《DESCRYER》 Chapter 1 - Red Strings It was like sinking into a cold, swampy nightmare. The bedroom walls quivered in the chilling air, forming goosebumps along Miranda¡¯s skin as she scampered up in a panic. It took her eyes only a moment to adjust. A woman. A transparent woman, small and cloaked, floated above the foot of her bed. ¡°What the hell?¡± Miranda whispered. She curled her fingers into sheets as chills crawled up into her throat. ¡°Who are you?¡± That''s when the woman¡¯s smile dropped. ¡°You mean, you don''t know?¡± The room was silent. ¡°Oh no, no, no. You can''t fully see, then?¡± She shook her head, her white hair whipping back and forth. ¡°This changes everything. I can no longer... no, that will damage, that will...¡± ¡°Who are you? Tell me!¡± Frigid air rushed to Miranda¡¯s face. Her eyes flickered as brilliant amethysts on fire from absorbing every detail of the woman: her face etched with wrinkles, her eyes worn and tired, her breath empty. ¡°You know who I am, child.¡± Her voice echoed a strange familiarity. ¡°You are blessed with the ability to see and the knowledge that comes with it. But you have not yet learned to trust in it.¡± Miranda remained tight-lipped. It had been months since the last time she¡¯d seen a ghost. Maybe even a year? Her brain wasn¡¯t working right now. Only her eyes. Was she imagining things again or had she finally snapped? ¡°Do not falter in your beliefs. I know that your parents make it difficult for you to believe. It¡¯s a shame that they pretend not to know.¡± What? ¡°How would you know anything?¡± The woman¡¯s lips curved up. Her eyes and face were all soft and warmth.¡° I know many things about you, about your friends, even your boyfriend.¡± She scoffed then and wagged a finger at Miranda. ¡°He¡¯s another matter you will have to address.¡± How did she know about that, about all of it? ¡°I''m sorry. I don¡¯t have much time.¡± Winter wisps followed the woman as she closed the gap. ¡°Many things have happened to you, and they will keep happening. I¡¯m afraid that what I have done up until now may have been all for naught. For that, I¡¯m sorry.¡± She slouched forward. Her body read as sadness and disappointment. ¡°But never mind that now, Miranda!¡± Hearing the woman speak her name made her skin prickle. She watched the woman curiously, her mind not quite able to place her face. ¡°I want you to always remember that no matter what gets thrown your way you have the strength and the courage to fight through it all.¡± All of what? What more could I possibly have to deal with? ¡°I must leave now.¡± The woman was only a few breaths away when she rose her bone-cold fingers to Miranda¡¯s cheek. ¡°You have grown so wonderfully.¡± Words caught at the base of Miranda¡¯s throat as she jolted forward and choked out a scream.
A translucent haze blanketed town. Weather in the northeast was temperamental this October, flaring between cold dips and warm rises in rain. Miranda stood up with the rest of the crazed high schoolers, her energy focuses on gripping her jacket pockets as tightly as she could while their energy was spent screaming in favor of the home team. Central High Rams, down by 5, but it wasn¡¯t over yet - only halftime. Things could still turn around for the better. Beyond the football field was the visiting team all crowded together. The dispersing players left the field empty for a few minutes before the pep band and dance team would take the stage. It was just enough time to grant Miranda a straight-shot view of the front row where two bodies tied themselves together. Her face tightened at the display of lips and limbs that clung to each other as if the two were secluded in their own, private world. She stomped down the bleaches and joined a group who were leaning over for a better view. Unlike them, she could see clearly. Her eyes were special like that. ¡°Oh no, Love!¡± Flanking her left was Bailey, best known for her thick red curls and dotted freckle cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡± She didn¡¯t look Bailey in the eyes, just kept staring at her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend Jack Brown as he kissed the other girl. It was Tasha Rayword, known for having the biggest ass on the planet. That old ghost was right, her mind snapped. To think, all it took was a little white lie to confirm a month-long of suspicions: ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not going to the game this time around,¡± she had said. And now here we are. She scoffed at the ongoing PDA. Those two were clearly convinced that by immersing themselves with the unknown faces of the visiting school, they had escaped into their own little closet where no one could find them. But stupidly, they had remained in the first freaking row! ¡°Please tell me you got something in mind for this cheating prick,¡± Bailey said. ¡°I already got¡¯chu!