Muggy air filled Ariel’s lungs as she took a breath outside her apartment door. The old train station stretched out before her, partially vanishing into a wall of gray mist. She placed both hands on the wooden rail, leaning forward and surveying the lot below her; he was there. Lucas, dressed in one of his polo shirts, looking up at her balcony expectantly. Ariel wanted to tell him to go away; she wanted to hate him, or at least have a strong dislike for him over his commentary last time, but in spite of herself, she found a small, subtle smile forming on her lips.

“Are you going to stalk me for the rest of the year?” Ariel asked as she stepped off the staircase and walked toward him. He held a Styrofoam cup out to her: coffee, and she was never one to say no to free coffee.

“Just until you tell me to go away." Lucas grinned, falling in step beside her as she began a brisk walk toward the brick-laden alley toward Cross Street. “Don’t you drive?”

“I, in fact, do,” Ariel told him. “I have my car over there, but it’s a really short walk to work.”

“From Depot Town to downtown?” Lucas frowned. “I suppose, but you could save yourself ten minutes.”

“I like the walk,” Ariel told him. “It gives me time to think.”

“And what do you think about?”

Ariel turned her head, giving him an almost mischievous smile before sipping her coffee. “A lot of things, really. Mostly about work, but now my trip next week. I’m going down to Ohio.”

“Ohio?” Lucas nearly reeled in shock. “Why on Earth would you do that to yourself?”

“Why would a promising lawyer become an abstract painter?” Ariel teased. She suddenly wondered if she was flirting with him; not that it would necessarily be a bad thing, but like she’d said before, she had baggage. Baggage that took the form of a young girl marooned in Ohio.

“Changing the subject, huh?” Lucas laughed. They stopped on the bridge overlooking Riverside Park and the Huron River; the fog hadn’t begun to lift and in the morning light, the expanse of green took on an eerie quality.

“About yesterday,” Ariel said, taking her attention away from the park for a moment to give Lucas her full attention. He was maybe an inch or two taller than her, his thick brown hair was wavy today, and there was something about those eyes….

“You don’t need to explain.” Lucas waved his hand dismissively. “I said something that hit a nerve; that’s on me, you know?”

“There’s gotta be something wrong with you,” Ariel said as she resumed walking along the bridge; they began to ascend a hill toward the Fire Station Museum.

“How’s that?” Lucas laughed.

“You’re polite, you bring me coffee, you’re not too bad looking… What’s your deal, Lucas? Do you kill puppies? Rob banks?”

“I have super cliche conversations with girls I just met,” Lucas said with a shrug. “And I cheat at Bingo.”

“You cheat at Bingo?’

“Naturally,” Lucas said. “I go down and hustle the senior center every week. Those geriatrics never stand a chance, and the best part is, most of them don’t remember me.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Ariel frowned; they passed a row of historical buildings, then came to an intersection. If the fog hadn’t been so dense, Ariel likely would have been able to see The Haven from here; a place that, at least in the back of her mind, she was beginning to hate.

“About the Bingo? Absolutely not,” Lucas said. “I don’t mind the cliche conversation either.”

“Is it a cliche?”

“Uh, yes,” Lucas said. “This conversation, in its entirety, is an absolute fucking cliche.”

“I don’t really see it that way.” Ariel shrugged. “And again, I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ariel thought about that for a long moment. Did she want to talk about it? About her parents? About Rylee? About this strange, mysterious benefactor named Tori and her family that had come to Rylee’s rescue? About the things that Rylee had gone through before finding this Tori? Come to think of it, she did want to talk about it with someone. She’d unloaded on Amber so many times, but Amber had gone through it, right there with her. Truth be told, she wanted to unload on someone new, someone that didn’t expect it, someone who would recoil at the details and experience the hurt for the first time. God, she was kind of a sadist, wasn’t she? Well, maybe this was a bad time, standing at the intersection on Michigan Avenue.

“I might.” Ariel nodded. “I just might. You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, I got it from Amber,” Lucas confirmed. “Here, let me text you.”

“Alright,” Ariel said. “We’ll set up a date. Not a date-date, but, you know.”

“I know.” Lucas smiled. “Any chance to get to know you.”

“You say that now,” Ariel laughed.

“Well,” Lucas said, glancing over toward The Haven and recognizing that their time was almost up. “Don’t count me out just yet.”

They went their separate ways; Lucas heading back toward Depot Town and Ariel walking across the street toward The Haven. Inside, she found an empty lobby, as per usual, and the sound of keys clacking behind the partition. She peeked around and saw Mariah over in the corner, lost in her work.

“Mariah,” Ariel called out, stepping around the partition and heading toward her desk. Mariah greeted her with a half-hearted smile. “We got anything today?”

“The rental company we work with, Townes & Holmes, they’re mad because the tenants are talking about abatement. The units are in kind of bad shape, so I don’t blame them, but it’s throwing everything for a loop. Townes is mad because the tenants all have major lease violations that the property managers overlook.”

“Like what?”

“Things you’d expect in low income housing.” Mariah shrugged. “Smoking, unauthorized guests, high traffic, you name it. They’re threatening to go scorched Earth on us.”

“Scorched Earth?”

“Terminate all our tenancies, probably displace like fifty people. All of them probably deserve it; I mean, they knew the rules going in, but it would suck. Most of our clients have trouble getting housing in the first place.”

“Well, some are higher on the list than others,” Ariel said, annoyed. It was true – there was an internal spreadsheet maintained by the team that listed clients in order of priority. While all LGBT people were included, trans people tended to be pushed toward the bottom as a lower priority.

“Money’s gotta come from somewhere,” Mariah said, echoing Sandra’s infamous line.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ariel said. “Just seems like if we’re going to help people…”

“Such an idealist,” Miles said, entering the office and tossing his coat on the back of his chair. “I really don’t get the transgender thing anyway.”

“What’s to get about it?” Ariel turned, crossing her arms and looking to Miles expectantly.

“They want to become girls, to sleep with guys, so why don’t they just say they’re gay? Wouldn’t that be easier than getting a ton of surgeries?”

“I think you should really ask why they’d go to the trouble of going through ridicule like that if they didn’t have a good reason,” Ariel pointed out with a scowl. Miles nodded.

“Well you know, people don’t take the LGB seriously,” Miles added. “Add the ‘T’ and we look like a goddamn clown car. I, for one, don’t want to wear the plastic shoes.”

“Jesus,” Ariel muttered, and headed back to her desk.

---

Rylee wanted to die. Well, that or at the very least be shot into space where she could no longer hear the chanting of the school motto or the cheering-on of the football team. They were packed like sardines into the auditorium; the walls were covered in Kenton Ridge’s colors, red and white, while a line of cheerleaders performed practiced choreography on the court below. Teachers flanked the gymnasium on either side, and the students cheered, clapped, screamed, or performed poorly planned and executed dance moves.

To Rylee, it was a sea of people and a consistent, horrific source of noise. Her eyes scanned over the people, the lights and colors all running together as her ears were assaulted by what she perceived as a high-pitched hum. As the cheerleaders finished their performance, they were joined by a few members of the football team; someone was giving a loud, emotional speech that demanded a response from the student body. Rylee cringed as the crowd roared back at him.

“Hey!” Kelly tapped her arm excitedly. “You having fun?”

There were a lot of words that Rylee could use to describe this experience, but as she stood there, skin crawling and head pounding, ‘fun’ was definitely not one of those words. Her discomfort was amplified tenfold as the school marching band emerged from the back of the gym, bursting through the steel double doors and marching toward the center of the room. She looked at Kelly and shook her head; Kelly laughed. Beside her, Carrie Ann screamed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down.

Rylee reached her personal boiling point and began to work her way through the crowd, moving past one body after another until she managed to reach the end of the row she had been standing in. She emerged onto a concrete stair with students on either side of her still cheering, still screaming, still clapping. It felt surreal as she descended, one foot in front of the other, hurtling toward the gymnasium floor, toward the marching band and their blaring brass instruments, toward the cheerleaders and their choreography, toward the football team and the jocks and the teachers. The world around her was a hurricane of sound and she was at the center, making her escape.

