“Do you want to do an experiment?” the teacher asks, holding up a bag of water balloons.
The children squeal with delight as they nod vigorously.
The teacher laughs, her dark curls bouncing as she hands each of the children a balloon and tells them to blow it up as big as it could go.
The children, all aged six to eight, gulp in large breaths and then blow into the balloons. Their rosy cheeks pucker and their eyes bug out as they blow and blow and blow.
“Alright now,” the teacher says, clapping her hands to draw their attention. “Release the air!”
They all follow her instructions, laughing as their balloons make funny sounds.
“Okay. Now for the good stuff.” The teacher holds up a box of food coloring. “Pick a color and I’ll add a drop to the inside of your balloon.”
One little girl gasps at this, “but won’t it be messy?” she asks. She glances down her white dress. “I don’t want to get dirty.”
The teacher smiles and says, “Before I add the dye, go put on one of the aprons.”
Obediently, the children lay their balloons on their desks and march to the storage containers at the back of the room. They knew exactly where to go to find the aprons since they used them quite frequently for other experiments.
Once the children had returned to their desks, the teacher when one-by-one and added drops of color to the balloons.
“What do we do next?” a freckled boy asked. He jiggled his balloon.
“Next, we fill them up with water and set them outside.”
“But won’t they freeze?” a little joy asks. He shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looks to the child next to him for confirmation.
“Yeah! It’s cold and snowy outside! These will freeze!”
The teacher smiles broadly at the children. “You’re exactly right. They will freeze. Now, who here want to take a stab at telling the rest of us their hypothesis on what will happen once they freeze?”
“What’s a hypo? Hippo? What was that word you used?”
“A hypothesis.”
“Yeah! What’s that?”
“A hypothesis is what you think might happen, but aren’t sure of. It’s something you have to test—by performing experiments!”
The children formed little ‘Os’ with their mouths, their eyes widening.
“I think the whole water will turn purple! I love purple so much,” and little boy in a checkered shirt said.
“That’s not what’s going to happen!” another boy says. “I think it’s going to explode!”
“Those are both very good hypotheses,” the teacher says. Thank you for sharing them!” The teacher beams at the children. “Anyone else have additional ideas?”
“What if it grows and it doesn’t growing? Doesn’t water grow when it turns to ice?” A little girls says, narrowing her eyes at the teacher as if this some sort of trick.
“Oooh, wouldn’t that be something to see!” the teacher says.
“How could it keep growing if it’s inside a balloon?” Another child asks.
The conversation continued on in this way as the teacher helped each child fill and turnoff their water balloons.
“Now,” she said. “We going to take them outside and place them in the snow!”
The teacher led them to a nice, shay spot under a giant oak tree in the middle of the playground. Snow swirled around them, dancing on delicate winter breezes. Kneeling down, she used her fingers to dig a small nest to rest her balloon on.
“Each day for the next week, well come out here and turn our balloons. Every day we’ll record the changes until the experimenter is over.”
The teacher helped the children dig their little nests and nestle their balloons into them.
Snow drifted across the road, swirling in the air like tiny diamonds. Through the haze, hues of orange, pink, and yellow filled with sky as the sun set over the trees on the horizon. Streaks of dark purple, like bolts of lightning, arched through the clouds. Ice icicles clung to rooftops, crackling with caught light.
“Are you sure you wanted to go on a winter stroll?” Simon asked. His voice was muffled as he came up beside me. An oversized scarf Nanna had crocheted for him wrapped around his face not once, not twice, but three times! His slouchy hat covered his ears and forehead so that only the tiniest sliver of his face was visible. His oceanic eyes stared at her. “It’s too c-c-cold for this.”
I shake my head and laugh at him. “When was the last time we ever just took it all in?” I asked, throwing my head back and staring up into the twilight sky. “Look how beautiful the world is. And to think we could have missed all of this,” I wave my hand across the space in front of us, “just because it’s cold.”
Even without being able to see his lips, I know he’s glowering at me. Sighing, I place a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Fine,” I say. “Come on. We can go home.”
I turn to head back when a silhouette of a woman standing in the window of the house next to us catches my eye. She stares back at me as I gaze at her.
“What are you staring at?” Simon asks. He punches me in the arm. “Come on. I want to go home.”