¡± On Miranda''s right was Frankie waving a thick wad of cash in front of the girls. ¡°Whatever it is you do, I already got bets on it that you''d get him tonight!¡± Bailey rolled her eyes. She never did approve of Frankie''s desire to make a quick buck off of something like this, not when it was hurting Miranda. ¡°I got about forty-something bets here in total. And if I know you like I know I do, then I¡¯ll be coming out with a big win from this!¡± Bailey immediately berated Frankie, throwing in an arm slap that Miranda could at least grin at. But they had a point. Did she have a plan? All she wanted was confirmation and now she had it. So what exactly was deserving of the basketball All-Star as he sucked faces with the Queen of the High School Whores. Miranda eyed the several hundred people shuffling through the bleachers. Clearly, a make-out session in plain sight was nothing new to them. So what would they want to see? Specs of light began to dot her vision. To her, everything kept shifting from blurred beings to separate entities. Jack and Tasha seemed to melt into each other. She felt a hard pang at her chest before finally breaking her stare, the lights beckoning for her to look towards the football players instead. They stood along the track that circled the field. At first, she thought she was imagining these lights, these ¡°faeries¡± as she had grown up calling them. But they were too alive with prismatic color, buzzing around the jugs and bottles of sport drinks that sat on the table. Their faint sounds were whispered secrets in a language she was only privilege to even hear, though not yet understand. The table was only a few feet away from the bleachers and practically begging for Miranda''s use. Loud trumpeting signaled a parade of band members and cheerleaders to kick off half-time. The crowds whooped and hollered for their start. Perfect timing. ¡°To answer your question, Bay...¡± Miranda''s lips slowly upturned. ¡°Yea, I got something in mind.¡± She took off, one wedge-heeled boot in front of the other balanced perfectly on the damp turf as she strode past the parading band members. She didn''t care if anyone was gawking at her for having crossed through the parade. Her interruption would draw their focus towards something better anyway. ¡°Don¡¯t mind me boys,¡± Miranda said when she reached the opposing team. She ignored their bemusement while snatching up two 64 oz orange Gatorade bottles from their table. Then she strutted towards the bleachers, feeling their gaze stuck on her curvy figure that swayed with each step. She could have sworn she heard a sly whistle from one of them as she squeezed behind the two hormone-raging teens, barely caring to notice the rest of the curious onlookers. But heck, Jack didn¡¯t even notice her! Five full seconds of pure lip-smacking sounds was all she could take. Her chest wound into a hard, painful knot. That¡¯s when she poured out the first bottle of cold, sticky liquid. Tasha immediately leapt off of Jack with a high-pitched squeal as if acid was burning through her silk weave. Jack on the other hand stood frozen on the spot as orange waterfall-ed over his head. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The knot loosened. She tossed the first bottle in exchange for the second, expressionless. ¡°What the hell!¡± Tasha was dripping in unflattering orange. ¡°Are you crazy or something?¡± A low snarl escaped Miranda¡¯s throat. ¡°Or something.¡± Jack¡¯s chest puffed up. He wiped off some of the juice while Miranda drummed her fingers along the bottle. ¡°Miranda, Babe¡­¡± A second wave of orange poured over his face, a steady stream for every single flashing phone. She glared at his mouth hung open until the very last drop. His lips were chapped and had a smear of dark red on the left side. Other girls had whispered rumors that ¡°he was sexy man-ho¡± while guys had cheered that he had ¡°bagged that chick¡±, that chick having been Miranda. Funny how all of those ugly memories came crashing back, memories that held the truth about Jack, memories that she had so dim-wittedly chosen to ignore. To think that he could change for her. How the hell could she be so stupid? She dropped the bottle and it clunked at her feet. ¡°I warned you, didn¡¯t I?¡± Her voice growled. The crowd of gawking students grew louder. Miranda couldn¡¯t help but smirk. Jack Brown, athletic star. Jack Brown, honor student. Jack brown, owner of a flashy red convertible. Jack Brown, handsome heartthrob. Jack Brown, fallen. Turns out, revenge was easy.
