October Sky
I knew we were at war, but it was seriously hard to feel that here. Everything was so normal. Well, the price of gas was astronomical. And most of us couldn’t afford to go out to eat anymore, so some of our favorite restaurants were closing down one by one.
But that didn’t mean we were at war. It just meant that we had yet another crummy politician running things for his own benefit. I had no doubts that things would get back to normal soon and then we’d have strawberries again and peaches. Oh, my gods. Peaches.
Not having peaches, though, wasn’t a “we’re at war” problem. They were just a minor inconvenience that showed we needed to work harder.
I clipped my helmet on my head and hopped on my bike, the warm sun wrapping around me like a soothing hug that didn’t trick me into believing it was going to stay that way. Kins City sat on the banks of Lake Michigan, so spring was like a teenager who wanted to be eight and twenty-eight in the same hour.
I dodged a shiny black sedan and shot across the street to the bike lane.
Which was still not quite safe because drivers were still so angry that the bike lane existed. Like that was a terrible thing. Saving the earth should never inconvenience anyone. That was the greatest danger to the world. Inconvenience.
“October,” a male voice shouted to me as I approached our local grocery store.
I slowed and smiled at him. “Hey, Johnny.”
He disappeared through the glass door of his shop.
I stopped my bike, but stayed on, digging into my purse that was slung across my body to dig out money. He always saved me apples, which were incredibly hard to come by anymore. Were there apple orchards near us? Yes. There were a lot of them. The Great Lakes area was fantastic for apples.
But the government has seized most of them for war efforts and to boost the economy.
Yeah, I guess the world needed our apples more than we did as we were losing the oil race? I don’t know. It didn’t make a lot of sense.
Johnny came out with a crinkled smile on his older Asian face. “I saved it for you.”
“Thank you.” I handed him more money than I should have for an apple, and stashed my treasure in my purse. “I’ll be by later for groceries.”
“Your pickles are not in yet,” he said, shaking his head.
“Then, I’ll get other things. Thanks again!”
The local stores really invested in the people who lived in their neighborhoods. That was the thing I loved the most about the war. I mean, war is bad. I’m never going to say it’s not. But it was nice that people stopped focusing on sales and more about what we wanted. Johnny knew my favorite pickles, my favorite ice cream, and the only macaroni and cheese I’d eat, even though he told me repeatedly that he would show me how to make the “real” stuff if I just came to his house.
Where he would also invite his son.
Yeah. I just wasn’t interested in settling down with… anyone.
I continued through the busy city, dodging car doors and dogs and people as the noise of people living their lives rolled around me. I found the wind just as I was crossing Bay Street, which went straight to the lake and those winds ripped through the city like a blade promising winter even though it was clearly spring.
I slowed and parked my bike, locking it to the rack, tucking my helmet under my arm. The last time I’d left it on my bike, someone had taken it.
Lame.
A young boy with dark hair sat at a booth by the window, his back to me. He hadn’t taken off his blue blazer yet, which didn’t surprise me.
“Mateo,” I called as I got closer.
He twisted around and beamed a quick grin at me. “Tia.”
I let the title of aunt settle on me as I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and gave him an awkward squeeze. He called me aunt, but I was his cousin. It just seemed like I should be his aunt because I was so much older and we were basically raised in the same house, just a decade apart. “How’s my favorite cousin?”
“I aced the roller coaster.”
One of his projects in science was to design and build a roller coaster using popsicle sticks and paper. We’d spent hours—days—working on that thing together. “How long did it take?” For the marble to make it from the drop to the end?
“Sixty-seven point eight seconds.”
Which means the marble had gotten stuck at turn eight, which was something we’d worked for hours on. It meant that he’d almost lost. But whatever.
Melissa came over with a smile and two glasses of water, her spatula earrings dancing on her ears. “We’re out of ice today.”
“But do you have pancakes?” I asked.
“Of course.” She pulled out her order pad. “Same thing?”
I frown-smiled at her. “Of course.”
“You got it.” She turned and left.
“I love your earrings,” I called after her.
“Thanks! My sister made them.”
