Plot Bunnies are attacking again!

Alexandria "Alex" Miller, twin sister to Virginia "Ginny" Miller, sat in her Math class, scribbling away in her notebook. Was this for an actual assignment? Oh hell no. Alex wasn’t in AP classes like her sister for a reason. Well, she wasn’t in all AP classes for a reason. Alex excelled in everything English and Literature-related, but the other subjects… not so much. It wasn’t because she wasn’t smart enough; she simply didn’t care. Like right then in class, when she was working on a journal entry instead of the word problems assigned by the teacher.

Just when Alex noticed the teacher noticing her not doing her assignment, the Guidance Counselor stepped into the classroom and said, “Alexandria, can I speak to you in the hall, please?”

Alex froze. Was this it? Was she in trouble? Was there a cop with her? No, no, no. There wasn’t a cop. It was just the sweet, well-meaning guidance counselor who was as naive as they came. Alex relaxed, got out of her seat at the back of the classroom, and followed the counselor into the hall. “What’s going on?” she asked as the counselor closed the door behind them.

The Counselor said in her sweet way, “Oh, Alexandria, I’m so sorry. Your stepfather’s been in an accident – he didn’t make it. Your mother is on your way here with your brother and your sister is waiting for them in the office. I’m so sorry.” She hugged Alexandria in a comforting manner.

Alex stood there frozen as the counselor hugged her. Did she say it was accident? It was declared an accident? And he was dead? Her stepfather was dead?...Good.

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Flash forward to the funeral. Someone who knew her stepfather Kenny gave Alex a hug and murmured their condolences. Were they truly sorry? Or was it just the obligatory thing to say at funerals? Alex didn’t care either way and didn’t bother looking at Kenny’s body in the casket, unlike Ginny and their little brother Austin.

“People are gonna talk if you don’t pay your respects, Andie,” Ginny whispered like she was disciplining her.

Alex clenched her fists slightly at the name. Ginny knew she hated being called Andie, which is precisely why she used it now to make her point. “People are going to talk either way,” Alex replied. “Or haven’t you heard everyone here in the room?” With a scoff, Alex walked away to find her mother, Georgia Miller, speaking to a group of people as the perfect grieving widow—praising Kenny, saying how he’d be missed, how he was a godsend after being a single mother for so long, and all that jazz. Georgia was amazing, and Alex was in awe of her. Suffice it to say, Alex wanted to be just like Georgia when she grew up—hell, she was already partway there. After all, she was her mother’s daughter.

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Alex felt an immense wave of relief wash over her when her mom announced they would be leaving Texas for Wellsbury, Massachusetts. The sooner they got out of Texas, the better.

As Alex loaded the last of the essentials into the trunk for their road trip to Massachusetts, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she closed the trunk and found Georgia standing there. “Jesus!” she exclaimed, having not heard her mother approach.

“Oh, come on now, we both know I’m not that saintly,” Georgia beamed, giving her daughter a playful hip bump. “How you doing, baby girl?”

“Can we start with a less loaded question this morning?” Alex joked, trying to brush off the gravity of the situation. But she could tell from Georgia’s serious expression that her mother was looking for a genuine answer.

Alex took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “I’m not going to fall apart, Mom. I’m good. I’ll be even better once we hit the road. We don’t need to talk about it. In fact, I’d be so happy if we never talked about it again. Okay?”

Georgia saw the resilience in her daughter’s eyes but also recognized the toll recent events had taken on her. “Okay, baby girl.” She hugged Alex tightly. “This move is going to be so good for you. For all of us.”

Alex was grateful when her mother didn’t press her further and mentally pushed the troubling thoughts aside—more like buried them deep in a concrete-sealed vault, never to resurface. Alex was good at repressing her feelings, though it often meant something else would eventually bubble to the surface.

Alex hugged her mom and joked as she pulled back, “Well, if Ginny and Austin don’t get their butts in the car, this move will never happen.”

“Heard that,” Ginny sighed, approaching with Austin. She opened the convertible’s door, moved the seat so Austin could climb into the back, and motioned for Alex to do the same.

“Excuse you, what makes you think you’re riding shotgun?” Alex demanded, hands on her hips and head tilted in a perfect imitation of Georgia.

