Everything Fails. T Van Santana

with the swiftness and familiarity that comes from ownership.

      Wendy took tiny steps, eager with anticipation, leading Mickie and I to the water’s edge.

      With the other eyes away, Mickie pushed me by the shoulder, hard, sent me stumbling in my step. I looked back at her, hurt. She made making mocking apology on a tilted neck.

      We reached the water, and Wendy dipped a toe in. “Feels nice.”

      Mickie jabbed her thumb between my ribs, her nail breaking the skin a bit.

      I hopped into the water. The rush of soundlessness engulfed me. The warmth welcomed me.

      Mickie landed on me. My tailbone touched the bottom. I kept my air, though, and kicked up and around, cleared her reach enough to break the surface and grab more air before she got up behind me and shoved me back under by the shoulders.

      She pinned me to the pool’s floor, sat on my pelvis with folded legs.

      I eased out my breath, which was hard to do with the force of impact and the pressure she was applying.

      As I lay there, I could see through the chemicals in the water those moments in time that had shaped this. There was a kind of serenity, even as I felt the air leaving my nose, knowing I had no more inside.

      My vision did not dim exactly. I did not faint or pass out. It was a suspension of time and space. The air rushing back into my lungs didn’t even burn like it normally did when I would hold it too long. I didn’t pant for breath. I just resumed breathing as I had been.

      I looked through wet, matted hair at Mickie, who looked not so much pleased as satisfied. I acknowledged her look as best I could, sending no intention or influence, only acceptance of how it was, how she needed it to be.

      She didn’t feign a smile for Wendy or Danielle. She didn’t say anything to me with mouth or eyes. She climbed out and walked back inside, steam coming off her skin, wet feet slapping the ground.

      5 | Plum

      Plum said: “So I’ve been feelin’ it bad for someone.”

      “Oh, yeah,” I said, only half-listening while counting my split ends.

      “Yeah,” Plum said. “Do you wanna know who it is?”

      “Who is it?”

      “Wendy,” they said.

      “Wendy like my Wendy?”

      “She’s not your Wendy,” Plum said. “She’s a free agent.”

      “It’s a figure of speech, Plum.”

      “Well it’s a shitty one.”

      I sighed. “You mean the Wendy that I went out with two years ago? That Wendy?”

      “Yep.”

      “Oh,” I said. “Whatever.”

      “So, are you guys cool?” Plum asked.

      I guess, I thought, but wasn’t sure. “I guess,” I said. “But I’m not sure.”

      “Well would you try anyway?’

      “Try what?”

      “Try to talk to her …”

      “About what?”

      Plum let out an exasperated sigh and popped up.

      “What the fuck?” I asked.

      “Are you serious with this shit?” Plum asked. “I want you to ask her out for me.”

      “Jeez, Plumkin, all you had to do was ask.”

      Plum handed me a small piece of folded paper.

      I looked at it. “What the fuck is that?”

      “It’s a love note.”

      “What is this, eighteen ninety-six?”

      “Just take it! It’s romantic, goddam it.”

      “Yeah, okay.” I took the note, looked at from a few angles, then shoved it in my leather jacket. “Did you get my smokes?”

      Plum nodded and handed them over.

      I handed over the bits. “Yeah, the store near me still won’t sell to me. Fuckin’ stern motherfuckers got to ‘em.”

      “Wendy’s dad is a stern, isn’t he?”

      I nodded and lit a smoke. “Betchyour ass he is. He’s, like, the longhorn stern motherfucker.” I held up three fingers. “Three zones, one dude.”

      Plum looked sobered by the thought. “I’d say that’s a stern motherfucker.”

      “Fuckin’ a.”

      Plum shook it off. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

      I smirked. “Yeah. Sure.”

      “Last period. You. Wendy. Get me the info.”

      “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

      Plum put a little swing in their step as they walked off, high on the idea that Wendy’s love would be forthcoming.

      Of course, that’s not exactly how it went. But you probably knew that.

      So after soccer or football or whatever in fuck you want to call it, I found Wendy, sweaty and cheery.

      “Hey doll!” She gave me a little wave.

      “Hey,” I said. “Good practice?”

      “Yeah, it’s all right. What’s shakin’?”

      “Oh, not much. I just thought I’d skip the last block and hoof it to a park. Wanna go?”

      “Shit yeah,” Wendy said. “Let’s do it, bitch.”

      “Cool.” I lit up a smoke.

      Her eyes got interested. “Got one for Mama?”

      “Sure do.”

      I pulled out another, lit her up.

      “Sweet. Let’s bolt.”

      “Yes, please.”

      We walked to the guard station. The automatics could have held us in, but parents had a shit fit over their kids being held on grounds by automated security, so they’d hired Hank. “The human factor,” they’d called it. So delinks like us called ‘im Hank the Human Factor, or Hank the Human, or Hanky, or the Hume. Shit like that. Problem was, of course, the human factor. Wendy was great with the human factor.

      She batted her eyes at the Hume. “Hey, Hank.”

      Hank straightened his back and tie. “Uh, hello there, Miss Wendy. You’re looking lovely this morning.”

      “Why thank you, Hank. Say, could you do me a favor?”

      Hank swallowed hard. “Uh, if I can, Miss Wendy, I will.”

      “Great. See we forgot something we need for a class project. It’s due tomorrow. So, we have to go get it. Like, now.”

      Hank’s skeptical. He’s not a fucking idiot. But he is the human factor in a perfectly automated security system. And he’s got a lot of pressure on him—what with the parents, and Wendy’s big eyes blinkin’ at ‘im, and Wendy’s dad, the sternest of stern motherfuckers.

      “Uh, Miss Wendy …”

      “Yes, Hank?”

      “I dunno if the Marshal would care for me letting his daughter, um …”

      “Really? Do you think we should call him?” Wendy asked. “We could tell him about this and all of our talks, right? Ask him what he thinks?”

      Hank’s face went pale, and he disabled the