Her sister made all of Melissa’s earrings. I turned to Mateo and stashed my helmet and purse beside me before working to remove my jacket. “What’s the latest news?”
“You mean besides me getting the top time on the roller coaster?”
“Yeah. Did it help you with your application?” To some school that was for kids excelling in hands-on stuff but sometimes struggled with things like reading or math.
“Yeah.” His expression widened as he pulled out his phone. “I took this video and I’m attaching it. Mr. Radcliff says it’s a sure thing.”
“Nothing is a sure thing,” I said, as I watched the marble move through the rather impressive roller coaster. Though, I’d seen other marbles do the same thing hundreds of times because it had taken that long to make this work. “Oh! It got stuck right there!” On turn eight like I said.
“But! Look, it shot—yup, there. See? Just had to give it a drop.”
“And it got the speed.”
“To get through turn ten. Ten—there. There. See?”
“What is this?” Melissa asked, dropping down to watch the video with us.
“The roller coaster.” Mateo and I had spent a lot of time in this diner talking about it, so Melissa had been involved.
We spent the next few minutes watching the video and then talking about how great it was that a marble rolled down paper held up by popsicle sticks. So, it wasn’t riveting conversation, but it filled my heart with joy.
I didn’t have a lot of good memories of growing up, but I wanted him to have some. I’d never be close to either side of my family—something they were all happy about and it didn’t make any sense to me. But I was too old to still care.
Mateo’s dad and I had grown up in the same house. Well, at least my high school years. He’d gone into construction, following his dad, and had died in a tragic accident. A hit and run. We suspected the driver had been drunk.
That left Mateo to be raised by the same people who’d taken me in, and Uncle Dan had asked me to be involved. I wasn’t a mom and didn’t want to be. But a cool aunt? Sure, I could be the cool aunt.
Also, it helped that they were the only family members who wanted anything to do with me.
The bell dinged and Melissa left with a smile to get our food.
Mateo put his phone away, his smile sliding away into something more serious. “More kids from my class are missing.”
This was becoming a regular thing. “Who?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded note. “Can you help us?”
“Not us, Matty.”
He shrugged and shook his head. “How not us? They’re kids I know. I just punched Evan in the face yesterday and now he’s gone.”
“Wait. Why’d you punch him in the face?”
“Because—” Mateo got uncomfortable and straightened, then slouched as he leaned in. “He was wolfing out.”
I leaned in and dropped my voice. “So you punched him?”
“Shock and pain help him stay not-wolfed.”
That—okay. That made sense. I put the note in my pocket. I worked in the office of Mayor Locke. I’d see if I could schedule a visit with Victoria Armstrong who was his right-hand and see if maybe she could help. “I’ll look into it.”
“Okay.” He scooted out of the booth as Melissa took food not to our table but to another one. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded. That kid could take the bus around town on his own. He could handle the bathroom. I didn’t question if being this self sufficient at fourteen was appropriate. It was necessary and that’s all that mattered.
But since I had a moment, I took out my tarot cards and shuffled them, glancing around the room. Using tarot wasn’t considered a para gift, so it wasn’t illegal or wrong. It was just a fun game.
I’d let everyone else think that.
I needed to know if there was something that was going to endanger my cousin.
I pulled out Deep Quiet, which was an invitation to step outside of the noise and to hear what was whispering.
So, something was going on. I pulled another card, and The Dream Thief came out. A chill ran through me as I stared at the little monkey face. The pull of comfort and safety was seducing me into complacency. If one these had talked to me, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But both of them?
I needed to do something. But what?
Well, I’d make an appointment with Victoria Armstrong and just… see what she had to say.
* * *
Victoria
Rosa’s voice filtered through the partially open bathroom door, making Victoria smile at her reflection. She loved it when her wife sang while making breakfast. It felt like everything was right in the world and nothing could disturb them.
Even though Victoria knew that was a lie.
Continuing to let Rosa’s soft voice settle over her nerves, Victoria finished her hair and makeup. She paid particular attention to her looks because she was a book people judged. She was a Black woman who was standing up in a place she wasn’t wanted but was desperately needed, and she wasn’t backing down.
