempted to stare him down. "First off, you''re not coming around my place dressed like that. Second, aren''t you too young to drive?"

    Jesse stared down where she was holding his forearm. "Er, well, it''s not like anybody really cares about all that, right? I''ve done it a hundred times¨Cthe cops have way better things to be doing in this town."

    "So you''ve never been caught?"

    "Caught?" Jesse laughed. "I mean, they see me. But I''m a safe driver, y''know? It''s not like I''m a menace on the roads. Been driving this old thing for a couple years now, haven''t even been pulled over once."

    "You promise?"

    "Yes, yes." Jesse raised a mock hand to the skies. "On the honor of the Herrera family name."

    "¡­that''s encouraging," Val mumbled. "¡­I guess it''s okay. Go change." She tilted her head back towards the door.

    "Aye-aye, captain." Jesse grinned, loosened his arm from her grip, then patted her on the shoulder as he sprinted back into the house.

    Val had barely sat down on a slightly-too-warm rock outside the house before Jesse triumphantly opened the door, still dressed in the same oversized jersey, but now sporting basketball shorts and a dirty, beat-up pair of generic-brand Jordans. "Ready?" He twirled the truck keys in his hands over.

    "That''s¡­ not¨C" Val exhaled. "Fine, fine. Let''s go."

    <hr>

    "Alright, so!" Jesse waltzed into Weiss Hardware, its automatic sliding doors greeting him like a royal court to a king, the cool air of the inside blowing his hair back. "What''s on the list? What do we need?"

    Val wobbled forward, legs quivering beneath her, eyes glued down at the sidewalk in front of her. "W-we shouldn''t¡­ be¡­ alive¡­" she whispered, then stuck out a hand to balance herself against the walls of the entrance. "Who taught you to drive?"

    "Hermano." Jesse looked forward, scanning each of the signs at the top of the aisles. "I mean, he''s a jerk, like you said, but he''s a really good driver, too. He even won some street races before he went to pri¨Cer, moved out. Best teacher I could''ve asked for."

    "Ha. Ha." Val attempted to regain her composure, standing up straight and joining Jesse and looking down the aisles. "Well, the first thing we need is wood. Enough for a floor, some walls, and a roof."

    Jesse scratched his head. "Are treehouse roofs made of wood?"

    "Well, what else would they be made of?"

    "I dunno, like¡­ roof¡­ stuff? Like tiling, I guess?"

    "I think that goes on top of the wood of the roof."

    "Er, sure. That sounds right." Jesse swerved back and nabbed a long cart, bringing it forward with the same aggro with which he had driven the car. "This big enough?"

    "Should be a good start," Val mused as they walked down past each of the aisles, before stopping at the carpentry section. "Ah, here we go." She marched up to the counter in front of the shop, where various workers were cutting pieces right behind.

    "Can I help you?" A skinny older gentleman, well past retirement age, smiled warmly at the teenagers as they approached, his voice weak and with a slight whistle.

    "Yes," Val placed both her hands on the cold false granite of the counter, and she could feel the exposed skin on her forearm picking up all the little flakes of sawdust. "How much wood do you need to build a treehouse?"

    "Well, that depends," the old man bobbed his head. "Just a one-room? Maybe a cabinet or two?"

    Val nodded. "Sounds like exactly what we''re looking for!"

    "Alright, alright, that''s a good start. And what dimensions?"

    "Er, uh¡­" Val looked over to see Jesse missing from the cart, distracted by a showroom display of shiny power tools. "Y''know¡­ regular dimensions? Kinda normal sized, I guess?" She shot the teenage boy a mean look and gestured him back over. "Jesse? You wouldn''t happen to know the dimensions of a regular, normal-sized treehouse, right?"

    "Nuh-uh." Jesse shook his head. He had brought back a particularly large drill with a gleaming tip. "Sorry, mister, I didn''t see a price tag on this one?"

    "Those run about $600, just for the base set. You''ll need to provide your own drillbits," the man replied, raising a finger gesturing towards Jesse¨Cwho now looked disappointed¨Cindicating for him to put it back where he found it. "Well, Miss, I can probably help you figure out what you''re looking for. What can you tell me about the height and circumference of the tree you''re trying to build on?"

    "I¡­ uh¡­" Val stuttered, trying to picture it in her mind, then held out her arms in a wide arc. "Well, it''s about this big, if you just kinda¡­ imagine¡­ that this is part of the circle. Kind of a standard, average-sized big tree?"

    The older man''s smile faded just a bit. "I appreciate your effort, Miss, but¡­ I''m afraid I can''t help you without much more information. Now, if you can get some measurements, and maybe an adult to help you, then I can¨C"

    "Ugh," Val groaned as she rubbed the space between her eyes. "Look, we''re kind of in a hurry. We''ve got to get this thing built today, and we don''t have time to go back and get¨C"

    "Er, sorry, Miss? You''re trying to build a treehouse in a day? And you don''t have measurements?" The man raised an eyebrow that deepend all the wrinkles on his forehead into dark crevices, situated above the massive fuzzy caterpillar itself. "Given your experience level, I''m not sure if that''s exactly advis¨C"

    "Christ, don''t you understand?" Val rolled her eyes and slapped the counter in frustration.

    The man jumped back, surprised at the outburst.

    Val closed her eyes and took a handful of deep breaths. "Sorry, sorry. This is just, really, really important to me." She opened her eyes and scanned around the carpentry section, before she settled on an impressive-looking pile of two-by-fours near the front. "Here¨CI''ll just buy that stack right there."

    "Okay, okay." The man stared down at the old keyboard in front of him, identifying each letter as he typed it into the terminal, then turned the screen towards Val. "That stack there will run you about $1200."

    "Twelve hundred!?" Val gasped. "That is insanity! Doesn''t wood literally grow on trees?"

    The man''s smile had faded completely, and he now wore a flat, disapproving expression.

    "Hmph." Val shot him a dirty look back, then reached in her back pocket, producing a plain polyester money folder with a couple bills, which she then pulled out and flipped through her fingers. "How much will¡­ fifty bucks get?"

    The man sighed loudly, and went back to hunt-and-pecking numbers into the machine.

    Val waved over Jesse. "Hey!"

    His head perked up, and he jogged back over from the power toys display, whose drill section was now in disarray¨Clikely from Jesse''s various inspections. "What''s up?"

    "You have any cash on you?"

    "Nah."

    "¡­of course."

    "You need me to get some? I got a few guys who owe me a little bit." Jesse pointed his thumb behind him. "Just a quick trip downtown is all."

    "No, no, the less driving I do with you today, the better," Val sighed, exasperated. "It''s fine. Let''s see what we can manage."

    The old man at the counter flipped the screen back over again. "Well, there''s not much we can do for you in the way of any sort of proper material, but we can get you a good stack of plywood, although I really wouldn''t attempt to build a treehouse with¨C"

    "Perfect." Val slid the money over the counter, then glanced at the screen. "We''ll take it. Jesse? Five boards?"

    "Aye-aye, captain." Jesse grabbed the flimsy plywood boards out of the metal basket, and loaded them up the cart.

    Val nodded back at the man, who barely had time to pick up the cash before she flipped around and began to leave. "Pleasure doing business!" she waved back, Jesse trailing right behind.

    <hr>

    With an effortless vault, Jesse hopped up into the back of the truck, grabbed two pieces of plywood, sat on the rim, then slid down over the side. Val herself was still in the back, trying to figure out how to grip the large board without throwing immediately off-balance.

    "So, why do you want to build a treehouse, anyway?" Jesse called out as he leaned his boards against the side of the garage, then jumped back in the truck.

    "Oh, y''know, like a thousand reasons." Val kept staring at her own piece. "I don''t really get a lot of chances to work with my actual hands, y''know? I mean, football''s fine and all, but it doesn''t involve building anything, and everything else I do is all brain stuff."

    "So you''re building a treehouse¡­ just to build something?" Jesse flipped over the side of the truck again.

    "No¡­ I mean, not exactly. It''s partially that. I mean, just think about having a treehouse! Remember all those books growing up where some group of kids had a treehouse and all sorts of adventures and memories and stories happen?" Val gingerly gripped the sides of the plywood board and lifted it up onto her lap as she sidled over to the rim of the truck. "And nobody, seriously, nobody has a treehouse around here. I don''t even think I''ve ever even heard of anyone ever having one. But I just can''t understand that¨Cespecially when I''m sure we all know that having one would be cool."

    "I guess." Jesse extended his arms out, and guided Val down as she took her one piece over the edge. "Probably some kids have a treehouse, though. And, I dunno, it kinda feels like maybe we''re a little old for that stuff¨Chonestly, I''d probably rather a decent ride."

    Val leaned against the garage. "I feel like you''re missing the point."

    "I feel like you don''t really have a point." Jesse laughed. "But s''okay. I''m along for the ride. And it''s cool to hear that you''re still playing the game."

    "Oh, yeah." Val chuckled back. "You still playing, too?"

    Jesse shook his head. "Nah. I went on for a little bit, but¡­ well, y''know, I''m not very good. That, and Pops got worried when some of the other boys in the club started ditching practice to smoke by the church. So I work for him most days after school, now."

    "So you don''t even get to just be a kid, anymore." Val reached in the open cooler by the garage, tossed Jesse a plastic water bottle, and cracked open her own. "That sucks."

    Jesse shrugged, then downed the entirety of the bottle. "Not really. I like driving." He noticed Val wince. "¡­even if you don''t." he joked, crushing the bottle between his palms.

    The interior door to the garage swung open, and a tiny little figure stepped out, black hair beginning to stick up in resistance to being glued down with water just a little earlier that morning.

    "Diego!" Val called out.

    "Whoa, whoa!" Jesse smiled and gestured towards Diego as his little steps propelled him forward. "Who''s this guy? I thought you only had the one sister!"

    "Sadie''s kid. He''s cute, but he''s a punk." Val picked up Diego and tried pushing his hair back down. "Aren''t you! And your hair, too!"

    "What''s good, little man?" Jesse stepped forward and extended a palm upwards. Diego slapped his own palm down on Jesse''s with all the little force he could muster. "Ooh, good return. You give a lot of high-fives?"

    Diego stared back, then stuck his thumb in his mouth.

    "Ah, he¡­ Diego doesn''t really talk," Val jumped in, then set Diego down, who went and stood next to Jesse, staring up at him. "It''s kind of a thing, right now."

    "No worries." Jesse patted the kid''s head. "Pops says Lalo used to be that way, too. He didn''t get over it until like the second grade, and he''s been on a tear ever since."

    Val shot him a dirty look.

    "Er, not the best example, I guess. I''m sure it''s a different thing. Plus, Diego seems like a way better kid."

    "I certainly hope so." Val replied, then scooped Diego back up again. "I''ll go inside and grab some tools, yeah? You mind bringing the supplies to the backyard?"

    "Sure! Let''s get this thing started!" Jesse picked up a piece and sauntered out of the garage.

    Val waited patiently until Jesse was out of earshot, then sat Diego on the counter. She looked out the window as Jesse, bouncing the plywood in his hands and whistling as he walked along, approached the tree in the distance. She sighed and turned to Diego, who stared intently back up at her, then over at Jesse, then back at her.

    "It''s okay, Diego." Val nodded, whispering under her breath. "I won''t tell him about what you showed me."

    Diego nodded back then raised his arms up towards Val.

    She hugged him back. "I won''t tell anyone."

 In the Morning and Amazing (June 2022)

    The very last rays of the sunset had held out by grazing the top of the pine trees, but the lake below still remained in shadows, reflecting the pink gradient of the sky back up towards the heavens, a shimmering mirror of the painting above, its depths entirely concealed.

    This particular bank had the perfect slope into the water for exploring the wildlife, or so she told him, because it deep enough that it couldn''t be a beach that people regularly invaded, but it was shallow enough that you could see the wriggling masses of tadpoles just a few inches from the bottom, provided you could unfocus your eyes from the graceful dash of the water skeeters.

    He didn''t particularly care for the local fauna¨Cit took virtually all he had to suppress that paranoia of a beetle or some kind of¡­ nefarious¡­ water¡­ insect? crawling up his leg¨Cbut the warm squish of the mud that had seeped in between his toes kept him planted in his spot.

    Well, that, and the opportunity to spend hang out alone with her.

    "Oh, gross. Put that back. I''m not gonna touch it."

    "Naw, c''mon! Just a little bit! He''s friendly! See how much he likes you?"

    "I mean, I''m not gonna get¡­ all that¡­ gunk on my hands¡­ if I touch it?"

    "Well, you might," she pursed her lips and pouted, "but isn''t that part of the fun?"

    He folded his arms across his chest and tried to scoot away, but the mud still had a firm grip on his feet. "No. It''s gross. And my mom said some kinds are poisonous, too¡­"

    "Only some kinds, and you can usually tell by how colorful they are." she frowned. "And see how normal and brown he is? That means he''s safe." She squinted her eyes and looked off to the side, twirling her free hand against a strap of her overalls. "¡­probably."

    "C''mon, Auds, don''t make me do it. Isn''t there something else we can do? I don''t want my last memory of Camp to be touching a slimy frog."

    "¡­even it was¡­ for me?" She attempted to make puppy dog eyes¨Cthe ''batting eyelashes'' resembling more of a ''I have something stuck in my eye''.

    "Why do you even want me to pet it, anyway? You just get off on seeing me get grossed out, or something?" He scrunched his nose.

    "Well¡­ a little." She chuckled¨Clow and hearty, completely unlike the flirty twittering giggles she made around her friends. "But! It''s also a new experience for you! What if you fall in love with these little guys, and next thing you know, you dedicate your whole life to becoming a famous marine conservationist!? And then, I could say I was there when it happened!"

    "I seriously doubt it¡­"

    She bounced her eyebrows at him, looking up from below. "¡­buuuuuut?"