“I’m not—I’m driving, which means…” Ginny trailed off, gesturing to Georgia, who immediately chimed in, “You’ll have to pry shotgun from my cold, dead hands, missy.” Georgia looked playfully smug as she settled into the front seat.

With a dramatic eye roll, Alex climbed into the back with Austin. She didn’t mind riding in the back; she just didn’t want Ginny to snag the front passenger seat first.

Once everyone was settled, and the car began to move, Alex finally allowed herself to breathe. They were embarking on a new adventure—a new life—and she couldn’t wait to start living it.

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The road trip had been nothing but smooth sailing so far, as they journeyed all the way from Texas to Massachusetts. Georgia made sure they stopped at every cheesy roadside attraction along the way, taking pictures at each one. Despite how silly Alex thought those attractions were, she found herself laughing and enjoying every single one of them. She would never admit it, but she really enjoyed stuff like that. Georgia knew this though, which is partly why she insisted on stopping at all of them, regardless of the delays they caused.

At present, Ginny was filling up the tank at a gas station in Massachusetts, while Georgia and Alex were inside the convenience store, picking up snacks and supplies for the final leg of their journey.

Alex grabbed a couple of bags of cool ranch chips off the rack and added them to the pile in Georgia's arms.

“Aww, thanks, sweetie, go ahead and keep loading it up,” Georgia said, mockingly sweet, her arms already overloaded with way too much stuff.

Alex caught on and beamed, “Okay,” tossing a random package of trail mix on top for good measure.

Georgia gasped and laughed, trying to playfully kick Alex, who darted out of reach before grabbing drinks to go along with their multitude of junk food.

With all their purchases complete, they paid the cashier and, for the heck of it, picked up a random scratcher ticket, winning five bucks. They headed out the door, laughing together, until they saw a police officer approaching them. The laughter stopped immediately, and they both tensed up. Georgia quickly straightened her posture, looped her arm through Alex's, and smiled, “Good afternoon, Mr. Officer,” as they made their way back to the car. When Georgia glanced at Alex, she saw her daughter was smiling along with her. “Good girl,” she whispered, then put the items in the car next to Ginny.

“Was that racist?” Ginny asked as they joined her. “That was racist, right? Guess we're not leaving that bullshit behind in the south.” Ginny closed the gas cap and turned to her mother. “What was with you? ‘Hi, Mr. Officer’” she mocked her mother's tone. “You sounded like a bad porn.”

Georgia didn't let it bother her as she went around to the driver's side. “I could use a good pat down. It’s been a while.”

Ginny all but gagged. “Seriously gross. I'm scarred now.”

“Oh please,” Alex laughed, hopping into the back seat next to Austin since it was Ginny's legitimate turn at the front. “That’s one of the milder things Mom has ever said to us.”

“You've just become immune to her,” Ginny said, turning to face her sister. “That or you just think like her.”

“Nothing bad about that,” Alex grinned, meaning every word.

Ginny looked at her sister for another moment before turning back to face front. She and Alex might be twins, but they looked nothing alike. The only thing they shared was their hair and complexion. Ginny greatly resembled their dad, Zion, and looked nothing like Georgia, while Alex was the opposite—she shared many features with their mom and looked nothing like their dad. Ginny felt Alex acted like their mom a lot too, something she herself never wanted to do. Ginny was nothing like her mother and was proud of it.

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Alex leaned against the side of the convertible as Georgia drove through the quaint streets of Wellsbury. It was so... New England. When Alex had time to sit and write about it, she’d be far more eloquent and whatnot, but in that moment, that was the best description she could come up with. Hearing Ginny describe the town as looking like Paul Revere boned a pumpkin spiced latte made Alex laugh because it was so good and so true. “For the record, I’m stealing that,” she said, chuckling.

“The great Alexandria is actually going to use something that I’ve said?” Ginny teased, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “The air really must be different around here.”

Alex leaned forward in her seat, sticking her head beside Ginny’s. “But of course it is – It smells of pumpkin spiced lattes and old man sex,” she said with a teasing grin.

Ginny gagged theatrically, Georgia guffawed, and Austin giggled in the backseat. Alex leaned back, a wide grin on her face, as she took in the picturesque views of the town with its charming colonial architecture.