Anxiety quelled as she reached the bottom and turned left, past the bleachers and toward the bank of double doors that spat her out into the hallway. The sound of cheering ceased, and she was left only with the muted sound of brass that now resonated along the walls as a dull thud. She stepped away from the doors and out into the hall, resting her back against the cold brick wall next to a heavily papered bulletin board. The anxiety that had risen up inside her began to retreat back within the deepest recesses of her mind, and a second layer of noise began to subside as her body normalized. Anxiety was replaced with exhaustion and frustration as she tapped the wall with her left hand, breathing evenly in and out as she tried to normalize herself.

“You okay?” Kelly was beside her, looking concerned.

“Do people really care whether or not the football team wins?” Rylee jerked her head in the direction of the doors, toward the pep rally that was still going strong.

“Yes, Rylee,” Kelly said as evenly as possible. “People care if the football team wins.”

“Why?” Rylee asked sharply. “How does it even matter?”

“Because things like that matter to us,” she said simply with no further explanation.

“I didn’t want this.” Rylee’s voice was pained. “The world is more complicated than this. It’s bigger.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kelly shook her head. “But you’re here now, right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Rylee grumbled.

Kelly gave her a long, hard stare before casting a glance off to the left, down the hallway. She frowned and nodded in that direction. Rylee took the cue and turned her head, immediately seeing Isabelle, the other trans girl, making her way toward the stairs.

“You think she’s okay?” Kelly looked over with uncertainty.

“Are any of us?” Rylee shrugged.

“Come on, let's go check on her.” Kelly began to move in that direction, despite objections from Rylee.

“She’s probably fine,” Rylee interjected as Kelly’s pace quickened.

“You really don’t want to get involved with her, do you?”

“No,” Rylee shook her head as they passed a bank of lockers. “I don’t want people to think I’m like her.”

“You are like her.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to hang out with her,” Rylee said for what she thought must have been the hundredth time. “I just want to be me. I’m a girl. I don’t want–”

“Up here.” Kelly took a quick left, hopping onto the stairs and ascending to the first landing. “Isn’t the staff bathroom up here?”

“Yeah,” Rylee confirmed. “I’m supposed to be using it, but Carrie Ann pulled me into the regular bathroom yesterday and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Really?” Kelly frowned. “Okay, that might be a problem.”

“No one’s said anything.” Rylee shrugged.

“Okay still,” Kelly said. “I told her not to do that. She doesn’t know why, though. It would help, Rylee, if I could tell our friends why we’re protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Rylee said, suddenly. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Come on,” was Kelly’s only response; she headed off the landing, up the stairs toward the second floor. They passed into another hallway at the far end of the school’s west wing, another white cinderblock corridor with lockers lining either side. A bulletin board stood in front of them with fliers advertising boosters, bake sales, the prom committee, student council, and a few other clubs that Rylee didn’t bother to read over. They stood only for a moment before turning right and heading down the empty hallway; the sounds of the pep rally still raged below them, the distant ‘thud’ of snare drums drifting up through the vents.

Rylee idly extended her right hand and allowed her fingers to drag along the surface of the lockers – a simple gesture to stabilize herself, and something that she’d had to do for as long as she could remember.

“Here.” Kelly pointed to the door that said ‘Staff Bathroom,’ right next to the student bathroom. Rylee gave her one last look that clearly said ‘I don’t care,’ and Kelly pushed into the Staff Bathroom. “Izzy?”

Kelly and Rylee gave each other a wary glance as the space appeared initially empty. The staff bathroom was very small with just two toilet stalls and no urinals; the space was meant to be unisex, and generally off-limits to students. Rylee laid a hand on the porcelain sink to her right and dragged her palm along the flat surface as she moved forward through the small space. Though smaller, it was very much the same as the other bathrooms with the smooth brick walls and blue wooden stall doors. At the back, a high frosted window let in some natural light, helpful considering no one ever turned on the overhead lights in these bathrooms.

Rylee, reluctant to even get involved, pointed a finger at the second of the two stalls; the door was closed, and Rylee thought she could see movement through the crack between the door and the frame. Kelly nodded and stepped over, calling Izzy’s name again. She pressed her hand against the stall, throwing another glance at Rylee before pressing on it, pushing it open and revealing Izzy who was sitting on the toilet, head in her hands.

“Izzy?” Kelly said softly. “Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone.” Izzy’s voice was muffled in her palms; Kelly took a knee and gently wrapped her hands around the girl’s wrists. As she slowly pulled her hands away from her face, the first thing Rylee noticed was the carefully applied makeup, very well done, and secondly, the poor cosplay wig that didn’t mesh with the cosmetic job at all. Kelly seemed to be more interested in the girl’s newly-christened black eye.

“Who did this?” Kelly demanded. “Did someone hit you?”

No answer.

“Look,” Rylee said, looking around the bathroom nervously, “if she doesn’t want to talk about it–”

“Rylee!” Kelly snapped. “What is wrong with you?”

“It’s just not our problem,” Rylee muttered. Kelly glared.

“Okay, Izzy, it’s safe, you can tell us,” Kelly said softly, looking into Izzy’s eyes. “Who hurt you?”

Before Izzy could answer, the bathroom door flew open and Rylee closed her eyes as she heard the familiar click of platform heels against the concrete floor.

“What’s going on in here?” Cathy demanded. Rylee, opening her eyes, slowly turned to face Cathy, immediately taking in the perfectly applied makeup, silky pink blouse, and lightly curled blonde hair that draped over her shoulders. Sheila was with her, of course, looking equally amazing. They were both icons of femininity that drove Rylee’s dysphoria through the roof, and she could do nothing but stand there and bite her lip with the realization that she could never be like them.

“Let’s go,” Rylee said to Kelly, who was still kneeling in front of Izzy.

“No, who hit you?” Kelly demanded again. Izzy simply stared back, trembling.

“She’s with us now,” Cathy said, one hand on her hip and a grin tugging at the edges of her lips. “We’ll take care of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Kelly shot up, spinning around and storming toward Cathy. “We have to take this to the principal!”

“Whatever.” Cathy rolled her eyes. “Izzy, come on.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Kelly’s eyes were wide. “You can’t just–”

Rylee took a step back, watching as Izzy stood from the toilet and walked toward Cathy.

“What are you staring at, freak?” Cathy demanded, looking in Rylee’s direction.

“Nothing,” Rylee said softly. “This isn’t my business.”

“If it’s not your business, then why are you here? You had your chance to hang with us.”

Rylee simply watched, doing her best not to interject, but as Izzy stepped over to Cathy, she was shuffled over to Sheila, who immediately snatched her by the arm. Cathy stepped forward, moving in Rylee’s direction and coming eye to eye with her.

“Mind your own business, freak,” Cathy snapped, and in a single motion, she wound up her fist, slamming it into Rylee’s stomach. Rylee let out a yelp, stumbled backward and fell against the wall, immediately sliding down toward the floor, tears forming in her eyes.

“Rylee!” Kelly shrieked. “What the hell, Cathy?!”

“You want the same treatment?” Cathy demanded. Kelly stepped forward, and in a dark way, it was almost comical as she wasn’t even close to Cathy’s size.

“Kelly!” Rylee choked out from her position on the floor; all four in the bathroom looked over to Rylee, crumpled against the wall and clutching her stomach. “Leave it!”

“Better listen to your friend,” Cathy smirked. “New girl’s smart.”

Kelly wavered, her fists clenched and her teeth gritted as she prepared to face down a girl that she was clearly no match for. Rylee struggled, coughing and sputtering as she tried to peel herself off the floor.

“Stay down, bitch.” Sheila stepped forward around Cathy and made a beeline for Rylee; she swung back her foot and slammed the toe of her heel into Rylee’s stomach. Rylee reeled, letting out another pained shriek and clutching her midsection as she fell over sideways, sinking onto the floor.

Kelly wavered, throwing a horrified glance at Rylee who was nearly in the fetal position, whimpering and moaning as the side of her face pressed against the concrete floor.

“Come on,” Cathy said to Izzy. The trio left the bathroom, and Kelly looked over to Rylee who managed to pull herself into a seated position, head against the wall, as she clutched her stomach and choked on each ragged breath. Kelly turned and stood before her, arms crossed in the afternoon light resonating from the window overhead.

