Lucy was lazing on the living room couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to her walkman. She would have preferred to have listened to music on the porch or in the garden but the Wisconsin winter was far too cold for any such luxuries. She sighed deeply - this was one of the times she really missed her native California - the weather, the bustle of the city - she felt at home in the warmth and chaos.

Wisconsin was beautiful in its own way, she supposed, certainly far more peaceful, quieter, and slower - in a way she hadn’t fully learned to appreciate yet. Her father was out with his own friends doing whatever adults did when they were not working. Her mother was in the next room, busy engrossed in a new painting, listening to some jazz track.

Lucy meanwhile was left alone to her own devices. This wasn’t uncommon, being the only child, she was used to being alone - solitude wasn’t unfamiliar. However, back in California - she had cousins aplenty who could ‘kidnap’ her for mischief, the days filled with noise, adventures and companionship. Solitude wasn’t unpleasant but it did often feel lonely.

Her expression soured as she shifted slightly on the couch. She could try to find the bright side—she often did find positives in any situation—but the truth was, moving to Wisconsin hadn’t been easy. Her entire world had been uprooted: aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends—everyone she’d known and loved was still back in California. Her parents had made what they called a “family decision” to move, chasing “better career prospects” and “stability.” Lucy understood, on some level, but it didn’t make leaving her old life behind any easier.

Leaving everything behind…

While Lucy presented herself as a class A goofball, she wasn’t clueless or socially inept. Words like ‘tenure’, ‘career prospects' and ‘cost of living’ were not terms she immediately understood, she did recognize the outcome.

Her father had been a professor at one of the University of California colleges. He was having a difficult time getting full time professorship and money was tight. Her mother’s art and painting business, while it brought some income, was insufficient for anything beyond necessities.

She recalled little spats related to money, hushed conversations about bills, and the constant stress that clung to her parents like an inescapable shadow. She knew that her extended family had often helped them with bills and sometimes where they could even graced her with luxuries like her beloved Walkman!

The University of Wisconsin offered her dad a full professorship right away and everything changed in the blink of an eye. Lucy could still picture the relief on her father’s face as he shared the news, the way her mom had cried as she hugged him tightly. They’d talked about it for hours, dreaming about a fresh start and what it might mean for their family. Lucy had stood quietly in the doorway, smiling as she watched her parents cling to each other, knowing how much it meant to them. She was truly happy for them but she’d known what it would cost her.

Madison had been good to them in many ways. Their new house was massive compared to their cramped closet of an apartment they had lived in in California. They could afford things Lucy had dreamed of before, like new clothes, better groceries, and an actual yard to play in. Life was more laid back, less dog eat dog, and most importantly - her parents were happier, more relaxed. Her dad, though he worked long hours, came home excited, rambling occasionally about his work with multi-threading and processors—things Lucy didn’t understand but knew he loved. Her mom still painted but now did it for pleasure more than necessity, even taking Lucy to art shows from time to time.

And yet, as much as she loved seeing her parents happy, the isolation she felt hadn’t vanished and a higher standard of living did little to ease this.

She had arrived mid-year, dropped into a new state, a new city, a new school, new culture—she might as well have been dropped onto a new planet.

She still remembered her first day, standing at the front of the classroom as the teacher introduced her to her peers - a sea of unfamiliar faces. She’d felt every pair of eyes on her - feeling assessed, judged, considered. For a moment, she’d frozen, unsure of what to say or do. Then, instinctively, she faked a confident grin and cracked a joke about California sunshine with more bravado than she felt. This had elicited a few giggles from her classmates, but she hadn’t been sure if it was due to her humor or if she’d just labeled herself as the weird California girl.

Lucy sighed deeply, her foot tapping to the beat of her Walkman.

People hadn’t been mean to her—not outright, anyway—but they hadn’t exactly embraced her, either. The cultural difference between California and Wisconsin was vast, even if she couldn’t put it into words. Neither place was better or worse, just - different. While she had learned to adapt eventually, there wasn’t exactly a guidebook or roadmap to blending in - especially when you already felt like you didn’t belong.

She’d come across like a bull in a china shop in those early days—too loud, far too outgoing for a culture that was more reserved. Her exuberance which had felt so natural back in California, even embraced, now seemed to mark her as an outsider. The harder she tried to connect, the more awkward and out of place she felt.