After a bit, Georgia spoke up with a determined tone, “Mark my words, we are going to run this town.”

Ginny sighed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Run it, burn it to the ground, flee into the night. Same difference.”

As they drove past a ‘Re-Elect Paul Randolph for Mayor’ sign, Georgia couldn’t help but comment, “Even the politicians here look different. He looks like a young JFK.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Like the desert, right?”

Alex furrowed her brow in confusion, not understanding the reference. “What’s like the desert?”

“Mom’s dating life,” Austin chimed in. “You were asleep with your headphones on when Mom talked about it. She said it’s just going to be the four of us.”

Alex highly doubted that but chose not to voice her skepticism. “Okie dokie,” was all she said, then sat up straighter when they pulled up to a charming two-story brick house with a garage and a side patio off the second story. “Oh my deity of your choosing. This is it?”

“This is it,” Georgia beamed as they all got out of the car and stood in front of the house. “It’s a far cry from the walk-up in Houston and the apartment in New Orleans. Look at it.” She hip-bumped Ginny, who in turn bumped Alex since she was on the other side of Ginny.

Austin looked at the house in awe. “It’s just ours? Just the four of us?”

Georgia smiled warmly at her son. “Mhm.” This prompted him to declare, “I’m picking out the biggest bedroom,” before dashing into the house.

“Not if I get to it first!” Alex laughed, chasing after him. She, of course, let Austin be the first to enter and pick his room, which wasn’t the biggest like he had claimed since that would be their Mom’s. Alex chose the room next to Ginny’s from the remaining options.

Alex could already picture where everything would go—her writing desk by the window, her schoolwork desk (which would see minimal use) against another wall, her bed, dressers, and other furniture. She knew exactly how she wanted to set up her space. When the moving van pulled in, she darted downstairs to get her stuff and start arranging her room. The sooner everything was settled, the sooner she would feel settled herself.

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Later that evening, Alex groaned as her phone buzzed with an incoming call from her father. The sight of Zion’s name on the screen made her roll her eyes. Their relationship was strained, to say the least. In fact, she’d prefer it if they didn’t have any kind of relationship at all. Ignoring the call, she slipped out of her room and headed straight for Ginny’s. “Zion is probably going to call you – I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Don’t you mean Dad is going to call?” Ginny hated it when Alex refused to call their dad ‘Dad’.

“I said what I said,” Alex replied, cutting the conversation short. She returned to her room, put on "Stutter" by Marianas Trench, and began dancing around, organizing her space. The music helped her drown out the sounds of Georgia and Ginny arguing in the next room. She turned up the volume and kept on dancing.

It wasn’t long before Georgia popped in, dancing along for a moment before sitting on the bed and patting the space beside her. Alex complied and faced her mother, who took her hands in her own. “I’m fine,” Alex insisted.

“Lexi…” Georgia squeezed her daughter’s hands gently. “I know you don’t want to talk about it…”

“Then don’t,” Alex said firmly. “I’m not psycho, Mom.”

Georgia’s expression softened, though she looked a bit defensive. “Hey, I never said that you were.” She cupped Alex’s face with her hands. “You are your mother’s daughter, but that doesn’t mean…” She trailed off as Alex gave her a look she knew all too well. “Okay, okay. Have a good day at school tomorrow. You know what you’re gonna wear?”

“Oh yeah, leather corset, black mini-skirt, fishnets, and some thigh-high boots. I’m going for a whole Dominatrix vibe this year.” Alex’s tone was dead serious, even though she had no intention of wearing anything like that.

Georgia blinked a few times before replying just as seriously, “Don’t forget the whip.” She quickly pecked Alex on the cheek and darted out the door with a laugh, narrowly missing the pillow Alex threw at her.

With a groan, Alex retrieved the pillow and opened up the last box. She pulled out her fire-escape ladder and placed it in the chest under the window. If she ever needed an escape—fire or otherwise—that ladder would be her best friend. Georgia had given it to her a long time ago after...

The sudden rush of the memory took Alex's breath away. She fought hard to bury it deep, shoving it into the farthest recesses of her mind. For now, she managed to suppress it. Seeking solace, she changed into her PJs and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was a new day, another step towards finally forgetting and finding peace.