“What the hell?” she demanded of Rylee, whose breathing had begun to normalize, though she still wasn’t quite able to stand. “Izzy is just like you!”

“So?” Rylee demanded. “She’s with them!”

“Because they got to her first!”

“If I stand up for her, they’re going to start thinking I’m trans,” Rylee reminded her. “The school is okay with me because I look like a girl. If I start causing trouble…”

“You’re unbelievable.” Kelly gawked at her.

“Yeah?” Rylee placed a palm against the wall, working to struggle to her feet. “Well, I’m still alive.”

---

Tori’s purse felt heavy on her shoulder as she strolled into Mrs. Hetrick’s office. She’d managed to put herself together pretty nicely today; her hair was straightened, and she’d thrown on a low-cut black blouse to complement her form-fitting jeans. Mrs. Hetrick looked up as she entered and greeted her with a broad smile, standing to offer her hand.

“Tori!” Mrs. Hetrick said, shaking her hand as they both took their seats. “I’m so glad you could make it today!”

“I just have a little bit of time,” Tori said, apologetically. “I have to get back to work, but Mom couldn’t come and this seemed important…”

“We’ll be having a lot of these meetings,” Mrs. Hetrick said with a nod. “Just standard progress reports; Rylee’s situation is unique after all. How does she seem at home?”

“Well,” Tori said, clearing her throat and folding her hands on her lap. “Rylee is, first and foremost, a teenager. In other words, she doesn’t talk to me about school.”

“At all?”

“She tells me what I want to hear.” Tori nodded. “I remember being a teenager, always had my own thing going on. If she has a few secrets, that’s okay.”

“But she seems okay?”

“She seems stressed,” Tori said. “More so than usual, but what teenager isn’t stressed in school? Just comes with the territory, really.”

“What about friends?”

“What about them?” Tori frowned.

“Her friend group seems to be very insular,” Mrs. Hetrick pointed out. “She’s not reaching out to new people; is that really healthy?”

“Oh, right,” Tori said, nodding and thinking hard before she answered. “Mom and I…we pre-selected her friends before we sent her to school. This is going to sound bad, but if we hadn’t, she wouldn’t have talked to anyone. She’d just be isolated, probably bullied, and it would have been horrible for her mental health. I don’t expect her to make many connections this year, other than the ones she already has.”

“How did you choose these friends, exactly?” Mrs. Hetrick frowned.

“Well, it started with the Andersons,” Tori explained.

“Right, Kelly.” Mrs. Hetrick nodded.

“During ninth grade, Kelly was being bullied and my mom advised the district on a no tolerance policy. She was instrumental in getting that implemented.”

“Oh, I think I recall that,” Mrs. Hetrick said thoughtfully. “So they owed you a favor?”

“More or less,” Tori said, shrugging. “So Kelly is helping Rylee get acclimated.”

“Well, Tori.” Mrs. Hetrick clasped her hands together, laying them atop her desk as she spoke. “There is little doubt that Kelly can help Rylee here, but what about the real world?”

“The real world?”

“Okay, I’ll be candid with you,” Mrs. Hetrick said. “Rylee looks like a girl right now. She blends in perfectly. The hair, the face, the voice, right down to her mannerisms, but how long can that last, exactly? You can probably attribute some of it to her stunted growth or malnutrition, but at some point, her body is just going to catch up. Exactly how much can those hormone pills do? The world isn’t kind to people like her, Tori. There just aren’t that many people like her; before she came here I’d never even met someone like her and now we have two of them. What happens after she graduates? Who would hire her?”

Tori opened her mouth, then closed it again as she contemplated what Mrs. Hetrick had said. Granted, her words were a bit angering, but it was nothing that she and Anette hadn’t discussed. Of course Rylee would face some serious problems; none of it was preventable, but then again, Rylee had an advantage that others didn’t.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed the silence to hang in the air between her and Mrs. Hetrick as she turned her head, and focused her attention on the road outside; the sky was blue, for once, and wind lightly rustled the leaves of the trees planted near the school’s driveway. Finally, she turned back to Mrs. Hetrick, who waited patiently for an answer.

“Rylee’s life will be hard,” Tori admitted. “As far as her physical features go…we don’t know. The hormones could do their job, or she could start to develop more male features. Right now she’s pretty androgynous, and with makeup she looks very much like any other young lady. If…she does start to slide in the wrong direction, I don’t know. Surgery is an option, but she doesn’t have insurance and even so, I don’t know if insurance would even cover it. Truth is, I have no idea about any of it, but I do know that Mom and I will be there for her every step of the way. She’ll never have to worry about being alone or dealing with life by herself. Not while I’m still breathing.”

“Then she’s lucky to have you,” Mrs. Hetrick said, an undertone of seriousness in her voice.

“We’re lucky to have each other,” Tori corrected her. “She saved me just as much as I saved her.”

The meeting ended and Tori left the office, striding through the halls of Kenton Ridge. She stopped briefly outside the trophy case in the main lobby, taking a look at an old picture of herself with her team in the Kenton Ridge colors. She’d only attended this school for her last two years; she and Rylee would have that in common. Originally, she’d been a student at Northwestern High out in the county, though sending Rylee there definitely wasn’t an option. Those kids were brutal, or at least they were when Tori had been a student. She turned away from the case and walked past the stairs, toward the entrance. Outside, she spotted her car in the distance, tucked between a Saturn and an old Ford F150.

She climbed into her car and fumbled with her keys, reveling momentarily in the stagnant heat emanating from the dash, and then, slowly, she lowered the keys and felt her body go slack as she dropped back against the seat, her eyes focused on the blue UV strip at the top of the windshield.

“Fuck,” Tori muttered to herself as the details of the meeting began to sink in. Yes, she would be there for Rylee, but holy fuck, it was going to be tough. Getting her through school would be a challenge in and of itself, but what about college? What about getting a job? Her own apartment? Would she even be able to live on her own? Mom had pulled her aside not so long ago and told her that in social work, there were boundaries. The moment you offered someone direct help, the moment you held out your own resources to them, that was the moment you dived in, and there was no coming back up. What looked like a simple problem on the surface would always prove to be an iceberg extending for thousands of miles beneath a sea of trauma. One issue would lead to another, and another, and another until you were finally too exhausted and too spent to go on.

Mom had told her she’d gotten lucky with Rylee; that Rylee’s problems were manageable compared to others she’d met in the foster care system. She wasn’t violent, she didn’t have extreme mental illness, and her propensity toward self-harm wasn’t unmanageable. Despite the learning disabilities, the autism and the whole ‘trans thing,’ Rylee was, for the most part, a normal teenage girl. But still.

Tori took a deep breath and jammed her key into the ignition; the engine roared to life and she pulled out of the parking lot, taking a left at the end of the road and heading back toward Springfield proper.

---

Technically, Rylee’s free period should have been spent in the cafeteria with the other students; it was normally reserved for studying. Instead, she tended to wander around to decompress from the day. Sometimes she could get Carrie Ann or one of the others to accompany her, but today she was on her own, wandering the empty halls, Trapper Keeper tucked under her casted arm as she used the other to drag her fingertips along the surface of the lockers.

The school was silent now, save for the sound of teachers instructing beyond the closed wooden doors of the classroom. She had no hall pass, but she was fairly certain that no one would stop her, even as they saw her through the plate glass windows of the classrooms.

She passed a geography classroom, then a science lab, then history. Each time, she gazed through the glass for only a moment, catching a glimpse of the students within. Boys and girls, none of whom had a thing to worry about. Of course, she thought, that might be a little presumptuous on her part, something about the whole ‘everyone is fighting a battle’ philosophy, but still. For many of them, perhaps for most of them, their only real concern was school. Parents. This year’s prom. Football. Grades. Trivialities that they could afford to lose themselves in. Their world was small; they had no idea what could happen beyond the walls of this place, and as Rylee passed them, looked at them, she desperately wished she could be like them.

Just as she was about to turn and head back to the cafeteria, she heard the unmistakable sound of dribbling from the gymnasium down the hall. The hollow ‘thud’ of a rubber ball against the wood floor, and then the ‘whoosh’ of a hoop. She took a brief pause and then turned toward the gym; slowly, she made her way toward the bank of double doors and peered in through one of the rectangular windows, pressing her hand against the surface as she leaned forward.