As such, she came across like a bull in a china shop initially - far too outgoing for a culture that was more reserved. In her isolation, she acted out even more, tried to simultaneously hide and disappear while trying to gain her peers’ recognition and perhaps a few friends? It had felt hopeless - she felt alone, isolated - groups had already formed, the peopular kids already identified and an identity established. Eventually her outgoing nature became more of a mask than her true self - the loud, outgoing weird girl whom people tolerated but didn’t necessarily accept.

She’d come across like a bull in a china shop in those early days—too loud, too outgoing for a culture that seemed quieter, more reserved. Her exuberance, which had felt so natural back in California, now seemed to mark her as an outsider.

In her frustration, she’d started to act out, using humor and over-the-top antics to cover up her growing sense of isolation. She wanted to be seen, to be liked, to matter—but the harder she tried to connect, the more it backfired and the more out of place she felt. Groups had already formed, and she was left hovering on the outskirts, unsure of where she fit.

As such, her outgoing nature became a mask - a shell designed to distract from the ache inside. The weird girl from California—the one who was tolerated but never quite accepted.

–

Things had changed dramatically after Lucy met Emily all those months ago, standing lost and alone at the school entrance. A wide smile spread across Lucy’s face as she remembered summoning her courage to put on her most welcoming expression and approach the new girl. She giggled softly, recalling the way Emily had stared back at her, wide-eyed and unsure. It hadn’t been a look of judgment—it was a look Lucy recognized all too well. The look of someone wondering if they’d ever find their place.

Lucy swung her legs to the rhythm of the music, or perhaps the rhythm of her memories, as she thought back to showing Emily around the school. She had happily prattled away, giving an enthusiastic tour as though she herself hadn’t been the new kid just a few months earlier. There had been an ease about Emily that Lucy had picked up on immediately. Days later, Lucy had mustered enough nerve to invite Emily over for a sleepover—a bold move, even for her. Through Emily, Lucy had also met Lily, another kindred spirit, though in stark contrast to Lucy, Lily had been the quiet type, quietly sitting and hoping for connection rather than chasing it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

It now felt as though this sisterhood of misfits had known each other forever. There had been multiple sleepovers, many playdates, hours in the schoolyard and park - and it really did help that they all lived relatively close to each other. Emily was a bridge - not as cautious as Lily but perhaps not as vivacious as Lucy. A balance ensuring that their universe stayed stable.

It now felt as though this “sisterhood of misfits” had known each other forever. They had shared countless sleepovers, playdates, and hours spent exploring the schoolyard and the park. Their homes being relatively close to each other had only strengthened their bond. Emily, in many ways, was the bridge between them. She wasn’t as cautious as Lily but not as wild as Lucy, balancing their little universe and keeping it steady.

It hadn’t always been that way, though.

Lucy leaned her head back against the couch, her smile fading as she considered how much Emily had changed. The girl who had once been nervous and reticent had transformed into someone strikingly different—intelligent, sassy, and brimming with a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. It was almost overnight, as though someone had flipped a switch. True, Emily still wasn’t as boisterous as Lucy, but at times, she came close, surprising everyone with her spirited nature.

Lucy frowned, trying to pinpoint when the change had occurred. Her mind wandered back to a specific moment: the Wisconsin State Fair.

The noise, the bustle, the carnival games and colorful lights—it had all felt so much like California that Lucy had felt a strange sense of homesickness amidst the excitement. However, there was one person, one event that stood out - it was the seer.

“Madame Zara,” Lucy muttered, her voice barely audible over her Walkman. “Seer of secrets, or whatever it was she called herself.” She could almost smell the sage and incense again, the heavy mix that had filled the little tent. The crystal ball, the heavy drapes, the way the air had seemed to hum —it had all been so over the top.

Yet - as Lucy furrowed her brow, she realized that day, that moment felt pivotal.

No one knew what had happened inside that tent. Madame Zara had seen Emily alone; Lucy and Lily had been gently shooed for ‘being too loud’. Lucy hadn’t thought much of it at the time—just another carnival gimmick—but now, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Emily had walked out of that tent looking different. Her tension, the slight nervousness that always seemed to cling to her, was gone. She’d looked relieved, lighter somehow. And not long after, she had started to change. Her personality had shifted—subtly at first, then rapidly.

Lucy sat up straighter, the pieces clicking together in her mind. “Wait a minute...” she whispered, her heart quickening. “What did you tell her, Madame Zara? What happened in that tent?”

She could almost hear the seer’s cryptic voice, smell the incense again. Had Madame Zara said something to Emily? Something that freed her from whatever burden she’d been carrying, allowing her to become the person she was now.