I stand, transfixed as the woman remains motionless.
“Do you see her?” I raise my hand to point, but think better of the gesture. What if she hasn’t noticed me yet?
Simon glanced towards the house. “There’s no one there,” he said. “Remember what mom said. No one has lived there for years.”
“But there’s someone in there,” I say again.
He leans forward to scan the front of the house and squints. “Yeah. I still don’t see anything,” he says.
I chew on my bottom lip. He sounds so convinced that there’s no one there, but my eyes and mind refuse to accept that. There is someone there. I know it.
I charge forward, ignoring his shouts to come back. When I reach the door, I turn back and stick my tongue out at him. If he wants to be a sissy, then let him.
Without hesitation, I rap on the door. Wind whistles through the tree in the front yard, sending a shiver down my spine.
But no one answers.
I knock again.
“Sam, please!” Simon grumbles. “I really don’t think you should be bothering—“
I twist the handle and shove the unlocked door open. Smirking, I turn back to him and shrug.
“Hello?” I hello. “Hello?” I elongate the word, hoping someone will heed my call.
I step into the room where the silhouette had been, but there is only darkness and the faint musty smell of a place that’s sat vacant for too long.
Footsteps crunch behind me. I whirl around, certain I’ve finally found her. But it’s only my brother, Simon. He holds out his hand to, a golden brooch clutched in his palm.
“She told me to give this to you,” he said, letting the small token drop into my hand.
I inspect the brooch carefully. There, engraved into the metal are a set of initials and a date: E. B. L. 1876.
“Who gave this to you?” I ask, turning to Simon.
“The lady in white.”
Rainbow shards dance across the floor as a gentle breeze caresses the crystals dangling from the ceiling.
The kitten wiggles its butt, ready to pounce as the prism reflected light zips back and forth from a particularly large gust of wind. It’s soft, furry paws stretch towards the closest light, but touches only the carpet.
Confused, the kitten mews and turns to the next light beam. Leaping into the air, it lands exactly where the sliver of sun rested. But, when it pulled back its paws to examine its prey, only the carpet remained. It lifted its head and looked at its human.
Laughing, he lifted his hand and twisted his wrist until his watch face caught a sun ray, casting a dot of white light in the center of the rainbow shards. The kitten looked from the watch to the dot, uncertain.
Its human moves the dot across the floor, taunting it. The kitten jumps again, landing on the dot reflected by its human. It rolls onto its side and licks its paws while looking at its human.
It’s pupils double in size as the dot moves across the floor, coming closer. It crouches, ready to go in for the attack. Its ears twitching. Its tail wagging. The kitten flops onto the dot, it’s claws digging into the carpet. But, when it pulls its paws back, there is nothing there.
Because light cannot be captured.
Dear Diary:
I can’t believe it. I’ve finally met the person I want to marry! I know. I know it seems too soon, but... what can I say? It was love at first sight! I can’t wait to see what he has in store for us next!
Did I mention he already asked me out on a second date?
He was quite the gentleman. Didn’t even try to kiss me goodnight after he walked me home!
-Sam
Dear Diary:
He took me paint balling! Now, I know what you’re thinking. I hate being sweaty. And dirty. And guns. So how could I possibly have enjoyed doing that?
Well... I did! I have bruises covering me from head-to-toe, but it was worth it!
Next time, I get to pick the date.
-Sam
Dear Diary:
It happened. Oh my god. My toes curled. I have never, ever, not in a million years had that happen to me before!
-Sam
Fifteen seconds.
That’s all that’s left. My knee aches where I landed wrong during the second quarter and my jersey is completely soaked with sweat. The roar of the crowd is nearly impossible to drown out.
I dribble the ball slowly, taking my time to assess the best path to the opposite side of the court. We need a three-pointer to win.
But a two-pointer would tie up the game, sending us into yet another overtime. I glance at my teammates. They’re just as exhausted as I am. We don’t have another extended time in us.
As if in slow motion I see the play. Our one shot. And I am not going to miss it.
I weave to the left and toss the ball to Abigail, one of my teammates. She expertly dribbles the ball between her legs. Spinning around the back of one of our opponents to stop the steal.
I charge forward, but am pushed to the outer bounds. She’s double-teamed. Her eyes scan the court, searching for a way out of her situation.
