Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – A Mortal Sin

“Genna watch out!” A disembodied voice wafted into the bleachers, causing Genna to glance up and then reflexively jerk to her right just in time for a wayward football to soar past, just inches from her temple. The pigskin oval bounced harmlessly against a yellow bleacher bench behind her, altering its course as it bounced back, past the walkway and through the railing. Genna watched quietly as a helmet-clad football players in the school’s scrimmage uniform tore onto the rubberized surface to retrieve it. He dodged between two black and yellow hurdles, eventually bending at the waist to scoop it up in his hands before turning back toward the field. Genna’s gaze traveled to the right where a boy with sandy-blonde hair looked toward her with momentary interest before offering a smile and turning on his heel, bolting back toward the end of the track.

“Thank you!” Genna called out, much quieter than she’d intended as she thanked the boy for warning her. She reached a hand to the side of her head, instinctively placing her palm against the spot where the football would have struck her; a cool breeze broke the light spring heat and she found herself paying attention to the scrimmage unfolding on the field. Both sides were the ‘home’ team; there was no one to root for, not that she ever would. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she’d been out here in these bleachers many times over her years at Jacemount; she could easily recall many evenings and nights spent in these bleachers, light waning, the impending cold nipping at her face, the band blaring ‘Land of a Thousand Dances’ on polished brass. Those nights had been spent underdressed and shivering, dependent on the impending and highly manufactured excitement to keep her warm. A blurred memory of sitting in the bleachers, watching the cheerleaders perform field-side crept into her conscious mind; god it seemed like an eternity ago. 

A quick glance to her right revealed Coach Baur standing over at the far end of the track, near the concrete concession stand now closed until the start of the season. He stood there, one hand on his hip , the other expressing wildly as he spoke to a team member, a short boy with brown hair who was bent at the knees and pressing his palms against his thighs to support himself as he breathed heavily, taking in the coach’s animated lecture. As he finished his pep talk, he glanced in her direction and beckoned her with a wave; Genna sighed and rose from the bleachers, stepping to the left so that she could ascend the concrete stair at the third mark of the stands. She made her way over to the coach, aware that he was watching her approach, and wondered to herself why he didn’t find something better to do in the thirty seconds it would take her to to traverse the track. 

“Genna!” He called out as soon as she was within shouting distance. She forced a smile and squinted in the wavering sunlight as a pair of girls jogged past her. She stopped within a few feet of him, crossing her arms and biting her bottom lip nervously. “Welcome back! Team hasn’t been the same without you!”

“Yeah I’m…sure,” Genna laughed a bit and then pursed her lips. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for all this,” She looked around, surveying the field, and then glanced to the far side of the track where a few girls vaulted over black and white hurdles. 

“Well we sure could use you,” Mr. Baur sighed. “There’s a meet coming up and quite frankly, we’re lacking in talent.”

“What about that one guy, wasn’t he fast?”

“You talking about Ricky Pollack?” Mr. Baur cocked his head and then ran a sweaty palm through his graying hair. “Boy was fast alright. That javelin was faster. Went right through his knee.”

“His knee?” Genna winced, recoiling at the thought. “That’s…wow that’s not exactly comforting. How did that even happen?” 

“Visiting school,” He said almost passionately. “They suck. So, why don’t you start with a hundred meter dash, let’s see if you remember how.”

“You’ve got it,” Genna said with far more enthusiasm than she felt. She turned and walked back toward the track, past a boy doing pushups and an assistant coach drilling him. She stopped a few yards away, at a section of the track that was marked with a white line running side to side. She paused at the line, glancing from left to right, then back at Coach Baur who was watching her, arms folded across his chest. Placing her left toe on the line she shifted nervously as she tried to remember just how to do this. Did she just start running? Was there some position she was supposed to get into? Surely she should know this; she searched her memories for some inspiration from the years she’d spent on the track. Pushing through the scarred layers of her subconscious, she tried to conjure at least some kind of memory. Hurdles, pole vaulting, anything. She finally sighed and stretched her arms as she glanced ahead, observing the empty space from this end of the track to the other. 

“Well?” Coach Baur called out from somewhere behind her. “Anytime, Ms. Alvord!”

She rolled her eyes and put one foot back, then finally took off running just as she heard the quarterback call out the play on the field. Her start was accompanied by the thunderous roar of shoulder pads slamming and players shouting, but their vibrant tangling was far more dramatic than her desperate run. As she bolted forward she immediate felt her legs becoming sore as her breath shortened. Even in the relatively cool spring air she began to feel a sweat buildup that immediately permeated her cotton t-shirt. As she ran, she could hear each footfall pounding against the rubberized track, the thud, thud, thud, filling her ears and only outdone by the laborious breaths as she stopped ten yards short of the finish line. Her vision blurred and she leaned forward, resting her hands against her knees and coughing as she focused her eyes solely on the white line painted onto the turf beneath her. Raising her head, she saw another girl in the black Jacemount themed track shorts shoot past her, clearing the finish line and bolting off toward the field. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then opened it, the white line, once blurred was coming into focus as her pulse pounded in her ears. Clearly she wasn’t built for running. 