¡°That¡¯s my girl!¡± Bailey jumped in for a tight squeeze just outside of the gate. ¡°Yo that stunt really made me a small fortune,¡± Frankie bragged while displaying an even thicker wad of cash in front of Miranda. She tried to snatch it, though he quickly drew back his hand. ¡°Frankie. You owe me at least half. You only got that money because you knew I¡¯d do it in the first place.¡± ¡°Boy cheated the system,¡± Bailey sang. ¡°It¡¯s called making a safe bet.¡± His words oozed out with absolute delight. ¡°Besides, you did look like you was on the fence about it once you saw it all for yourself.¡± He smacked Miranda¡¯s palm with cash. Bailey only folded her arms. As usual, she was met with Frankie¡¯s dazzling smile as he held up to her three twenties fixed between two fingers. She pulled the bills for herself and threw him a sarcastic smile. ¡°Well, Love, hope you realize that you''ll be the talk of the town now.¡± Bailey gave her best friend''s arm a light nudge as they exited out of the back of the school and proceeded up the main road. Miranda shrugged. ¡°He had it coming, I guess.¡± ¡°Legit though, that¡¯s how you do it on your last day!¡± Miranda cringed at those words: her last day. Frankie tugged on Bailey¡¯s braid to get her attention. Too late. The cheer of victory was lost to the truth. Miranda was leaving tomorrow morning for Willowsburgh, Virginia. Jack was just another loose end that instead of being tied together was better off cut completely. As for Frankie and Bailey, they were her forever red strings first tied together five years ago. Little Bailey was inquisitive and awkward and had gone up to then newbie Miranda and pulled her jet black hair just to feel the smooth texture of it. Little Miranda had been freshly plucked from New York City only to be dropped right into the suburban side of Bridgeport, Connecticut. And little Frankie? He tried to con the girls with fake movie tickets when he first met them a year later. The girls had pummeled him with textbooks as soon as they realized the truth. He had laughed and asked to be friends. All three were guaranteed lonesome weirdos. Weirdos stick together. The wind picked up, smacking the three with Dunkin around the corner. It was already past ten and getting colder by the minute. ¡°Coffee run?¡± Bailey suggested. As tiny as this Dunkin was, it was large in the number of memories it held. How many times had Frankie coo the girls into skipping lunch for donuts and coffee instead? ¡°Remember when Jack tried to tag along?¡± Frankie commented from the front counter ¡°It was so stupid!¡± Bailey added. ¡°He was trying to act all suave and shit and practically court you in the beginning.¡± Miranda forced a smile while cupping her French Vanilla Latte. She remembered how Jack couldn¡¯t even hold a conversation with her friends. He was all about sports, Frankie all about videogames, Bailey about her babysitting. And Miranda? She was too flexible to have noticed the problem. Flexibility in it of itself is a curse. It¡¯s a method for pleasing everyone while having to compromise on your end. Flexibility and compromise equated to an unwillingness to make things difficult for friends and family. Compromise and unwillingness resulted in four moves within these past ten years. Frankie clucked his teeth together. ¡°Man, this sucks! You couldn¡¯t have protested or something? Freedom of speech is supposed to get you somewhere, right?¡± Bailey rolled her eyes. ¡°Frankie stop acting dumb!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that I didn¡¯t want to guys,¡± Miranda answered. ¡°Mom got an easy transfer down and Dad can work practically wherever. I¡¯d be the only problem if I did that.¡± Her tone dropped with her explanation. Alternatives ran through her mind. If she had clearly, verbally, disagreed on the decision to uproot, would she have looked like the inconsiderate, spoiled bad guy for not helping to fulfill her dead¡¯s grandma¡¯s last wish? The will was explicit: Keep the house in the family. She did not want to stand in the way of that ghost¡¯s final request.