Her clothes were her armor. She’d gained good money as a lawyer and now that she was into politics, she’d been advised to wear a more neutral palette to blend in. She wasn’t interested in blending in with the conservatives she served with as they worked to dismantle decade of hard work right out from under her.
Her makeup perfectly accenting her eyes so that each microexpression gained more power, and her hair let loose in controlled waves, she walked to the closet, Rosa changing songs to something with a bit more beat.
Which color was she wearing today? Victoria could go with her yellow Sergio Hudson suit. It was one of her favorites. Her Christopher John Rogers fuschia dress called to her. Or her Caroline Herrera floral dress suit would be a good choice.
In the end, she chose optimism, going for the yellow suit. Sergio rarely steered her wrong.
Leaving the dress jacket off, she padded barefoot from the large walk-in closet, through their comfortable bedroom that was already remade, and into their spacious living room. They didn’t need much in the way of furniture. Rosa preferred to read and the light coming in through the large windows all around them made that activity easy.
Victoria stopped to admire the view from their penthouse in Kins City. This was a long way from the streets she’d grown up in. She wasn’t going back, but she also wasn’t going to forget where she came from.
Rosa, the woman of her heart, plated two large pancakes and stuck the pan in the stainless steel sink. She hated a messy kitchen. You could hardly tell she was cooking with the level of mess. Everything she’d used was already cleaned, dried, and put away.
Victoria walked up behind her wife and wrapped her arms around Rosa’s waist, pressing a kiss into her neck. “Morning, baby.”
Rosa purred softly, nuzzling Victoria’s face and then broke the embrace, grabbing the two plates and walking toward the small dining table next to the glass patio door. “Grab the coffee?”
Grabbing the two cups, Victoria took a careful sip of her black Americano and kept her nose far from the disturbing mushroom concoction Rosa called coffee. It was not.
Rosa moved slower this morning, causing Victoria to slow her steps.
“Are you okay, baby?”
Smiling, Rosa nodded. “I’m feeling a little under the weather. I’ve made an appointment with the doctor.”
It was probably nothing. They were both middle-aged, but very healthy. Rosa was a little “overweight,” the doctors said, but they made sure to eat the right foods, and they went for walks in the park. Among other physical activities.
“I had to turn off the news,” Rosa said, pouring syrup onto her pancakes. “It’s just stories of the horrors coming out of the west.”
Anger chewed through Victoria. The conservatives now owned all the news sources, so the real information wasn’t being told. Only a slanted view of possibly real situations were.
“I’m scared, Vee,” Rosa said quietly, her shoulders slumped. “What if we lose?”
What did lose mean? They were safe. They weren’t para. They would be fine no matter who won or lost.
But the part of her who chose her garments like armor knew that wasn’t true. She was Black. Rosa was Latina, and they were both gay and married. It wouldn’t take long if the conservative government regained control of all fifty states before newly won rights would disappear. Women’s rights. Gay rights. Voting rights. Racial rights. While she was glad that they were fighting over paras instead of the atrocity that was her body, she knew the fight—her fight—was still there, waiting just underneath.
“You have nothing to be scared of.”
Rosa narrowed her eyes and closed her lips.
Which was odd. Normally, Rosa would have pushed back. She was a fighter. She didn’t like platitude or well wishes or good tries. She wanted action. “Are you sure you’re all right to go to the doctor on your own?”
“I’ll be fine. You have a lot on your plate today. Don’t worry about me.”
She did, though Victoria never once thought it was more important than the woman she loved. She worked in the mayor’s office, supporting Mayor Locke, a conservative male whom she didn’t always agree with.
But she wasn’t going to be his assistant for long. Soon, she’d run for mayor herself. Or maybe something bigger. Governor. Senator? House representative?
President?
No. She couldn’t imagine the people voting for a Black woman when they couldn’t even support a white one. But the others? She could make a real difference there.
And that was what she was going to do.
Make this world better for herself, her wife, and anyone else like them. Or different. She didn’t care. That was the thing she could do.