Dead silence spiraled through the air, only broken by passing vehicles. Marianna’s mom. Farren Whitlock, stood next to her grey truck, a hand resting on the open door, her wide hazel eyes fixed on the two girls. She opened her mouth, then closed it and swallowed hard, at a loss for words. Instead, she settled for staring blankly, eyes darting between her daughter and Alna, who Marianna was still embracing.

Alna reacted first. She stepped away from Marianna and gave the older blonde woman a polite smile.

“You must be Ms. Whitlock,” she acknowledged smoothly, sounding unruffled by the entire situation. “I’m Alna Holt. It’s nice to meet you.” She took a few steps toward Marianna’s mom and offered her hand.

For a moment, Mom hesitated, staring at Alna’s hand in bewilderment. She was still in the professional black slacks and grey t-shirt from when she’d gone out earlier. The only thing about her that looked relaxed was Mom’s hair, which fell about her shoulders messily, having been wearing it in a ponytail for the entire day.

Marianna’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for… However her mom would react to Alna. And then, for whatever reason, Mom decided taking the proffered hand would be the best course of action, and shook it, murmuring a quiet greeting. Her eyes soon slid back to Marianna, darting up and down her form, as if checking if she was all right.

If her stomach twisted any more, Marianna swore she would vomit.

Turning back to face the younger Whitlock, Alna gave Marianna another smile, this one sympathetic. “Well, I can honestly say that I had fun tonight, but I should be going. Have a good evening, Marianna. Ms. Whitlock.” With that simple adieu, Alna started to walk away.

Marianna, getting over her state of shock, quickly grabbed her wrist.

“Wait,” she gasped out, feeling her mom’s gaze weighing on her. She didn’t know what she planned to say to Alna. All Marianna knew was that she liked Alna, and if she didn’t speak up now, she might never see her again. Now was her only chance. “Can I call you sometime?” she blurted out, thankful that her mom was remaining silent for the moment. She already felt like she was going to have a heart attack as it was.

At her words, Mom stepped forward, her voice hard as she said, “Mary, that’s not––”

“Mom,” Marianna said, her voice strangled. She looked over at her mom with wide, pleading eyes. “Just–– We’ll talk about this at home, okay. Please, just––give me a sec.”

Mom’s lips pursed, her gaze burning as she looked at Marianna, and then at the door of the club. Marianna had no doubt that, if they were in a less public place, she wouldn’t hesitate to go off on her. As it was, there was no way of getting her to leave without potentially causing a scene.

“One minute.”

Mom got into the truck, slamming the door with more force than Marianna had ever heard her use. She could feel her mom’s eyes burning into her skull through the windshield.

Alna, having watched the exchange in silence, looked away from the truck, her eyes focusing on Marianna. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. And then, her face softening once more, she instructed, “Give me your phone.”

Marianna did so without hesitation. She grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket, typed in her passcode, and, once opening her contacts, handed it to Alna. As Alna made quick work entering her number, Marianna fiddled with her sleeve, casting nervous glances at her mom, whose expression had hardened, her lips pursed. Oh God, she felt very much like she was in the presence of a ticking time bomb. Going home was going to be unbearable.

“Here.” Alna interrupted her thoughts, handing Marianna’s phone back to her. With another slight smile, Alna leaned closer to Marianna and said, “Call me if you want to.”

And then, with a last shared look with Marianna and a nod to her mom, Alna walked away.

***

Alna waited at the curb by the dance club, resisting the urge to tap her fingers against her arm. She had called for a cab five minutes and forty-six seconds ago, and though it might not make much sense, she was anxious to get home. Being around large crowds of people was not her preference.

Her attention snapped toward a black car driving nearby. If not for the white lettering on the driver’s side, showing that it was a cab for hire, nothing would have distinguished it from any other vehicle on the street.

Alna lifted a pale hand and waved at the sleek vehicle, which pulled up in front of her without preamble.

“Where to?” the man asked as Alna slid into the back seat. His voice was so gruff that Alna concluded he was a smoker. If that hadn’t given him away, then the smell permeating the air would have. Alna tried not to make a face.

“Three eighty-seven, Velvet Lane,” Alna said, her voice impassive. She gazed out the window, watching buildings and cars zip by with no particular interest, her mind drifting back to the pretty girl she had met. Unwittingly, the corners of her lips turned up into a minuscule smile.

“Went to a party tonight, did you?” the cab driver asked as he stopped at a red light a few minutes later.

Alna made a noncommittal sound.