    He sighed, then looked down at the water below, which had seemed to turn just a shade darker and oddly looked a bit deeper. "But I''ll do it anyway. Just once. I''ll boop its nose. That work for you?"

    "That''s fine." She flashed a toothy grin. "Here, I''ll bring him closer." Shuffling her legs from under her, she placed one hand against the slick, muddy slope, and started to stand herself up.

    "Whoa, whoa¨Cdon''t slip. Can''t have you crushing my new friend there."

    "I''m fine, dummy." She stuck her tongue out at him as she shakily placed another foot down on the slope above the bank. "I''ve been down here a hundred times before you."

    He looked down at the space between them. He hadn''t remembered it being quite this palpably slick. Were they always sitting this far apart? It felt like they had just been face-to-face. He glanced back down at his own feet.

    The pond below had drained, emptied, sunk, without him even noticing¨Ca deep well with wet concrete walls led down to a black abyss. A chilled wind rose up and cut against his damp feet.

    Panic pulsed like ice through his veins, as his eyes shot upwards towards her. She now walked right along next to endless pit, her flowing white dress billowing in that same wind, her hair tangling and obscuring around her face. She leaned forward, legs quivering as they stood, and held out her hand to his face.

    "Here. He''s yours."

    He looked down at her gift¨Ca purple, writhing thick ball of slug-like tendrils that seemed to be spewing some kind of metal grate into a cylindrical form, then extended into a triangular form, then wriggled down to produce the last piece of the construction.

    A trigger.

    "Audrey, stop, you can''t¨C" He stammered, and reached out to grab her wrist, now covered in the purple slime of the tendrils.

    "Oh, look at that." She pulled away, then smiled warmly and pressed a muddied, slimy finger to her lips in a hushing motion. "I guess it''s time, again."

    "No, you can''t¡­ Audrey, I¨C"

    "Just take him."

    "I don''t want him, Audrey, I want you to¨C"

    Her footing suddenly slipped. Her torso collapsed against the side, the edge of her calves now dangling over the well, but her expression stayed flat, showing no surprise, but only a pleading stare as she continued to hold her hand forward, the ends of the rifle still twisting into shape.

    "Asher, please," she whimpered. "You know that I have to go. Just please, please, take him, and let me go."

    An ungodly roar filled the air, shaking the ground, the sky flickering towards a violent shade of red. She slipped once again, holding herself up by one forearm, her free hand still holding up her gift towards him.

    "¡­I¡­ I can''t. I can''t take him." He fought back tears. "And you know I have to do whatever it takes to keep you here."

    She shook her head, then smiled once again. "So be it."

    He watched as her fingers slowly uncurled from their grip, and with one last longing look¡­ she fell, gift still in hand.

    "Audrey!" He shouted, his vision blurring as the darkness began to swallow the last of her frame. "Audrey! Please!"

    The very edge of the rifle was the last to disappear, as a single purple slug jumped out of the tip and fell back down, before he felt a blunt force shove him forward, and his skull jolted towards the edge of the cement.

    <hr>

    "Gah!" Asher''s eyes shot open, and his arms whipped forward, his elbows and wrists breaking his fall against the wood floor. His vision was blurry, and dry at the edges¨Cif it wasn''t for the surely newfound bruises on his forearms, just keeping his eyes open would''ve been pain enough to force tears as he directed his vision up towards the top of the bed. "¡­what was that for!?"

    "You broke my one rule," a flippant, husky voice echoed against the walls from the top of the bed, accompanied with the characteristic flicking noise of a lighter. "No dead-girlfriend talk in my bed, ever. Under any circumstances. Zero tolerance."

    "You''re kidding." Asher leaned against the nightstand and pushed up his tired body to standing position. "I was asleep! I can''t control that stuff."

    "Doesn''t matter. Rules are rules." Xan took her first draw of the morning. "It''s depressing, it makes me feel shitty, and most importantly¨Chey, hey! Get your damn hands off that blanket! Are you even listening to me?"

    Asher dropped the duvet. "You can not be serious."

    "Bet." She scrunched up the covers and bundled them all over her tiny body on her side fo the bed. "Your sorry ass is banned until further notice. You may, however, pursue a re-negotiation this evening," she smirked, "though you must be willing to agree to the new terms."

    "New terms?!" Asher picked up a pillow and tossed it onto the bed, which Xan grabbed and quickly absorbed into her mountain of blankets. "Jesus, how long have you been awake?"

    Xan placed her joint on the ashtray on her side of the bed. "Basically the moment your mumbling turned to screaming. Again. And then, long enough to feel bad for you, and then not feel bad for you anymore. And then, long enough to come up with new terms."

    "Fine." Asher picked up yesterday''s basketball shorts from the floor, haphazardly sliding them over his own legs and pulling up. "New terms? Do we have to?"

    She shot him a dirty look.

    He folded his arms. "¡­whatever."

    She held up a hand with one finger pointed upwards. "First off, you''re going to shower right before you come to bed. You may think it''s hot and edgy to be sad, but I promise that it absolutely is not when you stink from not washing yourself more than once a week. Do better."

    Asher bit his lip and leaned against the wall. "¡­sure. Fine."

    "Second," she wiggled her second finger, "you''re going to grab me coffee every weekday morning. No more depression naps until fucking noon when the rest of us have jobs and things to do."

    "Xan, that''s ridiculous. Waking up before noon¡­ it''s just unnatural. Humans aren''t meant to do such things." Asher shook his head. "Plus, the closest shop is three blocks away, and¨C"

    "Easy. Then find a closer one. Don''t be such a baby. Unless you want to go back to sleeping alone."

    "¡­whatever."

    "Third, you will now refer to me exclusively as ''Mommy'', from now on."

    "Fucking what?" Asher guffawed. "But you''re literally two years younger than me!"

    Xan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but, you live in my apartment, eat my food, use my Netflix account, and sleep in my bed when you have nightmares. I think I''ve more than earned it, at this point." She rolled another blunt and took a draw.

    "Come on¡­ that''s just demeaning. You can''t make me do stuff like that¨CI''m a grown man." Asher scratched himself.

    "Then fucking act like it." Xan scowled. "Get a job, or a hobby, just anything to stop you from moping around. I think two years is plenty of time to have moved on from whatever-the-hell-it-is that happened to you."

    Asher grumbled to himself and pulled a stained white tee over his head. "¡­you know exactly what¨C"

    "Excuse me?"

    "How could you know what I''ve been through!? You didn''t even know her. You don''t know what I lost. You couldn''t possibly¡­" he choked on his words. "¡­couldn''t possibly know."

    "Yeah!? Well I''ll tell you something you don''t know, I¡­ I¨C" Xan stopped herself, then took a draw and stared out the window. "¡­you know what? Okay. Maybe I don''t actually understand. But I''m done pitying you¨Cand you know what? The world is done pitying you. So go outside and start being somebody that''s worth caring about again."

    Closing his eyes, Asher stumbled towards the door, away from Xan''s judging glare. "Fine, fine." He held his bruised elbow in his other arm. "I''ll go¡­ get a job, I guess."

    "Uh-uh." Xan held up two fingers, then polished off her second joint. "You''re already forgetting?"

    "Sorry, right." Asher wiped his eyes as he turned the door handle. "¡­your coffee."

    <hr>

    It wasn''t particularly hot outside, but something about how bright the sun shone in the stark, cloudless, blue sky instantly dried and shriveled Asher''s pale skin. The sidewalk felt cold and rough against his feet through the thinning pads on the bottom of his slippers.

    Xan''s apartment complex, while in a prime location in the middle of Vallarta Palma''s downtown, was itself an ugly, discolored relic of a bygone age, merging a variety of different architecture styles in a metaphorical rusty blender, the resulting smoothie remarkably bearing an unremovable sense of dilapidation, no matter how many repairs and fix-ups the interiors and exteriors both had received over the decades. It sat across the street from the only mildly-tall building in the entire city, too, absolutely ruining any chance of a scenic view the shoddy windows might''ve once provided.

    Of course, Asher had thought at the time, that''s probably why Xan''s mother was able to buy the property in the first place, which of course means that the ugliness of the building was the entire reason he had a place to live for the past two years¨Csome semblance of a home, whatever that even meant, anymore.

    Unfortunately, though, it''d been too long since he''d seen the outside of the complex, so now, as he walked away, he could only feel a sort of mild repulsion at the sore-thumbedness of the complex, which, when added to his newly-dried skin, made Asher quite miserable in the literal first minute that he had stepped outside.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Even walking felt unnatural. Sure, he''d occasionally moved around the apartment¨Cusually to gather something microwaveable, microwave it, take it out of the microwave, then shovel the poor soggy mess into his lazily-opened mouth, then feel a pang of depression as he realized he should''ve used the damn toaster oven instead, because it actually preserved some of the crisp and crunch that made food worth eating, and now, because he couldn''t be bothered to actually take out and clean the toaster oven, he settled for the microwave again and now was subjecting his poor body to an inherently grosser version of the same food, which he really should not have done because he knows, as he''s always known, that food was one of the few threads that still tethered him to reality, and if he kept pulling that thread, eventually it would snap and he''d have one less item on the ever-shortening list of things that kept him alive¨Cbut that didn''t count, because it wasn''t walking outside.

    Outside, every step brought you to a different scene, one that you couldn''t recognize and interpret all in one glance like that same poorly-lit kitchen right outside Xan''s bedroom, and every step down on the uneven ground was treacherous, as the natural rolling hills of Vallarta Palma''s never took to kindly to the whole ''tiles of concrete'' system, jutting up and out in odd ways in front of every building older than twenty years, catching Asher''s feet and pulling his entire body in strange directions as he was forced to adjust his balance, and now the world was spinning again, and it wouldn''t stop, it just kept spinning faster and faster and faster and¨C

    "Fuck, dude¨Cyou okay?" Asher''s vision solidified around a twenty-something guy in a red visor and apron, slightly discolored paint stains across all of his clothing, as his hairy, muscular arms extended forward to catch Asher''s tumbling figure.

    "I¡­ I''m good." Asher laid in the man''s arms for a moment, closing his eyes to recuperate. "Just¡­ a little¡­ overexerted¡­ is all."

    "Christ, man. Just, uh, take it easy for a moment." The man leaned him up against a window¨Cthe cold glass reassuring and soothing to Asher''s skin. "You drunk or something?"

    "No, no." Asher held up a hand in pause, then quickly covered his mouth and stifled a gag from the vertigo. "¡­I promise. Not hungover, either. I guess I''m bad at walking today."

    "Hold on¨Cdo I know you?" The man''s sharp blue eyes squinted at him. Asher''s stomach dropped down from his throat to his pelvis. "Oh my god¡­ Asher?"

    Asher squinted back and faked a smile. "Oh hey¡­ buddy? Good to, uh, see you again?"

    "Aha, nice. No worries, man." The man chuckled, then slapped Asher''s shoulder, still tender from breaking his fall that morning. "I heard what happened, y''know¡­ to¡­ yeah. S''cool if you don''t remember me or nothing. You, uh, look like you been through a lot since then. It''s Danny. From OCH 210."

    "Danny. Good to meet you, um, again." Asher shook his hand back. "Yeah. It''s beena little rough. But, y''know, I''m outside. Still kicking. Making it work."

    Tilting his head, Danny stifled a laugh. "Sure, sure. Though I wouldn''t call that outfit ''making it work'' by any stretch. What happened to you, man?"

    "Oh, well, there was the whole¡­ y''know. Audrey thing." Asher looked sheepishly to his side, failing to meet eye contact. "That kinda knocked me on my ass."

    "No, yeah, I can totally understand that. Must''ve been tough afterwards." Danny stared back at him with an expectant gaze.

    And kept staring.

    "Er, uh. Yeah. And uh¡­ that''s kinda it. Not much else."

    "Oh." Danny pulled back. "You haven''t¡­ done anything? Else?"

    "No, not¡­ not really."

    Danny took a lean beside him and looked up towards the sky. "How long were you two dating, anyway?"

    "Well, dating dating, like a year or so. But, see I saw her at this Bible Camp I went to a handful of times, and¨C"

    "No, no I get it. Sorry, didn''t mean to press, or condescend, or¡­ anything. I can''t say I know what you went through." Danny sighed, then let out a half-hearted laugh. "Sorry. I''m making a terrible second first impression."

    Asher patted Danny on the back in return. "No, it''s all good. I''m sorry for being weird too¨Cto be honest, you''re like the first new person I''ve seen this year."

    "Ha, well, not technically, cuz¡­ we already met."

    "¡­right." Asher huffed, exasperated with himself.

    "You ever pass that final? I remember it was like your third time taking that class when I was there. Sanders was real bummed, too, since you were one of like, two Marine majors that in your year, and if you didn''t¨C"

    Asher shoved his hands into his pockets and stared downwards. "Hey, I''m real sorry, I would love to catch up about college but I gotta go pick up coffee for a¡­ friend. She''s sorta mad at me, and I really should¨C"

    "Aha, well, it''s your lucky day!" Danny exclaimed, ruffling Asher''s hair¨Cmuch to the receiver''s chagrin. "My older sister actually just bought this joint here. Now, it''s not exactly a cafe yet, but I bet if we went in and asked real nice, she might make you a free cup or two for your¡­ friend." He winked.

    The glass behind them was still covered with paper and painter''s tape. Asher warily eyed the fading paint around the new spots and the boxes piled up around the front door. "¡­you sure? Things look sorta hectic."

    "Nah, Jenna''s always got time for a customer. Just put in the good word around here for this place if you like it¨Cnot like she''ll ask, but you''d be doing her a huge favor¨Ccuz opening a cafe in a coastal town''s sorta been like¡­ her dream, I guess. So just be nice, and we''re a shoo-in." He sniffed the air once. "And maybe don''t stand too close to her. And take this." He shoved an apron over to Asher. "You look a mess. No offense."