Her eyes traveled upward, toward the bleachers to her left and she squinted, using her right hand to wipe away the perspiration from her brow as she looked at what she perceived to be a figure standing on the raised platform, the walkway just before the bleachers. She squinted and tried to make it out, but just like the white line, it was a blur. The pulse in her ears continued to beat, the slowing ‘thud, thud, thud’ that drowned out the shouts and heavy slams from the scrimmage behind her while simultaneously thwarting all of her attempts to focus on the figure. The thumping in her ears was now accompanied by a shrill ringing, the outside world faded away, replaced only by her fixation the shrouded figure standing over her. It was mostly dark, a silhouette, but she could make out a figure; it was definitely a girl, about her size, long hair, petite. 

‘Who are you?’ She asked the figure silently. 

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

‘Who are you?”

“Genna!” 

Genna started, jumping up and backward as Deidre shook her gently by the shoulders. She looked into her eyes, then turned to look toward the bleachers again. The figure was gone, the ringing and pounding in her ears replaced by the shouts from the field and the sound of sneakers on turf as runners shot past her. 

“Deidre?” She said breathlessly, trying to regain her composure.

“You alright?” Deidre looked to her with concern. “You were really zoning out there.”

“I was just-” Genna stumbled over both her words and her thoughts as she tried to think of something to say, but she was mercifully cut off by the appearance of coach Baur who approached them both with almost a look of resignation on his face.

“Out of shape?” He asked Genna, though he already knew the answer.

“I haven’t done a lot of running,” Genna admitted, though the moment the words came out of her mouth, she couldn’t help but remember the countless hours of physical therapy following the accident. The image of the therapist, Ruby came to mind, standing at the end of the parallel bars. ‘Just one more step!’ She’d always been so enthusiastic about Genna’s recovery, and in the end shed’d been right. After all, Genna was standing on her own two feet even if she couldn’t use them very well. The parallel bars, the stretches, and eventually the treadmill. “Well, maybe not that kind of running.”

“Well, we could work on it,” He suggested. “Say, after school, three days a week to start? We just have to get those legs on shape-”

“Actually,” Genna said, her breath recovered. “I think maybe this isn’t for me.”

“Genna, don’t be ridiculous!” Coach Baur frowned.

“Yeah Genna, don’t be dumb,” Deidre placed her hands on her hips, gaining a cursory glance from the coach. 

“Daisy, could you give us a moment?” The coach, directed the question to Deidre who raised an eyebrow.

“My name is Deidre,” She spoke with an edge to her tone.

“Right, Deidre,” The coach corrected himself. “Could you-”

“Yeah, whatever,” Deidre rolled her eyes and shook her head before turning on her heel and walking toward the chain link fence at the end of the field. Genna watched her green asymmetrical skirt flutter about her legs as she disappeared from sight. 

“I can’t imagine what you mean when you say it’s ‘not for you,’” Coach Baur said. “You killed it on shotput last year, let’s not even talk about the pole vaulting. You really want to walk away from all that?” 

“Look, coach Baur-” 

“Albert, Genna,” He corrected her. “We’ve always been on a first name basis.”

“Coach Baur,” She continued. “I’m pretty sure you’ve done fine without me and-”

“You shouldn’t underestimate your own talents, sure, the team worked without you but you just bring…something special, you know? It just wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

Genna frowned slightly, noticing an almost imperceptible change in the Coach’s expression as he said ‘I wouldn’t be the same without you’. Genna pursed her lips, squeezing them hard enough to cut off the circulation before finally coming to a decision. 

“You’ll be fine,” She said shortly, with an upward inflection that signaled a finality to her statement. Before he could speak again, she turned and walked hurriedly down the track, veering to her left to avoid a pair of incoming runners. She was aware of the coach calling out to her as she approached the chain link fence. Just before exit to the field, the grass and turf turned into a gravel path which persisted up to the blacktop of the parking lot which was divided by a long row of concrete bumpers. She skipped over them and walked between to widely spaced cars, craning her neck as she surveyed the lot for any sign of Deidre; at least she could get a ride home.

“Deidre!” She called out almost desperately “Deidre where’d you go?”

She swiveled her head, looking from left to right, following the path of a red car as it passed down the drive toward the main road. Jacemount was located at the edge of Ann Arbor proper, but it had a series of drives that connected it to the charter township. If you looked in the right direction, the entire thing almost seemed rural. She sighed at the lack of response and had nearly resigned herself to taking the bus when she saw Deidre waving her down from across the lot. Her heart soared while she simultaneously sighed with relief at being spared the indignity of public transportation.

“You ready, or what?” Deidre asked, leaning against the car. Genna felt a sudden wave of indignity anyway as she took in Deidre’s outfit. The knee-length asymmetrical skirt was paired with a blue low-cut top with flowing sleeves; it matched her red hair, which was flowing freely about her shoulders. Genna gulped and realized that she was standing there, sweat-soaked and wearing that stupid Jacemount high track uniform. 

“Ready um…for what?” Genna searched her memory, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

“Come on, seriously?” Deidre rolled her eyes. “Prom is coming up in a few weeks? You want to go in last year’s dress?”

“Oh, right,” Genna nodded. “The fitting…thing.”