Upon Aldrich Road sat a nutmeg painted house with a minivan parked in the driveway, it¡¯s back window hinting at the neatly packed brown boxes inside. ¡°At this rate, your mom might wanna¡¯ considering switching from being a professional interior designer to a professional mover,¡± Frankie commented. Miranda sighed andtwisted her mouth into a half-smile while leading the others up the front porch. She unhooked her keys from her jeans, but then her glanced down at the crevice of light coming from the doorway. It was left open? That¡¯s when a sharp pain shot at the side of her head. She pressed her palm against the flaring sensation, turned back and noticed her faerie hovering between a curious Bailey and Frankie. It followed her home. Was something wrong? Before her friends could say anything, she faked a smile and walked in. ¡°Mom!¡± ¡°Mira, is that you?¡± Mira- her special nickname. ¡°No, Mom. It¡¯s a robber coming to steal everything in an empty house.¡± ¡°Ha-ha ¨C jokes.¡± Appearing from the kitchen was a petite woman with bright brown eyes that made Nova Malhotra Russe¡¯s complexion glow. Miranda had gotten the same copper skin and thick black hair from her mother, but her sharp facial features echoed her father. The origins of her bright purple eyes remained a mystery. A breath of relief slipped out. ¡°Sorry, Ma. But seriously, can''t we take precaution here?¡± Nova smiled, though the bags under her eyes gave away just how tired she really was. She fiddled with her golden necklace, the Om pendant caught in her fingers. ¡°Precaution for what? There''s nothing left to steal. Tell her guys!¡± She shot the two a you-better-back-me-up-because-I-always-feed-you-dinner kind-of look. They took sides immediately and began spouting brush-offs at Miranda. ¡°Sellouts.¡± She walked off, discreetly assessing the main floor. Her faerie zipped about with her. Empty living room. Empty hallway. Empty kitchen. The throbbing in her head also was gone. Everything seemed normal. ¡°So I guess Mr. Russe is at the other house then?¡± Bailey asked. Frankie shook his head while making a sound of disapproval. ¡°Ain¡¯t it hard, Mrs. R? To have to do all this work by yourself while Mr. R is out gallivanting around the world?¡± He was referring to the fact that Miranda¡¯s father, Kevin Russe, was a travel writer who inadvertently spent more time abroad than at home That¡¯s when Bailey made a go for Frankie¡¯s ear. ¡°Didn¡¯t know ¡®gallivanting¡¯ was part of your vocabulary, Frankie.¡± ¡°Dad¡¯s been at the other house since yesterday,¡± Miranda clarified. She glanced back at the fading trail of gold that led out an opened window. It was gone. ¡°Anywho,¡± Nova continued. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± ¡°See for yourself.¡± Frankie fished out his phone and tapped and scrolled his way through YouTube before finally presenting the most exclusive footage one would¡¯ve hoped. It began with, ¡°I warned you didn¡¯t I¡±, all the way to the cat calls that followed Miranda¡¯s exit off screen. Nova¡¯s face paled. Her daughter tapped the screen for an instant replay, compelling giggles out of her mother. ¡°And you wanted me to wait for karma,¡± Miranda shot. Her mother softened but was still silent. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m already on it,¡± Bailey spoke. Bailey was a wiz with technology. Her magic included tracking spells via social media, cursing computers with viruses, and even explicit off-the-record hacking. Abra-Kadabrah-Alakazma! ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Jack,¡± Nova offered. She looked like she wanted to give her daughter a hug, but Miranda only looked away and shrugged. ¡°You know what? His lost¡­ he wasn¡¯t a solid guy to begin with anyway.¡± She kept her head low. A classic telephone ring sounded from the kitchen. Nova swept up her phone and after taking a huff of breath, ¡°Yes, Luther, I got your email. The client wants this¡­¡± Her voice faded off as she crossed into what used to be the living room, leaving the three in the barren kitchen. The room was both large and small simultaneously. Miranda felt like she was shrinking inside of it. She crossed into the main floor where her mind was taunted with memories of the nights her and her mother would sprawl out on their couch, engrossed in Bollywood movies. Or the times she¡¯s sit and do homework on the carpet floor while her father pitched opening lines for his travel blog. These were the most vibrant of memories, and now it was like she¡¯d have to leave these behind too. ¡°I really can¡¯t believe you¡¯re leaving us,¡± Bailey started. ¡°Here we go again.¡± ¡°Oh shut up, Frankie!¡± Bailey snapped back. ¡°In no way will things be the same without you. How are we going to stay in touch and stuff? And our girl-nights? Frankie does not count!