When it Gets to the Other Side, We Always Care Where We Land

Even the Doubleshot Energy & Cinnamon Dolce couldn't keep her awake. Sara allowed herself to succumb to dreams of happy chaos as her face relished the supple leather of the backseat, her perfect hair shielding the light from her face. Katrina sat on the other side, her green eyes glued to the widescreen hovering over her wrist and the limo bounced down the swollen highway.

Silence typically occupied their mobile office. It had been an unsung rule between them ever since they went to elementary school together. Mornings were quiet, afternoons exciting... at least that's how they used to be.

Katrina looked up at her sister, an older, taller version of her, with the same green eyes, auburn hair and narrow waist. Even when exhausted, she looked ready to go on a date. Then again, everyday felt like dating a time bomb. A duffel bag was clutched in her arms like a big Barbie doll, dwarfing her slim arms in her grasp. The Snapout! article about pencil skirts' comeback didn't seem so enticing anymore. Her eyes flickered through group texts, Snapchat and Oodles before settling on media more intellectual and meaningful.

Katrina shut off the holographic screen on her wrist and put in her head-buds. The warmth of her ears triggered the playlist to enter her ears via silvertooth. She turned to face the world outside and listened to an introductory clip of "Wind it Up" by Rob Thomas before transitioning to the smoothly intellectual voice of Carl Walker, also known as the Ballroom Philosopher...

"Welcome to the freshest episode yet. Hope you all are doing awesomely today. Sky seems like it's pissed off about something... I just don't know what. All I know is that I saw the North Star this morning, so I know something is going to go well today.  

"Y'know, I was talking to a bunch of friends last night and we came up with a very interesting thing about us. About humans...

We bunch together like schools of fish, each to their own group. I know I talked a lot about being ourselves and making others accept us for who we are. But there's also a very interesting about fish. They tend to swim together in very tight knit groups, like without any elbow room, well that would be if they had elbows.

"Anyway, scientists have proven that this is a defense mechanism embedded in every ichthyoid. They stay together to survive. To not die, y'know? So if we are so much more advanced than fish, why don't we do that?

I mean, fish are primitive species, don't get me wrong, but it would seem counter-evolutionary to go off in our own ways, to purposely be different just to express yourself when it isn't good for survival. Maybe we should be a part of society just until we could do something different..."

The limousine turned off of the highway. The only path standing between them and Sally Ride Institution private school was a straight line and twenty buses attempting to squeeze into one narrow valet spot.

"...Then there's the salmon, who's main challenge is swimming upstream. If it doesn't, it dies with no legacy of baby salmon living on its name. So the only way to make a legacy is to go with the flow until the time comes to jump the stream. That time is up to you all. Think about it. See you tomorrow, beloved audience. Always think out loud and wind it up..."

Even after 20 episodes, he still didn't explain what he meant when he said "wind it up".

Maybe it's a college thing, she thought as she gave one swift nudge to Sara's leg to give her time to wake up and fix her hair. They would kiss each other on the cheek and leave from different doors, each waiting for the day to end for a different reason. 

Stingray- Because Some People Don't Get to Fall Onto Solid Ground

Morning woke up the city in a warm shake. By the time the sun had risen above the horizon, Katrina had been up and out of her queen sized bed and checking her phone to find out what happened since 12 am last night. She heard Sara rustle in her bed next door as Elibeth, their housekeeper, woke her up with a jolt of EDM on full blast from a Bluetooth speaker.

Her phone read off 158 new messages as she flash-showered, put on a cute outfit and colored her face to look a few years older. By the time she slipped on her new flickback heels, she had been caught up on all of the drama and problems surrounding her friends and had even added her own opinions to the multimedia chatroom they all shared. Some of the advice felt evil to give, but she always gave herself reasons for it. It was a popular-eat-popular world at her high school, even if she had inherited the chaos; she still had to earn it, even if it meant pruning the tree here and there. Yet there was one friend she truly loved. Her younger sister was a treasure Katrina would never give up. Sara was good and very resourceful, but Rhonda... Rhonda was too precious, too innocent, to allow others in. The thought of her being hurt in any way shook her bones in the worst kind of chill. 

On a different note, her phone gave an exciting notification beep. Her favorite media-cast updated with a new episode!