“Have fun?” the man continued to prompt. Alna switched her attention to him. The man’s clothes, from what she could see, were rumpled (likely, she assumed, from sitting in the cab all day). On the dashboard was a small figurine, humanoid in shape and wearing long, brown robes. Its eyes were large, round, and black. The figurine held a small sword, and its head bobbed with the continuous movement of the cab. Apart from the smell of smoke, there were no other personal touches to the vehicle.

Alna could understand if the man was feeling starved of proper human interaction, but that didn’t mean she was in the mood to engage in a long, personal conversation with a perfect stranger.

“Yes,” Alna replied—again, noncommittally. The man attempted to ask her a few more questions before falling silent, realizing that Alna didn’t plan to contribute much to the conversation.

Finally allowed the time to think, Alna’s thoughts drifted to the dance club she had departed, and a certain girl that had made the night seem worthwhile.

When Alna went out tonight, she hadn’t possessed the highest expectations. She’d only decided to go to appease her parents, who had once again started to worry about her antisocial nature. The best case scenario, Alna thought, would be if she engaged in a brief hookup with a random stranger to stave off her boredom––which may or may not work. Worst-case scenario, she expected to be bored all night, and then go home. What she hadn’t expected, however, was to meet someone she had a genuine interest in getting to know. Normally when Alna talked to people, she became disinterested in them after a short time, simply because their choice of conversation topics held no interest to her, and vice versa.

Talking about things like the weather always seemed pointless. No amount of discussion would change it, so why spend hours obsessing about whether or not it would rain? However, with Marianna, things had been different. Alna found, much to her surprise, that she was honestly interested in talking to Marianna Whitlock, even though she was rather normal. It was illogical for Alna to have any interest in her, but, as Alna was discovering, human emotions were many things, but logical was not one of them.

Alna was once again pulled out of her thoughts when the cab driver gruffly informed her they were at her parents’ house. After paying the driver his fare, Alna thanked him for driving her, and exited the vehicle, sparing no time to walk into her home. Spending time with Marianna earlier that night had been fun, but Alna now was feeling an oppressing need for some solitude.

“Hey, honey,” Victoria Holt greeted her daughter once she discarded her jacket and shoes. Alna paused in the entryway to the kitchen, trying not to display her lack of desire for chitchat on her face.

“Hi, Mom,” Alna replied. Her mother was a middle-aged woman in her late thirties, a doctor, and a mother of three. The lines on her face made Mom look her age, but by no means took away from her overall appearance, if her husband’s appraisal was anything to go by. He was no fan of public displays of affection, but he treated her well and argued with her rarely. More than one of their few disputes had been about their only daughter. Alna knew that her parents loved her, but she also knew she could be a cause of stress for them. Having a child who was a genius—her teachers used to say that, not Alna––was difficult.

“How was it at the dance club?” Mom asked, grasping a mug of—Alna cast a glance at it—tea. Must have been a tiring day at work, then. Or, Alna thought wryly, she could have been attempting to stay awake until her daughter got home.

“It was fine,” Alna responded, keeping her answers short, just like with the cab driver. It wasn’t that Alna had anything against her mother––she needed time to herself at the moment. Being around large crowds of people had never been her idea of time well spent.

Instead of getting the hint, Mom gestured to the seat across from her, and Alna sat down with a mental sigh.

“Are the boys asleep?” Alna asked, referring to her younger twin brothers, Colton and Evan. They were about six years younger than their sister, putting them at ten. Seeing as their father, Aiden, was of Black African heritage, Alna’s brothers had dark skin and brown eyes. Alna herself had gotten her raven hair from her father, though no one was certain where her complexion came from. Probably a gene passed down from one of her ancestors.

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“I hope so,” Mom said. “Otherwise they’ll be sleepwalking through school tomorrow.”

Alna smiled a bit at that. Her brothers (especially Colton) never enjoyed going to bed early. There were times when they had stayed up well into the night, tricking their mother into thinking they were asleep wherever she went to check on them. They were good at that.

“I could check on them if you want.” No matter how good actors Colton and Evan were, there was little to nothing they could get past their sister. They knew this, and their parents knew it.

“That would be nice, hon, thank you,” Mom agreed, sounding grateful as she took another sip of tea. Taking in the conversational tone of her voice, Alna knew her mother was not done talking with her and remained seated.

“Busy day?” Alna asked.

“Yes, actually.” Mom set the mug down. It was white with a picture of a gravel road, trees enclosing it on either side, set during the fall. “I did a surgery today.”