¡± ¡°For the record, I am not putting on a dress for you,¡± Frankie threw his hands up in affirmation. However, he only received another glare from his blubbering friend. ¡°Bay, I¡¯m just moving a few states away, not a whole continent. ¡°It won¡¯t be the same. With her arms wrapped tightly around her friend, Miranda grew quiet. Frankie stepped in closer, stroked Bailey¡¯s back. Bailey was right - it wouldn¡¯t be the same. How long before their red string would wither and break on its own? Chapter 2 - Escape Early Saturday morning and even the sun refused to wake. Groggily, Miranda crammed the last box of random essentials before stalking back into the house. Nothing was left except for empty rooms that held faint traces of fond memories and burdensome secrets. The memories wanted to remain in the house where they belonged. The secrets would always be with her wherever she went. With her head low, she hopped into the passenger seat of her mother¡¯s minivan and looked back at the house. The sun was finally creeping up, casting shadows over the house and large tree on the front lawn. It¡¯s falling leaves left the limbs exposed. The branches¡¯ shadows clawed their way towards the car with the rising sun. Miranda blinked her eyes at them, and they remained still once more. ¡°Ready to go?¡± The last time her mother wore that face, it was when they visited Miranda¡¯s new doctor when they first moved in. She kept it reserved for special, nerve-wracking occasions only. As they pulled out of the driveway, Miranda traced the curious shadows all the way back to the small hole formed in the base of the tree. It was tiny, only large enough for her to fit her hand. She remembered having once entertained the idea of it being a rabbit hole and her the unwitting Alice. What would happen if the hole were actually large enough to fall through. Would she give in to the imaginative madness that she always saw? ¡°You¡¯ve been pretty quiet.¡± Miranda peeked a lavender eye open to see her mother¡¯s tentative expression shift between her and the road. They had only been driving for a half-hour, but Miranda was already drifting off. ¡°Are you sure you''re alright?¡± ¡°Yes, Mom. I''m fine.¡± She shut her eyelids. ¡°I''m pretty sure it was Frankie who told me that ¡®fine¡¯ never really means ¡®fine¡¯.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just tired.¡± She fidgeted in her seat to try and get comfortable, but there was only so much room between her and the dashboard and the leather car seat was starting to grow uncomfortable on her back. ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to talk about it? This is a big change, bigger than the others... And with your friends and having just broken up with Jack ¨C ¡°. ¡°Mom!¡± There was a four-second gap of silence before she bit back her tongue. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Ok?¡± She crossed her arms and braced sideways with her back to her mother, hopeful that she could just close off the world. She felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder and fought desperately not to shake it off. The gesture didn¡¯t feel like an act of comfort, only as something to affirm to her mother that she was doing the right thing as a parent. Soon enough, Miranda felt her mother retract her hand, followed by the sound of leather pinched together beneath flesh ¨C her mother¡¯s tight grip on the wheel. A minute or so passed in silence, and then the blaring jangles of tambourines and pounding drums made her jump up. A sharp, high-pitched voice erupted from the speaker, accompanied by her mother''s own tone-deaf singing: ¡°KAY-SAY,¡± they cried. ¡°KAY-SAY!¡± Oh God, Miranda thought. It¡¯s her favorite freakin¡¯ love song from her favorite freakin¡¯ movie. Miranda rested her forehead in her palms as the drums pounded in beat with jingling bells that normally would be shackled to the dancer¡¯s ankles. ¡°Chuna na mujhe aaj sajna,¡± went the song, her mother heavily accenting the ¡°chuh¡± and ¡°juh¡± sounds, as if simultaneously he were chewing and blowing air through her closed teeth simultaneously. Without even turning, Miranda knew her mother was swaying her hips in her seat, flicking her wrist in the air as if she had bangles to cling and chime with the bells. And then the male lead bellowed out his lyrics, lyrics that talked about love and happiness, no doubt. The whole lot came off like a Hindi version of the ending scene of Grease, except instead of everyone saying ¡°Shoo-bob¡±, they''re squealing ¡°Dhoom Taana¡± and ¡°Kaysay¡± - whatever the heck that meant. Not even sixty seconds could be tolerated of her mother butchering Hindi to the Bollywood song. ¡°Mom, could you not, please!