Keeping It Fluid -32

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It had been a few weeks since everything changed.

Since the test.

Since the truth I’d tried so hard to bury finally settled into something I couldn’t ignore.

I’d been spending most of my afternoons at Mia’s house lately. It was quiet there, calm. Her parents worked late, and no one asked questions if I stayed for dinner or curled up on the couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. Mia didn’t push. She didn’t ask. She just let me be—and right now, that was everything.

But today, I was at Jasmine’s house.

I hadn’t been there in a while. Not since I moved in with my new family.

Jasmine’s house had always been one of my favorite places to escape to. It was loud in the best way—full of motion and warmth. Music playing from the radio in the kitchen. The scent of something always cooking or baking. The soft murmur of Jasmine’s mom, Mrs. Carter, talking on the phone while sorting through paperwork at the counter.

It felt alive.

It felt normal.

And for once, I needed to remember what that felt like.

But even here, even surrounded by comfort and noise and people who cared—I couldn’t shake the truth pressing in around me.

There was a life growing inside me.

A living baby.

And as much as I wanted to stay in this suspended moment—this limbo where only Mia and Jasmine knew—deep down, I knew I couldn’t hide forever.

Eventually, my body would change. The secret would show. My mom would know. Everyone would.

I would have to tell them.

And the thought of that made my throat close up and my heart pound.

But pretending was getting harder.

Because no matter how quiet I stayed… time was moving forward.

And this—this little life—wasn’t going to stay a secret much longer.

Mia was already on the couch when I walked in, legs curled beneath her, scrolling through her phone.

“Finally,” Jasmine said, grinning as she flopped down beside her. “I was about to send a search party.”

I rolled my eyes, forcing a smirk. “Sorry. Had to escape my house first.”

Mia looked up. “Your mom still hovering?”

I hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Mom had been watching me more closely lately, always with that soft, questioning look—like she could feel the truth pressing against the surface but didn’t know what to ask.

“Don’t worry,” Jasmine said, stretching dramatically. “You’re safe here. Unless Mom tries to feed you her ‘experimental’ lasagna again.”

From the kitchen, Mrs. Carter scoffed. “Excuse me? That lasagna was amazing—it had flair.”

Mia whispered, “It had raisins.”

I laughed, letting myself relax just a little—for the first time all day.

For now, at least, I could pretend.

Later that afternoon, Jasmine and Mia were still bickering over movie choices—Mia wanted something funny, Jasmine was pushing for explosions—so I stepped outside for some air.

That’s when I saw it.

Or rather—what was left of it.

The burned ruins of my old house.

I hadn’t even thought about it before coming here. Maybe I’d blocked it out, forced myself to forget it was just down the street from Jasmine’s place.

But there it was.

Charred wood, collapsed walls, and weeds growing through the blackened foundation—just a skeleton of what used to be my home.

I froze.

My throat tightened as I stared.

I hadn’t been there when it burned. I had already been placed in the foster home that would eventually become my real home.

I remembered the day I found out about the fire—how weird it had felt. Like someone had pressed the erase button on my past.

Was I supposed to feel sad?

Angry?

Relieved?

Because the truth was… my birth mother had never really been a mother. She was chaos in human form. A storm I had lived through. She hurt me in ways I didn’t want to remember.

But still…

She was gone.

And standing here now, looking at what remained of that house, I felt that hollow feeling creep back in.

I had lost her.

But had I really lost anything?

“Hey.”

I flinched at the voice, spinning around.

Jasmine stood on the porch, arms crossed, but her usual teasing grin was gone. Her expression was calm. Serious.

“You okay?”

I hesitated, turning back toward the ruins. “I… I don’t know.”

She walked closer, standing beside me.

For a long moment, we didn’t speak.

Then, quietly, she said, “I hated that place.”

I glanced at her. “You did?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I hated what she did to you. And I hated that you had to pretend like it didn’t matter.”

I swallowed hard. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

I never talked about it.

Not the bruises.

Not the fear.

Not the way silence had always felt safer than truth.

People liked neat stories. Happy endings. Not messy, complicated pain.

Jasmine looked at me again, softer this time. “You don’t have to say anything. But you know you don’t have to carry it alone, right?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, blinking fast. “Yeah. I know.”

She nudged my arm lightly. “Good. Now come inside before Mia picks something depressing.”

A small laugh slipped out of me. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m blaming you.”

“Obviously,” she grinned, already heading back toward the door.

I followed her inside, the warmth of the house meeting me like a quiet hug.

I wasn’t healed.

I wasn’t whole.

But for the first time in a while… I wasn’t carrying everything by myself.

And for now, that was enough.

Back inside, Jasmine collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Okay, Mia, what cinematic masterpiece have you forced upon us?” she asked, stretching out like she was about to endure a great hardship.

Mia rolled her eyes and held up the remote. “It’s called Birdemic: Shock and Terror.”

There was a long pause.

Jasmine sat up slowly. “…The hell is a Birdemic?”

