Rachel's sneakers squeaked against the waxed court, the stench of sweat and lemon disinfectant sharp in her nostrils. The gym lights buzzed like hornets trapped in a jar. She held her breath as she passed the ball. Her stomach churned like a storm-tossed sea. Every missed shot felt like another nail in the coffin of their dreams

"What the hell was that, Marissa!? "Rachel's Coach yelled as she blew the whistle to end the practice.

Rachel wiped her forehead; her jersey clung like a second skin, the fabric salt-stiff and reeking of desperation. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips as she walked towards the coach, gesturing them all to huddle around.

"That was a shitty practice for two-time defending state champions. We got a chance to be the first three-peat high school in state history; we can't afford lazy practices. Now get dressed, Rachel, a word."

Breathing deeply, Rachel nodded and brushed her strawberry-blond hair away from her face.

"Why didn't you take the shot?" Rachels Coach asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel shrugged. "She was open, figured she would hit it."

"I need you to be taking those shots. You're the captain; you know you can't rely on any of them to hit a shot like that when the game is on the line."

Rachel nodded, forcing a smile to stretch across her face as her coach gripped her shoulder.

"Three-time champions, putting this town on the map and getting scholarships. You got this."

Rachel sulked to the locker room, changed into her multicolored windbreaker and jeans, and headed out on the way to her locker. After changing, Rachel stepped into the hallway; her headphones sat crookedly on her skull as she played a grungy pop song from her cassette player. Her eyebrow raised as she saw a mocha-skinned middle-aged man wearing a P.I.A. agent jacket walking with the principal. The P.I.A. agent's gaze lingered on Rachel, his eyes narrowing as if he'd spotted a flicker of... something. Her headphones crackled—a frequency too high for human ears.

"Shit!"

Her locker slammed shut. Mike loomed over her. His varsity jacket, reeking of Axe body spray, and entitlement. "The fuck was that for Mike!?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, and they narrowed like daggers as he laughed. "What the fuck do you want, Mike?"

"Relax, jeez, Rache, what got your titties in a twist?" Mike joked as he leaned against the lockers while chewing on a toothpick. He grabbed a comb from his pocket, intent on combing his moose-soaked blonde hair.

"Not you anymore," Rachel grumbled as she grabbed her books and attempted to get past Mike.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Fuck off, Mike. I am not in the mood for this today."

"Woah, don't be like that, Rache."

"Don't call me that anymore."

"Look, just give me a chance to explain at the festival this Sunday."

"Explain how you cheated. Yeah, I think not."

"At least let me treat you to dinner tonight."

"I am going to Emily's, and you can take Becky since you gotta thing for her," Rachel said, a grin stretched across her face as she pushed past Mike, leaving his mouth open and hands up in the air.

A burst of cool air smacked Rachel's face as she left the high school. Her pink Mazda Miata sat silently with leaves speckled across the windshield. She glanced at the black P.I.A. Mustang parked further down. A catchy pop song played on the radio as she turned on the engine.

Neatly trimmed yards with multi-story Victorian-style homes stretched for blocks as she drove through the suburbs. Kids played in the leaves at the town park while their parents gossiped about their affairs. American flags with pro-ether picket yard signs seemed to multiply at every stop sign. She parked her Miata in front of a two-story neo-colonial house with a brick foundation and double windows.

She grabbed her bookbag and opened the front door with a key.

"Mom, I'm home," She yelled, her voice competing with the loud dance workout her mom had on TV.

Her mom, wearing a skimpy workout outfit, glanced back at Rachel, reaching for the remote to turn the TV down. "You're home a little early. How was school?" Rachel's mom asked.

Rachel shook her head as she slung her bookbag on the marble kitchen counter. "Coach called it early, and some P.I.A. agent walked in the hallway with the principal."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Oh, that must be the guy who will inspect the reactor. Once it's inspected and approved, your father and the rest of the town can get back to work."

Rachel chuckled as she grabbed an apple from the refrigerator. "I bet you can't wait, huh?"

"You have no idea; all he does is bitch about football and politics. Are you heading somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm going to Em's place. I just wanted to drop off my backpack first," Rachel explained as she bit into the apple and walked towards the front door.

"Why don't you just invite her over here? I get worried when you head to that side of town," Rachel's mom said as she saw Rachel's father, wearing a football jersey, walk into the kitchen to grab a beer.

He cracked his beer, glanced at Rachel, and smiled. "How's my champ!"

"Doing better than them," Rachel chuckled as she pointed at the jersey he was wearing.

"Hey, we getting better-"

"Hey, let's not humor him, Rachel. I already know every person who scored a touchdown on that team the past three years," Rachel's mom interjects as she steps toward Rachel, encouraging her to leave. "Just be safe and consider bringing her here, okay?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay, Mom, I love you," she replied as she hugged her and headed towards her car.

Her eyes widened as she saw a distorted version of herself in the rearview mirror. Her reflection flickered—a staticky doppelgänger with hollow eyes. It grinned, mouthing a jagged radio screech before vanishing. She paused, turning on the engine mid-grip, and glanced up at the mirror again to see nothing. The engine hummed to life as she turned it on, and minutes later, she arrived at a grungy mobile home park.