    "None taken," Asher mumbled, tying the thin fabric of the apron''s string around his back, the sun-baked cotton grazing his legs. "We just walk in?"

    "Mm. Not quite yet." Danny put a hand to his chin, then lifted a nearby paint bucket, dipped a couple fingers inside, and flicked some of the paint flecks over towards Asher''s borrowed apron. "¡­perfect."

    "¡­perfect, yeah." Asher coughed, and tried to wipe out a couple spare flecks that had landed in his mouth. "Seems like a lot for a measly cup of coffee."

    "Not for this coffee." Danny smiled, then slapped Asher on the butt. "Trust me."

    <hr>

    As it turns out, there was still even more of a price to pay.

    When the boys walked in, the entirety of the inside of the store was quiet, save for their shuffling feet as they accidentally tripped over boxes or ripped out paper that had previously been taped to the floor. About half the booths had already been installed, and Asher could just make out a friendly floral pattern underneath the white sheets that covered all of the customer-facing furniture. A variety of tables and chairs were stacked up against the only wall without a window, and the wood on the counter still bore traces of sawdust¨Cwhich Asher traced with his finger to confirm.

    Asher didn''t make any effort to continue their conversation from outside, and Danny, likely sensing the awkward air between them, boldly announced that he would go find Jenna and bring downstairs, and that Asher should "not move a muscle", because, allegedly, he would "be right back".

    He was cynical of Danny''s definition of the world "right" in that preceding phrase, and justly so, as now, five whole minutes had passed¨Cbased on the time of the old German clock immediately to Asher''s left, which, admittedly, may not have been the best source¨Cand the only new signs of life were shuffling and what sounded like strained whispers coming from the upstairs.

    And so, he sat on the floor, resting his back against a table that lay sideways in the middle of the seating area.

    It was then that he finally saw her¨Ca mess of curly blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a splash of freckles across her face, smile lines with just-noticeable depth on her cheeks, and matching worry lines across her forehead.

    "Alright, so!" Danny proudly announced. "Jenna, Asher. Asher, Jenna." He turned to his sister. "He''s been working hard with me on painting the outside, so I figured he is more than entitled to one of your signature cups of coffee, sis."

    "Oh, really?" Jenna''s shoulders seemed to relax for a moment, even as her expression remained a little overwhelmed. "I suppose that''s only fair. Though I''d appreciate a little warning before you bring friends around, Daniel¨Cespecially with all the mess¡­" She glanced at the line of sawdust Asher had traced, and tried to stifle an embarassed grimace.

    Asher replied with a sheepish grin. "Naw, I mean, the place doesn''t look that bad."

    Jenna frowned¨Cwhich was unexpected for Asher. "Daniel, I can''t just give out free cups of coffee to everybody who wanders in off the street. I''ve got a real business to run here."

    "Aw, c''mon! He''ll work for it! I bet he''ll even make a cup if you show him how!"

    She scoffed. "You think he can make a real cup of coffee?"

    "Sure! He was one of the smartest guys in my class, hand to God. I''m sure he can pull his own weight."

    Asher meekly raised his hand. "Do I get a say in this?"

    They both ignored him.

    "Fine. But you''ll need to run back to the truck and get some beans for us. Grab a bag from the top-left stack, alright?" Jenna placed a hand on Danny''s shoulder.

    Daniel groaned. "But that''s so far away!"

    "I''m not going to let him use the old stuff lying around here¨Cwe''re going to make a good first brew, no matter what." She looked over at Asher. "C''mon Daniel. Do it for me. And do it for him."

    "Bah, fine." Danny jogged over towards the door. "Be back in a few!" He called out, then disappeared.

    Asher stared dumbfounded at the doorway.

    "Welp, I suppose you''re my first student. Ready to get started?" Jenna asked, cutting through the silence.

    "¡­can we even get started without coffee beans?" Asher replied meekly.

    "Of course!" Jenna gave a mock look of offense. "You''re forgetting the most fundamental part." She dusted herself off, and tilted her head towards the back. "Follow me."

    Shrugging, Asher stood up himself and dragged his feet behind Jenna, as she fiddled with a latch in front of a giant metal door. "I don''t mean to be demeaning, really¨Cbut aren''t there like only two ingredients in coffee? Cuz, again, she doesn''t like the fancy shit, we just need straight black¨C"

    "Uh-uh." Jenna cut him off, holding a hand up to his face and closing her eyes. "Think about what you just said. Two ingredients. There are the beans, and then¡­ there is¡­ the¨C!"

    Punctuating her last words, she heaved open the metal door. A rush of cold air blew back the hair on both of their heads, and before Asher stood a giant refrigerated room, with shelves stacking up twice Asher''s height, filled top to bottom with clear, multi-gallon-sized containers labeled ''Norway Spring''.

    "Wow. The tap around here not good enough for you?" Asher smirked, following Jenna as she stepped inside.

    Jenna nodded vigorously as she scanned the shelves. "It tastes really off. Something''s definitely up with it." She identified the one single jug that wasn''t full¨Cconveniently on the right, sitting just above the ground¨Cand hoisted it up into her arms. "Ah, didn''t Daniel say you were a Marine Bio major? I bet you''d know what sorta crazy chemical they''re putting in the city water."

    Asher reached out his hands, tacitly offering to carry the jug for her, but she was already headed out the door. He dropped his arms and shook his head. "I dunno what you''re talking about¨CPalma''s city water is some of the purest tap in the world. It''s almost unnatural."

    "Or so they tell you!" Jenna called back. Asher heard a thud as he presumed she set down the jug of water on the counter.

    He chuckled. "You might want to lay off the conspiracy theories for a while¨CI tested it myself at home. Actually, my undergrad project was going to be getting a whole team out here to test it and try to figure out how it stays so pure, especially when we''re so close to the ocean. Y''know, for humanitarian reasons and all that."

    "Fantastic, I guess it turned out that you''re one of them." Jenna let out an exaggerated sigh. "Next you''re going to try to tell me that the Earth isn''t flat."

    "¡­you believe that¨C? I, uh¡­" Asher stuttered as he walked up to meet her at the counter. As he leaned over to the side, he saw the hint of a smile underneath her somber expression. "Oh. You''re screwing with me."

    "Just let a girl say that your city''s water tastes bad." She stuck out her tongue at him.

    "A girl, maybe." Asher scoffed. "A woman, on the other hand, should know better than¨C"

    Her animated expression disappeared in that instant, and she stared down at the ripples in the Norway Spring container.

    "Sorry¨Csorry, I didn''t mean to imply that you were¡­ er, well, I mean, I''m sure you''re very mature, but, uh¡­ not mature in¡­ that¡­ way. Y''know, just that you seem to be very self-assured and confident, and I just wanted to affirm that you''re¡­ um, empowered. Like a woman."

    She let out a real sigh. "¡­there a chance that this is your first time out in a while?"

    Asher nodded, hanging his head in shame.

    "I wasn''t going to say anything, but¡­ well, now that the floodgates of honesty have been opened up, you do look a little unkempt."

    "¡­I deserve that," Asher grimaced. "And I''m sorry. Would it make you feel better if I let you explain to me why water was secretly the most important ingredient in coffee?"

    Jenna put a finger to her lips and smiled. "It would, actually."

    "Fire away."

    In a flash, she pulled up three small glasses from the drawer under the counter and laid them out in front of her and Asher. "Close your eyes," she instructed, and upon Asher''s compliance, he listened as three sequential pouring sounds reached the peak of each cup. "Okay, you can open again."

    In front of him sat three very plain-looking glasses of water, and Jenna''s expectant green eyes staring back at him.

    "I imagine this is one of those tests where I''m supposed to try three different types of water, each of which is going to taste remarkably different, at which point you will chastise me for saying that water is not an important ingredient?"

    "More or less. You get the drill," she smiled. "It''s more of a guessing game. One of the glasses contain Vallarta Palma tap, the one you so egotistically suggested could not be appreciated by my Midwestern palate. Another contains my favorite, this here Norway Spring. The last¡­" she twirled a finger, "is a surprise. I''ll let you and your almost-Marine Biology degree take a guess."

    "Ha-ha. I was a semester away from graduating, you know."

    "Doesn''t mean anything. Try the first." She pointed down at the leftmost of the glasses.

    Asher grit his teeth¨Cit''s clear she was attempting to establish some sort of dominance as a water sommelier, but, after embarrassing himself earlier, he knew his last chance at making a decent impression was playing this game fairly. Unfortunately, as soon as the water hit his throat, Asher suddenly realized how thirsty he actually was, and downed the contents a little quicker than he had planned.

    "¡­well?"

    "Hmm." He smacked his lips, trying to buy extra time. "This one had a sharp edge to it¨Csort of a bite when it first hits you. Not a bad feeling though, just extra crisp. I imagine this would be most refreshing in the morning, but would pair terribly with what I imagine people value in coffee, since it would compete with the flavor of the grounds."

    Jenna nodded, satisfied. "Very good so far. Next one?"

    He savored his time with the next one, letting it slowly trickle out of the glass, trying to think about every drop as it slid over his tongue. "Very smooth. Almost sweet, in a tropical fruit-type way. Mostly unassuming, but sensitive, in a way that you can only appreciate once it''s gone."

    "I see, I see¡­" she nudged the last glass towards him.

    One baby sip later, Asher put down the glass, his face wearing a disgusted expression. "Ugh, that one is definitely not for me. Gross aftertaste, and it smells a little saltier than it should. Is this even drinkable water? Is your surprise drink a sample from a tide pool?"

    "Well, that''s just hurtful. I do intend to run a cafe here, y''know. Can''t be serving seawater." Jenna remarked as she scooped the glasses back towards herself. "So! You have your final response?"

    Asher pressed his thumb against his chin and furrowed his brow. "¡­sure. First must''ve been Norway Spring, and while I can''t imagine why you would pair it with coffee grounds, it had far too mountainous of a taste to not be that. The felt coastal and smooth, so naturally that must be Palma tap. The last¡­ well, I''d still bank on seawater, but at this point I''ll just assume it''s something bottled and sold in the Midwest."

    "Interesting answers!" Jenna grinned. "And the results are¡­!" She reached underneath the counter and pulled out a single empty Dasani bottle.

    "¡­what is that supposed to be?"

    "It''s the one bottle I used to fill all three cups." Her smile twisted upwards in a devilish fashion.

    "Oh screw you. That''s false pretenses! How was I supposed to figure that out?"

    "Well, ideally, with your almost-education." With one casual toss, Jenna launched the Dasani bottle over to the garbage can across the other end of the store. "And thus ends your very first lesson."

    "What was the point of that even supposed to be!?" Asher set his head down on the cold granite.

    She leaned over and patted the back of his head. "Well, if you really don''t get it, let''s just pretend that it means that I''m right about everything, and that you know nothing."

    "Hmph." Asher grumbled with his hair flopping over his face. "I want a different lesson."

    "Fine, but you have to listen this time."

    Asher looked up. Jenna filled up two glasses each halfway with the container of Norway Spring, passed one back to him, then held up her own glass into the light, where the sun broke through the window and refracted off of its shimmering surface.

    "There''s a lot of arguments about the ratio of grounds to coffee, you know. Twenty-to-one if you like it light. Seventeen-to-one is generally the most common. I prefer sixteen-to-one. I mean, the human body itself is a whopping three-to-one. Think about that¨Call the flesh, blood, organs in your body¨Cmost all of it is three parts water, one part, well, other stuff. And that''s true of almost every living thing on this whole planet¨Ceven coffee plants absorb a ton of water to survive and grow, so who''s to say how much water it actually takes to make coffee?

    "When I think about that¨Chow even something as complex as a person, with all of our thoughts, activities, capabilities, even self-healing¨Cit amazes me that most of it is just water. It took me forever to really appreciate what that meant, and the real meaning of the taste of water¨Cit''s supposed to taste like nothing, because of course it feels like nothing. And the only reason it tastes like nothing¡­"

    Asher watched as a tear welled up in one of her eyes. She paused for a moment.

    "¡­is because water is everything."

 Maria to the Beyond (November 1993)

    She felt the slam of the door strain the three meat hooks that were embedded into her back, their chains jingling in the cool, dry, night air, each end trailing back into the house. Each one pulled her as she resisted forward, deforming the smooth skin on her back into veiny cones. The only shared property each of the restraints was their goal¨Ceach choosing a different method to keep her locked in place.

    The first chain, carved into her left shoulder, was a commanding wrought iron, black, with a rough-hewn texture, with links the size of man''s fist, its sheer weight demanded honesty and respect. The hook at the end was, of course, of appreciable size, but paled in comparison to the chains themselves, and it seemed to rely on its strength of character and construction to drag her down.

    Maria drew a deep breath, reminded herself that her strength must now be her own, and stepped forward. The wrought iron chain finally ripped out, shaking the earth beneath as it crumbled to the floor.

    The second hook was a wretched creature, with ridges and spikes built into its hook that sent cold shockwaves of sharp pain through her body every time she so much as shifted her weight back and forth. The chain was unassuming, as generic as could be, nothing more complicated than anything one could by at a hardware store, but the hook''s wicked edges seemed to find new ways to hurt her, dissuading even the slightest step out of line.

    Maria grit her teeth, reminded herself that she could no longer walk the same path, and took another step forward. The wretched hook gored itself out of her spine, bits of organs and muscle catching against its prickled design, the organic pieces making an audible splatter as they spilled onto the sidewalk below.

    Embedded in the dead center of her lower back, the third restraint was a tiny, quiet contraption, its hook a tiny colorful plastic loop, no bigger than an earring, the chain itself a tiny, flexible linkage of fake gold, almost passing for a necklace. It could take any shape in her hands, crumple itself up and down, its only real power in pity, begging for her to justify its own existence.