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Alex was taken aback to find that she and Ginny were not only in the same AP English class, but they also shared the same period. Back at their old school, their AP English classes were always scheduled differently, so this was an unexpected—and honestly unwelcome—surprise. The last thing Alex wanted was to be compared to Ginny again.

Nevertheless, the pair stood before their new teacher, who explained the class in a tone that Alex found distinctly condescending. It was as if he was surprised they were in an AP class based on the color of their skin.

"Virginia, Alexandria, I should warn you both—we keep a, uh, rigorous pace in AP English. The AP students take this very seriously. So, if my class proves to be too much for either of you, I suggest you do yourselves a favor and move down to regular English, okay? I’d hate to see either of you bite off more than you can chew.” He smiled at them, though it felt far from reassuring. “Uh, we cover all the greats—Steinbeck, Salinger, Miller, Homer, Fitzgerald, Shakespeare, of course. Sixteen books in total. Okay?” He handed them the syllabus.

“It’s Ginny,” Ginny corrected him.

“I prefer Alex,” Alex added, following Ginny to two available seats in the back.

Ginny scoffed as they claimed their desks, “It’s like we’re living in a Crest commercial.”

As they took their seats, the teacher addressed the class. “Welcome back, AP English. Hiding in the back there, you will find our new students, Virginia and Alexandria Miller. I trust you will make them feel welcome. I know it’s our first day back from summer vacation, but I thought it was an excellent opportunity for a pop quiz. Those of you who didn’t do the summer reading of The Crucible are in for a world of pain.” He began distributing the quiz sheets and then turned back to the Millers. “Uh, don’t worry, Virginia and Alexandria, I don’t expect either of you to have read it.”

Ginny and Alex exchanged a glance, experiencing a rare moment of twin telepathy that they hadn’t felt since they were kids. They both raised their hands, prompting the teacher to ask, “Oh, yes, you both have a question?”

“There are 16 books on this syllabus…” Ginny began, her tone measured and controlled.

“Yes, like I said, you both can always drop down…” Mr. Gitten interrupted, clearly expecting them to back down.

Alex picked up where Ginny left off, “Fourteen are written by men, fifteen were written by white people,” she stated, her voice unwavering.

Ginny continued, “And we’ll guess the one black author will crop up for Black History Month, right?” Her tone was laced with irony.

The teacher was not amused. “Excuse me?” he said, his voice tight.

“We’re very serious about our education, Mr. Gitten,” Ginny stated, meeting his gaze head-on.

Alex added, “We’re worried we might internalize an ideology that the main viewpoint, the viewpoint worth studying in the class, the viewpoint of the greats, is only that of the white male, thus eradicating our voice as immaterial.”

Ginny concluded, “And finally, we’re worried we won’t be stimulated intellectually.” The classroom erupted in snickers, the students amused by their boldness. “Also, my sister and I have read The Crucible, so we’re confident we can take the quiz today.”

“Are you two through?” Mr. Gitten asked, still unamused.

“No,” Alex replied.

Ginny added, “Please call me Ginny and my sister here Alex.”

Some students chuckled at their defiance.

Mr. Gitten’s face hardened. “Well, I don’t know how things were done at your last school, but here, we don’t tolerate political outbursts and grandstanding at the expense of your peers’ class time.” When another student raised their hand, he turned his attention to them. “Yes, Maxine?”

Maxine responded dramatically, “Hi. I’m like, also super concerned about my subconscious digestion of the superiority of the white male perspective. Also, I have cramps, so can I go to the nurse?”

Mr. Gitten was losing his patience. “Alright, that’s it. For the rest of the class, we will be silent and take the pop quiz. It’s worth 10% of your first semester grade.”

Alex rolled her eyes, pulled out her pen, and wrote her name on the test. She was more than ready to prove that she deserved to be there but was pissed to high heaven that she had to.

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After class, Alex made a beeline for Ginny’s locker. “Oh my deity of your choosing, I hate that guy. Ugh, it took everything I had not to throw my pens at him!”

“Racism is real, yo,” Ginny responded sarcastically, shoving books into her locker.

“Ugh,” Alex grunted, her frustration palpable. “Later,” she added, heading to her own locker to stow her books before lunch.