Six seconds on the clock. We need to make our move now. Before it’s too late.
Another team member runs behind Abigail and takes the ball from her. She passes to our best three-point shooter. She aims.
Four seconds left.
She’s blocked by a towering girl who nearly chest bumps her as she plants herself in the middle of her shot.
Three seconds left.
I’m open. The only one. But also the worst shot.
She passes.
The ball, heavy in my hands barely makes contact.
One second left.
I swallow hard, no time to aim. The buzzer rings just as the ball leaves my fingers.
I watch it fly through the air, praying I don’t miss my shot.
“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive.”
Sounded easy, right? I mean, how bad could it be? Finding a pathetic girl running around the streets? But then, that girl had almost killed her mother-in-law—the queen—so what did I know?
Of course, I hadn’t anticipated having this much trouble locating the girl. She was a princess, after all. Her name and face were plastered all over the kingdom. Everyone knew what she looked like.
And everyone knew she was a traitor. She’d attempted to poison her mother-in-law so she could seize the throne for herself.
Well, not if I had anything to say about it.
‘Course, it was bloody difficult to find the traitor when she was a master spy.
Smoke fills the air, creating clouds of color. With every boom, light streaks across the sky. Glittering rain flutters down as new explosions burst above. The scent of gunpowder mixes with hotdogs and apple pie. Sweaty bodies reach towards the heavens, sparklers waving in their hands. They sing of battles won. The flag was still there. As one, we say: this is America.
Smoke fills the air, burning their lungs as they continue to march. Chains that remain locked in place after centuries of “freedom.” When will they be broken? Light flashes with every boom, as more guards arrive. Fully clad in riot gear and loaded with guns. Glass shatters as the voices of the unheard scream to be recognized. They sing of inequity. The flag was never theirs. Divided, we say: this is America.
People always said Lindsey and I were like two peas in a pod. Peanut and jelly. Time would reveal we treated one another more like sisters than best friends.
There was this one time, not at band camp—though I have some stories to tell about that, too—when we were maybe sixteen years old. We both worked at the local Dairy Queen.
Lord have mercy on us. It was the dead of summer and if you’ve smelled the mix they use to make soft serve when it starts to go bad, then you’ll know what I mean when I say the refrigerator went bad.
I’d been tasked with cleaning out the mix barrels. Had to wear a handkerchief over my nose just to make it bearable. I gagged every time I had to lean down, sticking half my body into the barrel, to scrub out the remaining chunks.
As I was cleaning, Jim Boles, one of the kitchen boys and the bane of my existence in those days, decided it would be a good idea to dump one of the barrels I hadn’t started on yet.
On me.
Have you ever feel lukewarm, chunky ice cream mix flow over your feet and ankles like lava? Well, I have. And I am here to tell you: it is the worst sensation imaginable, especially once the stench hits you.
I’m not proud of it, but I barfed. Right there, in front of Jim. And he had the audacity to snap a picture of me and post it to Insta with the caption: Ashley the vomit face.
The moment Lindsey saw the post, she drove to his house, knocked on his door, and punched him right in his tender spot before he even had a chance to get out “hi.” She took a video of him groaning on the ground.
And that was just the type of relationship we had. We took care of each other.
Like when she found out she was pregnant during our senior year of high school. I held her hand when she told her dad and shared my room with her when he kicked her out.
She named her daughter, my godchild, after me: Ashley Rose.
We survived the ups and downs of life. All of them. Until now.
She kissed my ex. And when I say kissed, what I really mean is got full on hot and sweaty, leaving steam on the mirror kind of kiss.
And they weren’t even drunk when it happened. She made the conscious choice to see him.
And what she doesn’t know... what he doesn’t know... is that I’m pregnant.
She didn’t even talk to me about it. I found out because they were stupid enough to take pictures, which Ashley Rose found.
Some things can be forgiven. But this isn’t one of them.
Just a boy, But not just any boy. Waiting with sweaty hands, And Wilted flowers for
Just a girl, But not just any girl. Wobbling on high heels, And Wearing sparkly make-up.
In a car, Just like any other car, Sharing furtive glances, And Anxiously waiting for
a room, Just like any other room, Dancing with hands clasped, And Kissing in a crowd.