    Maria exhaled, a tiny sob choking out the end of her breath, and reminded herself that this journey was for her, and her alone.

    She stepped forward, and the tiny plastic hook flicked out of her back, bounced against the sidewalk exactly once, and lay down at the edge of the sidewalk alongside a single drop of blood.

    She tried not to look back at it, but couldn''t help but steal a glance as she approached the car in the driveway. The door was already opened, the car already started. It was far too late to go back for it¨Cand she finally managed to tear away her own gaze as she slipped on her black overcoat.

    The polyester stung a little against her shredded skin.

    "Maria¡­?" The door to the front of the house swung open, a tall, barrel-chested shadow stepping out. "Maria!" The shadow''s expressionless face turned towards her, jumped back in shock, then broke into a full-on sprint towards her.

    "You can''t stop me!" She called out, her voice breaking. "¡­not this time¡­" Her hand shifted the transmission into reverse, and the car began to roll down the driveway, itself leaving a tiny trail of oil behind as it slid backwards.

    "Baby, please!" The shadow wailed, its smokey hands grabbing at the open window. "This isn''t you. You don''t have to do this!"

    "This is me." She spat under her breath, then grabbed the shadow''s hand. "This is the most me that I''ve ever been." The black, cloudy fingers slipped out of her sweat-coated palms, and she adjusted her hands back to the steering wheel.

    The car reached the bottom of the driveway, and Maria pressed the gas pedal, a burst of distance and asphalt now standing between her and the shadow, which held its head in shock.

    She gave it the last look she knew she''d ever give that sorry shadow¨Cand as it looked up, and weakly reached out one last hand.

    "Baby. Come back. Look, you''re bleeding all over. Let me help. Let me make this better." Its words were broken up by a vague, static screeching noise.

    Maria shifted the transmission into drive. "I''m sorry." She bit her lip, gradually applying pressure until it split open and she could taste the blood mix with saliva and spill all over the inside of her jaw. "I''m going to the Beyond."

    The wheels of the sedan screeched as she floored the pedal. Behind, in the rearview mirror, she saw the shadow drop to its hands and knees, before she fixed her eyes forward, and reassured herself that she would never have to look back, again.

    The neighborhood was quiet. Not a single house light was turned on. Maria''s mind floated in a disassociated haze, her focus just out of her own grasp, the continuous running flash of the streetlights the only piece of reality that still grounded her to herself. The gaping wounds on her back were silent, throbbing only on occasion as the car ran over a pothole or met a slight dip.

    As she drove, the houses grew to new heights and sprouted new rooms, and occasionally a strip mall would flash by the window, the flickering neon like tiny fireworks in the monotony of the suburbs. The suburbs then blended into the downtown without much fanfare¨Cthe buildings were slightly taller, slightly more avant-garde, and bore unique fixtures and statues out in front.

    Maria breathed a sigh of relief as she approached the highest elevation point in the city, a tiny hill bearing only a tiny office building for a local marketing firm, and an unpainted parking lot that was always empty at this time of night. During her time in high school, everybody knew this particular lot, back then only a flat surface of dirt and tiny rocks, as the local Make-Out Point, until, of course, one girl who had a police officer for a father happened to get caught here, at which point their always seemed to be a uniform or two hanging around the roads that traveled up to the so-called Point until enough teenagers were scared away that a new Point would''ve had to be found¨Cnot that Maria even cared by that point, having dropped out before the second term of her senior year¨Cand the former Point remained thusly abandoned until said young upstart local marketing firm decided to breathe new, proper life into it.

    Something like a cigarette would''ve been nice as she sat on top of the still-running car''s hood and stared out over the few, vague lights of city. Her hands were much too fidgety, grinding her red-paint-chipped fingernails against the metal. It was a terrible noise, but it was one of the only things that could keep her mind focused enough to remember to stop her hands from scratching the itches that accompanied the forming clots on her back.

    Gingerly, she reached a hand behind herself and pressed the back of her palm against the outside of her polyester coat, feeling a hint of warm wetness as she applied a faint amount of pressure, then brought it back forward, and examined the little splotches and stains over her knuckles, holding it up to the light of the city. She squinted her eyes and cradled her elbow in her palm.

    Was blood always this dark? Was it just the light?

    "Oh hey! You must be Roland''s cousin, right? Come on in!" A cheery, slightly slurred voice, belonging to a blonde with cheeks flushed well past human capability, echoed into Maria''s ears.

    "Roland? I¡­ I can''t say I know a¨C" Maria blinked, tearing her eyes off her hand. "Er, sorry. Where am I?"

    "Jeeeesus," A tall stranger with a square jaw and a red cap appeared behind the blonde, wearing a tank top with straps so thin that one was already slipping off his muscled shoulder. "Think she already hit Roland''s stash? That fuckin'' bastard. I knew he was holding out on us."

    "I''m sorry¨Cwhat are you guys doing up here?" Maria blinked at a pace that seemed, to her own self, all too rapid. Her surroundings melted.

    "Yeah, she''s twisted as balls." The tall stranger coughed, pushing out air that smelled like death and flowers, and leaned against a pillar of air. "Look, can you talk to Roland for us? I''m not trying to fiend or nothin'', but if he isn''t gonna start passing out shit, we''re probably gonna have to dip here sooner or later¡­"

    "Oh. Of course, of course." Maria sneezed as she inhaled the stranger''s foul smoke. "Where''s he at?"

    "Just upstairs," the blonde nodded. "You wanna clean yourself up, first? You look like shit. Hope that means it''s good. Bathroom''s on the right."

    "Yeah, yeah," Maria sniffed, dragging her forearm across her nose as she shuffled inside. The house in front of her manifested more clearly now as she moved forward¨Can ostensibly upper-middle class home. The kind that had four-to-five bedrooms, a dedicated study, and the kind of kitchen that probably had a pizza oven built-in¨Ca feature she wasn''t able to personally confirm, as she only caught a glimpse of the kitchen as she squeezed through the crowd of sticky young adults that littered the pathway to the powder room on the first floor.

    She delicately closed the door behind her¨Cafter all, she was a guest in this house¨Cnoting how the jazzy chords of the music reduced themselves to rhythmic thumping through the thin wood of the walls, the tulip-shaped glass lightbulbs vibrating in tandem with each pulse, and her eyes flicked downwards to right above the sink.

    Her reflection stared back in the mirror. Her pupils were enormously dilated, having consumed the colors of her iris, now edging dangerously into the sclera. The open wounds on her back had now seeped through the overcoat, now barely visible even from the front, merely providing a darker outline around her figure, the very tail ends starting to drip a little.

    None of these details bothered her too much¨Cuntil she noticed her mouth was frozen agape, drool pooling at the corners of her lips. She tried to force her mouth closed, but her jaws continued to force themselves open like springs on pliers. She flexed the muscles continually, shifting her jaw back and forth, trying to find the right angle at which the springs would give, and she could finally close her mouth, but her reflection just stared back, still agape, still clueless.

    A fist pounded at the top of the door, just above her head.

    "Hey! C''mon! Some of us gotta go here!" A coarse voice shouted through the walls.

    Maria turned the handle and stumbled out onto the party floor. "¡­''m sorry¡­ I can''t¡­ I can''t¡­" she mumbled, not even making eye contact with the assailant, and staggered around, holding herself by pressing a hand onto the backs of the dancing strangers as she maneuvered twoards the center of the house.

    "Hey, you okay?" The assailant had followed her, booming straight above her hunched form, then cutting off her path forward and standing in front of her.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Maria felt sweat bead all around the back of her neck. "I''m fine¡­ I''m fine¡­ I''m going to see Roland."

    "Oh sick!" The assailant cheered, then grabbed her hand and raised it in the air. "Hey everyone! She''s going to go talk to Roland!"

    The crowd roared back a cheer, briefly drowning the throbbing music, and the closest strangers took turns patting her on the back, as Maria felt her face pale while she forced a dead-fish smile.

    She turned around to face the other side of the room¨Ca stairway spiraled up before her, with wood on the edges and a tan carpet. The tufts of the carpet were unruffled and shimmering clean, save for one set of dark bootprints that belied a wide step in ascension. Maria gulped and began to ascend, herself.

    At the top, a set of french doors presented themselves, adorned with gold leaf decorations, creating an intricate pattern depicting koi as they swam in an elliptical infinite. Maria turned the handle, and stepped inside.

    A large, olive-skinned man in a dark Hawaiian-print floral button-down sat in a tall, maroon, upholstered chair in the middle of the room, lit by soft orange lights. His head turned to look up at Maria, the folds of his temple reaching up to the top of his shaved bald head, which itself seemed to be muscled. Even as he sat down, Maria was able to peg him as some ambiguous height above six-foot-five, and probably close to three-hundred pounds.

    "Ah. Isabel." He leaned back, his shadow pulling back to reveal a small table supporting a tea set and a plate of tiny, decorate cookies. "I was wondering when you''d get here."

    Maria swallowed. "Me too," she replied, unsure why. "They were hounding me downstairs. Said that you''re holding out on them."

    "Ha. Of course." Roland shook his head and chuckled. "Have a seat on the bed, won''t you?"

    On the other side of the tea set lay a king-sized mattress with a mahogany headdress and a lush purple comforter. Maria hesitated for a moment¨Cshe wasn''t exactly keen about bleeding on the host''s furniture, but as she felt her legs ache, her body grow weak, and her head grow ever fuzzier from the blood loss, she plopped down on the very edge of the bed, and exhaled.

    "So¡­ um, are you going to give them some of¡­ whatever you have?" Maria asked, nervously pulling and grabbing at her own fingers, unable to make eye contact.

    Roland smiled. "No. Not yet. Maybe not ever for some of them." From the porcelain kettle, he poured a small cup adjacent to his own, and offered it to Maria, who gingerly accepted. "But they must continue asking. That''s the whole point."

    "Why don''t any of them come up here? Couldn''t they ask you themselves?" Maria took a sip of the tea¨Cit was warm, which felt nice on her insides, but utterly flavorless.

    "I assume they are afraid. A shame." He sighed and leaned back. "It makes sense. Not all of them are related, as we are, Isabel."

    "Ah, about, that." Maria set down her tea and leaned forward. She felt the wounds on her back open up with the stretching motion. "I''m¡­ not Isabel. Sorry. I think they just think I am. I''m really not sure how I got here, but I''m pretty sure I''m not your cousin."

    "That''s okay." Roland popped a cookie into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. "I''m not really Roland. At least, not tonight."

    "Er¡­ excuse me?"

    "I believe we''ve met before, Maria. Though you may not remember the name I used at the time." He wiped the crumbs of the cookie against a cloth napkin, which he delicately set down on the table. "It''s a special night for you, though, so you may call me Levi, if you wish. So long as you allow me to continue to call you Isabel."

    "Alright¡­ Levi it is." Isabel coughed into her hand. "¡­could I ask you a few questions?"

    "Absolutely," he smiled, showing off a row of pearly white teeth, save for a single gold canine. "If we couldn''t talk, there would be no reason for me to be here."

    "Well, er, you see, this has been a rather strange night." Isabel started, tripping over her words as she tried to piece together her experience. "Ever since I freed myself from the hooks, I haven''t been able to piece much of where I am, or what I''m doing, or even really who I am."

    Levi gave an upwards nod. "Ah, yes, I was wondering what the blood was about. I imagine you''re aware that you''re going to bleed out and die from that very soon, no?"

    Isabel nodded. "Yes. I knew that when I chose to unhook them." She sighed, feeling the throbbing pain grow ever more prominent in her back. "It wasn''t a decision I took lightly."

    "I''m amazed that you''ve made it this far, already." Holding his face in his massive palm, Levi tilted his head. "Most people in your situation never remove the hooks. Most claim they try, but really, most are quite comfortable once they get used to them."

    "It''s not so hard." Isabel donned a faint smile. "You just have to pull hard enough, and keep pulling. Even when you think you should stop. Even when everybody tells you to stop."

    "You seem proud of yourself." Levi grimaced. "And as overjoyed as I am to finally get to speak to you, I''m sure you know that what you''ve done¡­ it isn''t something to be proud of."

    Isabel took another sip. "¡­maybe. I have to see how far I get first, though. Hence why I must ask you some questions."

    Leaning back in his chair, Levi crossed his tree-trunk legs, and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a large cigar. "Fire away."

    Isabel crossed her own legs. "Is this a dream? Or a drug trip? Or some kind of brain rush hallucination that humans get before they die?"

    "No."

    Isabel furrowed her brow. "You''re sure this isn''t an illusion of some kind?"

    "I''m quite sure it''s not." Levi flicked the lighter. "Well, not anymore than anything else. After all, who ever actually sees the real world, and not just collections of symbols and patterns? Who ever sees a stop sign and sees its shape, its bright color, its construction, the way it exists and connects to the constructed world around it? Don''t most see the stop sign and merely see a symbol for pressing the brakes and rolling through unless there''s a police officer nearby?" He chuckled to himself.

    "That''s not really an answer."

    "¡­and that wasn''t really a question."

    "Then how did I get here? How are we talking? How do you know me? Why did the people at the party think I was your cousin?" Isabel''s voice fell to a whisper. "¡­why was my husband a shadow?"

    "¡­I can''t say." Levi puffed once on his cigar, chivalrously blowing the smoke away from her direction. "Could be anything. You are losing a lot of blood. You clearly have stopped taking some medication that you''re usually supposed to take. And, most dangerously of all, you removed the hooks."

    "That doesn''t explain anything." Isabel huffed.

    "Doesn''t it? Do you really need an explanation? Are you that worried about how you got here¨Cor can you just sit here, appreciate that we''ve finally met again, and have a real conversation with me?" Levi ashed his cigar in the tray nearby.

    Isabel eyed the still-mostly-full cigar. "¡­you barely smoked any of that. Kinda wasteful."

