Sara hated how the wind prickled against her purple jacket. She blinked her eyes, already giving up the battle of trying to force her hair to stay put with her hands. Dusk had settled and the Summer sky had melted into a deep blue dotted with red from a blinking plane passing overhead.
As Sara strode along the sidewalk, she attempted to ignore the scuffling of animals darting around yards too dark to see and trees too shadowy to make out. Her rational mind knew the critters were just going about their nightly business just as she was, but her slightly more irrational mind played with more frightening fantasies. I’ve been spending too much time listening to Helena. Sara’s younger sister Helena was always going on about random magical things she claimed had happened to her. I really did see a theatre made out of rain, Helena protested. Yeah, and I saw a talking fox, Sara retorted. The things Helena saw never made any sense to Sara and they definitely would never make any sense to their parents, which was probably why Helena only told these fantasies to Sara and their younger brother Henry. Sara turned left down the street. She was only a couple of blocks from her house now. During the day, living on the far edge of Buchtton near the woods was an exciting adventure. When she was younger, she, Helena, and Henry would spend hours scouring the forest for materials to build hideouts for themselves and shelters for bunnies. Now that Sara was seventeen, playing in the woods wasn’t as appealing, but she still enjoyed taking walks there during her free time and observing the wildlife. In the dark though, the woods weren’t as much fun. She averted her gaze from the trees’ haunting silhouettes. And that was when she heard it. The trickle of water flowing to her right. Sara frowned. There shouldn’t have been any streams close by and she was too far away from the ocean. She blinked and turned to see a cobbled path jutting out from the sidewalk and into a darkened space between two neighboring houses. She could just make out the hint of something reflecting light toward what she assumed to be the end of the pathway. The trickling sound ceased. I’ve walked home this way so many times, but I’ve never seen this pathway. Her mind scoured to find a reason for this development. Maybe I was always so lost in my thoughts and never noticed. Maybe this was built just today. Before her thoughts could rationalize any further, a strange sensation wrapped around Sara’s body. She was being pulled. No, not physically, although it definitely felt physical. It was something…else. She had to see what was at the end of the path. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped off the sidewalk, letting her sneakers tap against the stone tiles. It felt like her body was ringing. Like a bell had been rung inside of her and now her energy just tumbled out in waves, colliding with the night air, the whispering creatures, the murmuring trees. She was part of it all and she could breathe. Then she was there. In front of a glistening…fountain? It wasn’t a glamorous fountain that rose above its visitors and spouted water onto shimmering pennies. No, it was a gray water fountain, similar to the ones Sara saw at school. Still, it glowed, its silver metallic surface possessing no hint of prior usage. It was a fountain built just for her. She waited for her breath to steady and then she stepped forward in front of the fountain. Hands shaking, she grasped the little button on the side, its polished texture cool to the touch. A jet of water bubbled in front of her. The liquid slithered down the side of the basin and slipped down the drain. It was so quiet, she wondered if it was even real. She dipped a finger into the stream of water and gasped. It was cold and slimy, just as real water should be. Sara yanked her finger away from the fountain, this strange fountain that shouldn’t have existed, and dashed back down the pathway. Once her feet struck the sidewalk, she paused. She turned back around. The stone steps, the gleam of the fountain, they were all gone. She stood there for a few seconds. The wind frolicked with her hair and jacket. The critters shuffled and yipped among the bushes and trees. I must be tired from being out all day. I must have imagined it. But a spark had been startled awake inside her. Because now, Sara knew everything her sister had said was true.
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“We should really try that someday,” Kaya said.
“Wait, what?” I glanced over at my friend. The sun baked her shoulder-length black hair, causing it to glow a slight crimson. “That.” My friend pointed in the distance where a group of teens our age was boogie-boarding in the waves. Their laughter tingled in my ears, causing me to smile. “Yeah, that looks pretty fun. I’m pretty sure Ayana has some boogie boards we could borrow and use.” I thought of my other best friend who lived right across from this very beach. She had been busy lately with a badminton tournament, so I hadn’t seen her very much this Summer. “We’re going to be graduating high school in just two years,” Kaya said. “We need to do it before then.” I frowned and traced a line through the sand. Although I had slathered sunscreen all over my pale skin earlier today, my fingers were still tinged pink. Were we really that close to the finish line? It was hard to believe we were going to be juniors in a couple of weeks. Sophomore year, half of which was online thanks to COVID, had passed by so quickly and our freshman year had ended abruptly due to the pandemic. Did I really have only two more years to enjoy the company of all my classmates? Ayana’s smiles. Kaya’s determination. Lucia’s creativity. Isabelle’s confidence. “You okay, Summer?” Kaya peered at me, her brown eyes brimming with concern. I chuckled and shook the grainy sand off my fingers. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feels like things are going too fast.” Kaya shifted closer to me, her body so close our shoulders almost touched. We had been best friends since elementary school. Would that still be the same even as we moved on? A cloud blocking the sun floated off and the light blinded me, so I looked away from my friend. A breeze flitted with my blonde hair, bringing along with it the briny scent of the ocean. Even the weather seemed to be moving onward. “I honestly can’t wait to get out of here,” Kaya said. “I mean, you know how things are with my sister. I love her, but sometimes it’s exhausting when she’s having another tantrum and none of us can help her. And my parents, they aren’t the warmest of people. They show their affection in different ways and I understand that, but…” “You want something else,” I finished for her. I kept my gaze on my feet submerged in the sand. “Definitely.” Kaya sighed. “Not sure if I’ll ever get it. I haven’t earned that much money to be living on my own.” “Kaya,” I said. My heart thrummed in my chest. “We should move forward together.” Kaya stared at me. Then her face broke into a grin. “Are you asking me out, Summer?” I must have looked disappointed because Kaya placed her hand on my wrist. “I think that’s very sweet,” she murmured. “So what do you say? Are we going to tackle the future together?” Kaya leaned her shoulder against mine. “I don’t know what will happen, but you’re right, it’ll be easier doing this if we’re not alone. But first, let’s go find some boogie boards!” Celio felt the grass sting his palm and breathed in the salty air of the sea grumbling in the distance. He cherished the thrumming of the waves, the shuffling of the wind, the dancing of his own heart. He couldn’t see it at all, but he could still enjoy the environment around him. That’s what many people didn’t understand. Sometimes, you don’t need eyes to enjoy something beautiful.