It was the sound of silence before the storm. Lightning swirled around us in a vortex, a sphere of serenity in the midst of a rampage. Behind the silver mask covering her face, I could see the anger in her eyes.
The hatred mixed with a furious curiosity.
“It’s me,” I said again. “Please, Savina...”
“Shut up,” she growled. She lifted a single finger into the air and held it to her lips. “Just let me think.” She paused, her platinum hair billowing around her. “I just need to think,” she said more to herself than for my benefit.
Tears welled in my eyes as I watched her struggle to come to terms with the knowledge that I was her arch nemesis.
Her friend.
Her lover.
How could it have only been a day ago that we were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing until the moon rose high in the sky? How could it have only been a day since she whispered against my skin that she loved me?
“I still love you,” I said, risking her wrath.
A bolt of violet lightning skittered across the sky. It seared the back of my jacket, leaving the stench of charred flesh and burning hair in its wake. Well, that was one way to tell someone you wanted to break up with them.
My skin itched as it knit back together. Once again I was thankful for the advanced healing abilities my father had given me.
“We can work this out,” I said, a cocky smile gracing my lips. She’d never been able to resist my smolder before.
Another lightning bolt struck me. This time sending a current shooting through my body. I groaned in pain, my head lolling forward. I felt like a jello mold that had been flopped onto a late for dessert.
“I said shut up!” she shrieked. Phantom winds carried her forward until she was floating directly in front of me.
I didn’t struggle against the hardened air holding my hands to my sides. She was the love of my life—even now with her anger bubbling over.
Her nails raked across my skin as she ripped the mask away. Her eyes widened, her already pale skin turning even paler.
“Alex,” she whispered my name as if it was the best thing she’d ever said and the worst all at the same time.
“Vortex,” I used her super villain name.
“Why... how?” She struggled to find the right question to ask. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she released a massive sigh before meeting my gave again. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were the Moon Girl?”
I shrugged, as much as I could with her brackets of air holding me in place. Eventually, I would have to break those, but not before I made it clear what I wanted.
“I am now,” I said. “Isn’t that enough?”
She held my gaze with unblinking eyes for several moments. “I should’ve recognized you,” she said. “The silver flecks in your eyes should have been enough for me to know who you were.”
“Well, it’s not like you went around gazing longingly into my eyes when we were fighting,” I point out.
She rolled her eyes at me, just as I knew she would.
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” she said.
I nodded. “So do you.”
That got a laugh. Well, at least we were getting somewhere.
Tentatively, she reached up and removed her mask. A small, thin scar stretched from the corner of her eye back to her ear. She pointed at it, the smile fading from her lips.
“Do you remember how I got this?” she asked.
I shook my head. “You told me you fell off the couch as a kid and...”
“I lied,” she whispered. “Your dad gave that to me.” She took a shuddering breath. “When I was maybe thirteen, I lost control of my abilities and he...” she wrapped her arms around her middle as she spoke as if to keep herself together. “He was the first responder. He couldn’t get me to stop so he created a steel rod end launched it at me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ignoring me, she pointed to a star shaped scar on her wrist. How had I never noticed it before?
“You gave me this one,” she said. “Do you remember?”
Before I have a chance to respond she points to a scar on her chest. Thick cords of bulbous pink scar tissue stretched across her breasts. She’d told me she’d had surgery as a child for a rare heart condition.
“You gave me this one, too,” she whispered, meeting my gaze.
“I didn’t know it was you.” It was a lame explanation, but it was all I had to give.
She shook her head, her eyes swirling with the tempest raging inside her. “You supers are all the same.”
Her hand snapped up and gripped my chin in her grasp. I forced myself not to react. She needed time to process who I was. To process what I was.
“You do things without ever reaping the consequences. I’ve almost died because of you on so many occasions, I lost count. Did you know I’ve been afraid of your father my entire life? After he killed my dad, I thought he could come find me, too.”
She was rambling the way she always did when she was nervous.
I smiled at her reassuringly, “But now we can put an end to all that,” I said. “I love you, Sav. I want...”
Her lips meet mine, stopping me from continuing. I return her kiss with a passionate one of my own. I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and make her feel how much I love her.
The air supporting me dissipated, sending me hurtling to the ground.
“I love you, too, Alex,” she said as she watched me plummet through the air.