    "Ah, but it is my weakness. Smoking isn''t great for me¨Cor anyone, I suppose¨Cso I just like to get a taste before my lungs kill me." Levi smiled, his face softening into a pensive look. "Do you have any other questions, while we''re here?"

    "Yeah." Isabel bit her lip, the same spot where she had torn into it, and felt the spike of pain rush up again to her face, tightening her focus. "Do you know how to get to the Beyond?"

    "¡­no." Levi sighed. "I''ve heard about it for centuries, now. And I''ve been trying¨Cif it does exist, it''s only Reality that I haven''t been able to live in, yet. Dozens of humans have claimed to have touched it¨Cand, who knows, maybe it is where you all go when you die."

    Isabel shook her head, and placed the cup of tea down on the table. "It''s real. Abuela saw it before she passed¨Cshe told all of us. Said it had a liminality that escaped imagination. The space in between where we are, where we come from, and where we go¡­ a perfect, unrestrained joy¡­"

    "Then I''m sure you know what I want from it." Levi stood up and paced around the room, cracking his knuckles. "Isabel¡­ I¡­ I believe we can help each other." He reached into his pockets and pulled out a metal container, roughly the shape of a can of sardines. As he pulled off the lid, Isabel spied a row of adhesive bandages, their color a soft purple just above black in the dim light. Levi scraped one single bandage out with his finger.

    "What¡­ is that?" Isabel leaned in, the wounds on her back stretching even further open.

    "Unfortunately, your language is an inadequate medium, as always¡­" Levi clicked his tongue. "I did come up with a name for it that I quite liked, but I am unable to say it with this mouth. However, my friends in the South have given it a human name that''ll do well enough for now¡­ Cesalt."

    She felt a strange attraction towards the purple strips¨Cas she approached, she noticed that they were coated in a strange, slimy substance. "And this will help me finally reach the Beyond?"

    Levi shrugged, then exhaled. "Maybe. It''s my best attempt, for now. If someone like you, who could unhook herself, were to use one of these, it might just work. You might just reach the Beyond, and take me along with you."

    "Will I die?"

    He gave a half-smile. "Hopefully not before you reach it. But, Isabel, my dear cousin¡­" he leaned in, flicking the bandage in between his fingers, "¡­you were already dead before you came here." With those whispered words, he pressed the bandage onto the top of her hand, where it covered the flecks of blood across her knuckles.

    Isabel closed her eyes. "I know," she whispered back.

    When she opened her eyes, she was at the bottom of the stairs again, and the throbbing in her back had disappeared. The blurred faces of the partygoers stared at her, the music still thumping despite their silence.

    "Hey!" The square-jawed stranger in the red cap spoke first. "Well? Did Roland give you some of the stuff?"

    She walked forward three steps, the crowd clearing a path and filling in behind her. She could feel their eyes pressing into her back.

    "Oh my god¡­ is she¨C?"

    "Christ, she''s bleeding all over!" One panicked onlooker cried. "Somebody call an ambulance!"

    "God, what did he do to you¡­?" The square-jawed stranger placed a hand to his forehead.

    Maria gave a wry smile. Of course, now they noticed her wounds¨Cit wasn''t enough before, when she was merely a messenger, now they cared about her well-being, since she now had what everyone wanted¡­

    "Wait¨Con her hand! Look!" The blonde girl pointed at Maria''s arm. She rushed to the front of the crowd, swiped a finger over the slimy top surface of the bandage, and stuck that finger in her mouth. "O-o-oh my goddddd¡­" she moaned, then turned to the rest of the crowd. "Guys, that''s it. It''s right there."

    The warmth had begun to tingle up from Maria''s hand up into her shoulder. The effects must be slower via patch than orally, she figured, but even she couldn''t deny how good her arm was already feeling. She had never noticed how heavy her arms were, until now, when that arm felt like it was floating, weightless at her side, a part of her but never holding her back.

    Dozens of the crowd members began pulling the same move, rushing up to her side, tracing the surface of the bandage, tasting it, moaning, and collapsing on the floor with heavy breaths. In doing so, Maria continued to walk forward, unabated, each of her assaulters falling to the ground as she strode towards the door.

    The weightlessness had spread to her collarbone, now, and was billowing down through the rest of her insides. She felt herself a pillar of smoke, ethereal, endless, expanding, produced by some flaming source but free from it entirely. Her own breath grew ragged, but her confident stride became a light jog, and by the time she reached the open exit of the house, her weightless legs had broken into a reckless sprint.

    The voices from the party fell silent in the distance, and now all Maria could see were the blurring lights of the stores around. The entire night, she had felt like she had practically teleported from one location to another, and now, she saw every single molecule in gorgeous, revealed detail. The cracks in the sidewalk. The flicker rate of the streetlamp. And the sparkle of the ocean, a mere few hundred meters away.

    Oh, how it sparkled.

    Maria kicked off her shoes as she approached the beach, and they flew out from under her feet and dropped, abandoned right before the sand started. She looked back for one instant to appreciate the mental photograph¨Cher white Converse, aged from years of love, polluting the grass in front of the coast¨Cbefore she resumed her sprint towards the sparkling heaven before her.

    Every part of her body felt warm now, like every single blood vessel was working in concert to pump boiling water in her veins, but not in any unpleasant way¨Clike she was the very unflavored tea she had been drinking in Roland''s chamber, her soul merely the kettle.

    Yet, a thought gripped her mind, in the liminality of everything¨Cwhat if she were to be both the heat on the inside, and feel the cooling rush of the seawater on the outside? She could feel the boiling blood drip and fleck out her exposed back, which had surely become a shredded mess after everything tonight, and prepared herself for the ultimate bliss.

    Her toes touched the water. Their heat dissipated into the infinite aquatic expanse. Her skin became the liminality itself, a barrier between the powerful, churning, burning heat of her body, and the cold, simple motion of the waves. She got deeper and deeper, feeling even her own soul dissolve like powder into the water as she got up to her chest.

    The pain in her back had completely vanished. Maria saw herself lay floating out at sea, head barely above water.

    She was nearly there. She knew it. She would get there. But the cold had to reach her soul.

    Maria exhaled, pushed her arms up, and forced her head under the water.

    The cold liquid rushed down in through her mouth, past the sore muscles in her windpipe, and she felt the seawater spill into her lungs. The blood from her back leaked around in billowing black clouds, obscuring her vision, and she closed her eyes. Her lungs tightened, some instinctual reaction, but she forced her body to relax, and she lay there in that endless, suspended eternity, and decided she would enjoy this beautiful moment, for as long as it could last.

    It felt so good to be free.

 A Lesson in Narcotics (November 2003)

    A tall shadow stood in the doorway, with several thick folds of cloth folded over its forearm. The Sunday afternoon shone through the hallway window, the cold winter sun beaming into the shades-drawn bedroom, only obscured by the silhouette. Lalo couldn''t make out the face, but he didn''t have to¨Che knew it wore the same expression it always wore, that same tired apathy floating a layer above a generalized disappointment.

    "Your room is a mess." The shadow''s voice croaked, breaking just above a whisper. "You coming today?"

    Lalo didn''t look up or respond. Now was not the time. He continued to spray his homemade vinegar mix onto his one good pair of shoes¨Ca bulky pair of yellow Jordans¨Cand continued pressing his thumb into the cloth against one of the stubborn smudges that betrayed its age.

    "You can wear those if you want." It leaned against the doorway. "But at least throw on a nice shirt. Just out of respect." It extended that forearm. Lalo looked up and could now see a plain, freshly-pressed black button-down shirt hanging down, swaying in the breeze like a noose.

    "I''m not going." Lalo set down the left shoe, satisfied on his progress against the smudge. "Chubbs and I are taking a trip."

    "Eduardo¡­" the shadow retracted its arm. "I know you''re mad we didn''t go last year. But, well¡­ I think Maria would''ve wanted us to come on the ten-year anniversary of¡­ you know¡­"

    "Yeah, well, you can go." Lalo delicately slipped his left foot into the shoe, and began to prep the other. "You could even bring Rosa this time. Maybe Jesse. Show her how happy you are now. Without her."

    The shadow sighed, walked in the room, and sat down on the bed next to Lalo, raising up a hand and placing it on Lalo''s shoulder. "You know how her heart would break if she heard you say that."

    "So it''s a good thing she can''t." Lalo huffed, grinding the teeth on the left side of his mouth. "That''s the wonderful thing about death, Papa. They can''t hear any of us, anymore."

    "You don''t know what you''re saying. I know she still watches over us. And I know she still wants the best for you, no matter what."

    "She is, huh?" Lalo smiled as his foot slipped perfectly into the other shoe on the first try. "Does she know that I''ve killed a man?"

    The shadows eyes bored into Lalo''s skull. "¡­you have not."

    "I did. Last month. Three blocks down from here. Some meth-head just outside the gas station tried to mug Chubbs while I was grabbing a drink. Real scummy guy." Lalo twisted the laces of the first shoe in his fingers. "When I came out, Chubbs gave me the look. Got the jump on him. Socked his sorry ass right in the jaw as he turned around. Poor fucker was so high out his mind he didn''t even use his arms to brace the fall. I still remember how it sounded when his teeth his the edge of the curb. He was just lying there, blood leaking from his mouth, not even screaming, just groaning and grunting. Chubbs wanted to leave, but I thought he looked too sorry to live, so I finished the job and stomped his mangy head into the cement."

    "You''re lying." The grip on his shoulder tightened.

    "Not like anyone cared. Nobody ever asked me shit. Week later, Chubbs and I saw a guy with a power hose spraying down the sidewalk. No body in sight. Scot-free." Lalo flexed his arms as he pulled the laces tight. "I''ve known for a while I was capable of doing something like killing. Just didn''t know I could do it without consequences." He stifled a smile.

    The shadow''s hand collided against Lalo''s cheek with surprising force, and knocked his head into the side of the headboard. "To think you''d tell such a filthy lie." It stood up and walked back to the doorway before turning back, the harsh sunlight burning Lalo''s eyes as he stared back up at it. "You are not the son I raised."

    The door slammed, and Lalo was thrust into the darkness of the room, the only remaining light bleeding through the cracks in the cheap blinds. He rubbed the side of his head, feeling the abrasion raise slightly, undoubtedly bruised.

    Lalo sighed and narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at the closed door. "You''re right, Papa. I am not."

    <hr>

    A puff of musky grey smoke billowed up to then buffetted out the window of the low-rider as it sped down the interstate. Lalo inhaled again, watching how the fire at the end burned down another few millimeters, held the smoke in his lungs until it started to burn his throat, and blew out, exhaling towards the outside of the car.

    "No, no, not like that." Chubbs shook his head, and held out his hand. Lalo coughed and passed him the cigar back. "It''s not like a cigarette. You don''t suck it all in."

    Lalo coughed again, his stomach doing a flip. "Then the fuck am I supposed to do with it?"

    "You puff on it. Suck in with your mouth, not your lungs. Then savor the flavor." Chubbs put the cigar to his lips, and Lalo saw his throat wobble in some cryptic way. When Chubbs exhaled, the smoke came softly out his nose. "Then just fuckin''¡­ cycle it up through your nose. That way you can taste and smell it properly."

    Lalo cracked his knuckles. "That sounds fuckin'' impossible, dude. How are you supposed to create a vacuum without your lungs? That''s the only thing that expands in your whole-ass body. Can''t fuckin'' expand your mouth. And I''m pretty sure only saxophone players can do that circular breathing bullshit."

    Chubbs sniffled and laughed. "The fuck are you talking about? Just like¡­ feel it, man. It''s not about getting all that brain rush and shit. This is real Cuban shit, mane. I''m not gonna let you puff on it if you''re just gonna make yourself sick on it."

    "Fuck you." Lalo kicked his feet up onto the dash and held out his hand. Chubbs passed the cigar back to him. "I won''t get sick. I just don''t get how the hell you''re supposed to know all that shit. It''s like they expect you to unlearn how to smoke everything else."

    "S''what it takes. Otherwise you can''t be high-class." Chubbs held the steering wheel with his knees, picked up the warm beer can in the cupholder, and took a swig. "If we gonna get rich, you gotta learn this shit. Otherwise they''re gonna smell that new money on you right away."

    "S''fuckin'' stupid, is what it is. We''ll just get so rich that they ain''t gonna say shit. They gonna be the ones tripping over themselves to smoke cigars my way." Lalo stole the beer can from Chubbs, and was disappointed to find only drops at the bottom of the hot aluminum.

    The two boys stared out the window. Out the driver''s side passed sparse palm trees, small one-story houses, and the sliver of the ocean visible, while Lalo''s side showed only bare, brown farmland, with huge, dilapidated farmhouses, and not a human being in sight. It looked much warmer outside than it actually was, and the cold was starting to bite a little against Lalo''s exposed forearm underneath his 3XL white tee.

    Lalo slid on the dingy woven hoodie that sat in the middle seat between them, his long black hair ruffling as he pulled it over his face. He felt something metal in the front pocket, which hit his stomach as he pulled all the way down, flashing a wave through his body. He held a fist to his mouth with one hand, and used the other to fish in the pocket, pulling out a small, snub-nosed revolver.

    "Dude, is this all we got?" Lalo flipped and twirled the handgun as he held it up.

    "Yeah. Figured we''d have to pack light¨CCousin Tito got busted by border patrol last time for moving with just a standard twenty-two. Apparently they''re real fuckin'' tight about weapons right now cuz of some MS-13 bullshit."

    "We''re going to meet the Don¡­ and all we have for protection is this tiny fucker?" Lalo sighed and leaned back.

    "We''ll be fine. Tito will vouch for us, he promised. He''s in good with the Don. Plus, don''t forget, we''re the ones helping them. How the fuck else are they going to get up to Vallarta Palma?"