“Yes! The fitting ‘thing’!” Deidre confirmed, rolling her eyes once again. “You finished up your track ‘thing’ early, so we should have some time after to grab a latte. Good job on that, by the way.”

“Yeah it just-”

“Wasn’t for you, yeah, weird,” Deidre pulled a black key fob from her purse and used it to unlock the car. Moments later they were headed toward the road. “You smell, by the way.”

“I was running,” Genna shrugged. 

“Yeah I know, and you’ll run again. You need a shower, though.”

“For what?” Genna asked. “Just turn on the air con, I’ll stop sweating by the time we get there.”

“You’re disgusting,” Deidre scrunched up her nose, Genna smirked. “Fine, whatever, there’s a dress in the back. Wait until you cool off, don’t get your icky sweat all over it.”

The drive from the school to the small boutique took about ten minutes, which was plenty of time for Genna to dry off with the air conditioner running at full blast. By the time they stepped out of the car, they were both shivering as if they’d run half naked through a blizzard. 

“Why do you drive a Focus, anyway?’ Genna gestured toward the car. “Isn’t that beneath you?”

“I just got my license,” Deidre shrugged. “Dad said I should have a ‘throwaway car’.”

“Because he thinks you’re going to wreck it,” Genna suggested.

Deidre started to respond but then paled at the mention of a potential wreck. The color left her face and she bit her lower lip, allowing an uncomfortable silence to hang between them.

“Sorry,” Genna said, almost genuinely after a moment. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Deidre shook her head. “you were the victim, if joking about your trauma helps you-”

“I wasn’t joking about my trauma, Deidre,” Genna argued. “It was completely unrelated.”

“Right,” Deidre said sharply. “Let’s go.”

After a brisk walk with Genna attempting to keep up with Deidre’s ever increasing gait, they stepped inside the boutique where Genna found herself surrounded by racks and racks of long, heavily designed dresses. It was practically a maze of silky and polyester material; Genna was forced to hold her hand out to avoid being drowned in fabric in a few spots. Finally, they came to a long white counter, behind which stood a woman in her mid-thirties tapping away on a laptop computer. 

“Hey, Tabitha!” Deidre waved to get the woman’s attention as they approached. The woman looked up and gave a broad smile.

“Deidre! Oh! And Genna! I haven’t see you since…”

“It’s okay,” Genna said. “You can say it but…I…don’t really remember you, I’m sorry.”

“Her memory is spotty,” Deidre explained. “She remembers me, but like, she can’t remember half the school.”

“Oh that’s perfectly fine,” Tabitha said in an upbeat tone. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on, and from what I hear yours wasn’t for a while.”

Genna forced a smile and a half hearted chuckled at the joke; it was difficult for her to find anything funny about the situation and even if she could, her guilt over Megan’s death eclipsed any inclination of humor that might come from it. 

“Jesus, Tabitha,” Deidre shook her head. 

“Not a damn thing wrong with some gallows humor,” Tabitha insisted. “Now you two are here for your dresses right?”

“This is a dress shop,” Genna said dryly. 

“Oh so you do laugh,” Tabitha grinned. “Now let’s see, Deidre I finished the alterations on your new one, and Genna we still have yours from…before.”

“Right,” Genna nodded. She’d been fitted for a gown for last year’s prom, and of course she’d never gotten to wear the stupid thing. She cringed inwardly as she realized the last time she was here, she’d been with Megan. She wondered if Deidre remembered that too. As Tabitha retrieved the dresses from a rack behind the counter, Deidre continued to chat with her. Genna froze in place, observing the conversation but disassociating from the situation. Her body felt separate from her mind, and every sound, even that of Deidre’s voice sounded far away, like muted echoes. The dress was on the counter, a bright yellow, silky material with a wrapped waist and a deep neckline. She didn’t want it. 

Before she knew it, she was standing in one of the dressing rooms, gown in hand as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t done her makeup today; there was no time in the ride over. Her skin felt rough, and as she held the gown up to herself, pressing the shoulders to her own, she could swear that it was half an inch too long. Typical. Tabitha loved to think she was an expert tailor but she couldn’t hem her way out of a wet paper bag. Genna rolled her eyes as she undressed and then unzipped the back of the gown. She stepped into it, pulling the stiff material about her, slipping her arms through the sleeves. With great difficulty, she managed to pull the zipper shut and then gathered her hair, pulling it from the straps and allowing it to fall loose about her shoulders. Then, she looked at herself again. The gown had added a splash of color and it paired well with her black hair, but it still looked wrong. Maybe if she’d worn makeup.

“Genna!” Deidre pounded against the dressing room door; it rattled in its laughably weak frame. “Did you die in there?” 

“Really bad taste, Deidre,” She called back with a huff.

“I can’t walk on eggshells around you,” Deidra retorted as Genna opened the door and stepped out. The light fabric of the gown swished against the doorframe as she stepped toward the center of the dressing room. The area was shaped in an oval with dressing stalls lining the back half, and rectangular full length mirrors along the wall she was facing. The center of the room was occupied by a raised round platform, meant for showing off your gown if you so desired. Genna did not so desire. “Well?”