As she opened her locker, she noticed a boy from her math class a few lockers down. He was hard to forget, with a faint scar running from below his left eye to his chin. She’d spent most of math class daydreaming about the possible stories behind that scar.

Closing her locker, she was startled to find him staring at her. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she scoffed incredulously.

Without missing a beat, he shrugged, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of her before walking away. “Wow,” Alex chuckled to herself, heading to the cafeteria. She wasn’t sure what to make of that guy—creep or not—but damn, that was amusing.

In the cafeteria, Alex grabbed a tray and got in line. The chatter of students that filled the grated on her nerves. She wanted to think, to work on her book, but the constant noise was a distraction. She scanned the room, noticing Ginny’s absence and finding it odd. It wasn’t like Alex wanted to sit with her sister, it was just weird that Ginny wasn’t present. Not really caring, Alex headed straight to an empty table in the back and took a seat.

As Alex went into her bag to pull out her notebook, she sensed the presence of someone sitting across from her. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with the boy from earlier. He looked at her with an unreadable expression, making her heart race slightly. It made her uncomfortable because she couldn’t pinpoint the reason for her racing.

“Do you always eat alone?” he asked, his tone neutral and deliberately hard to read.

Alex raised an eyebrow, her guard up. “Do you always take pictures of people without asking?” she countered, her voice edged with suspicion.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Only when they say something memorable.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Well, that’s one way to break the ice.”

“I’m Press,” he introduced himself.

“Alex,” she replied, giving a nod.

The conversation started off a bit tense, with Alex keeping her answers short and guarded. Press seemed unfazed, his demeanor calm and neutral. As they talked about classes and teachers, Alex began to relax. She found herself genuinely interested in his perspectives and enjoyed his dry sense of humor.

“You know, you’re not as creepy as I thought,” Alex admitted with a grin as the lunch period drew to a close.

Press chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Later, Alex.”

Alex gathered her things as Press left the table, then made her way to her next class: Art.

For some, Art class might offer a sense of calm or escape, but not for Alex. The scent of paint and clay in the room only amplified her anxiety. It wasn’t just her lack of artistic talent; it was the memories associated with it that left her feeling frustrated, anxious, and tense among so many other things. Alex hated that class and the memories it dredged up. She’d have to transfer out of there as soon as possible.

Thankfully, Alex was pulled from her thoughts when the teacher, Ms. Lopez, greeted her warmly. “Welcome. You must be Alexandria Miller. Please come in and find a seat wherever you like. Today, we’re working on self-portraits.”

“Call me Alex,” she responded a bit too harshly, unintentionally. She added a softer, “Thanks,” and found a seat by the window, hoping the view might offer some distraction.

Once class officially started, she picked up a pencil and attempted to sketch. Her mind raced, bombarded with memories she wished to forget. The lines on the paper seemed to mock her, refusing to form anything recognizable. Frustration built up inside her until she couldn’t take it anymore. She tore the paper off the pad, crumpled it up, and threw it aside in a fit of anger.

Expecting Ms. Lopez to come over and scold her for the outburst, Alex was surprised to hear a different yet familiar voice. “Need some help?”

She looked up to see Press standing next to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. She hadn’t realized he was in this class. “No,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” he replied, sliding a stool over to sit beside her. He picked up her discarded sketch from the floor. “You’re terrible at this.”

Alex narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing as he gestured for her to hand over her pencil. Reluctantly, she did.

“It’s really not as hard as you think,” Press said, guiding her through the process. “Just start with basic shapes and build from there.”

Alex rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but her skepticism waned as she watched him. Her eyes widened when the drawing began to take shape. “Whoa, you’re really good at this,” she said, impressed.

Press shrugged. “You tell anyone, I’ll deny everything.”

Alex laughed, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They worked together for the rest of the class, with Press patiently guiding Alex through each step of the drawing process. Each stroke of the pencil helped Alex focus, but it wasn't the improvement in her art that made her feel better—it was Press's steady presence that pushed down the bad memories haunting her. By the end of the class, the sense of dread had lessened.

Realizing this, however, terrified Alex. She never thought she'd ever feel that way towards someone after what happened to her. The idea of letting her guard down, even just a little, was both frightening and unexpected. Yet, with Press around, she wondered if she might actually get through this so she wouldn’t have to transfer out after all.