    Lalo shook his head. "You know shit like this always has a chance of going south. We don''t got the firepower to hold our own."

    Chubbs yawned. "Y''know, it''s really hard to be friends with you sometimes, Lalo. So little faith."

    "I''m just taking precautions." Lalo grinned. "This our scheme, right? Is it so bad that I want to make sure we''re doing shit right?"

    "Aye. We''ll do it right." Chubbs smiled back, took another hit of the cigar, and blew the smoke out his nose again. "Except for how we smoke cigars."

    Lalo held the pistol in his right hand, made a finger gun with his left, and winked back.

    <hr>

    It didn''t really start to hit Lalo until the dirt road they''d been driving on for more than four hours suddenly transitioned to a beautifully smooth asphalt, fresh and black without a single line of paint. It was the sudden lack of noise that really woke him up¨Cshocking his lilting eyes open, and off in the distance, he spied a sprawling three-story house, ostensibly smack in the middle of nowhere.

    "¡­that it?" A groggy Lalo mumbled as he stretched out his arms.

    "Think so. See the big white pillars in the front? Exactly how Tito described it."

    "Jesus, I didn''t think they''d be like¡­ real marble and shit." Lalo squinted his eyes. "Can''t really tell from here, though."

    "You nervous?" Chubbs rolled up the windows as they approached.

    "Starting to be." Lalo swallowed.

    "Don''t worry, ese. Just remember that you''re the prize here. They want what we have." Chubbs gripped Lalo''s shoulder and squeezed before returning his hands to the steering wheel.

    The yellow low-rider stood out like a sore thumb among all the other vehicles as they pulled up to the gate. Half of the cars were a slick, aerodynamic black, reflecting with an oppressive gleam under the Sinaloan sun, the other half in ostentatious candy colors and decorated with foreign emblems that even Lalo, with his champagne taste, couldn''t place. Each idled in line up towards the gate.

    Lalo peered forward, back, and around at the other people in the cars. Universally, grizzled men with thick facial hair, pressed Armani suits, and Tom Ford sunglasses stared forward in cold silence, their expression shifting just so slightly that Lalo knew they could tell he was looking at them, but refusing to give him the acknowledgement.

    "Dude, we''re like, wayyy under-dressed. I thought these guys would be like¡­ vatos and shit. They all look like¡­ I dunno. CEOs. Politicians. But with more muscles and battle scars." Lalo spied a weapon in the middle seat of one vehicle. "¡­and more than just a snub-nose."

    "Well, what''re we gonna do? Can''t change in the car or anything." Chubbs shrugged as they inched forward towards the gate.

    "Fuck, dude." Lalo massaged his temples with one hand.

    That creeping feeling of charlatanry grew more restless underneath Lalo''s skin as they were finally granted access into the gate. He saw the guards snicker out of the corner of the eye at their ride, picking up muted syllables that sounded to him like "childish" and "disrespectful". They practically rolled over laughing when he and Chubbs stepped out in their jeans and hoodies, and giggled the whole way through the pat-down. Lalo could only hope that his skin was dark enough to hide the violently embarrassed blush that splashed his cheeks.

    The boys were led out to an spacious deck overlooking a lush garden filled with trimmed hedges and flowers so bright they almost seemed to glow, next to a crystal-clear pond affixed with a rocky water feature. The deck itself featured barstools and tall tables scattered in equal space across the edges, a handful of outdoor sofas and glass tables, and a fully-stocked bar staffed by two handsome young men in tuxedos with perfectly-trimmed beards that managed to mix drinks a frantic speed without once losing a sense of poise and grace as they served the guests.

    Lalo figured the bartenders couldn''t be much more than a handful of years older than himself.

    "Welp, where you wanna sit?" Chubbs casually turned to him, his woven hoodie doing no favors to his figure as he stuck his hands in the pocket. "Or you wanna get a drink first?"

    "I want to find your cousin Tito and get the first confirmation that we''re not completely screwed." Lalo''s hands were also stuffed into his own pockets, as he continually tried to dry his fingers of the sweat that coated his palms. "Dude, you can''t say you don''t see how they''re all staring at us."

    "Your mind is playing tricks, my friend." Chubbs scanned the room until his eyes lit up. "Ah, there we go!"

    Chubbs strode confidently toward a large man with huge biceps that yet managed to be overshadowed by a massive gut which itself only managed to be overshadowed by an absurdly thick, shiny beard. Lalo shuffled behind, keeping his head low and shifting his eyes back and forth.

    "Tito! My beloved cousin." Chubbs extended both of his arms for a hug and wrapped them around the large man, who didn''t move, and only continued to glare forward.

    Lalo''s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

    That is, until the large man closed his arms around Chubbs, squeezed him back, and closed his eyes as a smile crept out underneath his beard. "Ah, Carlos. It has been too long."

    "Oh Tito! But we only spoke last week!"

    "Ah, but the wait always feels so long for my favorite cousin. How have you been?" Tito pulled away and held Chubbs by the shoulders. "It at least feels like you''ve been eating well. You trying to get bigger and scarier than me, Carlos? We can''t have that."

    "Of course, not, Tito. There is no beating the best." Chubbs held his cousin''s hands before breaking one side and turning to gesture towards Lalo. "This is Eduardo Herrera, my closest friend and business associate."

    Lalo waved with a slight motion as Tito scanned him up and down. He winced as the large man''s eyebrow raised higher and higher the closer he looked.

    "This little shrimp, here? He looks barely old enough to walk, let alone hustle!" Tito laughed and slapped Chubbs on the back. "Carlos, surely you have no need to be raiding elementary schools for friendship, no? Aren''t you out of school yourself by now?"

    "Ah, Tito, I am only seventeen." Chubbs laughed back. Lalo couldn''t tell if he was forcing it or not. "And while Eduardo here is two years my junior, this shrimp has been moving kicks and grass since the third grade. He''s the most ambitious son-of-a-bitch you''ll ever meet." Chubbs leaned in and whispered into Tito''s ear. "Someday, maybe even¡­ he could be a new Don."

    All of the men in the immediate vicinity fell silent and stared at Chubbs and Tito¨Cwhose own face morphed into a grave expression. "Carlos, my friend¡­ surely you do not mean to speak such disrespect, especially¡­ here."

    The lump in Lalo''s throat became a basketball as he eked out a half-grimace.

    "Ah. That is my mistake." Chubbs lowered his head. "I mean no disrespect; I only meant to convince you of my close friend''s capability, though I apologize that my words were chosen carelessly."

    Tito drew a deep breath, picked up the caramel-colored drink from his table, and took a long, ponderous sip, before exhaling forcefully. "Very well. Know that I am putting my reputation at risk for you two, here, Carlos. Do try not to speak with such carelessness again."

    Chubbs and Lalo both nodded vigrously, and Lalo reached out a hand towards Tito, who met his handshake with a tight grip and a firm stare. "We understand. We will not let you down." Lalo replied, trying to stifle the wavering in his voice.

    <hr>

    The three of them eventually moved down to one of the sofas on the farther side of the deck. Tito insisted on getting them all drinks, and Lalo was currently staring deep into a still-full glass of whiskey. Tito had explained to him that it had to be one of the best bottles in all of Mexico, since the Don refused to serve anything less, but Lalo had nearly choked on his first sip, his whole body recoiling against the foul chemical taste and odor. He now stared, with a forced half-smile, into the still-mostly-full glass, trying to convince his already-upset stomach to take another sip, lest he accidentally commit another act of disrespect.

    "You see," Tito continued after downing what Lalo considered to be an inhuman amount of whiskey, "it didn''t matter that we were poor country boys¨CDon Luis always knew he was capable of more. We would be playing in the backyard, shooting guns on his uncle''s land, and when I would outshoot him again, I would always gloat¨Csee, I loved to rub it in his face¨Cand he would turn to me and say ''but Tito, my friend, do the most powerful of men ever shoot? No, they do not; they command the power to incite other men to shoot for them, and demand the respect and fear that means they will never be shot themselves.'' And of course, I''d say that was silly, he was just jealous of my ability, though he would always¨C"

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "And perhaps I was, Tito."

    A strong, drawling voice boomed right above Lalo''s head, causing Lalo to leap forward and stare back at its owner: a man nearly as tall as Tito, with flowing black hair and a razor-sharp jawline above a thick gold chain.

    The man ruffled the mange of hair atop Tito''s head. "Though I do wish your tongue had half the amount of control as your trigger finger¨Cespecially around vatos like these."

    "Ah, Don Luis!" Tito stood up, meandered around the side, and gave the Don a kiss on the cheek. "A wonderful event this is, I must say. And, luckily for you, these are no mere vatos¨C" he gestured towards Chubbs and Lalo, "this is my beloved cousin and his business associate. I was hoping they would be perfect candidates for assisting us with our new distribution problem."

    "Is that so?" The Don eyed Lalo with a similar assessing gaze as Tito had performed on him earlier, though Lalo noted an extra layer of cold calculation this time around. "I''m afraid that I have no time for such young boys, especially ones who cannot afford to¡­" he narrowed his eyes, "dress the part."

    "Ah, forgive them, forgive them. They may be unfamiliar with our ways, but Carlos here has been doing odd jobs for myself for years now. You remember the leak in San Jose, no? I am proud to say that it was his information-gathering that allowed us to solve that little problem. And, if I may give you a little extra reason¡­" Tito leaned in towards the Don, "they have an in at Vallarta Palma."

    "Palma, you say?" The Don''s eyes widened just a smidge and Lalo spied a hint of a manic grin edge at his lips before he stifled it, smoothed out his clothes, and ran a hand through his hair. "Very well. I will allow them to stay and listen. Make no mistake, however¨Cthis best not be as poisoned as your last Palma connection, Tito. We cannot risk another run-in with the Man-in-Shadows."

    Breaking out of a starstruck stupor, Lalo''s ears perked up, and for the first time, he was able to look into the Don''s black, crystal-sharp eyes.

    "Rest assured, Don Luis." Tito placed a massive palm over his heart. "Carlos is blood. This time will be different."

    "Very well." The Don closed his eyes, nodded slowly, gave Tito a pat on the shoulder, and continued around the deck.

    Nearly simultaneously, the three of them at the table breathed a sigh of relief as they felt the Don''s overwhelming presence move away. Tito slapped a hand on his knee. "You boys need another drink? Perhaps something a little lighter for our resident baby boy?" He gestured at Lalo''s full glass of whiskey and shot Chubbs a wink.

    Lalo winced. "It''s fine, it''s fine. I wouldn''t dare risk your reputation by throwing away such an expensive¨Cand, uh, delicious¨Cdrink. I''m just¡­ taking my time to savor it."

    "Suit yourself." Tito rolled his eyes. "I will say that it does help to have a couple drinks in you before talking to Don Luis. He can be¡­ intense." He stood up, hefting his huge body off the cushions, visibly raising the two boys upwards in their seats. "Carlos? I''ll fetch us another round."

    Chubbs seemed lost in thought. Lalo nudged his shoulder. "You good?"

    "Dude," Chubbs whispered. "You hear that!? We''re totally in!"

    "Tito sure pulls a lot more weight than I thought¡­" Lalo mused back. "But I dunno. He''s already stuck his neck out for us once. Now we not only have to prove that we can solve their logistics problem, but also that we can also avoid all the issues that apparently came up last time¡­"

    "You''re worried too much, my friend. I told you they''ll trust us so long as Tito''s around." Chubbs popped a piece of ice from the glass into his mouth and crunched down, flecks of water spraying across the white fabric cushions. "We''re gonna be coke dealers, baby! No more shitty weed and off-brand pills for us. Real, Colombian cocaine¡­!" he leaned back into the couch.

    "I''m not sure, man." Lalo squirmed in his spot. "I mean, are we sure we can even move coke into Palma? I haven''t seen a fuckin'' milligram of it anywhere in our city limits. All the white kids drive down to Onanca to get it, and for whatever reason, they never try to bring it back¡­ does that not seem weird to you?"

    Chubbs shrugged. "I mean, maybe. They probably just couldn''t find anybody before¨Cyou know how our parents are, and all. Which is exactly why we''re gonna be so rich when we finally get that shit in there."

    The clinking of a glass rang out from across the deck. Don Luis stood on a small platform next to the bar, a warm smile across his face and a metal spoon in his hand.

    "Friends! I am glad you are able to join me here, today." He picked up his drink from off the bar and swished the glass in his hand. "Although it is always a pleasure to see many of you, alas, now we must discuss business. Firstly, I am proud to announce that our family''s production is doing better than ever. In fact, thanks to our continuing good relations with the Guerez family, we now have produced almost double the product that we managed last year."

    The audience applauded at a respectful, medium volume. Lalo suddenly felt very exposed sitting in the dead middle of the room on the sofa, where Don Luis stood nearly directly above him. Chubbs elbowed Lalo regardless and tried to lean over to whisper something, but Lalo shot him a stern look and pushed him back.

    "As such, we will continue to rely on the sturdy distribution chains of our trusted partners, many of you are with us today, and I am looking forward to hearing about your future successes as we expand our little enterprise. Make no mistake, it is thanks to your diligent and well-engineered logistical efforts that we are able to continue moving coke all over America." The Don took a slow, meaningful sip.

    Lalo glanced at Chubbs, who was now leaning forward in his seat, practically foaming at the mouth. Lalo himself bit his cheek¨Cthe word continue wasn''t exactly what he had expected to hear¡­

    "However, while I always enjoy sharing our success, that is not what we are here to talk about, today. Today, we will be discussing a new venture."

    The few remaining whispers of the crowd fell silent as Don Luis pulled out an ornate gold-laced pouch from his pocket, then removed from the pouch a small glass viable, filled about halfway with a dark purple powder.