“Celio, I found a nice shell!” His little brother Horatio called a few feet to his left. Horatio’s voice was light as if it could drift with the breeze. Celio pushed himself off from the sandy grass and, with the help of his cane, made his way toward the sound of his brother’s voice. The grains of sand shifted underneath the metal stick and embraced his sneakers. He loved the way his feet sunk into the soft substance as if he were being transported to another world. When he reached Horatio, he knelt down and held his hand out for his brother to place the shell in his palm. The damp, curvy figure tickled his skin and he could feel the water dripping off his brother’s slimy hand. “The water feels cold! I don’t get how you can stay so long in the waves, Horatio.” Horatio laughed. “It was worth it to get this shell.” Celio fingered the sea’s gift, stroking each curve and feeling its smooth underbelly. “It’s fascinating. You should bring it home to show Mom and Dad.” “I think I will!” Celio smiled at the excitement in Horatio’s voice. He loved how enthusiastic his brother was about all the little things in life. Celio wanted to be that way, too. That’s why he visited natural environments and forced himself to focus on his senses. He liked being himself, he liked belonging. Celio let his brother take back the shell and he buried his hand in the sand. The dry and wet particles mingled together and shivered against his fingers. He wondered if the tiny insects that burrowed in the sand were being disrupted by his movement. A flicker of guilt flashed through him. Humans could be so destructive sometimes. His brother was now mumbling a Portuguese song their mother often sang, although a bit out of tune. Celio gently recovered his hand from the soil and swayed to his brother’s music, letting himself hum along. “I want to go to Portugal someday,” Horatio said. “It would be cool to actually visit our grandparents in their own home instead of through phone calls once a year.” “Yeah.” Celio brushed off sand that had floated onto his t-shirt. “That would be nice.” He wasn’t sure that would happen anytime soon. While his family wasn’t struggling at the moment financially, it wasn’t like they had that much money to just throw around. Celio wished he could go on vacations like his friend Pavel did with his family. “Hey, Celio,” Horatio said. His voice was tentative in a way that made Celio want to pause his whole body just so he could focus on listening to Horatio. “Do you think we will ever be able to travel?” Celio didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t want to lie. He plastered a smile onto his face. “You know, we can travel right now. Close your eyes.” He heard the sounds of Horatio fidgeting on the sand. “They’re closed,” Horatio announced. “Good,” Celio said. “Now, listening to what’s around you and keeping your eyes shut, what do you see?” A moment passed. Celio focused on the wind whistling by him and the laughter of a family playing in the waves. Along the boardwalk behind him, he could hear the thumps of footsteps and the scratching of bicycle wheels along wood. “I hear people having fun and walking around,” Horatio said slowly. “What else?” “The ocean, but Celio, this is nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Celio sighed and ran his fingers through the sand, letting the dry particles slide off his skin. He could heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, the sadness of feeling stuck. Celio had been so focused on observing his environment, he forgot to pay attention to his brother. “You’re right. To be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to travel anytime soon.” “It stinks.” “It does.” Horatio groaned. “Vacations are probably overrated anyway. Maybe we’re the lucky ones since we get to stay here and really appreciate this place.” Celio grinned. He listened to the sound of his brother rubbing his hand along his seashell. “Yeah, that may be true.” There is beauty in these moments, Isabelle, my father once told me as we stood in the sand. The grainy particles dug into our feet and the summer sun seared our foreheads as we watched it float down into the waves. This is a gift from God, I had thought. My mind whirled with what my second grade CCD teacher told me last Spring. But now, almost nine years later, I stand on the icy boardwalk and stare at the snow-encrusted beach with only heaviness lingering in my brain.