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“I’m home!” Alex called out as she stepped through the door after school, the scent of their new home washing over her. She heard Georgia’s voice coming from upstairs, “I’m getting changed!”

“You better be decent by the time I get up there,” Alex called back, heading up the stairs. Her footsteps sounded louder in the quiet house as she made her way into Georgia’s room since no one else seemed to be around.

“I’ll be right out, baby girl,” Georgia replied from her bathroom. Alex walked out onto the patio, feeling a slight breeze.

Alex looked around with a smile. “I should have stolen this room from you!” she laughed, taking in the cozy arrangement of plants and furniture. Her laughter abruptly stopped when she saw a blue flowered potted plant by the patio door. The sight of it sent a jolt through her. “What the hell is that doing here?!” she screamed, her voice cracking.

Georgia rushed out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and pulled her daughter inside, closing the door behind them. “Calm down, Lexi.”

“Calm down?!” Alex shouted back. “Calm down?! How the hell could you bring that here? Why did you bring that here, Mom?!” Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and panic.

“I have my reasons, baby girl,” Georgia tried to explain, her voice soothing but firm. She reached out to touch Alex’s arm, but Alex pulled away, shaking her head.

“There is no good reason for keeping that!” Alex’s voice broke, and tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving with each breath.

Georgia pulled Alex into a tight embrace, holding her as she sobbed. “Breathe, Alex, breathe. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Just ignore it and move on, you hear me?”

Alex was hyperventilating but slowly steadied her breathing, each inhale and exhale becoming more controlled. She closed her eyes, willing herself to push everything down as far as she could. When she finally pulled back, she looked at her mother with a mix of hurt and betrayal. “You should have told me.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Georgia asked, her eyes searching Alex’s for any sign of change in her resolve.

“No,” Alex replied firmly, wiping her tears away. “I just didn’t expect you to keep it.” With that, she turned and left the room, her voice trailing behind her, “I need to do my assignment.”

Georgia watched her go, her heart heavy with concern. She believed that once things calmed down, Alex would be right as rain. Nothing was going to stop them from moving on and having the future they deserved. Deep down, she knew Alex felt the same way, even if it was buried beneath layers of pain.

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Alex sat on her bed, clutching a pad and pencil, trying to recreate what Press had shown her in class. But the lines wouldn’t come together – maybe it was because she couldn’t focus or maybe it was because it just didn’t feel right. She tore off a sheet, frustration mounting, and was about to start again when she heard Ginny and their mom arguing out in the hall. With a sigh, she put on her headphones, blasting music to drown out the noise. She held her pencil over the paper, but unwanted memories began to flood her mind.

About a year ago, Alex sat in the art room of the teen community center back in Texas . She was struggling in her art class at school and thought extra lessons at the center might help. The instructor trusted her enough to let her stay after hours to practice alone.

Alex looked up when a guy she’d seen around the center came into the room. She didn’t think anything of it and just went on with what she was doing, that was until he was behind her and the next thing she knew she was pulled from her seat and bent over the cabinets against the wall. The smell of paint and clay filled her senses overshadowing the searing pain caused by his actions.

When he was done, Alex turned around slowly and grabbed the stool she had been sitting on. “Hey!” she managed to shout. When he turned, she swung the stool with all her strength, hitting him where it hurt most. He screamed in agony, and Alex threw the stool on the floor, walking out with a cold, “Goddamned bee.”

In shock, Alex went home and broke down as she told Georgia what had happened, before locking the trauma deep within her…or so she thought.

Back in her room, Alex didn’t even realize she had thrown something until she noticed her cracked reflection in the mirror across the room. She got up slowly, examining the spider cracks that made her reflection look jagged and shattered. “That’s it,” she muttered. She rummaged through a bin on her shelf and pulled out her old instamatic camera that somehow still worked.

Setting it up, Alex took a picture of herself and her broken reflection. The teacher wanted a self-portrait? She would get one.

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The next day at school, Alex found herself surrounded at her locker by Maxine from AP English, Ginny, and two other girls she had seen around but hadn’t met yet. The bustling hallway seemed to close in on her as she took in the sight of the group. “Am I about to be challenged to a smackdown?” she asked, her tone sardonic. “If so, I should warn you now that I will be the last one standing.”