“Huh,” she said, leaning back and grabbing the door handle with her free hand. There was no quiet way to enter the gymnasium; the ‘click’ of the door would always resonate across the open space, and so it was this time. Richard, one of Kelly’s friends, was at the half-court line, ball in hand. He partially turned and acknowledged Rylee as she came forward, one tiny step at a time.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” he called out; as he spoke, he bent his arms and expertly tossed the ball. It sailed through the air and arched into the hoop, whirling around the inside of the rim for a second or two before dropping, whooshing through the white nylon and thudding to the floor. It bounced three times before Richard retrieved it and walked back to the half-court line.

“My what?” Rylee asked as innocently as she could.

“You’ve always got someone with you,” Richard said, bending his arms for the throw once more. “It’s kind of the thing, isn’t it?”

“Not right now.” Rylee shrugged. She looked from left to right as Richard glanced back to her, arms still bent and body still poised to throw. She smiled sheepishly and then pursed her lips. “All alone.”

Richard laughed lightly and gave the ball another toss; it bounced against the plexiglass backboard and veered to the left, toward the bleachers.

“You’re distracting me.” Richard raised an eyebrow almost accusingly; Rylee shrank back.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ll, um…I’ll go.”

“Didn’t say you had to leave,” Richard pointed out. “Just said you were distracting me.”

“From what?” Rylee asked cautiously. “Are you…on the basketball team?”

“Nah, I don’t think I could deal with the schedule.” Richard shrugged. “I just do this to relax.”

“Is it really relaxing?” Rylee asked, perking up. “Can I try it?”

“Um…” Richard took pause, looking at her casted arm. “Isn’t your arm broken?”

“It’s been on for like four and a half weeks.” Rylee nodded at the cast. “So probably not.”

“Do you, uh…break your arm a lot?” Richard laughed; Rylee shrugged.

“I broke both of them a few times,” she explained. “The cast only stays on for like four to six weeks, but it’s probably healed by now. They just haven’t taken me to get it off.”

“Well, still.” Richard gestured toward the cast again. “It’ll be hard to throw in that.”

Rylee cocked her head, puzzling for a moment, and then came to a decision. Dropping the Trapper Keeper, she held her arm out in front of her, and then wrapped her free hand around the plaster, twisting it to the left and right as Richard looked on, his expression growing more and more horrified by the second. After a few twists, and feeling that the cast had significantly loosened, she held it out to him.

“Okay, pull.”

“Excuse me?!” He gawked at her, as she waggled the cast. “I’m not pulling your cast off!”

“Why not?” Rylee frowned. “I’ve had broken arms before, I can tell I’m healed.”

“Because it’s your cast!” Richard looked at her in horror and took a stumbling step backward and stared at her in horror. “A doctor put that on! It’s like…there for a reason!”

Rylee dropped her arm and looked down, dejected.

“I always do this,” she muttered.

“Do what?” Richard asked, still horrified, though his horror was starting to shift toward concern.

“I meet a new person and it goes okay for a little bit and then I say something weird and they think I’m a freak.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak!” Richard exclaimed. “I just…oh my god!”

Rylee sniffled and rubbed her eyes with her functioning arm, hand balled up into a fist.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a cracking voice. “I got weird, and now you feel weird, and I’m just…I should go.”

“Wait, no!” Richard interjected quickly. “Okay, look, if you think it’s safe…”

“It is.” Rylee’s eyes lit up. “I’ve had broken arms before, it’ll be fine!”

“Okay…” Richard said, apprehensively. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, though.”

“Just pull!” Rylee pushed her arm out toward a startled and wide-eyed Richard who gingerly wrapped his hands around the cast. Rylee smiled and immediately began to pull backward. On cue, Richard began to pull as well; Rylee grunted and Richard’s eyes widened as he watched the exertion grow on her face. Just as he was about to object again, the cast came loose and Rylee stumbled backward, tumbling toward the floor and sliding on her butt past the half-court line, causing her to break out into a fit of giggles.

“Oh my god!” Richard exclaimed, dropping the cast and bolting across the floor. Within seconds he was crouched down beside a giggling Rylee trying to figure out if he should help her out, comfort her, or laugh with her. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Rylee laughed hysterically and began to rub down her arm, scratching the dry skin and pinching it to feel the sensation. “And oh my gosh, this feels amazing!”

“A-are you even sure your arm is healed?” Richard was still wide-eyed and clearly in shock at what had just transpired.

“Isn’t it too late to ask that?” Rylee laughed, holding her arm up and wiggling it in response. “It’s fine.”

“I’ve just…never seen anyone do that,” Richard dropped down, sitting beside her at the half-court line. “How did you break your arm, anyway?”

“Fell off my bike,” Rylee lied.

“Wow, that must have hurt.”

“A little.” Rylee shrugged. “Feels okay now. Can you show me how to throw the ball, or whatever?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea, with your arm and all,” Richard said, working his way to his feet and offering Rylee a hand up. She held out her formerly casted right arm; Richard shook his head and she rolled her eyes before thrusting out her other arm. She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“I feel fine,” she insisted. “I just want to do something different; everyone’s protecting me, and I’m glad they’re doing it, but I just want my own thing.”

“Why are they protecting you?” Richard frowned. “Is it just because you’re new?”

“What did Kelly tell you?’

“Um, she said you were nervous, because you’re new.” Richard shrugged as he walked to the edge of the court and retrieved the ball. He thought for a moment and then lightly tossed it to Rylee. She leaped to catch it; it bounced off of her fingers and she found herself stumbling. Richard rushed over, placing his hands on her upper body to stabilize her. For a moment, he looked into her eyes, his own eyes wide with embarrassment. “Uh…”

“Yeah,” Rylee said, wiggling out of his light grasp. “I’m not very coordinated.”

“Practice makes perfect.” Richard smiled.

“Yeah,” Rylee agreed, though she didn’t believe it.

They watched each other for a minute, and then, Rylee heard an ‘ahem’ over her shoulder. Richard’s eyes flicked behind her, toward the door, and Rylee quickly turned to see Beth, accompanied by six other students, all staring at her.

“Rylee,” Beth said. “A word?”

---

Mitchell’s was quiet, far too quiet for the lunch hour. Tori grimaced as she walked in, listening to the sounds of silence interspersed with the occasional tapping of forks against ceramic or scattered conversation throughout the dining area. It was like Marcus said – people were still on vacation, though that was expected to end in a few days. A full house at Mitchell’s, especially later in the year, was to be expected.

Despite the lack of patrons, the lunch buffet was still laid out; Tori turned left from the back hallway and emerged into the dining room, eyeing the buffet as she moved closer. She started at the end, looking over the tray of green beans, then the fried chicken, the wings, mashed potatoes, and other food items, squinting at the baked beans. She cocked her head, bending over and squinting before standing up straight and marching into the kitchen.

“Mariel!” Tori’s voice echoed across the kitchen, intermingling with the clanging of utensils and the occasional shouts from the line. “How long have the baked beans been out?”

“That’s Tyler’s job!” Mariel shouted back from her station.

Tori grabbed her white coat from the rack, shrugging into it as she sped across the kitchen.

“Tyler!” Tori marched over to the prep station and took up an authoritative position near the newest hire. “How long ago did you put the baked beans out?”

“Uh…a few hours, when I got here,” he said nervously, looking up from his station.

“And what’s the rotation time?”

“Three hours!” Tyler shouted back, his statement nearly an objection.

“Did you stir them?” Tori demanded.

“What?” Tyler shouted over the noise.

“Did. You. Stir. Them?!” Tori shouted, moving her face closer to his. “Get out there and swap them out! You know your job!”

“Yes, Chef!” Tyler dropped his knife on the steel work bench and took off running across the kitchen, slipping on the tile floor and nearly sliding into another prep cook. Tori rolled her eyes and headed toward the back of the kitchen, throwing open the freezer and stepping in. She took a brief moment to acclimate to the drastic change in temperature as frigid air enveloped her, then, almost immediately began taking inventory. She moved from shelf to shelf, doing a visual inspection, and then paused when she heard what sounded like a whimper from the other end of the walk-in.