Mia smirked. “You’ll see.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I think I’ve heard of this—”

Jasmine groaned as the movie started, revealing the world’s most awkwardly long opening scene of some guy driving in silence for what felt like ten minutes straight.

“Oh, this is already a disaster,” Jasmine muttered.

I couldn’t argue.

The movie dragged on with no birds in sight—just awkward dialogue, weirdly long shots of people walking, and… was that a Microsoft Paint effect?

I side-eyed Mia. “Are you punishing us?”

Mia just grinned, kicking her feet up on the couch. “Shh. Let the story unfold.”

Jasmine groaned louder. “What story? This dude’s been driving since we started! Is this Fast and Featherless? Where are the freaking birds?”

Twenty minutes in, I started counting down the minutes until the birds would actually show up.

But they didn’t.

Thirty minutes.

Still no birds.

Forty-five minutes.

Still. No. Birds.

Jasmine sat up suddenly, pointing at the screen. “Wait. WAIT. I saw a bird. I saw a bird—oh wait, no, that was a car mirror reflection.”

Mia laughed as I covered my face. “This is painful.”

An hour in, Jasmine threw up her hands. “Mia, I swear, if the birds don’t show up in the next five minutes, I’m throwing your TV out the window.”

“They’ll come,” Mia said calmly, like some kind of evil movie-watching mastermind.

And then—

Finally—

With twenty minutes left in the movie—

The birds appeared.

And when I say “appeared,” I mean hovered awkwardly on screen, not moving, with their wings completely still, making random screaming sounds.

I gaped. “They’re not even flapping.”

Jasmine screamed into a pillow.

The characters started running away from the hovering, unmoving birds, flailing their arms as if they were under actual attack.

Jasmine pointed wildly at the screen. “What are they even running from?! The birds are just chilling! They’re literally floating there!”

I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from howling. “Mia. MIA. This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mia was grinning, unbothered. “Art.”

Jasmine nearly fell off the couch. “DID THAT GUY JUST SHOOT A BIRD OUT OF THE SKY WITH A COAT HANGER?!”

I wheezed, tears forming in my eyes. “I—I think so—oh my God—”

The next few minutes were pure chaos.

Characters shouting at nothing, birds screaming like they were in agony, and then—just as suddenly as they appeared—the birds just…

Left.

Like that.

No explanation. No reason. Just… gone.

The movie ended.

The credits rolled.

And for a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Jasmine turned to Mia, deadly serious.

“…You’re banned from picking movies.”

Mia burst out laughing. “Oh come on! That was amazing!”

I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jasmine nodded.

“Yeah. And we’re watching Birdemic 2 next week.”

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the couch.

Jasmine stared right at Mia. “No we’re not!”

Mia just smirked.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel the weight of my secret.

I just felt… happy.

Even if it was at the expense of the worst movie of all time.

We were still sprawled across Jasmine’s living room after Birdemic, the kind of silence that only follows emotional damage settling over us.

“I feel like I need to bleach my brain,” Jasmine finally muttered, her head buried in a pillow.

“That was cinematic warfare,” I said, groaning. “I don’t think I’ll ever hear a bird chirp the same way again.”

Mia, unfazed, popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You guys just don’t appreciate artistic vision.”

“Vision?” Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide. “That movie violated my eyes.”

I laughed. “Okay, but she’s right. We need to do something fun. Like… cleanse the soul fun.”

Jasmine sat up suddenly, like she’d just been struck by inspiration. “Dude, you wanna crash the mall?”

Mia blinked. “Crash the mall?”

“Yeah,” Jasmine said, eyes gleaming. “We show up uninvited. We cause chaos. We spend no money and leave an emotional impact that lasts forever.”

“I’m sorry, are we becoming a girl band or a criminal organization?” I asked.

“Both,” Jasmine said without missing a beat. “Think about it. We eat way too much food, try on clothes we’d never actually wear in public, and maybe sneak into that weird massage chair store pretending we’re elite spa critics.”

“Spa critics,” Mia repeated flatly.

“High-end,” Jasmine said, tossing her hair like she was already famous. “We’ll speak in British accents.”

“Oh no,” I said, laughing. “We’re gonna get banned again, aren’t we?”

“Banned is such a harsh word,” Jasmine said with mock offense. “I prefer politely asked never to return.”

Mia shook her head but was already reaching for her jacket. “You’re lucky I’m bored.”

“I’m lucky you love me,” Jasmine said, grabbing her keys. “Let’s go make questionable choices in a public place.”

I stood up, grinning despite myself. “Mall chaos? I'm in.”

“Then it's settled,” Jasmine declared, pointing toward the door like a general leading her troops. “To the battleground!”

We marched out like we had an actual mission.

To everyone else, it was just another afternoon.

To us, it was a rebellion in leggings and hoodies.

The mall wasn’t ready.

We walked in like we owned the place—hoodies up, sunglasses on, zero chill. Jasmine led the way like she was the ringleader of a very stylish, very poorly planned heist. Mia and I followed close behind, already laughing before we’d even made it past the fountain.

“Target first?” Jasmine asked, spinning on her heel.