Is tomorrow really Christmas? A tiny flake lands on my gloved fingertips clutching the boardwalk’s railings. Shivering, I turn to the left and blink water droplets out of my eyes. The wind flattens my dark blue mask against my cheek and I take a shaky breath that fills the slim gap between my mouth and the cotton with warm air. I glare up at the pink-tinged sky. Everything had seemed so accessible back then. I used to think of the atmosphere as where God lay resting among the clouds and stars. As if all I needed to do to reach heaven was to stand on my tiptoes and grasp onto a shooting star with my bare six-year-old hands. At sixteen, that seems impossible. When was the last time I even went to a service? To a mass? We had left the Catholic church back when I was in fifth grade and hadn’t looked back since. Our new church had been much more welcoming and I had loved the people I had met there. It’s just that…it’s getting so much harder to believe. I love sunsets. The clouds are splotches of paint that splatter across the canvas of the sky. A memory trickles into my senses. My best friend Avani and I had been walking home from school last Fall. I had stayed late helping organize a food drive while Avani had play practice. By the time we had left the high school, the sky was almost completely dark. Only the barest sliver of purple lined the horizon. I’ve always thought of sunsets as more organized, I had said in reply to Avani. The colors are layered and the sun always sinks down. There’s an order to it all. Avani had shaken her head. That’s where you’re wrong, dear friend. I had spent the rest of the night thinking about Avani’s words. Even ignoring the aesthetics of sunsets, the scientific reasons for the phenomenon still expressed a sequence of events, not a random splashing of paint. But now, I realize, maybe there is truth to my friend’s claim. There is beauty in these moments, my father had said. A gift, I had thought. There is, meaning it exists. Beauty just exists. That gift exists. No structure required. I peer up at the colorful sky. With a smile, I let go of the railing. Twilight blanketed the Summer trees and little wisps of wind crackled against branches. My sneakers sunk into the moist soil and I clenched my phone in my hand. My gaze swept the forest clearing. Where was the cauldron?
Of course, the moment I went looking for that mysterious object was when it was nowhere to be found. I grimaced. I could see the trees, the dirt, the sky, but not the cauldron my siblings and I had found two years ago. I need it. Days have been so hard lately. I flopped onto the ground and traced the silt with my finger. The grime clung to the little canyons running through my skin and cooled my tingling extremities. “Mystery?” I jerked upright. My older sibling Anonymous stood at the edge of the clearing. I hadn’t even heard Anonymous’ footsteps. “Pronouns?” I asked. “She/her.” She peered at me, her eyebrows furrowed. “You just ran out from dinner. Wanna talk about that?” I hugged my knees to my chest. The last thing I wanted was to talk about my feelings with my seventeen-year-old sibling. She’s going to judge me like she always does. I glared at an ant crawling over my bright blue sneaker. “Sixth grade is going to be starting for you in a week, Mystery,” Anonymous stated. “If you can’t even talk to me, how are you going to handle all the new people at middle school?” I shoved my glasses farther up the ridge of my nose. “It’s none of your business.” “Make it mine so I can help you.” The ant had left my foot and was now trekking towards the side of the clearing opposite of my sibling. Being an ant would make my life so easy. All I would care about is finding food and shelter. Not caring whether or not people like me or if I can fit in… “How’d you know I’d be here?” I spoke to distract myself from my circling thoughts. “I can read minds.” I frowned. “You can?” “No, silly! I followed you. Our parents aren’t going to let you go off on your own like that. You’re eleven. Remember how much they freaked out when Soo did that?” I winced. It had been my fault Soo ran away. Soo struggled with anxiety and obsessive-compulsive behavior and I, jealous of all the attention she got from our parents, had stolen her bracelet. Anonymous and I had found her that night in this exact clearing. That was also when we had discovered the cauldron. Which isn’t here right now. I dragged my finger across the soil leaving dents in the earth. I shoved away the queasiness seeping into my body as sludge wriggled underneath my nails. “I want to be alone.” “If you come home, then I’ll leave you alone in your room, but I’m not going to let you sit here in the forest by yourself. It’s getting dark. What if a coyote eats you?” Anonymous plopped onto the ground beside me, causing the silt to tremble beneath my hand. I stared at my sibling. Was she really going to sit here with me? I sighed. “I’m just going to bore you.” Anonymous chuckled. “That’s true. You’re a very boring person.” “Am not!” “You just said that you are.” A smile flickered onto my lips and I peered up at the dusky orange sky swirling above us. “I’ll probably bore all my classmates.” “You’ll bore them by talking about how boring you are.” I shook the dirt from my fingers and nails. “Do you really not mind sitting here with me?” Anonymous was silent for a moment before meeting my gaze. Her dark brown eyes flickered with concern. “Hey, you’re my brother, and fine, you’re a bit boring and weird sometimes, but as your eldest sibling, I have to look out for you.” I sighed. “I came out here because I wanted to see that cauldron again. It seemed to make everything better last time with Soo.” Anonymous shrugged. “Nah, the cauldron just gave us some yummy soup. You apologizing and us going to find her was what helped.” “You really think so?” My sibling nodded. “Yeah, I do.” I scanned the clearing one last time, taking in the dark green bushes and the deep brown tree trunks. The chirping of crickets comforted my ears and the breeze seemed to carry a fresh aroma that wrapped around my body. I didn’t need the cauldron again. Anonymous was right, I did belong here. I returned my attention back to my sibling. “I’m ready to go back.” Life is chaos. That is one thing I am sure of as I stand outside in the sun. My bare feet dig into the moist soil and the Spring wind crackles against my hair. The sky’s dying light warms my cheeks and I breathe in its crispness, letting it crash against my lungs and tumble down my diaphram.