“It keeps falling off at the shoulder,” Genna complained, pulling at the sleeve to reposition it. “and I think the skirt is too long.”

“It was tailored specifically to you,” Deidre observed. “Maybe Tabitha fucked it up.”

“She probably did,” Genna agreed. “Why do we insist on using this place anyway?”

“Tabitha’s a friend of your family, and mine,” Deidre pointed out. “Well, the whole community really.”

Deidre was right, of course, the shop had opened sometime in the seventies, back in the time of the dinosaurs and Tabitha’s mother had run it then. Though it changed hands, the Bohannon name had remained a staple in Ann Arbor and prom season was more than a bit profitable for Tabitha and her two employees. 

“Tabby!” Deidre called out. “Did you fuck up this dress?”

“Would you watch your language?” Tabitha demanded as she stormed in from the front. “Your mother would wash your mouth out with-”

“It’s loose in the shoulders,” Genna interrupted her, pointing to the sleeve that had once again made its way to the mid-point of her upper arm. 

“Well you were bed-ridden for a year,” Tabitha folded her arms and looked hard at Genna. “you probably lost weight, right?” 

“Yeah I guess,” Genna agreed. That made sense, she’d lost about thirty pounds from inactivity and then the physical therapy. An hour a day on a treadmill would probably do that to you. 

“Well, stand up on the platform,” Tabitha waved. “I’ll pin it up and do the alterations later. You’ll have it before prom.”

“And try not to fuck it up this time,” Deidre smirked. 

Tabitha finished with the measurements and the dress was returned to the back of the shop, with Deidre paying for hers on the way out. They made it halfway across the parking lot before Deidre finally spoke.

“You’ve been eating, right?” She asked Genna as they reached the car.

“Obviously.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

“I’ve been eating, Deidre,” Genna reassured her. Deidre nodded.

“Just making sure.”

***

 

“Why are we going to the mall, exactly?” Genna asked as Deidre slowed the car to pull into the lot. They were surrounded by a vast field of cars positioned in front of a large, imposing ‘Briarwood’ sign affixed to the top of a sprawling brick structure. 

“Would you rather go home?” Deidre offered an alternative that she communicated as more of a death sentence with her darkened tone of voice. “Yeah I didn’t think so. I need to stop at Ulta, and didn’t you say you needed new foundation?”

“Yeah I think I got the wrong shade last time,” Genna grumbled. “the tone is darker than I want, you know?”

“You sure?” Deidre asked as she put the car in park between a Suburban and a blue Jeep Cherokee. “You could use a tan, you’re white as a ghost.”

“Happens when you don’t go outside for a year,” Genna shrugged. 

“They should have let me visit,” Deidre sighed. “I could have gotten you outside for walks, or whatever they do in prison.”

“It wasn’t prison,” Genna retorted. “It was…it was cool. The room had an Xbox, and I could go for walks around the unit. There was a window too.”

“Oooh, a window!” Deidre waved both of her hands in mocking tandem. “Whatever. Let’s go in.”

The main entrance to the Briarwood mall began with an unassuming long, wide hallway lined with offices and a few shops that had been closed years before. The halfway point featured a tall kiosk with an LED display that showed a map of the mall; if one wished, they could scan the QR code on-screen to download an app to their phone which would accurately display their position in the mall. Deidre insisted that she didn’t need it and she was probably right.

The hallway opened up into a long, open area lined with shops, neon store displays, long gondolas with plants, fountains, and a wide range of floating shops that split the section into two aisles. Most importantly, it was rife with foot traffic of all ages. Genna watched as a couple with a child walked by, the child skipped along, secured to his mother’s arm by an extendable leash, colored yellow and blue to distract from the fact that it was a leash. On the plant gondola, two girls sat on the edge and scrolled their phones while a boy in a blue windbreaker traipsed about the edge in his apparent interpretation of a parkour routine. The area itself was split into two tiers, the second sitting behind a steel-glass railing with green-tinted tempered panes bolted to a metal frame. It reminded Genna of home, especially the massive skylight overhead that bathed the common area in natural light.

“Come on,” Deidre tugged on Genna’s arm, leading her to a staircase that brought them to the second level. Moments later they stood inside the Ulta as Deidre wandered through the aisles, finally stopping to look at foundations. “Find one that matches your skin.”

“There are so many,” Genna mused as she browsed through the selections. There were probably about sixty of the glass pump-tubes, all lined up and organized according to color on a display that escalated each row back. “How do I even pick?”

“Um, try a few on your hand,” Deidre suggested. 

“Won’t they get mad?”

“How hard did you hit your head?” Deidre rolled her eyes. “These are just the displays, you’re supposed to try them. You can’t just grab and go, you’re not buying a candy bar.”

“I’d like a candy bar,” Genna remarked as she tried a few samples on the back of her hand. “Here, this one looks close.”

“That’s a 115,” Deidre said, looking over. “Not even close to what you were using. You could definitely use a candy bar though; get a bunch of them. Then you’ll fit into your dress.”

“How would you know what I was using?”

You are reading story Genna at novel35.com

“I know what you were using a year ago,” Deidre shrugged. “But you had a tan.”