“I thought we were crashing the mall,” Mia said, smirking. “Target feels a little tame.”

“I’m easing us in,” Jasmine said. “We don’t drop the chaos bomb until the second lap.”

We hit the food court first, because obviously.

Jasmine ordered nachos. Mia got bubble tea. I grabbed a pretzel the size of my face.

“Okay,” Jasmine said, dipping a chip, “step one: we infiltrate. Step two: we humiliate ourselves publicly. Step three: we get kicked out or immortalized.”

“Depends on the security guards,” Mia added, sipping from her oversized straw like she was narrating a spy movie.

I couldn’t stop smiling. Everything felt loud and alive, and even though the ache in my chest never totally disappeared, I could actually breathe again.

We hit the clothing stores next.

We tried on everything that looked even remotely cursed—feathered vests, neon jumpsuits, pants with suspicious zippers in places no zippers should be.

“Why does this dress make me look like a Victorian ghost who works at Hot Topic?” I asked, stepping out of the fitting room.

“I love that for you,” Jasmine said, snapping a photo.

Mia emerged next, wearing cargo pants so big she looked like she could smuggle three toddlers. “These pants have seven pockets. What does anyone need seven pockets for?”

Jasmine grinned. “Vengeance.”

We got scolded once—Mia climbed into one of the window displays and pretended to be a mannequin until an employee gave her the look.

“Worth it,” she whispered as we walked away, all three of us trying not to laugh.

It was when we passed a little accessories boutique near the center of the mall that I heard it.

"Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated…"

Avril’s voice floated through the store’s speakers, faint but clear, mixing with the buzz of shoppers and the clatter of hangers.

I stopped for just a second.

It was the kind of song I’d heard a million times—loud, angsty, catchy. But now? It felt like someone had pulled it straight out of my head and hit play.

Mia glanced over, catching the look on my face. She didn’t say anything—just gave me the softest, knowing smile.

And Jasmine, oblivious as always, was holding up two different sunglasses. “Okay, what says ‘mall menace’ more—sparkly cat-eyes or these ones that look like they were stolen from a Barbie dream funeral?”

I shook the thought off and smiled. “Go with the Barbie ones. They’re cursed.”

“Say no more,” she grinned.

And just like that, I let myself fall back into the moment.

In Claire’s, Jasmine tried on every ridiculous accessory she could find—giant butterfly clips, sparkly sunglasses, fake clip-in colored hair. She posed dramatically in the mirror, flipping her newly “dyed” streak.

“I’m in my rebellious glitter era,” she declared.

“You’ve been in that era since birth,” Mia said.

I sat on one of the chairs near the checkout, watching them with a smile that felt half too big for my face and half like it might fall apart if I let my guard down.

They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t push.

They just kept making me laugh.

And I loved them for that.

Our final act of chaos was pretending to be influencers in Sephora.

Jasmine held up a sparkly highlighter like it was made of gold. “This product changed my life,” she said to no one, in a fake posh accent.

Mia nodded seriously. “Yes, darling. I no longer cry in public.”

I laughed until my stomach hurt.

No one kicked us out. No one stopped us.

And as we walked back through the mall with sore feet and empty wallets (even though we bought nothing), I realized something:

I still didn’t have all the answers.

But in that moment—arms linked with my best friends, the echo of Avril still lingering somewhere behind us, the weight in my chest just a little bit lighter—I didn’t need them.

Not yet.

Because life was complicated.

We were still laughing as we stepped out into the parking lot, the evening air cooling our skin, the sky above streaked in pink and lavender. Jasmine was recounting Mia’s “influencer voice” in Sephora, and Mia kept insisting she could totally get sponsored if she wanted to.

I was halfway through a giggle when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, still smiling—

And then the smile dropped.

Mom.

My chest tightened.

I froze mid-step.

“Everything okay?” Mia asked, noticing the change in my expression.

I nodded automatically, but my voice didn’t come out right. “Yeah. Just—my mom’s calling.”

Jasmine and Mia fell quiet, both of them watching me now, that easy energy from earlier fading just a little.

I stared at the screen for a second longer before answering. “Hey.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom said, her voice soft. “You doing okay? You didn’t answer my text earlier.”

I blinked. I hadn’t even seen it.

“Oh. Sorry. We were just walking around,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “The mall.”

“Did you eat?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Sort of.

There was a pause on her end, like she wanted to ask more but wasn’t sure if she should.

“You’ll be home soon?” she finally asked.

“Yeah. Probably in a bit.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “I just miss you.”

My throat tightened. “I know. I miss you too.”

“Okay. Just… be safe, alright?”

“I will.”

We hung up.

I let the phone fall to my side and exhaled, slow and shaky.

“She worry-watching again?” Jasmine asked gently.

I nodded, my fingers curling tighter around the phone. “Yeah.”

No one said anything right away.

Then Mia reached out and nudged my arm. “You okay?”

I swallowed hard. “I think I have to tell her soon.”

They didn’t try to tell me what to do.

They didn’t offer easy answers.

They just stood with me, quiet and steady, as the weight settled back in.

I wasn’t ready.