Life is chaos. Shouting bellows inside the house behind me. A tangle of words tremble in Venezuelan Spanish. My little brother has once again disappointed my mother. Life is chaos. I hear the weeping downstairs of the monster my sister has adopted in secret. The poor thing is frightened by a world that fears beings like him. Life is chaos because I can’t control it. I, Loli, can’t control the sun, the dirt, the wind that surrounds me. I can’t control the yelling inside my home or the Minotaur my sister Aziza has embraced. I can’t even control my own mind and the thoughts that entwine with my brain, convincing me I’m wrong, that I’m not good enough, that I’m...not...me. And that’s something I will have to endure. I peer at the clouds gliding across the sky. They’re so fluffy and orange now. Who could imagine they will eventually grow heavy with the sorrows of the world and pound against my roof? Who could envision the little sprouts underneath my feet sucking in that pain through their roots and growing taller will only be mowed down later on? Things can change so quickly. I blink and water shrouds my gaze. I turn back toward my home with the bellows, the monster, the disorder. Yes, life is chaos and I have to endure it, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do. The house was always silent. Of course, houses normally didn’t make noises when you walked by them, but the colonial on the corner of Amelia Văn’s street was soundless. Amelia doubted anyone even lived in it. Still every night, from her window, Amelia could see the flickering of candles behind the building’s white curtains.
Today in particular was a big occasion as it was Amelia’s fifteenth birthday. Not only that, but her elder sister Maisie was finally returning home from her stay in Suriname and their three mothers were putting on a big party just for the five of them. “Soccer practice alright?” Her mother Tania Patil asked as Amelia entered their home. Tania was sitting on the couch with her tablet in her hands. “Yeah, it was good. Nothing much happened.” Amelia’s thoughts were still on the house. She slipped off her sneakers and placed them inside the cubby by the door. The mirror above the shelf flickered a greeting as Amelia’s tan face came into its view. The date, Saturday, June 1st, 2115, glimmered green in the mirror’s bottom left corner. “Nothing much can be quite alright,” Tania said. “Eleanor went to the airport to see your sister and Stella had some errands to do.” Eleanor Quintanilla and Stella Văn were Maisie and Amelia’s other two mothers. “That’s good to know.” Her voice was still light and her body trembled ever so slightly. Shaking her head, Amelia strode over to join her mother on the sofa. The cushions bent under her weight and embraced her sore legs and feet. Amelia could still feel the effects of all the stretches they had been doing during practice. At least there weren’t any games today. The only reason Amelia even did soccer was because her mothers wanted her to spend more time with her peers instead of just staying home reading books and doing homework. Tania peered at Amelia and placed her tablet on the glass table before them. “Something not right? You look off.” Amelia sighed and leaned against the side of the couch. “It’s that house again. I just can’t stop thinking about it.” Tania pursed her lips. “The colonial? You need to stop worrying so much about that house, Amelia.” “Easy for you to say that. I have to walk past it every time I go to school and practice. You work at home all day.” “Even more of a reason for me to be worried about the house,” Tania countered. Her gaze flickered as if she were uncomfortable. “I have never seen anything strange go on inside of that building. Now, it’s your birthday, right? Go get some nice clothes on so we can celebrate when everyone returns.” Tania’s words slipped from English into Marathi as she spoke and Amelia gave another sigh. Would anyone ever listen? ~~~ Three hours later, the doorbell rang. Amelia, who had been sitting in her room completing her homework, glanced up at her window, which was currently exhibiting an image of a forest. The forest imagery and sounds disappeared as she commanded the screen to display the front door. Her sister Maisie and her mother Eleanor stood on the stoop. A grin stretched across Amelia’s face and she leaped to her feet and dashed out of her bedroom and down the stairs. By the time she arrived on the first floor, Tania had already opened the door to let Eleanor and Maisie inside. “Maisie!” Amelia exclaimed. She rushed forward and nestled her sister’s waist. Her sister, who was twenty-six now, had always been so much taller than her and she was glad to see that even after a year of not seeing Maisie in person, that was still the case. “You’re crushing me,” Maisie said in Panamanian Spanish. “But I’m glad to see you, too.” Amelia, still beaming, let go of her sister. All of her uneasiness from earlier had dissipated. “How was the bus ride home?” “Fortunately, not too busy,” Eleanor answered as she slipped off her shoes. The afternoon sunlight from the window reddened her wavy brown hair. “I will forever be thankful that the public transportation has become quite good in our little town of Buchtton, Massachusetts. Stella took that old blue buggy for her errands. Said she really needed it today.” The look shared between Tania and Eleanor made it clear that they both knew why Stella needed the car. Amelia frowned. Out of all of her mothers, Stella was the one who preferred using their own self-driving car over public transportation, but it would have been much easier and more convenient for Eleanor to have taken the vehicle to meet up with Maisie at the airport in Boston than for Stella to use the car just to do some local errands. “Do you know what Stella wanted to do?” Eleanor’s body stiffened, but then she shrugged. “No, but it's your birthday and Maisie is home, so I feel happy.” Still wrinkling her brows, Amelia’s eyes flitted in the direction of the colonial down the street. Its white surface appeared blood-stained in the sun and the flowery bushes skirting its edges seemed to jeer at her. Amelia held back a gasp. She was certain she had just seen one of the curtains twitch every so slightly with a tan hand grasping the fabric. “You all right?” Maisie asked. Amelia plastered a smile on her cheeks and faced her sister’s concerned dark brown eyes. She would bring up the house later. “Yeah, of course. Let’s go celebrate!” ~~~ Even when the sun had set and Amelia, Tania, Eleanor, and Maisie had settled down to eat, Stella still had not returned. Dishes were splattered around the table. Some were wrapped up in compostable