“Can you get this for me so I can go walk around?” Genna asked, pushing the bottle toward her. “I’ll Venmo you the money.”

“Yeah, sure,” Deidre nodded. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air,” Genna explained. “This place is claustrophobic.”

“Well you’re not wrong,” Deidre nodded. “It’s really small for an Ulta. Okay, well, I’ll text you when I’m out?”

“Yeah,” Genna nodded. “Yeah.”

Genna left the cosmetics store and wandered around the second tier for a while, taking in the scene and finding herself more than a little disinterested in the various storefronts. A video game store, a Bath and Body Works, some weird science store with colorful toys and experiment kits. She stopped to look at a plasma ball in the window display, briefly wondering how it would look in her room before deciding it would clash with the house. Probably a mortal sin.

Finally, she turned from the window and glanced across the walkway to the other side of the gap that overlooked the first tier. She cocked her head and pursed her lips, looking at the ‘Books, etc’ sign over top the entrance to a book store that was probably a bit bigger than the Ulta she’d just left. Books, did she like books? She struggled, trying to remember, but then thought about her sudden disinterest in track. 

‘How hard did you hit your head?’ Deidre had asked. 

Well, that was certainly the question, wasn’t it? Maybe, just maybe the accident had changed the way she thought about things; maybe she had some new interests. She walked toward the bookstore with that thought firmly in her head. 

The bookstore was a stark contrast from the Ulta; rather than sleek, modern looking displays, Books, Etc had opted for a more contemporary look with wooden shelves, some standing free and others set into the walls with round spotlights illuminating featured selections, most of which were hardbacks stood upright with their covers facing the customers. Genna’s eyes scanned the standing shelves, each one labeled with a long black sign affixed to the top, each one denoting a different genre. Romance, Fiction, Paranormal, Paranormal Romance, Autobiography, Historical, Bestsellers, and dozens of others that she could see as she walked slowly down an aisle, flanked on either side by colorful paperback bound books. She passed the ‘Science Fiction’ shelf and read the titles as they jumped out at her. Battlefield Earth, Ringworld, Kill Code, Hyperion,” All of them looked enticing, somehow. She passed the fantasy section and saw a plethora of titles that she easily recognized, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, The Way of Kings, all were pretty popular but she had no idea what they were actually about. Toward the back of the store, she raised her eyes to a loft set up against the back of the store, serving a sort of second floor. It looked like a small area, but she squinted as a girl walked past the wooden balustrade. Someone she recognized, she thought. She frowned, watching the blonde girl browse the shelves of the upper floor. Where did she know her from? Genna stepped over to a wooden staircase affixed to the hall and padded slowly, but steadily up a set of carpeted stairs, allowing her fingers to trail along the wooden banister as she went. She reached the top and drummed her fingers once against the wood before looking at the girl once again. She wasn’t hard to find; the loft section was pretty open, and she could see her browsing titles atop a waist-high shelf. 

She was about Genna’s height with shoulder-length blonde hair, dressed in a green plaid skirt that extended to her knees, and a black v-neck top with short sleeves. She had a girlish figure, but there was something off about her.

“They keep the old stuff up here,” The girl said without looking up. “Stuff from the 90s’, it’s not likely to sell; stuff you’d usually buy on Amazon.”

“You…” Genna paused, searching deep within the recesses of her brain to remember the girl. “Kendra, right?”

“I’m flattered,” Kendra smiled, looking up. “You remember me?”

“Well I saw you at school yesterday but…yeah, I think so, you were friends with Megan and Susanna?”

“I am friends with Susanna,” Kendra reminded her. “She’s around here somewhere. Downstairs I think. What brings someone like you into a bookstore? Shouldn’t you be doing…whatever jocks do?”

“I don’t know what jocks do, really,” Genna admitted. “Oh! You’re trans, aren’t you?”

“Wow,” Kendra said flatly, apparently not even phased. “that’s a thing to blurt out, isn’t it?”

“Sorry,” Genna said hurriedly. “I just- I don’t know. I remember Megan reading a lot and I guess I wanted to connect with her more, I mean…I…I know I can’t really connect with her but I want to learn more about…I…”

“About who she was,” Kendra said. “Yeah, I get it. She read a lot of things, kind of hard to pin it down.”

“A lot of things,” Genna repeated, thinking it over. “I…I guess I could just grab something.”

“Maybe start with this,” Kendra suggested, pulling a paperback from the shelf in front of her. She lifted it up, holding it across the shelf toward Genna who stepped forward and took it. 

“It’s uh…” She turned the thick volume over in her hands and read the title. “Strangers?”

“By Dean Koontz,” Kendra confirmed. “Super old book, but Megan loved it.”

“I…I didn’t know that,” Genna admitted. “I…guess maybe I was too focused on myself.”

“Well what did you guys talk about?”

“I guess we talked about track, and boys, and TV shows and…I don’t know, I just…I didn’t really know about her hobbies. I mean I knew she read but…”

“Yeah that’s um…that’s tough,” Kendra nodded.

“Do people blame me?” Genna asked suddenly. “Like I…I think everyone hates me.”