“Hello?” Tori raised an eyebrow as she stepped past the end of the shelf and peered down the back wall. Nothing. “Anyone in here?”

Overhead, dim lights burned in wire cages and wisps of cold air danced in front of her as she took another step, standing adjacent to the frozen produce shelf. Tori exhaled, watching her breath take form in front of her; taking careful note of the cold seeping into her jacket. Another step forward into the dimly lit freezer, and finally, to the end of the wall where she took a right turn and peered down, toward the end.

“Marcus?” Tori frowned, looking down the aisle. He was hunched against the back wall, head resting on one of the wire shelves. He wasn’t wearing a coat, but he didn’t seem to be shivering. Tori walked down the aisle and crouched down in front of him. “Marcus, what gives?”

“Go away,” Marcus said quietly, his voice cracking.

“What happened?”

“I said go away!” he said a little louder, banging his head deliberately against the shelf.
“Woah, no, Marcus.” Tori scooted forward and laid her hands on his shoulder; he looked up at her with puffy eyes, though the tears had long stopped. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“He hates me. They all hate me!” Marcus said loudly before looking down again. “He yelled at me again.”

“Who did? Chef Quinn?”

“Yes!” Marcus spat. “I’m never good enough for him! He yelled at me because I burned a steak!”

“Which steak?”

“Uh…one of the filets,” Marcus recalled, pursing his lips and looking away from Tori again. “All he cares about is his stupid restaurant!”

“Marcus--” Tori began, but as she spoke, Marcus flailed, swinging hard and knocking several plastic containers from the shelf. They clattered against the floor, spilling their contents. He screamed and swung again, but Tori caught his wrist, immediately feeling the trembling of his body as it transmuted his rage into physical form. Even in the darkness of the freezer, she could see the mixture of rage and hurt on his face. “Marcus! Fucking control yourself! What’s going on?!”

“I told you what’s going on!” Marcus shrieked. “He wants me to be like him! Well, I’m not like him! I’m a shitty cook, I’m stupid, I’m not even going to college!”

“Hey!” Tori snapped, giving Marcus a shake. “You are not stupid, and you’re not a bad cook either! Listen to me! Marcus, look at me! He doesn’t know shit! Okay? I’ve worked here for three years; your dad is a moron! He can crunch numbers, he can probably make a grilled cheese, but he fucks up on day to day operations here, so don’t you dare try to live up to his idiocy! You understand me?”

They sat there in silence for a moment, both grateful for the ambient hum of the freezer and the heavily insulated walls. Their words wouldn’t carry beyond the threshold; all anyone would hear was raised voices, and employees coming into the freezer to scream was just a matter of course.

Marcus breathed heavily, finally, looking up at Tori, who stared at him intently.

“You’re not going to kiss me again, are you?”

“No, Marcus.” Tori shook her head. “That’s never happening again. What is happening is that food truck. Pretty soon, you won’t have to be here. Just hold yourself together, okay?”

“I still have to live with him!” Marcus nearly shouted. “I still have -- I still…I…”

He finally stopped speaking, as if he’d run out of energy, but his words devolved into all-too-familiar sobs. Like she’d done with Rylee so many times before, she gathered Marcus in her arms and held his head against her chest as his body convulsed and he choked on his intermittent sobs.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” Tori said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Why do you care?” Marcus said suddenly, pulling back as Tori kept a firm grip on him. “You kept trying to get rid of me, back when you first got Rylee, and you always treat me like--”

“Marcus? Shut up.” Tori rolled her eyes and pulled him close again. “Shit happens, it doesn’t mean we can’t care about each other.”

She continued to hold him in the darkness of the freezer, his sobs lost to the frigid air as Tori contemplated what to do next.

---

“So what are we doing here, exactly?” Amber sipped her coffee and looked around the crowded cafe. She was dressed in a black peacoat, tied at the waist, and yet, somehow, wasn’t even sweating. Ariel had traded her skirt for a pair of jeans and a form-fitting blue t-shirt. “We’re a long way from our usual coffee spot.”

“So you know that guy from The Haven,” Ariel said. “The one I’ve been trying to help?”

“Chris?”

“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “So, he was taken into custody and put on psych hold a few days ago. Well, when I went out for lunch today, there was a message from him on my voicemail; I guess he got out early.”

“Is that even possible?” Amber frowned. “Don’t they like, lock you up?”

“You usually just go to the psych ER and they evaluate you so…either he’s a really good actor, or not crazy,” Ariel explained. “He didn’t leave a number, but I do have his last known address.”

“Um…and where is that?” Amber took another sip and looked to Ariel with concern.

“His dad’s house, I think,” Ariel shrugged. Amber raised an eyebrow.

“You crazy, girl?” Amber asked, concerned. “You know what your dad was like with Rylee.”

“You can’t really assume everyone’s dad is batshit crazy,” Ariel argued. “Besides, I have you with me.”

“Why the hell does this mean so much to you?” Amber asked with an exasperated sigh.

Ariel looked down into her cup of coffee, her thoughts lost within the swirl of brown liquid for a moment before turning her head to look outward, into the cafe. There was nothing terribly intimate about this place, not at all like the tiny shops they visited in Ypsilanti. The menu was printed on a four-pane light box above a long laminate countertop spanning the front of the shop. Baristas worked busily and haphazardly behind the register, at the vats, and behind rows of flavor bottles as customers shouted out their orders. The entirety of the scene unfolded beneath rows of fluorescent lights, complemented by bright surfaces designed to visually expand the space. There was nothing cozy about this place, and Ariel began to feel disgusted.

“Ariel? Hellooooooo.” Amber waved her hand in front of her friend’s distracted face. “Why are we doing this? Can’t he figure his own shit out?”

“He came to me for help,” Ariel said, finally. “I should have been able to--”

“Ariel! He came to The Haven for help! Not to you, not specifically!”

“I still feel responsible.” Ariel shook her head. “I can’t help anyone! I keep trying and…he…you know, Chris is just like Rylee. Just like her.”

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Amber rolled her eyes. “Okay first of all, you can’t save every trans girl, and secondly, shouldn’t you be calling Chris ‘she’ at this point?”

“I…yeah, probably.” Ariel nodded. “I haven’t dealt with a lot of trans girls, not since Rylee.”

“On the subject of Rylee,” Amber said, “she’s waiting for you, in Ohio. She needs your help, and if you’re going to bring her back here then you need to not do crazy shit. You have a family to take care of, Ariel.”

“Yeah,” Ariel agreed. “I do, but before I go, I just need to do this one last thing, to take my mind off of….ugh. Amber, I’m worried about this whole ‘Tori’ situation.”

“Oh?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “What’s bothering you about it?”

“That woman, Tori’s mom, you know Rylee calls her ‘Mom’, right? That Anette person? And she calls Tori her big sister. That’s like…super creepy.”

“Well...” Amber took another sip and then looked longingly down into her nearly-empty cup. “She thought she was never going to see you again, so she got a new family. It could have been worse, you know?”

“It’s…crazy.” Ariel’s eyes widened as she thought about it. “Who just…snatches someone up and says ‘Okay, you’re my sister now’ and then tells them they can’t leave? They’re literally keeping her there, she doesn’t have a choice! I have to get her away from them.”

“And…you’re going to.” Amber was clearly unbothered, a disposition that was quickly fueling Ariel’s rage. “But, for right now, she’s safe, right?”

“Yeah…she is, I think.” Ariel nodded. “I just worry.”

“Focus on getting down there, then focus on getting us a bigger place so she can have her own room. It’s what you guys always wanted.” Amber reached across the table and grasped Ariel’s hands, looking into her eyes. “A week ago, it was impossible, you didn’t know where she was, but look, Ariel, look at what’s going on! She’s alive, she’s healthy, she’s herself! That’s more than you ever dreamed of!”

“I know, I know,” Ariel conceded. “It’s just…ugh…I don’t know. She shouldn’t be with them.”

“Okay, you know what?” Amber gathered her purse and stood up from her chair. “You do need something to take your mind off of this. Come on, let’s go see this girl’s dad.”

Ariel settled the bill, and then the two of them headed out to her blue Charger, right in front of the meter that was just about to expire. They drove in silence through the city of Ann Arbor, down Zina Pitcher and taking a right turn on Observatory. A mile later, they took another right, pulling into a residential area.