    "This," he held up the vial for all to see, the light from the harsh sun flaring out from one edge, "is called Cesalt-B, a new formulation from our coastal laboratories. Some of you remember our earlier product Cesalt-A, a patch-variety that we were unfortunately forced to retire due to mass production concerns."

    Chubbs'' face shifted from raw anticipation to confusion. Lalo grimaced. This wasn''t in the plan. He tried to keep his face neutral-in-view as the crowd leaned forward to examine the vial.

    "Now," the Don began to unscrew the cap, "I understand that cocaine can and will likely continue to dominate the markets as the high-end drug of choice, and we certainly do not plan to discontinue it at any point in the future. But! I nevertheless encourage you to take a sample as I explain the exciting business prospects."

    One of the young bartenders walked up to the Don holding a metal platter, upon which the Don carefully poured the contents of the vial, spreading it out from a single lump. The bartender began to circle the deck, attending to each of the guests, as they individually stuck a pinkie into the powder, and pressed it to their tongue. Lalo noticed that Chubbs began to squeeze his fists.

    "For one, you''ll find that it tastes quite exquisite¨Calmost a sugary sort of flavor, none of the bitterness of your usual variety. And it hits your nervous system in almost no time, even compared to snorting coke. The high itself is powerful, giving a warm, tingling sensation, with very mild hallucinogenic effects in small quantities. And, furthermore, I can assure you that the ''come-down'', as it were, is a sweet and delicate affair."

    Tito, who had finally found his way back with drinks and now sat across from the boys, stifled a chuckle.

    The Don stepped back, slightly, shaking his head. "Perhaps I sound too much like a sommelier. I only speak out of pride for the effort our chemists have put in to crafting such a fine experience. And that leads me to the most exciting part," his grin widened, "only our family knows how to create it. We will continue to safeguard the manufacturing with our world-class security, ensuring that, for those of you who are willing to help us with distribution, you will never worry about competition. Ever. All we ask, at this time, is that you use your existing connections and resources to make sure that the word is spread and that the samples get to the right people."

    The platter finally reached the boys on the couch. Tito scooped up what appeared to be a quantity much larger than everyone else that Lalo had watched, placed it on the inside of his cheek, and began to drill at it with his tongue. Lalo saw Tito''s pupils dilate past his sclera for a brief moment before shrinking back to normal size, and the large man rolled his shoulders back and let out a satisfied moan.

    Don Luis smiled at Tito''s reaction, then gestured that the platter be brought to Chubbs next.

    "You''ve got to try this Carlos. This is unreal." Tito nodded to his cousin.

    "This is fuckin'' bullshit, is what it is." Chubbs stood up, his expression absolutely furious. He shoved the bartender away, and the young boy''s tiny frame collapsed to the ground. The platter landed with a thunk to the ground, and a small cloud of the powder billowed up from the surface.

    The Don narrowed his eyes at the kid. Lalo leaned back in horror, mouth agape.

    Tito reached out a hand and placed it on Chubbs'' side. "Carlos, please, don''t¨C"

    "Man, fuck this." Chubbs huffed. The entire crowd''s eyes were glued to his red face. "I came up here so I could become a coke dealer, not to give out cheap-ass samples of some random party drug."

    The Don didn''t even blink. "Guards?" Two suited men carrying automatic weapons stepped forward from behind the pillars surrounding the deck and began to move towards Chubbs.

    "Ha, yeah?" Chubbs snorted, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. Lalo''s eyes widened, and he tried to quickly-but-subtly shuffle away on the couch from where Chubbs stood, but Chubbs had already begun to pull out the snub-nose rifle, and aim it directly at where the Don stood. "Nice tries, everybody, but you ain''t gonna do shit."

    The guards paused. Lalo''s mind raced a million miles a minute, and his eyes frantically scanned for an exit as he noticed even more guards at various locations around the deck, and even a few of the fellow guests palming their own weapons.

    "Here''s the deal, Don Luis." Chubbs'' grip began to shake. "We wanna move coke. We''re happy to move shit for you, but it has to be coke. I ain''t gonna waste my time moving shit nobody''s ever heard of. So you either make us dealers, or shit''s gonna get real messy."

    "¡­/we/¡­?" Lalo nervously glanced around, shaking his own head and holding his hands up in defense.

    "''No mere vatos'', indeed." The Don sighed, bearing the weary smile of a man who''d had a gun pulled on him a million times beforehand. "Tito? I trust you''ll take care of this?"

    Tito stood up quickly, almost too quickly, and put a hand in front on Chubbs'' shoulder. "Carlos, you''ve done a bad, bad thing¡­"

    "Did you know that''s what this was far?" Chubbs tilted his head back towards at Tito, but kept his heated gaze focused on the end of his pistol. "How could you not tell us?"

    "Carlos, please, just¡­ put that away." Tito''s voice, once deep and soulful, now cracked under the pressure. "It''s time to go home, cousin."

    "Tito, my friend, that''s enough." The Don clicked his tongue and took another sip out of his glass. "You know what to do."

    Lalo saw a grimace flash across Tito''s face, before he became blur, slipping to the front of Chubbs, his hand locked on his cousin''s wrist, now bringing the two face-to-face. With a scowl, Tito merely slid his hand forward, effortlessly unlocking Chubbs'' grip, trigger finger first, and took it into his own hands.

    Chubbs'' face barely had time to register shock before Tito had shoved the teenager onto the ground, the rings on his finger dinging off the glass table on his way down. Lalo leaned forward to look as Tito brought one leg up¨Cand stomped down.

    The crunch of Chubbs'' femur shattering echoed once off the siding of the house, then bounced out into the sand of empty desert in front of them.

    Nobody spoke a word, least of all Lalo¨Cand all of the color had drained from his face.

    Tito huffed, his breath heavy.

    "If you would, Tito. I won''t ask you to kill your own blood, but he must leave, now." The Don sighed, and set down his glass.

    "Come on." Leaning down, Tito extended a hand towards his cousin, his hair falling to cover his face. Chubbs stared back, finally calculating all that had happened, looking bewildered and betrayed all at once.

    Lalo slowly stood up, himself, noticing the crowd''s gaze draw towards him. "We apologize a thousand times, Don Luis. We''ll get going. Chubbs?" He looked over at his friend.

    Chubbs looked back at him, then nodded, and forced a grin against the pain as he grabbed Tito''s extended hand¨Cbefore launching himself forward, snagging the weapon out of Tito''s other hand, and recoiling back onto the couch with the weapon aimed back at the Don, once again.

    Lalo himself tried to jump forward towards his friend. "No, don''t¨C!"

    An ugly, smoky shot fired from the snub-nose, and a spray of blood fanned out at the Don''s feet. Almost as soon as the shot fired, the gun recoiled out of Chubbs'' hands, launching itself out of reach.

    Oozing from a the new hole in his head, Tito collapsed to the ground. His body slumped forward until it lay flat, face down, his blood staining the wood of the deck.

    "¡­so that''s how it is." For the first time, the slightest wave of anger crossed Don Luis''s face. He sneered, stepped over Tito''s lifeless body, curled his fist, and socked the teenager in the jaw. Chubbs seemed to barely notice the hit, his mouth open and eyes unfocused, and his expression did not change even as the Don hit him again, this time knocking a couple teeth out of his mouth.

    Lalo glanced towards the exit of the deck¨Conly to find that several guards were now blocking the way, and the audience''s eyes were now split between the beatdown and himself, the accomplice.

    "Pathetic." The Don spat on Chubbs, his face bruising and splitting open. "To lose my oldest friend to filth like you." The Don pulled out a pistol of his own from his front pocket, where blood had stained his white slacks, and pressed the end right to Chubbs'' forehead.

    The blood pulsed through Lalo''s veins. He felt his brain speed up somehow even faster, every sense becoming sharp as he clenched his fists and tried to figure out the only path forward. This was everything. This was the last few second before Chubbs would die, and surely he would be right behind.

    "Don Luis." Lalo coughed, clearing his throat. "We can move it. In Palma."

    The Don exhaled, but did not move the gun against Chubbs'' head or his own stare. "¡­keep talking."

    Every eye was now glued to Lalo''s nervous, trembling, profusely sweating head.

    "I''ve been trafficking out of Arizona for years. I can scale up the process to move as much of the new product as you need. I have trusted friends, very well-trusted, who can sell it on the streets, or at parties, or wherever you want people to try it. Say the word, it''s there."

    Don Luis did not move the gun, but now looked at Lalo from the corner of his eyes. "Those are empty commitments. You are a child."

    "But, I know." Lalo heard the shuffling of guards'' feet as they moved forward, and gulped. "I know why you haven''t been able to move coke into Palma. The Man-in-Shadows. I think I know who that is. And I know how to work around him. I''ve already done it for as long as I''ve been in the game."

    "¡­that so?"

    "Yes, Don Luis." Lalo nodded furiously. "And I won''t ask to move coke. I know that''s stupid¨Cthe Man-in-Shadows watches that closer that anything else. But I believe that Cesalt-B has a chance, there. You know how popular a drug like that could get in Palma. You''ve been trying to break into it for years, I bet."

    The Don rolled his shoulders back and drew the gun back. The unconscious Chubbs could not react.

    "And we can do it. Me¡­ and him. If you kill us, you''ll lose your only chance to get into Palma for a long, long time. I know the neighborhood, there. Not a single kid in the barrio wants to deal, other than me and my friends. But you already know that, don''t you, Don Luis?"

    "¡­I see. You are shrewd for a child." The Don pocketed his pistol and turned his whole body towards Lalo. "It seems that I must let this slide for the good of the family." He looked down at Tito''s corpse. "But you will move Cesalt-B, and on my terms. Your cut will cover operating expenses, no more, until you can win back the trust you have lost here today. I demand full transparency from your organization. And, if there is even a whiff of disrespect like your partner showed here today¡­." the Don raised an eyebrow and scowled at Lalo.

    "It will not be a problem, Don. That I swear on my mother''s grave." Lalo stepped forward. "Do we have a deal?" Lalo extended his hand.

    "It seems we must." The Don looked Lalo up and down, then shook his hand. "I don''t believe I caught your name, vato."

    "Lalo Herrera, jefe." Lalo gripped back, trying to keep his grip firm against the shakes he felt through his whole body. "I look forward to doing business."

    <hr>

    "Sorry, buddy. That''s all the painkillers I got." Lalo screwed the cap on the bottle, and began to pull the seatbelt over Chubbs, who winced everytime the belt even slightly pressed against his skin. "There''s a couple half-joints in the door cupholder, if it gets real bad."

    His friend could only let out a couple weak groans, his mouth still a split-open mess. Lalo grimaced, then closed the door. A particularly tall guard stood right behind the vehicle, and gave Lalo an upwards nod as he closed the door.

    "So you''ll be following us to the spot?" Lalo asked a question he already knew the answer to, just happy to see any non-threatening response as the guard nodded once more. "Sounds good. I''ll try not drive so crazy, eh?" He joked back. The guard did not respond, merely letting his beard blow slightly back and forth in the breeze.

    Lalo meandered over to the driver side and practically fell into the seat and let his head rest against the leather back. Looking down, he noticed a trickle of blood from Chubbs'' hand had already begun to leak out onto the flat seat between them, the deep red staining the half-burnt cigar that rested in the divot.

    He felt like everything moved in slow motion¨Craising up his arm to bring the keys to the ignition, rotating his wrist a few degrees, waiting as the engine purred to life after some coaxing, bringing his hand away and down to the clutch, shifting to drive, inching forward with his foot off the gas, then pressing his Jordans¨Cunfortunately scuffed and dirty in the previous struggle¨Cdown to the gas pedal, and pulling away and out of the mansion''s gate.

    He took a deep breath for the first time since entering the mansion, only finally able to untense his shoulders as he saw it fade in the rearview mirror, soon entirely obscured by the black car that was trailing behind them.

    "Your, uh, mouth good enough to talk?"

    "Mmf." Chubbs groaned through his teeth. "nawreally." Each syllable sounded goopy, with a slight whistle accompanying.

    "That''s fine. I can talk enough for both of us."

    "Mm."

    Lalo was surprised at how natural his hands felt behind the wheel, adjusting with little micro-corrections as the car drifted slightly left or right on the flat asphalt road. He now saw all the little imperfections in the road that had looked so perfect before¨Cridges on the side here and there, gradual slopes that rose and fell, and the occasional hint of a burgeoning pothole¨Cbut felt impressed at how it still managed to cut through the desert, a clear, uncompromising path forward.

    "So, elephant in the room¡­" Lalo cleared his throat. "That was¡­ well, a lot in there. And I feel like your heart''s in the right place, man. I was pretty excited to be a coke dealer, too."

    "Mm."

    "But man, things got really fucked in there¡­" Lalo edged off the gas just a bit. "It''s okay. I mean, I''m mad, but I know you got the worst of it. Maybe let''s just edge off the you-talking-to-the-cartel a little bit, y''know, for a while."

    "Mm." Chubbs angled his head towards the window.

    "Figured out the whole Man-in-Shadows thing, by the way. It''s my old man. Yep. That''s what he was doing my whole childhood, apparently. I don''t want ''em coming in and shooting up my house, though. That''d be a whole pain. Thought I''d leave that detail out."

    "Mm?"

    "S''crazy, though." Lalo smiled. "It used to bug me so much that he ignored all the shit I was up to, and then always flat-out denied anything when I tried to talk to him about it. Fuckin'' sucked when I was trying to quit those pills last year." He checked the rearview¨Cthe shiny black car still trailed close behind. "Guess I never realized how useful that could be."

    "Mm¡­"

    "Kinda my fuckin'' superpower, I guess. Goin'' unnoticed and shit. Can''t tell whether it makes me unlucky or lucky." Lalo pressed the pedal down a little bit, feeling the engine work just a little harder down in the very core of his being. "But if this shit goes well, man¡­ they''re gonna notice. Now we just need to make sure they notice the right things, eh?"