“Okay look,” Kendra said, leaning against the shelf and supporting her weight with a single open palm pressed against the surface. “I’m going to be blunt here. I mean I should probably be a little more sensitive but you have to understand, we’ve been all cried out for a long time and to be honest, I’m pretty much done, so here goes. You were driving, Genna. People saw you at the party, drinking. You got into the car with her, you drove off with her, and now she’s dead. People loved her, more than they loved you, and you took her away. Worst of all, you got away with it. It’s a little fucked up, Genna.”

“Look I-” Genna began to speak, and then felt her voice catch in her throat as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t…ask to get away with it, I…they dropped the charges. What else can I do?”

“Do I look like a priest?” She asked evenly, her voice devoid of emotion. “I can’t tell you what to do, I’m just telling you why everyone hates you. You’ll have to figure out how to move forward, I can’t help you there.”

“Right,” Genna nodded, her eyes beginning to burn from the tears which were now coming from both eyes. “Thank you…for telling me.”

“Enjoy the book,” Kendra said, turning away and walking to another shelf, the conversation clearly over. 

Genna stood there for a moment, watching the girl until she finally disappeared behind one of the taller shelves. Holding the book in one hand, she wiped her face with the other, thankful that she hadn’t bothered to wear makeup today. The tears smeared across her cheeks and hand as she took a deep breath that never quite seemed to reach her lungs. Finally, she turned and walked back down the steps, reaching the bottom, and making her way back through the rows of shelves on the first floor. She paused, then stepped to the side between the Science Fiction and Fantasy shelves, a thousand fictional worlds flanking her on either side as she clutched the book and looked down at the cover. It was red and black, pretty simple; didn’t exactly seem thrilling. Then again, Genna hadn’t read a book since middle school. This one seemed way more complicated than those YA books she used to read. Come to think of it, she’d never made it all the way through one. This book was thick, really thick, about three inches. 

“Would be nice if it had pictures,” She said half-heartedly to herself as she thumbed through it. Finally, she stepped from the shelves, gripping the book in her left hand and giving it a pat with her right. As she stepped back into the aisle she was immediately assaulted by the ambient noise of shoppers browsing, talking, shuffling from aisle to aisle. Beyond the square arch of the entryway, the blue overhead light contrasted with the bookstore’s deliberate fluorescent lighting, making it seem as if the world beyond were separate from this one. She stepped forward, past a mother pushing a toddler in a blue and green stroller, past kid in thick glasses and a button-down checked shirt, and finally emerged from the forest of shelves, onto the main floor adjacent the cash register. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?”

Genna looked in the direction of the voice and saw Susannah, half an inch shorter than her and malice on her face with both her hands on her hips. Her platinum hair was bound in a pony tail, pulled tight and giving her an imposing look. Genna looked to her and then looked to the book in her hand. 

“Susannah?” She said, though it wasn’t a question. “I…”

“What are you doing with that?” Susannah repeated the question, pointing accusingly at the book. She stood straight and her posture was imposing while the dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, and her demeanor reeked of stress. The girl looked as if she could snap at any moment. 

“This” Genna looked to her, confused as she stiffened, readying her self for whatever verbal onslaught she was about to suffer.

“It’s her favorite book - was her favorite book. You’d know that if you’d paid any attention to her instead of talking about yourself all the time.”

“I’m…sorry,” Genna stammered. “Look I’m just-”

“Can you even read?” Susannah demanded. “fucking bimbo.”

Susannah scowled and stepped toward Genna, quickly, and shoved her backward with both hands. Genna stumbled, hanging onto the book with one hand while trying to steady herself with the other. She failed miserably in her attempt to remain upright and instead she stumbled, falling backward into the ‘Paranormal Romance’ section; a few of the books fell to the floor as she regained her feet and watched Susannah storm off toward the exit. A few onlookers glanced over, watching the commotion but quickly resumed their 

Activities as Genna began to walk toward the exit herself. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Kendra, still on the loft, and shooting a curious look in her direction. 

“Shit,” Genna muttered as she sped toward the exit. 

 

***

 

“I can’t believe she left without me,” Genna said as she slumped into the leather bucket seat of her mom’s BMW. She shot a glance to the driver’s seat; her mother cut the wheel gracefully, propelling them into an intersection at the prompting the overhead traffic light. She squirmed in the seat, briefly wondering why leather seats didn’t have a ‘cooling’ option to go along with the heat. Stupid seats were only good in the winter. 

“You’ve always been great at choosing friends,” Mother remarked. Genna snorted. She’d left the book store and returned to Ulta to find Deidre, only to check her phone, finding a text message that she’d already left, taking a ride from someone she’d run into. She’d been forced to call her mother for a ride home instead.

“Was she always like this?” Genna looked out the window and watched the passing street signs, and tried to make a game of reading the storefront logos as they swept past. 

“You don’t remember?” 

“Funny,” Genna turned her nose up and then placed her hand against her cheek, resting her elbow against the window ledge. “You know I don’t fit into my prom dress anymore?”

“Oh? Well, maybe you’ve lost weight,” Mother suggested as the car surged forward, looping onto the freeway ramp. “You can have Tabitha tailor it, you know.”

“That’s kind of a lot of weight, mom,” Genna pointed out. “It was falling off my shoulders.”