“Which house is it?” Amber asked, craning her neck to see the passing addresses.

“Uh, this green one, up here.” Ariel pointed. “I think. Yeah, that’s the right address, let’s see if anyone’s home.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Amber reminded her. “People work.”

“Yeah, well…” Ariel trailed off as she pulled the car parallel to the sidewalk, next to a black mailbox with white numbers on the side. After sitting for a moment, Ariel removed her seatbelt and stepped out into the summer air, joining Amber in walking up the driveway. The house before them was green with wooden siding, two stories with a front porch that spanned all the way to the attached garage. Ariel couldn’t help but glance upward as they passed beneath an iron lamppost that was a full two heads taller than they were.

“This house smells like money,” Amber commented.

“Smells like shit,” Ariel muttered.

“That’s the next yard over, I think.”

They climbed up a set of three steps, landing on a porch comprised of painted wooden slats, and enclosed by a white waist-high latticework fence. Ariel looked around, considering the stereotypical nature of the home’s design, and then turned her attention to the door. Both she and Ariel glanced at the buzzer, then at each other. Ariel, being closest to it, pressed down on the backlit button, listening to it buzz just inside the door.

“Why do you think some people use buzzers?” Ariel mused as they waited. Amber looked at her incredulously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well like, some people have doorbells, some people have buzzers. Why do you think that is? Do doorbells cost more? Like, are you paying for having a little tune? Which one do you like better?”

“Ariel!” Amber hissed. “Not the time!”

Ariel started to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of the deadbolt sliding and the door opening. Behind the storm door stood a man that was a head taller than her, black haired with a hint of gray, though not necessarily muscular. His face was leathery; someone who’d probably spent most of his life outdoors, and his blue eyes glared through the screen as Ariel tried to decide what to say.

“You see the sign?” the man demanded. Ariel frowned; the man pointed to a sign next to the door that said ‘No Soliciting’ in golden, raised letters.

“Oh, no,” Ariel shook her head. “We’re not selling anything, we--”

“Then what do you want?” the man demanded.

“You, uh…are you Mr. Palmer? Chris…Palmer’s father?” Ariel watched the man’s face through the screen, scanning it for any sign of recognition as she said the name, but his expression remained stoic.

“Are you one of his queer friends?” the man demanded, confirming his identity and his relationship to Chris within the same breath.

“I’m from an organization called The Haven,” Ariel explained as calmly as she could. “We’re a subsidiary of--”

“Yeah, that queer place,” the man snapped. “Look, I did my best and raised a good, Christian boy. A straight boy. Then people like you come along, put all kinds of ideas in his head--”

“Hey!” Amber stepped forward, rage flickering in her eyes. “We didn’t put any ideas in his head! You taught him to hate himself, so why don’t you tell me who’s putting ideas in his head?!”

“Amber!” Ariel hissed, then turned to Mr. Palmer. “Sorry, Mr. Palmer, she gets a little…passionate sometimes.”

“You fags are all the same,” Mr. Palmer said, disgust permeating his tone. “You want to find Chris? Look under bridges, or in abandoned buildings. Maybe inside a refrigerator box. You won’t find him here; he’s not my son anymore.”

---

Fiona ran her fingers along the surface of the glass table, one of the many things that Tori had left when she moved. The guest room had been emptied, as had her bedroom and much of the kitchen, but she’d had no need for a dining room table, and it was the same story with the couch. Fiona couldn’t help but smile to herself as she looked toward the empty chair opposite the table where she’d once questioned a terrified Rylee, the day after she’d broken into Tori’s house. She remembered the conversation vividly and allowed it to play back in her head.

“So what’s this?” Fiona had held up the pill bottle that Tori had dug out of Rylee’s backpack. It was an unremarkable bottle with the word ‘Premarin’ on it. She’d rattled it around, causing the remaining capsules to shake inside.

“It’s…birth control,” Rylee had said. “Can’t be too careful.”

Fiona, of course had know that Premarin was not only not used for birth control, but that there was only one reason someone as young as Rylee would be taking it.

“I know a bit about prescriptions. I know a lot about this one, but you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

Rylee had been tiny, thin, basically emaciated. Her long, stringy hair hung in clumps about her shoulders and the left side of her face had been obscured by a bruise, black and blue. The physical features had been one thing; what Fiona couldn’t forget was the fear in Rylee’s eyes as she sat across the table from her. It wasn’t just the fear of being caught robbing someone’s house, it was a fear of her own shadow, a terror that ran deep and could only have been the result of a severe trauma that no one her age deserved to experience. Fiona had held it together. Barely.

“It’s all fixed,” Max said as he stepped out from the back hallway, a gray toolbox clutched in his right hand, which he deposited onto the kitchen counter with a thud. Fiona glanced at it and stepped around the table; as she watched him, the air conditioner roared to life.

“What was wrong?” Fiona asked quietly.

“Coils were frozen,” Max explained. “I used a heat gun to thaw them out, chipped away at what was left, and bam, air conditioning.”

“Nice,” Fiona nodded.

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “I don’t know how they froze like that.”

“Well, we know how Tori is about home maintenance.” Fiona shrugged. Max chuckled.

“Boy, do I ever. So what’s the deal with the girl?”

Fiona did a half turn as she stepped backward to lean against the counter, studying Max for a moment to decide if she really wanted to give him that tidbit of information. Max was Tori’s ex-husband; while Anette had insisted that the pair had never been happy, Fiona had witnessed a different story entirely.

Max was a year or two older than Tori; he was conventionally handsome though not muscular. In fact he could have been described as average, though Tori always balked at that description. Their relationship had been a good one. Tori had a light in her eyes and a happiness that couldn’t be matched. Their relationship had begun to rot from the inside the day their child, Riley passed. Crib death, or Sudden Infant Death they called it. There was no reason for it, no one to blame other than nature itself, and with the dissolution of their marriage, Tori’s happiness, too, had dissolved. Fiona had all but given up hope, except…

“She wandered in here,” Fiona said suddenly. Max raised an eyebrow.

“Wandered in here? As in here?”

“This house, yeah,” Fiona nodded. “Tori caught her raiding the pantry, wearing her clothes, heh. Instead of calling the police she took her in, treated her like her own sister.”

Max snorted. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

Fiona raised an eyebrow and then cocked her head, looking to Max with curiosity. “I didn’t think you paid that close of attention to her.”

“You know, Fiona,” Max said, leaning against the wall. “I’m not heartless. I did love her. In some ways I still do. I took vows, Fiona; you were there, at the wedding.”

“If you took those vows so seriously, then why did you abandon her?” Fiona’s words were soft, even, without a hint of anger. The anger had left her years ago, now she just had questions. “She got the divorce papers in her hospital room.”

“You know what’s interesting about all this, Fiona?” Max offered a half-hearted, highly insincere smile. “No one ever asks how I felt in all of this. Do you think I wanted to have her committed? Do you think I wanted to send the divorce papers? Ever been in love, Fiona?”

“You gonna get all sappy on me? Not a good look, Max.” Fiona’s patience was beginning to wear thin, but Max continued.

“People like to feed you bullshit about it being a chemical reaction, or magic, or whatever, but it’s none of that. When you fall in love with another person, they open themselves up to you. They give you access to a part of themselves that they don’t show anyone else. That part? It’s all for you, and just for you. It makes you feel amazing, and you can find yourself inside that person; you’ll learn things about yourself that you never thought possible. When that person falls out of love with you, you lose that. They’re still there, they look the same, they sound the same, they usually dress the same, but it’s nowhere near the person that you knew. That part of themselves? It’s closed to you, and it’ll never open back up again. When Riley died, I watched her slip away, bit by bit and there was nothing I could do. I stayed with her until I didn’t recognize the person I loved. Fiona, there’s no sense holding onto a sinking raft. At some point, you’ve gotta swim to shore.”

“Huh.” Fiona pondered over Max’s words for a moment. “That’s really deep, Max.”

“She’s not the only one who lost someone,” Max reminded her. “At least Tori has you, her mom, and that new girl she picked up. Who do I have?”