He called himself "The Ballroom Philosopher" and he gave insights on things she would never catch by herself. He sounded pretentious and overly complicated, but that was what drew her to him. Not that she had a crush on him -hell, she never even saw his face!- but that he spoke of truths only a 20-something year old guy could make while living in a one-bedroom apartment, wearing the same clothes more than once a week, and eating eggs and toast 2 meals a day. That lifestyle didn't interest her except in the chance that she might be able to learn more about life through him. So she listened to his 35-minute long daily podcast while oblivious to the beautiful world outside, on the way to school.

However, there was one thing she always did, even if she was running late and skipping breakfast to hop into the limo to school, not even to grab her homework...

...

Rhonda waited patiently as her best sister Katrina gathered up her knapsack, tablet and head-buds before saying goodbye to her. She kissed her gently on the forehead in the shape of an 'O', her favorite letter, before whispering her favorite words in her ear:

"I love you"

It was the only words Rhonda could say clearly. Yet they meant more to her than being able to say the whole dictionary.

The door closed behind her with a small click as she wobbled down the rest of the wooden stairs, her legs flailing underneath her. Elibeth helped hold Rhonda's fragile body as they slowly descended to the kitchen.

It had taken her only 30 minutes to get dressed to show Katrina her new favorite blouse-and-skirt, the one she had bought for her. Rhonda was so proud that she couldn't wait to wear it.

The youngest Gevra sister had to keep her eyes closed as she had woken up. The light of the morning stung her eyes like sharp needles and her lack of balance caused the world to spin around her. The only remedy she found best was to shake her head up and down while grinding her teeth. Sometimes it was too hard for her to violently shake that much, so she stopped and allowed herself to try and handle the pain. This would go on while Elibeth shut the blackout shades and dimmed the lights in the room.

As they lumbered into the kitchen, she knew to strap herself into her specialized high chair, complete with steadying gloves and gel-leg rests to help her erratic body calm down. The moment she felt secure inside of its warm embrace, she no longer felt like she fell through the air, constantly tumbling past clouds as the ground whipped across her view. Now at least she felt like she sat in a roller coaster- at least she felt protected. Elibeth prepared her breakfast as Rhonda practiced her breathing exercises and reviewed the day's plans. She was going to finish learning how to say those words and how to cut out and paste shapes onto their correct spaces so she can finally start learning other things.

But she was trapped. She could barely say anything. She could barely control herself. She wanted to scream out to Katrina, to Elibeth, to Sara, to her parents, that she wasn't weak. She wasn't out of control. That she was normal like everyone else. But she just had a few more roadblocks to deal with than others, a few more kinks in her system that needed to be fixed.

But when her head wasn't spinning, the light piercing her skull, sounds ringing in her ears, the feeling of the ground overwhelming her legs, she tried to practice her basic ABC's. She couldn't get past "Q", no matter how hard she tried.

Maybe that will change today.

If only she could make a way for her mind to speak for herself, instead of needing a mouth...

Even with all of those problems, she still enjoyed her oatmeal, no matter how plain it was, trying as hard as she could to keep control of her hand from feeding the bib tied around her neck. She gulped down her strawberry-banana smoothie, even though most of it missed her mouth, and grumbled as best as she can to say "Thank You" to Elibeth.

"Drrrnku"

Thank you.

"'Mrtgonuuuu."

I'm ready to go now .

Thankfully, Elibeth learned how to help people like Rhonda, especially when the youngest Gevra was just a young girl. She lovingly unstrapped her and held the little girl safely to her chest, as she slowly led her to the classroom next door to continue their lessons.

Stingray- And now for the news...

This should be read like a play...

ANNOUNCER: This is WBZRK, news at 6am! Bringing you all the news that matters to you, without all of the anxiety and stress that comes with normal broadcasts.

MONICA HOROWICZ: Thank you for tuning in. I'm the substitute reporter for this morning. Mary Mackentyler is off tonight for a well deserved break. Her Instagram album sure shows a lot of fun in the sun!

Our first story comes out of Downtown -the place on the south of town for anyone who's triggered by slang speech that's never explained-, where a poor man was taken into safer custody as he tried to forcefully borrow some produce from Stanley's Grocer. The produce was slightly damaged,but it's okay since it was recycled for fertilizer for Stanley's own palm tree.

(Camera pans to the palm tree, slightly wilted to one side but more or less undamaged.)

Such a beautiful palm tree huh? Stanley himself said that he was slightly shaken up but will receive counseling for his newly diagnosed PTSD.