take-out boxes while others were served on colorful platters. The flavorful misal pav lay at the center of the table. Garlic bread and bean stew squatted on either end. Lo mein, jollof rice, and mashed potatoes crowded the middle of the rectangular surface. There was no particular theme tonight and that was alright to Amelia. The food was just like her family. To some, the assortment may look mismatched, but, in fact, it was quite fulfilling. “It feels wrong to be eating without Stella,” Maisie said, pausing from slurping up her bean stew. “What errands is she even doing that are taking this long?” Tania shrugged and placed her chopsticks down on the edge of her plate. “Stella knew tonight was a big deal and we waited long enough for her. I’m not going to let this food get cold. It’s not everyday we go all out on meals.” Amelia nodded as she took a bite of her garlic bread. The sleek, oily carbohydrates brushed her tongue and she felt grateful for this food and to be with...well, most of her family. “Tell us more about Suriname and studying the rainforests there,” Eleanor said. With that, the attention transitioned away from Stella as Maisie chatted about the rainforest protection initiatives she helped organize and all the different flora and fauna that she had seen. As Maisie droned on, Amelia, who was situated on the right side of the table beside Tania, glanced out the window. After soaking in energy from the sun all day, the fluorescent street lights gleamed like earthbound stars. Shadows flitted around the neighbors’ yards as little trees and bushes shaded their perimeters. Naturally, Amelia’s eyes landed on the colonial. The house appeared silent as usual even with its mysterious candles flickering behind its curtains. Amelia’s gaze drifted past the windows to stare at the corners of the building. She jolted in her seat. Just barely visible on the right side of the house, she could see the edge of a familiar old blue vehicle. “What’s wrong, Amelia?” Tania asked. All three women peered down at Amelia with frowns etched on their faces. Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered what Tania had said earlier about not worrying over the house and how today they were celebrating. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with drama. “Thought I saw Stella. I think I’m going to take a look and see if she needs any help carrying things inside.” Amelia forced a grin onto her face. Tania leaned toward Amelia to try to peer outside. “Hmm. Don’t see anything, but go ahead and take a look if you want.” “Make sure to come back in time for dessert,” Eleanor said as Amelia stood up from the table. “Don’t want to miss the cake I bought.” Amelia nodded and scurried over to the door. ~~~ It took Amelia less than a minute to reach the sidewalk outside the white colonial. Mosquitos flitted around her neck and cheeks and the humidity cocooned her bare legs and arms. Sure enough, her family’s car was parked in the colonial’s driveway. Trembling, Amelia crept across the stone pathway to the building’s door. The way the streetlights accentuated the shadows and the crickets chittered in the background made Amelia feel uneasy, as if someone was watching her. As she approached the porch of the house, the front lights flickered on, illuminating the plain white seating area. A dusty wooden chair sat to Amelia’s left and a glass table covered with specks of dirt lay before it. Potted plants were scattered all over the sides of the porch, but unlike the table and chair, they seemed well-cared for. The doorbell glowed orange and with her fingers tingling, Amelia clicked the button. Ding. The sound echoed in the air and even the crickets seemed to pause for a moment. A warm breeze brushed Amelia’s black hair against her collarbone and she clutched her hands together. Thumping reverberated inside the house and Amelia took a step back. With a creak, the door opened to reveal a petite Southeast Asian woman. Amelia gasped. The woman’s tan face was...Her expression of surprise mirrored Amelia’s own. The way she gripped her hands together and stared at the ground...It wasn’t Stella, but she certainly looked like Stella, but even more than Stella, she looked like...Amelia. “Angelica,” a voice, an older, feminime voice, called from what appeared to be the kitchen. “Who’s there?” The woman, Angelica, opened and closed her mouth. Finally, she made out, “It’s no one. Just the wind.” Her dark brown eyes did not leave Amelia’s. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Angelica whispered. “Stella, my sister...your mother promised.” Amelia’s throat felt like it was being sucked into her chest. She felt cold even though the temperature outside was warm. “Wh-who are you?” she asked, even though she already knew. Angelica shook her head. “Just go.” The door shut in Amelia’s face. Her head throbbing, Amelia twisted around and scampered down the steps. She was halfway across the stone pathway when a voice called her name. She twisted to her left to see Stella standing in the driveway by their car with empty reusable grocery bags in her hands. Despite the dark, Amelia could make out Stella’s concerned expression. Holding back a sob, Amelia ran over to her mother. ~~~ The rest of the night went as planned. The five of them ate cake, teased one another, and laughed about how late Stella was. It wasn’t until Amelia was alone in her bedroom, getting ready to sleep when Stella knocked on her door to chat. “Is Angelica my mother?” The two of them sat beside one another on Amelia’s bed. Stella brushed a strand of her own black hair behind her ear. “You met Angelica once before. On your eighth birthday. I had run into her while getting flowers with Maisie for your party and invited her over. I didn’t know she was your birth mother then.” Amelia vaguely remembered that party. It had just been with her family. She couldn’t remember Angelica being there, but it sounded like she hadn’t visited long. “My sister...she got caught up in something bad, something I disapproved of. A cult, I guess others would call it, but they aren’t hurting anyone.” Stella’s eyes were distant with memory. “I pushed Angelica away for ten years until I saw her at that flower shop. I thought maybe I could be a better sister, but...I was wrong. She left your party without me noticing and it took a year before I tracked her down again.” Amelia stared down at her toes. The soft fabric of her bedsheets tickled her thighs and she fiddled with the edge of her blanket. “How did you find her?” “The group my sister is part of operates with these places called ‘Temple Houses.’ Members live there so they can do their practices privately. The group isn’t associated with any religion. They’re very seclusive and focused on community and nature. I figured out where some of the Temple Houses were and located the one Angelica was staying at the time. I offered to support her and make sure she and her friends had food. “Eventually, after a couple years, she trusted me enough to let me know that she had recognized you as her daughter when she came to that birthday party. She felt ashamed about leaving you, but she also wanted to know how you were doing, so I helped her buy the colonial across the street. Eleanor and Tania agreed to assist me. It’s now a Temple House and Angelica runs it. I help out with the more practical things like getting groceries. It’s why I don’t use public transportation. I don’t want anyone getting suspicious.” Amelia nodded. She glanced at the window, which now displayed an image of the milky way. A little fan whirred silently on her bookshelf washing Amelia with waves of cool air. What was Angelica doing now? Was she thinking about Amelia? Stella placed a warm hand on Amelia’s wrist, stilling her fiddling. “Angelica didn’t want you to know all of this because she doesn’t want you to feel ashamed of your birth mother. She loves you though and I hope you know that we do, too.” Amelia met her adoptive mother’s dark brown eyes, which she now recognized as being similar not only to Angelica’s, but her own as well. She leaned against Stella’s shoulder. Amelia knew now that the Temple House was nothing to be scared of, but that didn’t mean things weren’t complicated. She listened to Eleanor and Tania chattering downstairs. She heard Maisie shuffling around in the bathroom nearby. She could feel Stella’s grasp over her hand. Amelia had always been a loner and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. She couldn’t predict what would happen next with Angelica, but she did know she wasn’t alone. Kylie couldn’t breathe. The air crowded her lungs and her body clenched inside of her. The shouting of the people around her shook her nerves and she trembled, her body craving to collapse inwards into a ball.
Was this really happening? Was she really on stage right now with the parents staring up at her. Her parents were staring up at her, light in their eyes as they waited for their fifth grade daughter to say the words she had been practicing for so long. She couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anybody. Tears flickered in her eyes, making everything around her appear blurry. A drum seemed to pound in her ears and she couldn’t hear anything except her own breath. Her breath. She was breathing. Kylie was breathing, but words could not come out. They settled inside of her stomach and rolled under her tongue. Her mouth felt sticky and the stickiness clamped it shut. Her legs vibrated and her hands grasped onto the fabric of her blue dress. What had her poem been about again? “Kylie,” a voice breathed into her ear. She shuddered. Who was this person? Why was she standing beside her? Kylie’s head tilted to the left, toward the voice. It sounded so gentle, so warm. Maybe it could take her away from this horrible place where she stood, but no words came out. “Kylie, it’s Mrs. Richardson,” the voice fluttered into her ears, breaking through the pounding of the drums. “The first word of your poem is ‘imagine.’” Right. Imagine. But Kylie couldn’t imagine. She couldn't imagine herself out of this auditorium, out of this school, out of this world. Her mind stayed planted in this moment with all the stares, the parents, the trembling. What had she wanted to imagine earlier when she wrote that poem? She could faintly remember writing down those words onto fresh lined paper, her eyes bright with excitement and her heart thrumming with words, with hope. Hope. Maybe that was what she had been writing about. But what was there to be hopeful about? She blinked and her tears cleared up just for a moment so she could see...her mother. Her mother sat in the second row, her light brown face brimming with hope. Hope for Kylie to start, to speak. But then that image was gone and the tears had fallen into view again. Her mother believed in her, but why did she? Kylie always felt she disappointed her mother. She could never remember to take out the trash and sometimes she complained when they went to visit her mother’s family who were Mashpee Wampanoag instead of staying at home and watching Kylie’s favorite TV shows. Why was Kylie so selfish? Didn’t she value her family? They cared about her and gave so much to her every time they saw her. Kylie blinked again and this time her eyes landed on her father. He sat on her mother’s left and his dark brown eyes seemed to bore into her, begging her to share her words, her strength. Right. He had taught her so much. She remembered all the moments of them sitting side-by-side on the front steps. Him speaking Shanghainese so softly, Kylie wondered if he was embarrassed by the fact he spoke a language other than English. But why? Why would he be ashamed? Kylie would reply to him in his mother tongue and he would smile, but look sad as well. Kylie turned toward Mrs. Richardson now. The woman’s dark brown face peered down at Kylie with encouragement. She beamed and brushed back a strand of her gray hair. There was no anger in her gaze at Kylie for taking so long to remember the right words. She believed in Kylie. She had been in this moment so many times before with so many other students and had supported them through it. Kylie let out a breath. She would begin. She would say her poem. The words were beginning to flow into her mind now, like trickling water from a hose that only grew as the knob turned. Kylie spoke, “Imagine…” Last night, I saw a woman standing in the woods outside my window. She had light brown skin and long black hair. I frowned. We were supposed to be social distancing. Why would she be there? Yet, she swayed in the wind with her loose silver dress billowing around her slim body. Even when I blinked, I could still see her. Kylie, I told myself. You’re going crazy. Just go back to bed. And that’s what I did. The next morning, I woke up to see the April sun shimmering through my window. The green canopy of trees was barely visible from my vantage point. The woman. My heart pounding, I slipped out of my bed more quickly than any other seventeen-year-old would do on a no-school day. I pressed my face against the cool glass. No woman was there. I sighed. I must have imagined everything. “Kylie,” I heard my mother’s voice come from downstairs. “It’s your turn to take out the trash!” Groaning, I headed out of my bedroom. ~~~ That night, I waited by my window. I craved to see the woman again. There