Fiona pondered Max’s words, trying her best to process them. Of course Max had lost, but he’d never really expressed it. He’d always maintained a pretty good emotionless front throughout the ordeal. Of course, serving Tori her divorce papers while she was locked in psych was probably a bit tactless, but he, of course, had his own issues to work through.

“Alright, Max, I get it.” Fiona nodded. “Tori is my best friend, always has been, and I’m sorry, but her feelings take precedence over yours. But I get it. If you need to talk, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks.” Max nodded. “I don’t want to put you in that position, but Tori won’t talk to me, and who the hell else is going to get it?”

“You tried therapy, Max?”

“Do you think it would help?” Max raised an eyebrow.

“It helps Rylee. New Rylee, I mean. She was pretty messed up when she got here. She’s still messed up. Maybe a little less so.”

“That bad, huh?” Max shook his head. “What happened to that girl?”

“Trusted the wrong people,” Fiona said sadly. “And was betrayed by people she was forced to trust. I’m hard on her, but I love her just like they do. I hope she pulls through.”

“Well,” Max said, lifting the toolbox and taking a half-step backward, toward the door. “She sounds like a special girl.”

“She is,” Fiona said. “I think she was what we all needed. I hope you find what you need.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

---

“Absolutely not,” Rylee said to Beth, who stood there in the chess club room with her arms crossed. “I can’t play with you guys.”

“Why not?” the short kid named Nathan asked, his voice high-pitched, almost whiney. “You figured out her dumb puzzle!”

“That puzzle was not dumb,” Beth snapped, turning her head and looking down to glare at Nathan. “I got it out of a book.”

“Well, it was a dumb book!” Nathan huffed and collapsed heavily onto a nearby chair.

“You’re a dumb book.” Beth rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

“It’s not a dumb book.” Rosie spoke up from across the room; Rylee’s eyes widened as she recognized the girl from her special ed class. Rosie was seated on a stool next to one of the long tables, a chessboard, fully set up on the table beside her. “It’s just a bunch of chess problems written by an anti-Semite that aren’t even that hard today. That’s why the t-girl figured it out.”

“What’s a t-girl?” another boy, Ron, asked. The color drained from Rylee’s face and she was forced to grab onto a nearby table to keep her balance. Rosie rolled her eyes.

“Nothing,” Rosie sighed, keeping eye contact with Rylee, who looked at her in horror. Rosie brought a hand up to her own throat, giving it a tap. Rylee’s eyes went even wider when she realized that Rosie was indicating her Adam’s apple. Jesus, was it that noticeable?

“Look,” Rylee said. “My mom doesn’t let me do extracurriculars, but I guess I can show you some things.”

That was probably a lie; she had no idea if Tori or Anette would allow it.

“Okay,” Beth said. “So show us some things.”

Rylee looked at Beth, then turned to look at the rest of the room. The old science lab was in poor shape and looked like it had just been dumped out of a 1950’s photograph. Wooden cabinets filled with defunct scales and other scientific equipment, black-topped tables, a pile of cardboard boxes at the front of the room, all of this under the watchful gaze of two rows of bright fluorescent lights affixed to the tile ceiling.

“This room isn’t really great for a chess club,” Rylee remarked. Beth shot her an exasperated look.

“What uh…do you suggest we do? Every room in the school looks like this. Do you want us to go to Lowes and do a remodel?”

“Might be a start?” Rylee said to Beth. “Okay um…like, what are you doing? Just playing for fun?”

“We want to play against another school!” Nathan piped up.

“What, you mean like a tournament?” Rylee raised an eyebrow, looking around the room at the assembly of misfit students.

“Yeah, they want to play in a tournament.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “They couldn’t figure out the stupid puzzle, but they want to play in a tournament.”

“Okay, you know what?” Rylee turned toward Rosie, glaring. “Why don’t you teach them?”

“Me?” Rosie laughed and rolled her eyes.

“She’s not in the club,” Beth explained. “She just thinks we’re funny.”

“Yeah, well, what’s funny about us?” Ron demanded.

“Uh…let’s see,” Rosie put a finger to her chin in a mock ‘thinking’ pose before using the same hand to point to each member of the club respectively. “Daddy issues, wets the bed, you two think you’re dating but don’t know what that means, you’re still freaked out over that time you stole a dry erase marker from--”

“I don’t wet the bed!” Ron shrieked, his cheeks burning.

“You smell like pee.” Rosie made a show of scrunching up her nose. “You always smell like pee.”

“He doesn’t smell like pee.” Beth frowned.

“You’re nose-blind.” Rosie shrugged. “Rylee, does he smell like pee?”

“Um…” Rylee fidgeted a little before answering. “I can’t smell.”

“Really?” Rosie raised an eyebrow.

“Uh…when I was like ten I got hit by a car,” Rylee explained. “I was never able to smell after that.”

“Could you smell before that?” Rosie asked.

“What? I don’t remember,” Rylee frowned. “Who remembers stuff from when they were nine?”

“I do!” Angela raised her hand. “I had a My Little Pony Themed birthday party when I was seven!”

“No one cares,” Rosie snorted. “But see? People do remember.”

“How did you get hit by a car, exactly?” Beth looked at Rylee. The room fell silent, and Rylee nearly went numb as all eyes came to rest on her.

“I was…riding my bike,” Rylee explained. “I heard a car coming and tried to switch lanes, but I guess you’re not supposed to do that on a bike, so the car just hit me and I flew off.”

“Sheesh,” Beth said, giving a low whistle. “And you’re still alive after that.”

“I’ve had worse,” Rylee shrugged. “There’s nothing easier than falling off a bike.”

“Um, okay, so chess,” Beth said, bringing them back to the original topic. “Why don’t you want to play with us?”

Rylee stood in the midst of the group, partially feeling bad, but also partially wanting to give them the real answer. What real answer, though? There were so many; she could say that she had far too much on her mind to worry about competitive chess, or maybe she could tell them that chess tournaments inevitably drew television cameras and she had good reason to avoid being seen on nationwide television. Or she could take the third option and make herself look like a snob.

“I…just don’t play a lot anymore,” Rylee shrugged. “I guess I’m all played out.”

“All played out?” Beth laughed lightly. “You’re like what, sixteen, seventeen? You’re standing there like ‘I’ve seen some stuff man, I’ve seen some stuff.’”

“Okay, look, I can show you guys some stuff,” Rylee offered. “I just…don’t want to join, okay?”

“Jeez, fine,” Beth snorted. “Why don’t you explain the puzzle to them?”

“Oh my god.” Rylee rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the boards; the members of the club gathered around. “Okay. So, the first thing you need to know is that this puzzle is from a really old book called Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess, and it’s more about learning how to think in chess terms. So to start, let me explain the queen sacrifice.”

---

Night had fallen, the air was chilled and Ariel had grabbed a fleece hoodie from the car before heading out into the darkness with Amber. The blue Dodge Charger had been parked on Observatory Street and they’d made their way through the Michigan University campus, toward State Street. They walked in silence beneath towering educational buildings, some more than half a century old, through the tunnel of the alumni structure and past an ominous statue. At night, the campus was surreal, a labyrinth of concrete pathways interspersed amidst a sea of grass, all occasionally augmented with a round concrete bulletin board papered with student events, sales, clubs, and jobs.

The path they walked on now was lined with evenly spaced lamps atop wrought iron posts, emanating deep yellow pools of light across the concrete until they finally passed onto a larger, open area flanked on all four sides by darkened buildings. In the center, there was an arrangement of short hedges, all casting long shadows even in the darkness.

“This is a bad idea,” Amber said for at least the tenth time as they passed beneath the shadows of century-old buildings and made their way toward the pathway between two of them, toward State Street. “You’re not going to find her.”

“Gotta try,” Ariel said quickly. “He’s like Rylee.”

“She,” Amber reminded her.

“She,” Ariel agreed.

“What are you even going to do if you find her?” Amber asked her, a serious expression on her face. “The Haven doesn’t have anything for her.”

“The Haven thinks she’s a gay man,” Ariel reminded her. “We get her to keep up that front for a while, they’ll place her somewhere, get her a job.”

“They already tried that,” Amber reminded her as they passed through the two campus buildings and onto State Street. “She got into a fight, they kicked her out. It’s going to be the same everywhere.”