Grunge music blasted from a bedroom window. Rachel did her best to keep her sneakers from getting muddy as she approached the front door. Cigarette smoke, musk, and marijuana mixed into a cocktail that burned her nose as she entered the cluttered living room. Static shadows followed her reflection in Emily's child photos scattered across the entertainment center.

"How are you doing, Ms. Voss?" Rachel asked as a middle-aged woman with wild, unmanaged black hair approached the bathroom. The bags under her eyes competed with the frown on her face.

"Here for Em? She is in her bedroom as usual," Ms. Voss said as she gestured towards the door down the hallway.

Rachel smiled as she avoided Ms. Voss's gaze, scooting past her toward Emily's room.

Her eardrums throbbed as the grunge music hit her ears as she opened the door. The music from Emily's room warped momentarily—a split-second of static that mimicked the frequency Rachel heard in her headphones. Cassettes, Band shirts, black jeans, makeup, and Converses littered the floor. Rock band posters and Eldritch Art decorated every corner of the room. A charcoal sketch pinned to the wall depicted a machine with too many gears, its center a mulberry solid eye. The eye seemed to follow Rachel, its pupil pulsing like a dying star.

"Em!" Rachel shouted at the raven-haired girl, nodding while sitting at a crude art desk.

"Em!" she shouted again as she stopped the music.

The raven-haired girl turned her head sharply, her teal highlights complementing her shocked blue eyes. She rubbed her glassy eyes.

"Em, back to earth."

Emily quickly pushed pages containing the lyrics "You paint our future in static and sirens" to the side as she forced a smile on her face. "Rache...I uh-"

"Why were you not at school today? Like you didn't even answer my page."

"Sorry, I wasn't feeling it today," Emily replied as she yawned.

Rachel shook her head and threw a band shirt at her. "You going to be held back if you keep this up, Em,"

"Relax, I still do my homework," She explained as she gripped a Gloom pill tightly before tossing it under the desk. She breathed a heavy sigh as she tracked Rachel's eye movements to see if she caught her.

Rachel jumped on the bed and began browsing Emily's artwork. Her eyes narrowed with each mechanical eye drawing she set to the side. Her eyes widened as she noticed a page of lyrics. We're flickerin' ghosts on a cracked TV screen hidden beneath a drawing.

"Nope," Emily victoriously shouted as she snatched it the minute Rachel's hand grabbed it. "Not for your eyes yet."

Rachel's mouth dropped comedically."Em, how could you keep things from me!"

Emily smirked as she ate the paper and then jumped on the bed. Emily's forced smile faltered. "It's for your own good."

"Are you serious?" Rachel asked as she looked at Emily's hazel eyes.

"You keep secrets, too; you just haven't thought about it yet," Emily muttered as she kissed Rachel on the lips.

BRRRRRZZZTTTT

"Rachel!" Mike yelled as his Cringy Love song played on his boombox. "Rache, I know you're in there!"

Rachel raised her eyebrows as she gazed at Emily's confused face. She got up, her smile faded, and her eyes shot lasers at Mike as she opened the window.

Rachel crossed her arms, glaring at him. "What do you want, Mike?"

"I'm sorry!"

"What?"

"I said I am sorry!"

"What!"

With a frustrated kick, Mike sent his boombox flying. Metal shards scattered across the yard, denting Rachel's car. The music died in a static, slow death. Mike rubbed his neck as he saw Rachel's eyes blazing lava as she stared at the dents in her car.

"My bad...I, uh, I will fix that."

Rachel breathed heavily, her hands balled in a fist. "Go...home...Mike."

Mike slowly backed away as he stumbled back to his car.

"Unbelievable," Rachel muttered as she rubbed her eyes.

"Looks like I got competition," Emily laughed.

Rachel's eyes lowered. "Har-Har."

Emily grinned as she watched Rachel jump back on the bed. Her mind was too focused on Mike's performance to think about the lyrics she ate.

"So my mom wants you to come over," Rachel said as she looked at Emily.

"I don't think that's a great idea," Emily replied as her eyes drifted towards the posters and drawings on her wall.

"Why not? They already know we are best friends. We are just two teenage girls doing typical teenage girl things. With a few extra steps," Rachel laughed.

"Extra steps. That's what we calling it?" Emily laughed.

"I will do your homework for a week."

"I hate you...fine, you win," Emily said, rolling her eyes as Rachel grabbed her arm.

The warm afternoon sun hit Racheal's face as she dragged Emily by the hand to her car. Her smile stretched ear to ear, and she did not notice the multiple reflections of herself and Emily opening the car door. Her car hummed with latency as it came to life. A rush of deja vu swelled inside Rachel briefly before it faded away as the vehicle got further from Emily's home.

As Rachel halted at an intersection, a black Mustang idled ominously on the other side of the road. Déjà vu washed over her again, stronger this time, as though the car itself was always supposed to be there. Rachel's temples throbbed, the hum of her Miata syncing with the Mustang idle engine.