was something so eerie, but entrancing about her. All this COVID-19 stuff is going to my brain, I thought. Lately, I’d been anxious for my mother’s side of the family who were Mashpee Wampanoag. The tribe’s reservation was struggling with lack of government support and resources. My parents had been sending as much virtual aid as possible, but it still hurt being physically isolated from one side of my family. Then, of course, my dad’s side of the family were all in Shanghai and we hadn’t had much contact with them either. I just need a distraction from all this stress. The moon glistened in the sky above me. It was so round and golden. A super full moon, my dad had said earlier. I closed my eyes just for a moment to allow the yellow light to bathe me with its invisible warmth. I could almost imagine myself dancing on the moon’s dusty surface with my feet bounding through the air. Stars glinted around me and the Earth bobbed in the distance. Beside me was the woman, her red lips parted in a smile and her dark brown eyes were alight with euphoria. I blinked. She was still there and I was still on the moon. My heart soared in my chest and I, feeling like I could catch the stars, sprung through the air. “The moon is beautiful,” the woman said. It took me a moment to recognize she was speaking Shanghainese, my father’s first language. “Yeah,” I replied in the same tongue. I paused beside her. “Who are you?” “Someone who is alone.” “I get that.” I fiddled with the sleeve of my pink pajama top. It had been weeks since I had last seen my friends in person. I missed how Isla would doodle on my arm and how Christie talked so much at lunch that she always forgot to eat. I longed to meet up at the beach again with Amber and have vibrant discussions about the books we were reading. The woman nodded at me and held out her right hand. “Let me show you.” Normally, I would never take a stranger’s hand, but things were weird enough tonight. I was on the moon and exceptions could be made. I clenched her cool grasp. A light sparked between us and the ground swiveled underneath my feet. My stomach lurched in my body and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Take a look,” the woman’s voice filtered through my ears. I gazed at the scene before me. I was back in my town of Buchtton, Massachusetts, I realized. The night air tangled around my legs and I could feel the concrete driveway underneath my feet. Before me sat the colonial of my friend Isla Yue. Through the front window, I could see Isla with her back to us and her head bowed. I smiled. I knew that pose anywhere. She was drawing. Even with quarantine, my friend was still finding the strength to do the activity that made her happy. “Why are you showing me this?” I asked in Shanghainese. The woman did not answer. She held out her right hand again and I clasped it. This time, I was prepared for my stomach to feel like it was being tossed around. When I regained my composure, I noticed we were in front of a different colonial in Buchtton. “This is Christie’s house.” I spotted my friend’s red hair and pale skin through the window. She was in her kitchen with her sisters and mothers. I gazed as the family ate and laughed together. A pang of sadness shot though me as I remembered how isolated I was from my extended family and how they did not have the financial privileges of my friends. Then again, I knew things were complicated for Christie, too, because she was adopted and had no idea how her birth family was doing. I turned away from the sight. A cold breeze dragged across my arms and I shivered. The woman offered her hand. I embraced it and the ground shuddered under my feet. When the shaking stopped, I was not surprised to be standing in front of Amber’s house. He lived right across from the beach. Salty air flew through my nostrils and the thrumming of the waves soothed me. I grinned. My anxiety for my family lifting, I closed my eyes. I could almost picture myself with Amber on the beach with books gripped in our hands and smiles plastered on our cheeks. I opened my eyes. Through the window of Amber’s home, I could make out my friend reading on his bunk bed. The light of the lamp beside him made his curly black hair glimmer and illuminated his deep brown skin. His sister Ayana entered the room and he looked up and beamed at her. For a final time, the woman held out her right hand. Sighing, I obliged and grasped her palm. The world once more swirled around me and my stomach tumbled inside of me. We landed in front of my small cape house. The downstairs light was on and I could see my parents talking to each other in our little living room. My younger siblings, Stacey and Dan, were nowhere to be seen. My parents’ heads were bent together and they seemed to be looking at something. I turned to the woman. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Who are you?” The woman smiled. In a flash of golden light, she was gone. I went up the stone steps to my house and creaked open the door. My parents, sitting on the couch by the window, gaped at me. The warm air of my home enveloped me and it struck me how chilly the weather had been outside. “Where were you?” my mother asked. Her dark brown eyes were wide. My father just stared at me. “Oh, taking a walk.” I meandered over to my parents. A book lay on the coffee table in front of them. “What’re you looking at?” “Just an old scrapbook from when you kids were younger.” My mother was still frowning at me, but both of my parents seemed to have accepted I wasn’t going to tell them any more information. I slid onto the sofa beside my mother and leaned on her shoulder. I peered down at the scrapbook before us. A picture from when I was in elementary school gleamed back up at me. It was an image from Winter Break of second grade, the one time relatives from both my Chinese and Mashpee Wampanoag sides of my family had visited Buchtton. Swaddled in thick jackets and scarves, we all huddled in front of the house for a photo. Everyone was smiling, even my younger brother Dan who had been five at the time and obsessed with scowling. “Mom,” I murmured. “Are we going to be okay?” “I don’t know, Kylie, but your father and I are here for you.” She massaged my back. I twisted my head around to look out the window at the glittering full moon. My mother was right. There was no way to be certain of the future, but I understood, thanks to the moon, that my friends and family would be there for me. And I will be there for them, too. Even if we’re apart. Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don’t be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: How do you stay connected to your friends across distance?