Alna did a quick mental calculation of her mother’s tone of voice. Light, casual; no pity or sadness. “I take it the surgery went well.”

For a moment, Mom’s face lit up. “Yes, it went well. I don’t foresee any further complications.”

Alna’s lips twitched upward. “That’s good,” she said.

Sometimes Mom’s passion for her job could be infectious. She was a surgeon, although, unlike most surgeons, kept her work schedule at about forty hours a week, unless she was on call. This was uncommon. Mom, however, had negotiated with the hospital she worked with so she could be around to raise her children. Any work she took home with her tended to be conducted in her and Dad’s bedroom.

Mom had also never mastered the clinical detachment that was required in her profession. When one of her patients died, Mom always took it personally. Because of this, there were times when Mom would come home, looking devastated and heartbroken.

Her lack of detachment caused her pain occasionally, but it was also what made her so good at her job. It allowed patients to feel as though they were in good hands.

In the present moment, Mom hummed her agreement and took a sip of her strong tea. At least it wasn’t coffee. She only ever drank strong coffee when she was tired and needed to stay awake. Not a very healthy practice, in Alna’s opinion. Especially if she was forcing herself to stay up until Alna arrived at home.

“Well,” she said, standing up and giving her mother’s hand a light pat, “I’ll go check on the boys.”

“Alna,” Mom called, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back to face her. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“I’m tutoring Chavelle O’Connell at six, but not much otherwise.” Alna took in her mother’s posture, trying to find hidden meanings in her tone of voice. It was casual. Almost too casual.

“You enjoy that, don’t you?” Mom stalled.

The corner of Alna’s lip quirked up. “I do. It gives me something to do, since I am not in school at the moment.” Until I go to college, she added silently to herself.

Mom nodded. “Well, you know I took tomorrow off?” she reminded Alna, her hands wrapped around the mug.

“Yes. What about it?” Alna asked. Mom wasn’t as subtle as she liked to think. She’d scheduled the day off two weeks in advance, citing that she deserved at least one day where she wasn’t working, or on call. Considering how often she’d been getting called into the hospital lately, Alna thought this was sensible. The calls had toned down somewhat over the last couple days, but even still, Mom looked a little worn, exhaustion lining her face and eyelids drooping down over brown eyes.

A tired doctor was no help to anyone, thus making time off necessary. Alna would have advised her mother to take the day to relax and catch up on some much-needed sleep, but it looked as though that wasn’t going to happen. Perhaps what she had planned would help her unwind, at the very least.

Mom sipped her tea and gave Alna a warm smile. “Nothing. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Some quality time together, then. That was what she was looking for.

Alna nodded her head in acknowledgement, and, after casting one last searching look at her mother, said, “Get some sleep, Mom,” and headed out of the kitchen.

“I will.”

Heading into the hallway toward the back, Alna bypassed three doors before reaching Colton’s room. She opened the door just wide enough to see inside. Colton’s glow-in-the-dark stars—and other shapes; such as a tree, all of varying colours—offered little illumination, but Alna had little trouble locating her brother. Unlike the rest of his family, whose beds were pushed up against at least one wall, Colton preferred his bed in the dead center of his room. His excuse was that he could see the glowing shapes on his walls and ceiling better that way.

Trying to see through the darkness, Alna peered at Colton’s form under the green blanket, searching for any signs of unnatural breathing or stillness. From what Alna could tell, Colton’s breathing was slow and even, showing that her younger brother was indeed asleep and wasn’t pretending to do so. She could have been wrong, but Alna doubted it.

Closing the door, Alna strode over to Evan’s room and peered inside with the same care as she had with Colton. Evan’s walls were taken up by movie and video game posters, some displaying movies he was too young to even be watching. Out of the two of them, Evan was the more disorganized twin, preferring to toss his dirty clothes on the floor until the next day, when he would put them in the laundry basket. He also liked to leave his schoolbag sitting at the foot of his bed. Something that proved to be a tripping hazard.

After concluding that Evan, too, was fast asleep, Alna walked back toward the kitchen, where she informed her mother that the twins were fine, before heading down to the basement. Once downstairs, Alna wasted no time in getting into some comfortable sleeping clothes and brushing her teeth, eager to finally be able to relax by herself.

When she finally laid down in her bed, her tired muscles were able to relax. Closing her eyes, Alna allowed herself to drift into her mind.