(Camera pans back to MONICA)

We'll be back after these messages.....

COMMERCIAL ANNOUNCER:    IF YOU'VE BEEN INJURED IN AN ACCIDENT, A FALL, AN ARGUMENT, YOU MAY BE ENTITLED TO MORE THAN JUST MONEY. CALL 1800GETBACK FOR RECOVERY FROM THE FOLLOWING  DISORDERS OBTAINED BY THESE INCIDENCES:

PTSD- SOCIAL MEDIA, SOCIAL ANXIETY DISORDER-FAMILY OUTINGS, PERSONALITY DISORDER-CAR ACCIDENTS, IDENTITY CRISES-GETTING FIRED, LACK OF AFFECTION -ARGUMENTS WITH A PARTNER,
AND MORE!

JOHNSON, REECKO AND GEFFNER ARE HERE FOR YOUR MENTAL DISORDERS AND THERAPY NEEDS. WE DON'T ASK FOR MONEY UNTIL YOU HAVE FULLY RECOVERED AND GOTTEN WHAT YOU FULLY DESERVE. CALL 1800GETBACK NOW. THE CALL IS FREE AND THE CONSULTATION IS FREE. CALL 1800GET BACK NOW.

(Commercial ends. Camera turns back on to MONICA)

MONICA: Welcome back. Now let's check in with our upcoming weather report, sponsored by Paradise recovery centers. Here to tell us is Richard Prytweller.

RICHARD: Thank you Monica. Judging by these winds and cloud formations, it looks like there will be some rain- but don't worry people. For those scared of rain, we are giving you plenty of time to get your rain gear, as it's coming in two days. For those scared of the clouds before it rains, we urge you to call a therapist if your anxiety starts acting up. The winds will be slow -around 1 1/2 miles per hour, so it will feel more like a soft breeze than anything else more violent. That's the forecast over the next two days but when we come back, we'll tell you when the SUN returns!

MONICA: GREAT! The sun's coming back!! Can't wait!

RICHARD: Me neither Monica! Back to you!

MONICA: Thank you Richard. We'll get back to his full weather forecast soon, but first a special report.

ANNOUNCER: THIS SPECIAL REPORT IS SOMETHING GOOD I'M SURE.

MONICA: Not today, Announcer. For those that get triggered by this, we urge you to call a therapist.

A masked character was spotted on police surveillance as it seemed to demolish some traffic lights and street lights to cause a major accident on the throughway. No one was seriously injured but it did cause traffic to halt to a standstill throughout the past few hours.

As well, a whole street downtown has been shaken up since last night after a masked infiltrator caused hundreds of dollars in damage to cars, trees, a mailbox and manhole covers. No one has identified the person but they appeared to fly away afterwards on what looks to be a jet back. We'll have more information as it develops, but for now, let's check back in with Richard on when the SUN comes back... 

Stingray- This is More Fun Than Banging My Head Against a Wall

My teachers all think I have ADHD. Some of them think I have something called Anti-social personality disorder. My nanny makes me take adderall every morning with orange juice. While Katy submerges herself with her favorite articles on the web as we drive to school in our limo, I just look out the window at the others on the streets. Sometimes I wonder what their stories are, what their goals are and what their lives are like. Other times I wonder how their lives suck, how they fell to where they did; even how easy it would be to seduce them into going to that bad place- to where they'd be willing to throw it all away for fantasy.

I work on my evil sneer sometimes when I look in the mirror. Look, I'm not a villain. I'm nothing like the ones I hear about on the news. I hear of people like the Joker, Harley Quinn, green goblin and others on the news all of the time. I could never be like them. Ever. Trust me.

I'm just bored. Yep. I'm just bored. I feel like the champion of a video game, like I mastered every single level already and I've reached my prime. Now I just keep thinking about how to make the most of it.

So I cheer on both sides of the fight, even if it felt like our own private fight club, with the grunts and punishing blows exchanged under the amber lights of the parking lot.

Katy and Elibeth know that I go to hang out by my friends' houses afterwards. My parents, even while serving in other countries, know that I come home late, with my work done and my outfit untouched.

But they know nothing about this. We cheer and drink as the boys fight. We splash them with water between breaks. Girls even try to intimidate the other by necking boys in front of them. It's a mess. A glorified mess. Yet the only mess I'm truly interested in is the one between my legs.