¡± She jammed her finger into a button, silencing the tassa drums that caused her a small headache. ¡°Well if you''re not going to talk, at least let me listen to some music.¡± ¡°Talk about what? There¡¯s nothing to talk about.¡± ¡°I just said about your friends and Jack and ¨C ¡°. ¡°Why does it matter?¡± Miranda propped herself up, pulled off her sweater and kicked off her shoes. The entire van was starting to feel disgustingly cramped. Why did her mother go about poking at things? Why couldn¡¯t she just leave things be - always worrying, as if the trait was some incurable disease. ¡°Miranda, anything with you matters. You know that. And I want you to not let what happened start you off on a bad note.¡± ¡°I already took care of it and said my goodbyes. Why do we have to talk about it when I already dealt with it?¡± ¡°Because Miranda, I know this is probably hard for you. Heck, it¡¯s hard on all three of us. But, I just want to make sure that you''re ok. And if you''re not, then tell me so I can help.¡± She sucked in a breath. ¡°I just don''t see the point in us having to move for the sake of an old house.¡± Miranda caught how her mother pressed her lips together. ¡°Well,¡± she said between breaths, ¡°this time it''s about us as a family. Grandma Maybelle was the only family your father had aside from us. Distance kept us apart, and your father feels badly for that, you know. This is the least we can do to make up for that, and you know we couldn¡¯t afford both houses, Miranda. We talked about this.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. She was pouting at the window. Maybelle Russe. The ghost that had come to her in the dead of night, but never before in the flesh. That night three weeks ago was the only tangible memory she had of this estranged woman. She shook her head. ¡°Sorry, Ma. I get that part, but what I don''t get is why we''re doing this when we''ve never spoken or seen the woman.¡± ¡°The Woman?¡± ¡°Sorry again,but, you know what I mean!¡± ¡°We¡¯ve spoken to your Grandma Maybelle before.¡± ¡°Mom, we¡¯ve spoken to family in India more than her and they only call once a year for Diwali and only came once to ¡®bless the house¡¯.¡± Rainbow veils and embroidered silk quickly filmed over her vision. Six years ago they had a house blessing ¨C a jhandi ¨C it¡¯s called. She remembered her too-big sun yellow choli, a two-piece dress that was a definite hand-me-down. Aunties and Uncles had poured through the doorway, each of them carrying the smell of ground-spices and hot sweat with them. Another was sure to be in store in the next few weeks to come. Oddly, in all of these housewarming ceremonies Miranda had never once met anyone on her father''s side. Yes, Kevin was an only child and his father died when he was young, but what about cousins? She set her stare on the road ahead, imagining what an uncle or nephew from the Russe clan would look like. Would they have her father''s deep dark eyes or his scruffy brow? ¡°There really is no one else on Dad¡¯s side?¡± She felt the car slow as they merged into I-95¡¯s morning rush. ¡°Great - and here I thought we were going to beat the traffic.¡± Another eye roll. She bent down to fumble inside of her bag for something to aleve the headache. ¡°Thanks for not answering me, again,¡± she murmured. She popped two Advil in her mouth and then switched the bottle for her phone. Without a word, she dragged her finger along the screen to view the dozens of old photos she had stored. Several of them were of her and Jack just three weeks ago before her parents decided on the move. His cheeky grin was always a comfort for her. Funny how quickly things can flip on you. ¡°This is good for all of us. Your father and I are both going to be working much closer in Fairewell,¡± this was the next city over, ¡°and we''ll get to see more of each other.¡± She kept her face turned, not wanting to hear yet another recitation of the pros list. It felt like the same spiel as the move before. ¡°Ma, this has nothing to do with me seeing Grandma Maybelle, does it?¡± The car jerked to a stop. It flung Miranda''s body forward, the seatbelt restraining her harshly. ¡°What the heck, Ma!?¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry! He just jumped in front of me! The idiot...¡± ¡°Mom?¡± Miranda''s voice sounded pleading, even to her own ears. ¡°That ghost you saw was a dream, Mira. Just a bad dream!¡± Just a dream. She sensed a lie. ¡°This has nothing to do with that.