“The weight was falling off your shoulders?”

“The dress, mom, the dress was falling off my shoulders.”

“Well you spent a lot of time in that hospital bed,” Mother pointed out, again. How many times did she have to say it? “You were on a feeding tube at one point, it’s no surprise that you’re a little smaller.”

“Ah, yeah, I survived the impossible just to suffer from malnourishment. I’m really living the life.”

“It could be worse dear, you could be dead,” Mother said bluntly. She was always the realist. 

“Working today?” Genna turned her head from the window and glanced at her mother who did not return the look; instead she kept her eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“I still have a few illustrations to finish up,” Mother nodded. “the company gave me an advance on the new book.”

“What do people pay for kid’s books?”

“More than you’d think,” Mother eased the car off of the free way, taking a side street and then pulling into their housing development. “How did the track meet go?”

“It wasn’t a track meet, mom, and…I don’t know, I don’t think track is for me, not anymore. I want to do something different.”

“Familiar activities will-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Genna cut her off in exasperation. “Familiar activities will help to prompt memory recall, I get it, but running a hundred meters didn’t bring anything back. Besides, the injections-”

“You have another four months until your next injection, and it won’t help you completely. You have to do some of the work on your own, sweetheart.”

“Mom I-” Genna began to speak and then paused as they turned into the driveway, past the house and around the curve that would take them to the garage. “Why does our house look like this anyway?”

“The brutalist style?” Mother glanced out the driver side window as they passed beneath the shadow of the concrete monstrosity. “I think your father really liked Duplo blocks when he was a child.”

“Mom, the thing is, I know doing familiar things is…good but…there are some things I just don’t want to think about. I’m worried that running track or whatever I used to do is just going to make me think of her. I miss her, mom.” Genna’s voice cracked as her mind wandered to a topic that she’d rather not have touched. “Mom…I…they hate me. They all hate me and they’re right, it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Mother said. They were in the garage now, the door behind them closed shut, sunlight fading bit by bit as the panels slid into place. It met the concrete with a ‘thud’ as the garage fell silent. “Look, the courts-” 

“You guys paid the courts!”

“Genna, that’s what people like us do. I’m sorry but this is how the world works, a young lady like yourself has a bright future ahead of her. That’s you, Genna. You have so much to offer the world, so why should you spend years of your life in a cell wasting away your potential over someone like her?” Mother’s voice had gained a razor sharp edge, almost a hint of disgust. “Genna, dear, I know that Megan was your friend and I know the wounds are still fresh but it has to be said: she wasn’t a good influence on you.”

“What-” Genna’s eyes were wide, her mind in shock from the words that has just left her mother’s mouth.

“You cut classes because of her, you tried marijuana because of her, you were distracted from your studies and ultimately she was the reason you were at that party in the first place. I’m sorry that she died, Genna, but she put herself, and you in that position. You were driving, but she caused the accident, you know it’s true.”

The word slammed into Genna like a blunt object, nullifying and invalidating the emotions she’d felt a moment earlier as a new type of pain took their place. A sinking feeling that made her want to withdraw into herself. Maybe her mother was right, maybe Genna had been given a second chance and she should be using it. Maybe she was wrong. What did it matter? The court had said ‘not guilty’, hadn’t it? Thoughts, feelings, emotions, the concept or right and wrong, all of it had been pushed to the wayside by one thing: money. Was that really all it took? She wanted to hit something, she wanted to scream, to demand to know ‘what was wrong with her’. Instead she simply said “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She walked up to her room, closing the door behind her; she stood in the center of the concrete box. Well she liked to call it a box anyway; her father insisted that it was a bedroom. She looked around once again, taking in the surroundings both familiar and unfamiliar; she surveyed the photographs on the shelf, the array of cosmetics on the sleek vanity, the door to the closet: closed but switched to ‘translucent’ mode so that the racks of clothing and shoes were just slightly visible in the darkened space. Finally, she turned to her glass computer desk in the far corner; atop it sat a very simple “All in One” computer, white with a beveled edge. She stepped over to it, pulling out the white swivel chair and taking a seat at the rather spartan desk before powering up the computer and waiting for the ‘Windows’ logo to give way to the desktop. 

There was a momentary pause, and then the desktop icons populated, god there were a lot of them. She cringed and nearly recoiled as she realized that she must have been using the computer’s desktop as a trash can or something; a stark contrast to the state of the physical desk in front of her. Well, everyone had their flaws, and apparently hers were far more glaring. She sifted through the pile of icons, making her way through saved memes, icons for programs she didn’t recognize, and then, finally, found the ‘Facebook’ icon between ‘Google Chrome’ and ‘uTorrent’, whatever the hell that was. She double clicked the ‘blue icon’ which opened up to her news feed. She had only recently started using Facebook again, maybe a month ago and when she’d finally logged back in she’d expected to see a few thousand notifications, but instead was greeted by a nearly empty friend list and maybe a hundred notifications at best. At least Deidre hadn’t unfriended her. 