Lucy didn’t have answers, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had happened that day held a secret to a question unasked.

—

Lucy shook her head, muttered something about overthinking, and flopped back onto the couch. More softly, she added, “Honestly, Em, you’re pretty awesome—I’m so happy you’re my friend.”

Emily—and through her, Lily—had brought something new into Lucy’s life. She no longer felt quite as isolated, though she still had her moments. Being around them made her outgoing nature feel more authentic, less like an act she put on for attention. Lucy smiled to herself, remembering how she didn’t need to play the class clown as much anymore—although it was still fun to rankle feathers every so often. She giggled as she recalled the time Emily had almost joined her in a prank, involving strategically placed chewing gum on a teacher’s chair. Lily had managed to talk them both out of it, though not without some difficulty.

The memory brought a quizzical expression to Lucy’s face. Emily’s demeanor had changed during that moment—her eyes had taken on a strange, older quality, and her posture had straightened ever so slightly, as though just for a moment she was someone else entirely.

“What in the world was I thinking, Danny?” Emily had muttered, staring wide-eyed at the gum in her hands.

“Danny? Who’s Danny?” Lucy had asked, her curiosity piqued, though disappointed about her mischievous plan having been foiled.

“Danny? I never said Danny. You must have misheard,” Emily had quickly stammered, her face reddening as the wise look in her eyes vanished, her posture reverting to its usual self. “I said ‘Damn it.’ I don’t think it’s a nice word, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Lucy had gone along with it, but she hadn’t been able to shake the suspicion that, for just a moment, Emily hadn’t been entirely herself—that she’d been speaking to someone else.

And then there was the tornado.

Lucy shuddered as the memory washed over her. The day could have ended far worse than it had. Therapy had helped her come to terms with the fear and trauma, but one question lingered in her mind—one she didn’t know how to ask.

How had Emily known?

Lucy could still see her friend that day, frantic and insistent. Mrs. Parker had been moments away from scolding Emily for her outburst before relenting and barking orders for everyone to leave. Lily had been irritated at having their fun cut short, but Lucy had felt something else

For just a moment, Emily hadn’t seemed like Emily. There was something ethereal about her, something otherworldly. It was like she was herself and yet someone else, all at once.

Emily had practically dragged everyone to safety that day.

However she’d sensed the danger, her insistence had saved them all. Emily had always seemed wise beyond her years, but that day had felt different—more profound.

“How did you know it was a tornado, Em?” Lucy murmured to herself, staring up at the ceiling. Her friend had a knack for surprising her, knowing things that no one her age should know.

“Maybe you do have a past life? Maybe you remember it?” she mumbled, thinking back to a conversation she’d overheard once.

Emily had mentioned memories she didn’t quite understand, experiences that didn’t seem to belong to her. At the time, Lucy had brushed it off as one of Emily’s quirks - but perhaps, Emily was onto something. Maybe past lives were real?

Lucy let her thoughts drift to other moments that had seemed odd in hindsight. How Emily sometimes knew details about movies that had just come out, or how she could casually chat with her dad about computers, abruptly changing the subject as though she’d said too much.

How she’d sing songs no one else recognized, or use strange acronyms like “GG” or “LOL,” shrugging off Lucy’s questions with the same vague excuses: “I read it somewhere,” or “I overheard my mom and dad talking about it,” or “Oh, you know, I just pick things up.”

However, it wasn’t just what Emily said—it was how she said it. Sometimes, she didn’t sound like a nine-year-old girl at all.

Lucy frowned, thinking back to moments when Emily’s mannerisms, her body language, reminded her of her older cousins back in California. Older, male cousins.

Especially when Lucy was having a bad day. Emily had a way of seeing through her bravado, recognizing the mask Lucy wore to hide her feelings of homesickness or loneliness. And when Emily comforted her, it felt different—like the way her older cousins had.

Lucy sat up straighter, her thoughts spinning. There was a pattern here, one she couldn’t ignore. Something about Emily felt not quite of this world.

“Who are you, Em? Who are you really?” Lucy said to the empty room, her voice soft but insistent. “Why does it feel like you’re an outsider too—just like me?”

The questions lingered in the air, unanswered. Lucy exhaled deeply and leaned back, letting her Walkman’s music fill the silence. Whatever the truth was, she knew one thing for sure: Emily was her friend. That was enough.

“Whatever it is, I’m just happy you’re in my life,” Lucy muttered with a small smile, closing her eyes as the music carried her away. “Maybe, one day you’ll tell me what's in that head of yours..”