    "Mm."

    "¡­I got a question, Chubbs."

    "Mm?"

    "You really mean what you said to Tito back there? That I could be the next Don?"

    "¡­fug, man. Iunno." Chubbs shifted in his seat, placing his hand lightly over his shattered femur. "Was jus gassin you up n shid. You ont wanna be him. S''uh fukin psychopath."

    "Oh. Cool. That''s good."

    "Mmf. Yeh?"

    "Yeah." Lalo ran his fingers through his black hair and smoothed out his t-shirt. "Cuz he''s a fuckin'' idiot."

    "Mhm!"

    "For starters, not that I''m not glad we got in, but Tito didn''t vet us at all. Imagine letting a couple of kids show up to a fuckin'' high-level distributors meetings. That''s a goddamn recipe for leaks, at best."

    "Mmf!?"

    "Don''t get me wrong, it''s smart to move into Palma. If I had a new party drug, that''d be the first place I''d target. Not national-news-grabbing like LA, but just enough rich white kid money to really get some underground traction going. But he wants it way too bad. I thought we were gonna fuckin'' die, man, but he''s so fuckin'' thirsty that he let you murk his right-hand man and go free just for a plug."

    "Fug are you talmbou¨C"

    "Nah, nah, I knew it would work, though." Lalo shot Chubbs a reassuring smile. "Just needed to work up the guts once I put it together."

    "Due, you serioumlby¨C"

    "People are so predictable," Lalo sighed. "Was actually kind of excited to meet someone that was actually above it all. Oh well. Give it a few years, we''ll have that motherfucker working for us."

    "¡­mm." Chubbs had given up, closing his eyes and resting his head against the window.

    The car dashboard indicated 90 miles-per-hour. Lalo pressed the gas just a little harder, then grimaced as it refused to crawl much higher. "Hey Chubbs, this thing have a higher gear or something I can shift to?"

    "No, due," Chubbs mumbled. "Whad, thi your firs dime drivin?"

    "Yeah, actually."

    "Shid, due. Slow dow."

    "Nah, dude, I got this." Lalo flexed all of his fingers against the steering wheel. The sun began to set, the first rays leaking through the front window. Lalo reached into the side cupholder, felt for a pair on sunglasses, and slid them on. "And I think I really like driving."

 Thats a Grand Slam! (April 2018)

    Bzzt.

    <code>Low Battery

    5% of battery remaining </code>

    <code>> Low Power Mode

    </code>

    <code>> Cancel

    </code>

    The filling part of the battery icon turned a sickly yellow, the kind that had the sheer visual acidity to burn the retinas from eye sockets if stared at for too long. The phone immediately darkened its screen, leaving only that battery icon, the highlighted Speaker button, and the red End Call button visible in the outside light of the sunset.

    "And just think of the odds! I mean, he shows up only once a week¨Cif I had gone to turn in the project tomorrow, I would''ve totally missed him!"

    "Yeah, I mean, that''s some good luck. Nice to see old friends."

    "Oh my gosh, and we used to be totally joined at the hip back at camp. ''Friends'' would be an understatement. It''s really funny¨Cwhen we started talking, it was like nothing changed. He''s like, still that same goofy kid. And he still totally knew how to call me out, too."

    "Ha, wow. Kinda sounds like us."

    "Yeah, kind of! He''s kinda like you but a cute boy. Also not so prickly. More like a marshmallow. An awkward marshmallow. One that you want to heat over the fire."

    "Ha. Well, I¡­ uh, I¡­" Xanthippe struggled to come up with words to respond. She slid the tip of her index finger''s nail across the pad of her thumb. She wondered, if she pressed a little harder and slid a little quicker, would her thumb slice open?

    "Psh, yeah, I know, you''re ''not even gonna try to analyze that one''. You sound kinda off today. You doing alright? Work going okay?"

    She looked up. Above the roofs of several nearby restaurants and littered with incandescent corporate logos on giant pillars, unusual amounts of smog and clouds billowed into the setting sun, the fuzzy pinks entwined between greys like fiberglass insulation.

    "Um, I dunno. I''m a little tired." She slid her nail across her thumb, again. "So what, you gonna ask him out or something?"

    "I already did, actually! My mom''s gonna be psyched that I''m finally going on a date. I think she was kinda getting the wrong idea from us hanging out so much over break¡­"

    "Aha. Yeah. Can''t have that." She broke skin. A drop of deep red bulged at the end of a thin line.

    "Really, though, I wouldn''t even call it a first date. I''m serious, Xan, it''s like we already know each other so well. Though I''m def gonna grill him about being a Marine Bio major. Because, seriously, he used to be so grossed out by that stuff."

    "¡­yeah. That''s crazy." She pressed her thumb against the black server''s apron that covered her knees. The dark red liquid smushed across the coarse polyester, soon dried, and blended in perfectly with the miscellaneous food stains that always appeared at this point in her shift.

    "¡­you sure you''re okay?"

    "¡­yeah. Like I said. Just tired."

    "Cuz¡­ well, we don''t have to talk about this. If you don''t want."

    "No. It''s fine." Xan massaged her temples and sighed. "I''m really happy for you, Audrey. This all sounds like exactly what you''ve been looking for."

    "Okay, well¡­ if you say so."

    "We''re still hanging out tomorrow, right?"

    "Oh, um, actually¨Cthat was the only day that he had free this week. Could we rain check for another time? I''ll seriously make it happen next time, it''s just that this came up, and¡­ you know¨C"

    "No, no." Xan massaged the bridge between her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. "That''s fine. It''s¡­ not like I''m really doing anything."

    "Tomorrow, you mean?"

    "Sure." Xan heard a heavy door behind her groan open and heavy footsteps approaching. "Hey, I gotta go. Coworker just stepped out to take his turn."

    "Okay! Have a good rest of your shift! Love you!"

    "Night, Audrey." Xan grimaced. "I love¨C"

    The iPhone beeped out a downwards trill, and the screen blacked out.

    Half-heartedly, Xan pressed the home button. Nothing. She pressed the power button. Nothing again. She pressed the home button again, over and over again, absent-mindedly staring into the reflecting black, cobweb-like cracks marring the surface. Her other hand gripped the rough cement of the curb, and felt the sandpaper texture scratch the inside of her palm.

    Her attention diverted for a moment as a pair of heavy fake-leather non-slip black boots walked up to her side, accompanied with deep breaths and the waft of a lit cigarette.

    "Still talking to that girl, huh?" Hasan''s gruff voice was muffled slightly by the smoke he exhaled.

    Xan tossed her phone onto the asphalt, where it landed with the same trademark cracking noise that had given it all the damage it already suffered, then leaned back with her palms behind her. "Yeah. I guess."

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "You want one?" A large, hairy palm held out an open carton of cigarettes down towards her cheek.

    "Nuh-uh. But thanks." Xan shook her head. "Honestly, you don''t have to offer. You know I''m still trying to quit."

    "I know. Doesn''t mean I won''t ask." Hasan bent down in a squat, his white apron crumpling down onto the cement, picking up rubble and smudge, his ''Harold'' nametag barely holding on by a millimeter of safety pin. "My wife thinks I should quit, too."

    "You should probably listen to her. Shit''ll kill you."

    "Everything kills you." As the smoke from his breath wafted up, the sun finally disappeared behind the ocean. "And the best part about living in America, living here, is that you get to choose what shit you want to kill you, and exactly how fast."

    Xan rolled her head to the side to look at Hasan, popping her neck along the way. Despite what he was saying, his eyes were soft and relaxed, rolling up slightly as he drew in. "S''there something about being forty-year-old men that obligates you all to give young adults meaningless advice?"

    "Fine, fine." Hasan moved from a squat to a sit, his belly jutting out into the street almost as far as his beard. "But even my old ass can see that that girl is killing you, too. Quicker than cigarettes."

    "It''s not like that." Xan exhaled and laid all the way down onto the cement. "I just need to find the right way to think about it¨Cthe way to think about it that''ll make it hurt less so I can just enjoy it for what it is."

    Hasan smiled through his thick, salt-and-pepper beard, and raised an eyebrow. "And that''s why we older folks are compelled to give you advice¨Cyou all still believe you can think your way out of your own head."

    "Okay, well, now you''re just swapping words around to sound smart."

    "Ha," he laughed, stood up, meandered over to Xan''s discarded phone, scooped it up, and dropped it on her apron. "Nothin'' wrong with liking things that kill you, Xan. Maybe just pick something that kills you either a lot faster or a lot slower. And especially less painfully."

    "Fuck your cigarettes, Hasan." Xan smiled, slid the phone into her back pocket, stood up, leaned against the side of the dumpster, letting the blood rush out of her head with a faint dizzy spell, and dusted herself off. "Still quiet in there?"

    "Yeah. Record silence for a Thursday night. Nadiya is flipping out about the numbers tonight, though, so you''d probably better get back in there quick."

    "Of course she is." Sighing, Xan retied her apron, the fraying black ends tickling her fingers, and trudged back towards the heavy metal door. "Like numbers''re gonna save us from nobody wanting a goddamn Denny''s in this city."

    The kitchen was pristine, likely just re-mopped¨Cin the middle of the ''rush'' of all times¨Cand the dishwasher was running. Nadiya frantically rushed around the work area, ignoring Xan as she walked through, and Xan was happy to be ignored as she pushed open the swing door that opened into the dining area¨Calso spotless.

    She scanned the room, sighing at the lack of any obvious distractions, until she spotted two heads of dark hair whispering to each other over in the waiting area, still having not been seated. Dusting the dirt off her hands onto her apron, she half-jogged over to where they sat.

    "Hey there, sorry for the wait." The two girls jumped back, taken aback by what Xan estimated was likely the very first person they saw appear in the entire restaurant. "Welcome to Denny''s. You guys here to pick up a takeout order?"

    The shorter, older one of the two shook her head. "Er, no, we were actually hoping to get a booth." She looked around at the empty dining area. "You are open, right? I saw the neon sign but it kinda looks like¡­"

    "No, no, you''re fine. Just follow me, right this way, okay?" Xan forced a smidge of enthusiasm and picked up a couple shiny menus from the wood-veneered holder. She led the two girls to a booth that was perfectly spaced from the register¨Cfar enough that Xan could maintain some privacy, but close enough that it was a short walk between them and the kitchen, and and still leaving the view out of the window from the register unobstructed.

    "Thanks, this''ll be perfect," The older sister¨Cas Xan figured they must be siblings¨Cconfirmed cheerily.

    "Yep yep. I''m¡­ uh, Annie, and I''ll be your server tonight." She had to grit her teeth when using the ''waitress'' name with which Nadiya had designated her¨Cbecause, apparently, ''Xanthippe'' sounded too unfriendly. "Drinks?"

    "Er, we''re good. Just waters, I think."

    Xan looked over at the other sister¨Cwhile they shared the same jet-black shiny straight hair, the younger one was taller, lithe, her arms clearly toned even underneath the oversized men''s tee that draped over her shoulders. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her eyes a little red, but even without makeup, Xan couldn''t help but think¨Cshe was certainly one of the prettiest girls that had ever shown up here, of all places.

    "Sure, sure." Xan pretended to write something in the dinky little notepad produced from the black apron. "Say, I¡­ don''t think I''ve seen either you around town before. You guys travelling together, or¡­?"

    The older sister smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no, sorry. Though we are from the East Side. You know, the barrio. Just wanted to, uh¡­ get out of the usual places for a little bit."

    "No, that''s cool. That''s cool. I''ll¡­ be right back. With the waters." Xan bit her lip and turned away, focusing really hard on not walking away too awkwardly. Her own head felt strange on top of her head.

    Jesus, gotta not let this Audrey stuff get to me, she thought as she drew in a deep breath. ''You from around here'', of course they are, stupid. C''mon, just be normal. She pressed one glass against the water dispenser and slapped herself with the other hand.

    "Aaand there y''all go." She blinked and she was back at the table again, face-to-face with the two sisters. She paused for a minute, trying to process the time warp, staring off into space and narrowing her eyes.

    "Excuse me?" The older sister waved a hand in front of Xan''s face. "You doing alright? I don''t think we''re ready to order quite yet, so¡­"

    "Ah, no, of course. Sorry. Take your time. I''ll circle back in a bit." Xan floated back to the register, confirmed that she was out of sight, and buried her face into the keyboard.

    Without thinking, she flipped her phone from out of her pocket, and once again took another few button presses to realize that it was dead as a doornail. Groaning perhaps too loudly, she reached under the counter to fish for the spare lightning charger that the one girl from the day shift thought she hid so cleverly. Xan pushed her whole arm through the drawer, and with her ear pointed towards the two residents of the booth, she began to pick up words from their hushed conversation.

    "¡­you''re sure? I mean, sometimes that other line kinda comes in just barely, and then your brain starts playing tricks on you." The older sister''s voice papered a calm facade over obvious concern.

    "I''m serious, Sadie. God, I wish I hadn''t thrown it away. Then maybe you''d believe me." The younger sister finally spoke, breathy and strained.

    "No, no, I believe you, I just¡­ well, this is a big deal. And I want to make sure everything''s confirmed, y''know, before you tell anybody. Especially him."

    "God dammit." The younger sister pressed her hands to her face. "Did it feel this surreal when it happened to you? Like you''re disconnected from your own body, like you''re just watching some movie where terrible things happen to somebody who kinda looks like you?"

    "¡­not really." The older sister hesitated. "Listen, sis, I''m sure it feels weird, but¡­ we''ll figure it out. Take it slow. Just¡­ talk to me. Even if that''s all you can do, right now."

    Xan''s fingers finally curled around the frayed wire of the off-brand charging cable, and the copper wire wormed its way into the razor-thin wound on her thumb.

    And so, she bled just a little bit more.