“Yeah, only because you can’t put a trans girl in a room full of men, it never works, even if she looks like a dude,” Ariel argued.

“And how’s it going to be different now?”

“I don’t know,” Ariel admitted. “Come on.”

They headed down State Street, which was a bustling center of social activity at this time of evening. The streets were lined with shops, and consequently lined with droves of people of all ages. Ariel and Amber drifted through a sea of night life, as conversations and ambient noises flowed through the streets like waves on a turbulent sea. Pushing through with her elbows and the occasional cry of ‘excuse me,’ Ariel moved forward to the arcade.

“Let’s try there!” Ariel shouted to Amber, taking her by the arm and crossing the street toward the pillared archway of the Nickels Arcade. The arcade was a narrow passage comprised of a brick pathway and shops on either side, all with plate glass window displays and old-fashioned signs extending over the passage. Up above, a steel-framed glass ceiling lined with globe lights that canceled out the night sky looming just above the glass plates.

The arcade was largely abandoned at this time of night; the shop windows were dark save for a few that had left their window lights on for display.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Amber asked as they walked in near silence beneath the globe lights; she turned to examine her reflection in the window of the University Flower Shop.

“Remember that guy we talked to back on Observatory?”

“Yeah, the scruffy guy in the army coat,” Amber shrugged. She recalled perhaps an hour ago they’d been approached by a scruffy, bearded man in a thin, ratty army coat. He’d asked for money, Ariel had demanded information; an even exchange.

“He said he saw Chris over this way,” Ariel said matter-of-factly.

“He did not say Chris,” Amber reminded her. “You asked him to point you toward the lanky white guy who looked like he had a silver spoon up his ass. That could be anyone.”

“Yeah, but…” Ariel quickened her pace, moving toward the pillars at the end of the arcade. Just before she could exit the walkway, Amber grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt just beneath the archway. “What?”

“What’s the real reason you’re doing this?” Amber demanded. “I get that you started working for The Haven because you felt guilty over abandoning Rylee – which you didn’t, by the way– but Rylee has been found. Rylee is safe, and she is waiting for you. Don’t do dumb shit. Go to your sister, bring her back here. That’s the mission right now.”

“I don’t abandon people anymore,” Ariel said, yanking her arm out of Amber’s grasp and stepping away. “Chris came to me for help.”

“Oh, you don’t abandon people anymore.” Amber’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. “You’re twenty years old and you’re acting like you’ve made made a career of it. It was Rylee, just Rylee, and you didn’t abandon her, you were being beaten within an inch of your life! And she’s fine, Ariel; she made it. You can stop beating yourself up over it!”

“Come on,” Ariel said, ignoring the confrontation and heading toward the Maynard Parking Structure suspended across the street and connecting buildings on both sides. They passed beneath it and Ariel pointed to an alleyway to their right. Amber looked down the alley, then shot Ariel an apprehensive look. This street was a stark constant to State Street, which they had just left by way of Nickels arcade. There was a chain link fence blocking off the left side of the street, and the cracked sidewalk played host to numerous oil stains, garbage, and weeds that jutted up through the cracks. The air here smelled of smoke and gasoline, and the sounds of the bustling city had faded; they were truly alone.

The pair walked silently into the mouth of the alley, painted green bricks on both sides displaying bold acts of graffiti. More than once, Ariel had to dodge a pothole on their way toward a ninety degree bend. As they passed out of the shadow of the Maynard Street parking structure, they were greeted by white moonlight reflecting in the puddles ahead and illuminating the walls around them. They passed a pair of dumpsters and took the hard left into an expansive back alley flanked on either side by trash bins, waist-high fences, and even wooden steps that led up to an aging trash compactor.

As they walked forward, they were immersed in a completely new environment accented heavily by white steam erupting from grates around them, giving way to an eerie atmosphere that unnerved them both.

“What the hell is this?” Amber whispered as they moved through the steam, past rickety fire escapes and corrugated metal buildings.

“It’s the back of State Street,” Ariel explained. “See all these doors? They go to the back of the shops.”

“Jesus Christ,” Amber muttered. “It’s like a parallel universe!”

“You and Rylee are going to get along so well,” Ariel shot her a side-eye. “All that geek shit.”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a low whistle that nearly made Ariel’s soul vacate her body. They both spun to their left, hearts pounding as a man stepped quietly from the shadows, looking them both over from head to toe.

“Well, well, well, what do we got here?” the man asked in a voice that felt optimistic and complimentary, but one that masked dark intent. “What’s two young ladies like yourselves doing out here in this dark ole’ alley?”

“Keep moving,” Amber whispered to Ariel, taking her by the arm again and quickening their pace. The man followed them, his features cloaked by the night; a specter in the shadows.

“Hey! Young lady!” the man called after them. “Why you runnin’? I’m just looking out for your welfare, ya know? Couple young ladies out here in the dark at this hour! Why don’t you stop and let me take you somewhere safe?”

“Ariel?” Amber said sharply.

“Keep going forward,” Ariel whispered. “This’ll spit us out onto East Liberty, we take a right and we’re back on State Street.”

“Okay, okay,” Amber said, tightening her grip on Ariel’s arm. They passed the trash compactor; East Liberty was in sight, the street lights beckoned them as they increased their stride, doing everything but an all-out-run toward the traffic.

“Hey now, you don’t have to run!” the man’s voice was getting closer, Ariel cringed. “Why you bein’ all rude? You could at least answer me!”

“Fuck it, run!” Amber shouted, but before they could, Ariel felt a hand on her arm; she was jerked backward and pulled straight into the man’s arms. She screamed, struggling to pull herself free as Amber rushed the man, pepper spray in hand. Her shot missed, and the man hurled Ariel toward a metal staircase; she smashed into the railing, screaming out and falling onto the blacktop. He lunged forward, knocking the pepper spray out of Amber's hand; it clattered against the ground.

“Now that’s really rude.” The man sounded genuinely offended. “Attackin’ me while I’m just tryin’ to make sure you’re safe! Oh, you’ll pay for that! You’ll pay for that real good.”

“Ariel!” Amber shouted, trying to wrest herself from the man’s grip; he shoved her up against the wall on the opposite side of the alley as Ariel struggled to regain her feet. “Ariel, run! Get help!”

Ariel worked her way to her feet, swaying and stumbling as she held onto the stair rail. Through blurred vision she saw Amber on the other side of the alley, pinned to the wall by the man and revealed only by the moonlight. She took a staggered step toward them, her hand leaving the rail as she made her way forward. Her purse, where was her purse? Her pepper spray was in there, she could…

Her vision blurred again and her stomach lurched as she moved forward, one labored step and one ragged breath at a time. She could taste blood on the insides of her cheeks.

In that moment everything came together. Everything Amber had been saying. It wasn’t her problem, she’d made it her problem. Her number one priority should have been getting to Rylee. She should have listened, she shouldn’t have made Chris’s problems her problems. Now it was too late. Tears streamed from her eyes and she let out a cry as she took another step forward with no idea what she was going to do when she reached them. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

Chris came into view, a blur in the night as he rushed forward, toward Amber. The man screamed, releasing her as Chris struck again. He crumpled to the ground; Chris grabbed Amber, pulling her back toward Ariel.

“Come on, run!” Chris said frantically. Ariel staggered forward, embracing Amber in a quick hug, but pulling away at Chris’s insistence; she gasped when she saw the bloodied blade in his hand.

“Oh my god, did you kill him?!” Ariel shrieked, not sure if she should be grateful, shocked, or angry.

“Here!” Chris picked up Ariel’s purse and shoved it into her arms. “Come on, we have to go before he gets up!”

“Okay, okay, hold your horses.” Amber scanned the area for a moment, then ran a few feet to the left, picking up the pepper spray cannister. “Let’s go!”

“What the hell?!” Ariel demanded as they quickly made their way toward the end of the alley.

“This is what happens when you get involved, Ariel!” Amber snapped. “Come on, hurry! Fuck, he’s getting up!”

“Imma kill all of y’all!” the man screamed after them as they shot from the alley and onto East Liberty. “Imma cut your guts out and feed em’ to ya!”

They burst from the alley and moved quickly toward State Street with Ariel trudging along at a limping pace.

Amber was right. Only one thing mattered now.

Rylee.