¡± Her mother was well aware that Miranda had had several encounters with ghosts before. Ghosts, for some reason, was an accepted belief by many even if it was a hard thing to accept. The lights were a different story. She couldn''t see any outside of the car or in the side mirror. Perhaps they would remain in Connecticut, she slightly hoped. These puny, glowing creatures had been a part of her norm as early as age three. Each one seemed so huge back then, like a bright sun in the palm of her hands. ¡°A sparkling sun¡± she would cry out. Nova and Kevin insisted that it was her imagination at play, as it usually was for kids at that age. But Miranda spent the next five years crying on and on about it, evolving the name from ¡°sun¡± to ¡°firefly¡± and then to ¡°faerie.¡± She got bullied for it in school. Her teachers whispered about her condition. It all prompted her parents to transfer her from school to school, from Maine to Manhattan, wasting money on institutions that claimed they could help her stop seeing this ¡°faerie¡±. They settled into Connecticut when Miranda was ten and her fantastic proclamations had ceased. But it wasn¡¯t due to the institutions and the PHD psychologists, or the plastic tasting pills assigned for schizophrenic children ¨C pills that she spat out secretly and regularly ¨C it was due to simple, conducive rationality. No one in their right mind would ever believe her. Family relatives helped her figure this out. She overhead whispers during the last jhandi about the state of her ¡°condition¡±. It pushed her into solitude. What was the point then, in talking about the ¡°firefly-faerie¡± that delighted in her laughter? If everyone was so desperate to insist that it didn¡¯t exist, then why not keep her friend all to herself? She fooled her parents into believing that she had grown out of the habit and hid it from every other person she encountered, Bailey and Frankie included. ¡°This is just about honoring your grandmother¡¯s last wish.¡± Nova had been going on, rationalizing no doubt, all of the positives behind the move. Getting more involved with school clubs was on her mother¡¯s list. The car ahead of them stopped-short again, causing another jerk out of the van. Miranda¡¯s phone slipped from her hands as the seatbelt choked up against her chest. The grip was too tight. She yanked the belt forward, but it had locked in place. ¡°Ugh!¡± She clicked it off and reached down for her phone, the motion now bringing up a wave of nausea that clambered at her throat. ¡°Are you okay?¡± The car was too tight, the pace too slow, and she was almost choked to death by a device was that was meant to protect her from these haphazard New York City drivers. And she had to deal with the expectation of being a normal kid who could freely join a school club because it was that easy to be normal while hiding an abnormal secret. No, she was not okay. But she gritted her teeth anyway and fell back into the seat, plugging in her earphones to drown out the world. ¡°Seatbelt!¡± She sucked her teeth at her mom, though obeyed. Two and a half Escape the Fate songs later and their car was racing past others. ¡°Jack was an idiot.¡± Her mother didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Good person, bad boyfriend...¡± Memories rose up faster than the butterflies in her stomach had that day he had kissed her. It was in school, in front of the lockers. Everyone had gathered to watch them talk smack about each other. ¡°Low-Key flirting¡± they had called it. She didn¡¯t remember the details of their little smack-talk just that she bet he would never actually care to get involved with a girl like her. She was too different from all the other girls who fawned over jocks. He proved her wrong right then and there. ¡°If I were interested, would you let me kiss you right here, right now?¡± he had challenged. Miranda gripped her stomach in light of the memory. ¡°Maybe I was just part of some game to him,¡± she whispered. ¡°Mira...¡± Her mother exhaled. ¡°Some boys are exactly that... Boys.¡± Miranda clicked her volume low in exchange for her mother¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry he made you feel like this.¡± Her eyes stung with fresh tears. She closed them off before they could leak out, unwilling for a single drop to fall. ¡°My life¡¯s too complicated for games, and boys...¡± she whispered to herself, not sure whether her mother heard her or not. She opened back up her eyes and cars fell back in the distance. Miranda wished she could just fall back too, just grow wings and escape the compacted minivan, join her lights and hurl backwards past all of the cars and just fall up into the sky.