Bruh it's a SUMMARY! AND IT'S NOT EVEN FINISHED YET!

Prompt: summerize this in great detail: Domo Ab Bellum First Draft Started 11/13/24 Chapter 1 Pt I: Prolouge Everything was a blur, it all happened in a flash. First, her father founded a company. Second, he had investors. And third, they required him to move to San Francisco. She’s never heard of it, only seen through mystical words. Riley Jennifer Andersen sat in the back seat, admiring the blurry view. Every tree passed them by, blending in with each other. The car wasn’t particularly clean, but doable for the time being. They still have a long ways to go. Her Mother and Father had little discussions about directions, some attractions, food, and hotels. She heard some of it; “Bill, this hotel is quite cheap. I guess we could stay there for the night?” “Probably something better? Riley’s quite sensitive to… dirty places.” She was relieved. It was quite uncomfortable in the back. Cramped with her pillow and some dirty clothes, using them as a cover, and attempting to ignore the tarp crinkling behind her. That incident involving the cement dinosaur made her chuckle, it was fun for her. Her Father didn’t seem to appreciate it, but it wasn’t too big a deal. There wasn’t much to do until they reached another hotel, and that’s if her Father would want to keep driving. He seems pretty adament on it. She has recently received her first smartphone, and stared at it for a bit, unable to use the internet, and put it back down. She didn’t get any data plans. She reached her hand down onto the ground, feeling a piece of hard cloth, and she picked it up. In the dim lights passing by, she made out the letters. “Andersen” she whispered to herself. She recognized the patch. Olive green with some darker shades swirling about. The letter’s blocky and highly sophisicated, the embroidery wounded tight and firm. She remembered those days, back during his military tenure. As she recalled, he was gone a lot, going to this place called “Iraq”, and came back a bit different. He said he was injured and received a purple heart. She remembered that as well. She recalled her grandfather, who showed her the various paraphanillia he received during his time in Vietnam. Also a purple heart. Along with her great grandfathers, who were said to serve the two world wars respectively and received medals. They were injured in the line of duty. There was something to admire about pushing through it, and it was a proud accomplishment for her, despite not knowing anything about pain. She knew a little by tripping on ice, but nothing as they described: Gun shots, blunt force, everything they suffered from. They tell her it’s not something she should go get, like a badge of courage, but it’s just part of the job. They stopped at a gas station and got out. Riley wanted something to drink; “Dad, may I get something?” she asked cheerfully. Her eyes drooping slightly. “Alright Monkey,” that was her nickname. “Let’s go get you something.” They quickly went in and out, grabbing coffee cups and a bottle. Riley likes the color orange, or was it yellow. She spent her morning still inside a moving vehicle, and her Father decided to stop at a rest stop. They spent a bit of time there, letting her contemplate the move. Riley started to think to herself: “So, Dad has this company called Brang, whatever that is, and he decided to move to San Francisco over it. I don’t know, I hope the Golden Gate Bridge is made out of actual gold! That would be so cool! Maybe the house is made out of gingerbread, or it’s a castle? Maybe not? I hope it’s cool, everyone tells me it’s cool!” Over the course of multiple days, she watches the blur, eats at Cracker Barrel (her Father’s preferred choice on the road, because of their supposed “rustic-charm”), and pretended to be on a road trip. She counted at least twenty five license plates, listened to her Father’s rock music, her Mother’s classical, and the wind. They fixed the back window one morning and were immediately back on the road. Her Father started complaining about prices: gas, food, hotels, and repairs. It was an expensive endeavor, but they had to do it. He promised that Brang would bring the family a great wealth. This meant better hockey gear, more things to do, and a yacht. Oh, her Father always wanted a yacht, it was his dream to sail it on the lake. He had a grandoise vision for the company, they would do this “online shopping” business, joining in with the other startups with similar goals. After a long while they have arrived. Disappointingly, the bridge wasn’t made out of gold. It was made of steel, and painted red. The city itself looked dense, colorful, and somewhat dirty. And then there was the house. A pastel blue house that seemed to built forever ago, old and dusty, but she hoped it was clean on the inside. There was a sense of optimism in her, and at least when the van comes, it would be all perfect. She opened the door, entering quietly into the dim room. It was smaller, much more so than back in Minnesota. The rooms smelled like smoke, there was a dead rat on the floor, and it was dusty. “All this for a million bucks?” she thought to herself. It seemed more…. Cheap than she would like. But she wanted to remain optimistic, and headed up to her future bedroom. It’s smaller, the ceilings were slanted, and there was a single window, not as large as her old home. There were barely any trees or forest out there, only other buildings and vehicles moving to and fro. Still, she imagined what the room would like with everything in it. The stars above on the ceiling, growing a somber green. Posters adorning the wall, reminding her of hockey, her favorite hobby. She headed downstairs, only to hear