She clicked on the sidebar, which extended onto the news feed, then selected the ‘Instagram Integrated’ feature. The screen populated with a tile layout of media separated into ‘Photo’ and ‘Video’ with options for subcategories on the right hand side. She scrolled through the tiles, looking through the ‘video’ category. There were a lot of uploaded videos, and most of the previews showed either her, or Megan, or Megan together. She could see that a few of them included Deidre. She continued to scroll until one jumped out at her, it was a short clip of her and Megan attempting to recreate a stunt from some stupid show they’d watched. She increased the volume and tried to combat the flood of emotions that torrented over her as Megan came on screen. Her hair was a dark brown, about the same length as Genna’s, but in a far different style. For this video, however, it was bound back in a ponytail that flung wildly as she chased Genna around their backyard with a bucket of water. Genna smirked a little as she imagined how her dad would feel about them abusing his perfectly manicured yard - a yard that he never even used. 

“Come on Genna, it’s just a little water!” Megan’s voice rang out, almost breathless as she held the white bucket in both hands, water splashing against the sides, cascading against her face as she chased a clearly annoyed Genna across the grass and around the concrete fountain. 

“It’s fucking cold you bitch!” Genna had shouted back, only to reap a response of wild laughter from Megan. The video cut off shortly after Megan tripped, spilling the bucket as Genna pointed and laughed. 

Genna frowned as she played the video back again, and again, and again. 

“It’s fucking cold you bitch!” 

She played it back again, and again, listening to that line, finally, she heard what she was looking for: a small, childish laugh from off-camera.

“Whose holding the camera?” She asked aloud. Well, was it really important? Deidre? Susannah? Someone that had dumped her from their friend list after the accident? Still, there was something wrong with the video; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by the Facebook notification ‘ding’, and the appearance of a red ‘1’ beneath the bell icon at the top right. She only had 25 friends left, and most of them were family. What could it be? She took a deep breath and clicked the icon, expanding the notification list:

Kendra White has added you as a friend: Accept/Decline

That was weird.

She hesitated for a moment, her mouse cursor hovering over the ‘Decline’ button as she bit her lip and contemplated the potential consequences of accepting. On one hand Kendra would be able to see everything on her news feed, on the other, she didn’t have anything on her news feed since last year and had no plans to post anything in the near future. Finally, she moved the cursor over to ‘Accept’, paused for a second, and then clicked.

It took less than five seconds for Kendra to initiate contact, sending a ‘Wave’ that appeared in the message box in the bottom quarter of the screen.

Genna: Hi

Kendra: Hey

Genna: “So um…what’s up?”

Genna struggled to come up with a way to broach the question of: “Why the hell did you add me?”

Instead of producing what she was sure would equate to word vomit, she spent a few moments, clicking through Kendra’s pictures. Kendra had chosen the ultimate girly route when she’d begun her transition. She’d gone all out on her makeup, her outfits were decidedly feminine with no room for ambiguity - the girl lived in dresses and skirts. The further she clicked, the less refined the makeup, and the more makeshift the outfits. Finally, she stopped when she came to a picture of a boy with blonde hair in front of a door, it was a grainy photo, a girl next to him with a broad smile, but a dead expression on the boy’s face. She’d gone back too far, it was Kenda pre-transition. Genna felt her heart skip a beat as she beheld the boy’s expression of utter despair, or apathy at best. She expanded the comments on the right and scrolled through them. 

You guys are such a cute couple!

Great to see you Kenneth!

hi kenneth how r u…., we went to the flea market last week and saw a pot that made us think of u… write back soon….lvoe grandma

She closed the comments and cringed.

“Why would you keep that up?” Genna asked the picture before closing it and returning her attention to the message box. 

Kendra: So I was kind of feeling bad about the book store earlier. I know you’re going through a lot and Susannah was definitely rude to you.

Genna: You saw that, huh?

Kendra: I think the entire store saw it. Look I’m not going to say you’re the ‘good guy’ here, you definitely fucked up and things aren’t going to be the same, but you’re working toward making it right, aren’t you?

Genna: I’m trying but…I’m mostly trying to wrap my head around what’s happening. I can’t remember a whole lot about the accident and they say I might not, ever.

Kendra: If you want to make things right, you could start by talking to Megan’s parents. Help them get some closure????

Genna: Um that’s a big step.

Kendra: Gotta start somewhere.

Genna sighed as she contemplated the implications of actually going to Megan’s house. How would her parents even respond to that? She leaned back in the computer chair, the hinges creaking as she interlaced her hands behind her head. 

“You’re insane, Kendra,” She muttered. “Fucking insane.”

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by another notification ‘ding’ from the Facebook app. She frowned and leaned forward, immediately noticing that the alert wasn’t from the Notifications try, but rather from the Messenger. Who would want to talk to her now? She clicked on it as Kendra’s ‘typing’ animation continued; her heart stopped when she saw the name: Megan Wallace.

“What?” She said aloud, confused. She immediately concluded that it had to be someone with a similar name, but it was definitely her profile picture beside the message. Her hand shook as she took the mouse; a feeling of unease grew in the pit of her stomach and she swore she could feel her pulse pounding between her ears. For a moment she considered deleting the message and moving on, but there was a part of her that had to know. Finally, she clicked and read the words:

Megan: Alive.

“What the fuck.” 

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