***

Marianna’s bedroom door remained open, just a crack, as she listened to her parents’ argument taking place in the kitchen. Mom had remained silent on the drive home, offering nothing on what she thought of catching her daughter kissing another girl. The tense silence did nothing to help Marianna’s already frayed nerves, and by the time they had gotten home, Marianna felt suffocated by her apprehension. Her worries—the ones she’d been having ever since she realized she was interested in girls and boys—proved to be justified. Hands shaking, Marianna swallowed around the lump in her throat.

Once they were home, her mom urged her to sit in the kitchen and immediately sought her father, who followed her into the kitchen moments later. Never mind the fact that it was getting way too late to have life discussions, Marianna thought. Mom explained to her dad, Edward, what she had seen, and he, with genuine concern, asked if she was okay.

“I’m fine, Dad,” she’d told him. Well, “fine” was a relative term in such a situation, but she was fine, except for her fear of her parents’ reaction.

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed at that, obvious confusion on his face. “Then why, exactly, were you kissing this girl?”

“Because…” Marianna trailed off. Wasn’t it obvious? Marianna wasn’t the type of person to kiss people at random. If she kissed someone, it was because she genuinely felt something for them.

She could try to lie her way out of it, Marianna thought. Come up with some elaborate story that wouldn’t lead to her coming out to her parents.

Just the thought made her feel exhausted. Marianna had wanted to tell her parents of her romantic preferences before but had always wimped out, fearing their reactions. But in that moment, Marianna felt frazzled, and yes, backed into a corner. She pictured a wolf, back against a tree, its hackles raised as it snarled, sharp teeth snapping at the hunters. She felt a bit like that wolf.

What plausible answer could she give, other than the truth?

Marianna couldn’t think of any. Some part of her didn’t want to try to conceal it. Too much time daydreaming about this moment, trying to mentally prepare herself, wouldn’t allow her to.

Perhaps that was why she said what she did next.

“Because she’s pretty, fun, interesting, and I like her.” Marianna paused, and then, gathering all the courage she could muster, she faced her parents head-on, even as her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. “Dad, Mom,” she said. “I like girls, and I like guys. I’m bisexual.”

After that, the interrogation (and there was no other word for it) started. Her parents tried to get her to “talk” to them, asking her what had “made” her like girls. They’d asked Marianna if she had been hurt by a boy, and Marianna told them no. When her dad started to ask something about her and Cael’s breakup, she quickly debunked the of him doing anything to her.

The entire so-called discussion lasted an hour. Her parents seemed to come up with every stereotype under the sun––asking if she was going through some type of rebellious stage, if they had made her feel neglected in some way, and was this her way of getting their attention? Marianna was half tempted to tell them that Alna was not the first girl she’d kissed, and she certainly wasn’t the only one she had ever been interested in. Why did they think she became so interested in some actresses?

When she had finally been allowed to leave, Marianna escaped to her room. She spent the next fifteen minutes sitting next to her bedroom door, listening to her parents argue down the hall. Marianna listened as her parents speculated what could be wrong with her, and when the dreaded “how do we fix this?” was finally vocalized, she let out a sob, the tears she had been holding back for over an hour finally getting the better of her.

She’d known—she’d known this would be her parents’ reaction if she came out. All the signs were there. But somehow, during her time with Alna, those worries had faded to the back of her mind.

And now, here she was, listening to her parents’ shouting match and their speculations. Her coming out could not have gone worse. Although Marianna admitted, even as tears wet her cheeks, she didn’t regret kissing Alna. In all honesty, she was the most interesting person Marianna had met in a while.

That still didn’t make this any easier.

Drying her cheeks with the back of her wrist, Marianna pulled her phone from her purse and scrolled to her contacts until she came across her friend Hikari’s number. For a moment, Marianna hesitated, casting a glance at the digital clock next to her bed. It was almost one in the morning; much too late to be calling anyone. Hikari would be asleep.

She turned her phone off, darkening the once bright screen.

Just as she was about to put her phone away, Marianna paused and turned it on again, her picture of the Northern Lights appearing on her lock screen. Screw it, she needed to talk to someone right now, and her parents were definitely in no mood to listen to reason. Marianna clicked on Hikari’s number, staring into the darkness of her room as she brought the phone to her ear. It rang six times before Hikari picked up.

“Mary, do you have any idea what time it is?” Hikari asked, voice thick with sleep. Marianna bit her lip.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just—I needed to talk to someone.” Already she could feel fresh tears forming in her eyes.

Hikari sounded a lot less tired as she asked, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Not exactly,” Marianna said, reaching out her arm to push her door closed.

“Tell me,” Hikari ordered, her tone earnest.

Marianna sighed and told her everything.