Connor

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We stand around bickering with each other until they come back out. Molly fucks off back to her rock.

“The purpose of this exercise is to expel some of your nervous energy before the guests arrive,” Tally2 explains. “Plus, you’ll get to play a bit with one of the hotter sides of your gift.”

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Brody asks warily, making a move to close the gap between him and Sheyla.

“You should give her some space,” Tally2 cautions him, “unless you like your coating extra crispy.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to do this with some preventative measures in place? Like when Ryan comes home? Uh…water?” Seems Sheyla’s with Brody on this one.

“Ryan won’t be home until after everyone’s already here,” Tally2 replies vehemently. “Don’t you trust me?” Fuck, what a douche.

Sheyla turns and points to the window, where the real Tally is watching with anticipatory delight. “I can ask you the same question.”

Tally has the ability to split herself in two, or three, or however many she needs to get her point across. She’s about as deep as a kiddie pool and nearly as reckless as Molly. Except where Molly wants to be right at the front of the line, Tally’s happy to have someone stand in line for her, if standing there herself means getting her hands the least bit dirty.

“Touché.” She taps her finger thoughtfully on her chin. “I understand if you’re too scared to try.”

“She’s not scared,” I defend her. It’s a lie. She’s clearly scared. What’s she scared of though? Does she think she’ll hurt us? Yes, we can be hurt, but we heal at a ridiculously fast rate, so the long-term effects are moot.

“Maybe I’m scared of what I’ll do to you.” Atta girl. Show her some backbone.

“Innately flame retardant,” Tally2 quips. “You always have that shut-off thing to fall back on.”

“I don’t have as much control over that as you might think,” she reports.

Sad fact, I can’t see a switch helping our girl out. If the fire is raging, the fire is raging. Unless she has a fire extinguisher, no switch pulling is putting her out.

Tally2 blows out an exaggerated breath of relief. “Even better! My only concern was you’d be in control, and what fun would that be?” Fuck, this girl really is a bitch.

Stolen novel; please report.

“You can do this, Sheyla,” I urge her on if for no other reason than to prove Tally2 wrong. Honest to fuck, it’s like she wants her to blow a gasket. Reminds me of Molly with Phelan.

“You don’t have to do this.” At least one of us is trying to be the voice of reason. That’d be Brody.

“She probably can’t do it anyway,” Molly ceremoniously chimes in. Of course she does. Fuck, here we go.

“Sure she can,” Brody affirms, “but that doesn’t mean she should.”

Brody’s getting a slap. Not from me. From Molly. Get in line, Bud. I’ve got my own reckoning coming due here shortly.

“Oh, come on,” Tally2 snicks. “Everyone likes hotdogs!”

While my chest rumbles, Molly’s warning roar is louder. Sheyla presses closer to Brody. If Tally2 keeps pushing her, she’s liable to toastercake my teammates. The one person who could stand a little toastercaking—Phelan—isn’t here, so I think it’s time to abort this clusterfuck in queue. Molly’s vibrating so hard I feel her from where I’m standing. She’s about to lose control of her animal.

Tally2 switches directions. “Look at it like this. You need to learn to experience your element. What better way to do it than in a safe, supportive environment?”

Sheyla glowers at her. I’ve seen more menacing expressions from the zombie juice boxes KrazyPants Kristoph created. “You don’t mean that.”

“What? No friendship bracelets? I thought we finally had a moment earlier.” She flutters her lashes. “For the sake of diplomacy—these fine diplomatic representatives will appreciate that—we should take a vote.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sheyla argues. “You can’t take a vote on this. It’s my choice.”

“Fine. Hope you like your boyfriend well done,” she goads her.

Sheyla sighs. Man, boys are messing the girl up. Maybe Tyler can sort her out by affixing an emergency shut-off switch to her lady bits. Worth an ask, for sure.

“Okay,” Sheyla caves. “What do I have to do?”

“Well, we have some options to choose from,” Tally2 says thoughtfully. “Strong emotions will work the best. I just need to figure out which one will be the most effective in your case.”

“You mean like picturing the audience in their underwear when you’re nervous before giving a speech?”

Our girl is hopelessly PG. It’s kind of adorable. She has no idea about the world outside her fishbowl. She’s Molly prior to them yoinking her from her life. Maybe that’s why she hates her so much. I mean, yes, she’d hate her innately since she’s transitioning into a Solathair, but she seems to hate Sheyla extra hard. Maybe it’s that she has the potential for everything Molly ever wanted. Or maybe Molly’s just a bitch. Her and Tally1-infinity are twinning bitch like it’s a full-time job. Throw some Sheelin in there, and you’d get a Bitch Trigon.

“Well, that’s an odd analogy.” Tally2 seems confused. “But the fact you want to see me in my underwear doesn’t exactly surprise me.”

“If you’re planning on following this through, you may want to hurry it up,” Molly warns them. “Phelan’s on his way, and if he makes it here, he’s never letting you do it.”

“And, you told them that because...” Brody isn’t impressed. He prefers the forced stop. Can’t say I disagree.

“Because if she burns herself up, I can go home,” Molly answers honestly. Fuck Molls, you can never go home. Or have you finally reached the point you think of Sheelin as home?

Molly’s not wrong. That’s all it’ll take. An explosion. If Sheyla blows a gasket, Molly, nor any of us, will have to wait around for it to happen anymore.

“I never asked you to come here,” Sheyla whispers. “I’m sorry you were forced to.”

This girl. She’s too good for words. Definitely too good for us. She even has empathy for my monster sister. We have to keep her safe. How? That answer…fuck, I think our lives depend on it.