“Are you hooking up with Press? You’ve been seen eating lunch with him twice now,” Maxine asked quickly, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Because if you are, you should be warned that he is totally messed up.”

“He’s a psychotic sociopath; you can do so much better,” one of the unknown girls said, the tallest of the bunch, her expression serious.

“If you’re that desperate, we can set you up with someone,” the shortest girl chimed in, her tone dripping with condescension—something Alex quickly picked up on.

“Got anything to add, Ginny?” Alex asked, looking at her sister. When Ginny remained silent, Alex closed her locker with a decisive clang and addressed the group. “Am I hooking up with Press? No. You say he’s messed up, well, who’s to say I’m not messed up too? A psychotic sociopath? Those kinda cancel each other out, so you’re telling me he’s relatively normal, are you not? For the record, I’m not desperate, and if I was looking for someone to date, the last people I would ask are you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.”

Alex pushed her way through the group, her determination palpable. “And for the record, just because you’re friends with Ginny doesn’t mean you need to talk to me. Just saying.” She waved goodbye before striding down the hallway. She could just imagine what those girls were saying to Ginny about her and what Ginny would be saying right back.

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When Alex reached the art classroom, she hesitated, leaning against the doorframe. Her mind raced with conflicting emotions. Was she fully prepared to keep everything buried, or would the familiar smells and sights trigger her again? The weight of her past pressed heavily on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Just when she was about to skip the class altogether, she heard Press’s voice from behind her, “Waiting for an invitation?”

“Yes,” Alex answered without turning around, her voice carrying a hint of defiance. “Gold-embossed and everything.”

Press chuckled dryly, stepping past her and holding the door open, cocking his head for her to follow.

Alex groaned inwardly, forcing herself to move forward. As she made her way to her usual seat, she noticed Press chose the one beside her. She didn't want to think much of it, but a small part of her was comforted by his presence.

Ms. Lopez approached with a warm encouraging smile. “How is your self-portrait coming along? I noticed you had a little help yesterday from my best student.” She smiled at Press, acknowledging his assistance.

“It’s done,” Alex replied, her voice steady but her hands slightly trembling. She opened her art sketchbook, unclipped the instant photo, and handed it to Ms. Lopez.

Ms. Lopez examined the photograph, her face lighting up with approval. “Very creative, and you clearly played to your strengths.”

“If I played to my strengths, there’d be a story or poem with it,” Alex countered, her tone sharp as she emphasized where her true talent lay.

Ms. Lopez’s curiosity was piqued. “And what would the poem be?”

Alex took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she recited, “Shattered glass, broken soul, forever fractured, never whole. Ever cracked, never to mend, from the beginning to the end.” Each word felt like a release, a small piece of the burden lifting from her shoulders.

Ms. Lopez looked at Alex with a mix of awe and admiration. “That was heartbreakingly beautiful. You pass this assignment and in record time, too.” She handed the picture back to Alex and moved on to check on another student.

As Alex clipped the picture back into her book, she felt Press's gaze on her. She glanced over at him, her curiosity mingled with apprehension. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied flatly. “You’re just getting more interesting.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” With that, Alex turned her attention back to the blank paper on the easel in front of her. She started randomly doodling, but her mind kept drifting back to Press. Every now and then, she found herself stealing glances toward him, but scolded herself from doing so. It wasn’t him or what those girls said about him that made her do so, it was her own past. Alex had more baggage than anyone could imagine and never planned on dumping it on anyone.

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Alex dodged Ginny and her new entourage of friends after school, making a beeline for the parking lot where her mom's car was parked. As she approached, her little brother Austin greeted her with an enthusiastic “Car picnic!” waving his hands excitedly from inside the car.

Alex felt a wave of annoyance. A car picnic was undoubtedly Georgia's attempt to smooth things over with both her and Ginny. She forced a smile and said, “I have a lot of homework to do.”

“You can finish it later. Come on, baby girl, get in and we’ll go when Ginny inevitably walks away from who she’s talking to and comes over here.” Georgia smiled and waved at Ginny, urging her to hurry up and join them.

Alex adjusted her backpack, the weight of her textbooks adding to her irritation. “I’m serious, Mom. I don’t want to go.”