Finally, to learn more about the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe and how to support them, I highly recommend checking out their official website: https://mashpeewampanoagtribe-nsn.gov/. Rosa loved to paint fishes. Everyday after school, she would trot back to her house with ideas swirling around in her mind. She pondered the exact shade of pink she would use that day. Whether the background would be a sunset or the stars. Most importantly, she debated where her masterpiece would hang. In Rosa's bedroom-- well, the bedroom she had to share with her three-year-younger sister Tsunami-- the walls were plastered with her paintings. Her fathers teased her about it incessantly, however, they never refused when she prompted them to hang up another one. Today, Rosa knew exactly what she was going to paint and where she would place it. With her heart bouncing, she scurried down the sidewalk and away from her elementary school. The late Winter wind rustled her frizzy black hair and Rosa felt light as if she could drift off with the breeze. Before she knew it, she was at the door of her apartment house. She scampered up the stairs and threw open the door. She let her backpack thud on the welcome mat and she brushed past her father (or tatay, as she and her siblings called him) as he tried to ask her about her day. She dashed into her bedroom and slid into the smooth, wooden chair at her desk. Finally, Rosa pulled out her watercolors and paper from the drawer and began her piece. Two hours later, Rosa was finished. She smiled down at her newest fish, a bright gold one inspired by the pictures of koi her second grade teacher had shown the class earlier that day. The background was light blue and Rosa yearned to float alongside the fish in that tranquil, shimmering water. I'm going to get a snack, she thought to herself. She left her seat and slipped past four-year-old Tsunami who was just entering Rosa's bedroom. Rosa turned left into the kitchen where her tatay was at the table typing on his laptop. He looked up as she entered. "You were in a rush today," he said, smiling. Rosa nodded. "Yeah. I had a really good idea. Ooh, can you help me hang it up later?" "Sure," her tatay said. "Where?" "Right on the window so it can get the sun's light." After Rosa had washed her hands and gotten herself a small bowl of Goldfish crackers, she returned to her bedroom. She glanced at the desk. The painting of the golden fish was gone. Immediately, Rosa jerked her head in the direction of Tsunami. The younger girl was sitting on her bed with the art piece. Rosa marched over to her little sister. "That's my painting! I'm the one who made it." Tsunami gazed up at her with wide dark brown eyes. "But it's so pretty. You left it on the desk." Rosa slammed her bowl on Tsunami's bed. A few Goldfish fell onto the sheets. "But it's mine!" Tsunami crossed her arms. "You never share your paintings." Rosa stalked over to the opposite side of the room and with a sharp tearing noise, she peeled off the wall a drawing of a green fish. "You can have this one then." "But I don't like that one, Rosa. I want this one." Rosa opened her mouth to retort, but the thumps of footsteps stopped her. She twisted around to see her tatay enter the room with his hands on his hips. "Tsunami, Rosa, please keep your voices down. There are people upstairs." He sighed. "Now, Tsunami, can you explain to me why you both are shouting?" Tsunami glared at Rosa. "She won't give me her painting." "Because I created it," Rosa hissed. "Also, she just snatched it." Their tatay took a deep breath. "Tsunami, Rosa did spend a lot of time on this drawing, so please make sure to check with her before taking it." Rosa smirked at her younger sister. "But, Rosa," their tatay continued. "You make so many beautiful things and I can see the love you put into your work. It's a shame you don't share your pieces." With that, he left the room. Rosa's heart sank lower into her body. She didn't want to give up any of her paintings. She had put so much effort into them. Why couldn't she simply share her Goldfish with Tsunami instead of her artwork? But Rosa knew her tatay was usually right about things and he had always supported her painting. It was because of him she had that desk and those watercolors and paper in the first place. Also, it wasn't like Tsunami hated her art piece. "Hey," Rosa said slowly. Her sister peered at her. "You can have my painting." Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don't be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: When was a time you gave up something you loved?
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AuthorI'm Darcy Ridge, creating stories that all revolve around family and identity in a myriad of ways. In the past, I have shared multiple stories and published a novella online. You can find me on Wattpad and many other social media websites. They/them [Image Description: black background with the words "Social Justice and Mental Health Resources" in white in the center /end ID]
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