My duffel bag, you sicko. Once the fight is done (no one really cares who won) and we all retire to one of their houses to listen to Slackhorse Nifty's EDM experiments sprinkled with even more gossip and laughter, I bade my time. I bade my sweet time while following the currents of what everyone wants to do. Sometimes the city is ours; other times it's just mine.

The party ends late every night, but I have a ride bring me home, all the while with my engraved Engrini Sofle duffle bag close by. Yet I don't come home yet. They aren't expecting me home. I learned to break the rules only when they find no proof that I did. So I ride up past the penthouse, up to the roof, past the water towers and solar panels and pull it out like a prized possession.

It looks like equipment from a forgotten sport. The suit is a mash-up of spandex, kevlar and speedo, a weird combination I got from a shady friend who had connections. I fold my clothes neatly and slip into the familiar cloth, without a care that I just publicly changed clothes atop the highest tower in the city. I strap on the marastrike 480 propulsion kit to my back, its 45 pounds weighing me down, with only the promise of it holding me up in a few seconds. As I slip on my trikkity three-sixty biker helmet, I begin to feel my life slip out from underneath me- in a good way. After finally finding something to do, my heart beats out of my chest. This isn't the first time I've done this though. This has become a ritual for me, to do something extraordinary.

As I fly, I think of myself as a psycho with wings. And it feels good. So I raise hell.

Why?

Because I'm bored. And I need something to do.

......................................................................................

Stingray Chapter 2- Unnamed

I wish my sister would stop grinning like that. I swear, if she flashes her teeth, she looks like the Joker. Really. She has the features around her mouth, just in much softer tones than him. Although I can't help but wonder why he acts like that. Literally tries to set fire to Gotham every time he breaks out of that stupid asylum.

Whatever. She's cool anyway. She latches on to me like a leech, but instead of sucking away the good, she's getting rid of the bad. I look at her and see myself when I was her age. So young and reckless- I love that.

Hang on a second. There's this girl trying to get a seat at our table, licking her chops like she had just given head to some jock on the football team. Like that was a VIP pass now.

"Move away from our table, you dirty skank. Just because you blew Thomas doesn't give you a right to sit with us. Get your sexed up face out of mine you hook."

That's better. She was stinking up the place anyway.

As I take a bite out of some lame excuse of a lunch I launch right back into the juicy gossip swidling around me at our little table at the far left corner of the huge lunchroom.
What are the other girls talking about again?

"...So Tommy, like the loser he is, is trying to get back with Zoey but Alex already got to her. He found out the hard way."

Right. Tommy. Melissa's ex-boyfriend. Like really ex-boyfriend. Like he-wanted-nudes-before-the-second-date-desperate-material ex-boyfriend.

"When's the fight?"

"Tonight, in the parking lot when the principal leaves."

Fights were always an exciting time for her. We got to see a few dumb jocks duke it out on top of asphalt. Shirts would be torn, sweat will glisten on their bulky bodies, blood will be drawn...

"Speaking of parking lots, oh my G-d," Spener spoke out loud, his chin quivering without an ounce of self-control.

"Look at Katie's thermals. They look like she rubbed them on the asphalt before walking in."

"Ha! More like tried fitting into them first!"

After Kim's additional comment, we laughed long and proud. Who was going to stop us? Between all of us, our parent's ran the school, owned companies, won numerous military awards and accolades and single-handedly monopolized the divorce lawyer market. Who would dare stop us?

I sigh loudly, a trademark of mine, somehow even drowning out the bell for class.

Man, what a time to be alive.

"Sara, you deaf? C'mon girl," Kim called to me, waking me from another perfectly good trance. "Bell rang. Let's go."

As we leave the massive room together, I toss the remainder of whatever lunch that was into the garbage, disregarding the recycle signs. All I can think about is the fight that's going to happen. No wait, that's only the first good part; the best will be happening after that...

As the gossip and selfies flutter around me like beautiful butterflies, I get a glimpse of my own Katy before heading into my own classroom(Katrina hates that I call her Katy, but it's a cuter name, right?). She's in the back of her classroom, wearing that cute shirt and jeans combo and laughing with a bunch of my own friends' siblings. That girl is going to take over the school, I'm sure. And she'll enjoy every moment of it.

Every evil,

nasty,

horrible,

wonderful part of it.