Georgia’s expression softened at her daughter’s resolute tone. She leaned closer to Alex, her eyes filled with concern. “Okay, I won’t make you. But do you forgive me?” She pouted playfully, taking Alex’s hands and swinging them back and forth in a familiar, comforting motion.

Alex rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “There’s literally only one thing that you could ever do that I wouldn’t forgive you for, so of course I do.”

Georgia’s curiosity was piqued, but she decided to save that question for later. For now, she smiled wide. “Good. Now go off and do your homework or whatever it is you’re actually going to do. I’ll save a burger and some donuts for you.”

Alex gave her mom a thumbs up. “Later, Austin,” she said before walking away, just as Ginny began storming towards Georgia. Perfect timing, she thought. She was so not in the mood to deal with Ginny and honestly, just wanted to be left alone.

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Alex found herself wandering into the Allegro music shop in town, drawn by the need to escape her thoughts. She slipped into one of the listening booths, the quiet hum of the store fading behind her. She typed the name of the song she was looking for into the touchscreen, put on the headphones, and closed her eyes. As the music blasted into her ears, she tried to drown out one set of painful memories, only to be ambushed by another...

Ginny, Alex, and Georgia were practicing yoga, a ritual Kenny had introduced, given his ownership of three yoga studios. Ginny and Georgia were bickering about family dinner and what constituted a 'real' family.

“Oh just shut up, Ginny,” Alex scoffed, abandoning her pose to stand upright. “Mom married Kenny, that makes him part of our family. We’re going to have dinner together. What’s the big freaking deal?”

“We already have a dad,” Ginny countered, referring to Zion.

“Just because he shares half of our DNA doesn’t make him our dad. If he was a dad, a real dad, he’d be here!” Alex's voice trembled with anger, still raw from the memory of breaking down in Georgia's arms, wishing for her father in a moment of weakness. Since that night, Alex had sworn never to ask for Zion again.

Georgia, sensing the rising tension, tried to diffuse the situation. “Alright, girls, that’s enough. Lexi, come with me.”

Just then, Kenny sauntered into the room, his presence filling the space. “When will dinner be ready? I’m starving.”

Georgia smiled, masking her own frustrations. “Lexi and I were just about to check on it. Shouldn’t be long.” She gave Kenny a quick peck and led the way out.

Alex lingered behind, her eyes narrowing as she watched Kenny 'assist' Ginny with her yoga pose, his hands sliding up her leg despite Ginny's protests. Alex interjected, her voice too sweet, “Dinner’s ready,” then headed towards the dining room, seething inside. “Goddamned bee,” she muttered under her breath.

Alex knew Georgia kept that blue flowered plant because it was pretty, but Alex was well aware of its darker capabilities. And now, she knew what Kenny was capable of. She’d be damned if she let what happened to her happen to her sister.

Determined, Alex clipped the flowers off the plant and added them to the smoothie mixture she was preparing for Kenny. When it was ready, she smiled at Kenny as he entered the kitchen that morning. “Good morning, Kenny. I made this for you. I hope you like it,” she said, her voice filled with false cheer.

“Aw, thank you sweetie,” he replied, accepting the smoothie cup and cupping her chin. “Don’t tell Ginny, but you’re my favorite daughter.”

Alex forced the smile to stay on her face until Kenny left, then quickly cleaned up to ensure no one else would drink what she had made.

“Good morning, Lexi. Aren’t you going to be late for school?” Georgia asked, heading towards the blender to see what Alex had mixed up.

“I have a free period first thing this semester. I’m good,” Alex answered as she rinsed out the bowls and reached for the blender.

“Ooo, this looks good,” Georgia said, about to taste the mixture, only for Alex to scream, “Don’t taste that!” and knock the cup out of her hand.

Georgia’s concern deepened. “Lexi…why can’t I drink this?” When Alex didn’t answer, she asked more firmly, “Alexandria, why can’t I drink this? What did you do?”

Alex wrung the dish towel in her hands, her resolve crumbling as she told Georgia everything...

As the song ended, so did the memories. Alex hoped that meant they were successfully locked away again. She exited the booth and made her way home. Just like she told Ginny’s so-called friends—who said she wasn’t messed up too?

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