her Father tell her Mother. “Jill, the moving van won’t be here until Thursday.” “You’re kidding?” she responded dryly. That was in another two days, she didn’t want to lose any hope. She grabbed her stick and threw down a crumpled up piece of paper. Her Father joined in. “Oh no you don’t!” he laughed. “Come on, Grandma!” Riley said mockingly. Her Mother joining in. It was like old times, back on the ice. She thought to herself: “We could do this all the time!” It all stopped when her Father received a call, and yet again, it’s the investors. “Gotta go sweetie, bye.” and then he left. Riley still didn’t want to be disappointed, and mentioned a pizza place they passed earlier, named Yeast of Eden. However, it was a disappointment, as they only served pizza with one topping, broccoli. All the memories of her being absolutely forced to eat it or having bedtime earlier than usual haunted her. She forced herself to eat it when they got home, picking off all the broccoli one by one. Her mother stared at her: “I guess you still don’t like broccoli, do you?” Riley didn’t find it humorous. “No, it’s gross. I hate broccoli.” “Well, there’s a million other things to hate than… a vegetable. When I was growing up I hated bell peppers, and now I absolutely loved them. Oh, they taste so good!” “I hate bell peppers.” and then they laughed. Riley found her humor again! “Oh, remember the time that Dad crashed the car into that dinosaur? Oh that was so funny! And… I don’t know, I miss Minnesota already.” Later on, Riley went to bed. It was a different experience than back in Minnesota. She hid underneath the covers each time a siren wailed, a chopper flash it’s light, or some banging was heard. She heard her parents downstairs: “Jill, the moving van just called. They won’t be here until Tuesday.” That was next week, much farther than anticipated. Every she held dear was inside that van, and it’s apparently in Texas. Then, she heard the door open, her Mother entered the room. It was a relief. Her Mother knelt down next to her, carefully avoiding her delicate legs. “Well… I forgot to kiss you goodnight. He just received a call from the van, and they won’t be here until Tuesday.” She rubbed her eyes drearily; “Well, I’m just about to say, I’m so happy for you. From all the confusion you’ve stayed our happy little girl. What did I do to deserve you?” She kissed her on the forehead, shut the lamp, and walked away. Riley laid there, thinking to herself; “Happy? Am I happy here?” The next morning was her first day of school in town. She was quite surprised, expecting to skip it for a bit, but her parents signed papers before the move. Her parents waved goodbye, making monkey noises as she left. It always made her laugh. She walked to school, like always, with a bit more awareness. She was unsure of how to feel, everything was new to her. Right out the gate, the building towered over her. It’s color scheme, a pastel green and beige, seemed to be quite an eye sore. It’s rigid, mechanical design frightened her. To her, it all seemed artificial, something that was placed there. She didn’t seem to know much, but just the general feeling of walking through the halls felt different. Everyone was hyper-fixated on themselves, no one even greeted her, and there was more needless gossip about topics she hardly understood than actual conversation. She went into the room and headed for her assigned desk, right in the middle of the room, for all to see. She hoped not to cry, as to humiliate herself in front of kids she never seen before, who will spread the rumor across the halls. The teacher introduced herself, Mrs. Sanders, and announced to the class: “We have a new student in class today. Riley, can you please stand up?” The teacher seemed soft and kind, which was good. Riley obliged, announcing herself: “My name is Riley Andersen, I’m from Minnesota, and now I live here.” “And how about Minnesota? Can you tell us something about it?” Sander’s begins to laugh: “Well, you certainly get a lot more snow than we do.” Riley smiled, and looked up to the teacher, feeling confident: “Yeah, it’s gets pretty cold. The lake freezes over and that’s when we play hockey.” Her lips quiever slightly. “I’m on this great team, we’re called the Prairie Dogs! We go out on the lake every weekened…. We did… till I moved away….” Her worst fears came true, the class stared at her. She remembered it all so vividly. The sounds of the blade scraping the ice, the clacking of hockey sticks, and the cheers of each win. She put her head down. “We used to play tag… and stuff…. But everything’s different now…. Since we….” She sat down defeated. Mrs Sanders reassured her, but it all passed through her head. Riley didn’t want to move, she wanted to stay. She actually demanded it, but there was no compromise. That night all was silent at the dinner table. They had takeout for dinner, as all the pots and pans were in the van. Riley stared at her intently, forking it with aggression, and keeping her head low. Her Mother tilted her head, and decided to break the silence. “Hey, Riley. I’ve got good news! I found a junior hockey league, right here, in San Francisco. And get this: tryouts are tomorrow after school. What luck, right?” Riley picked up her head and immediately grumbled sarcastically. “Oh yeah, that sounds fantastic.” Her mother was quite surprised, her face scrunched into a slight cringe. “So, how was the first day of school?” “She’s probing me.” Riley thought. Her Mother repeated her question, and Riley was not amused. “It was okay, I guess?” She finally answered with a slight tinge of anxiety. Her Mother clear her throat to her father, who was staring into space, eating his meal. Again, no response. She slapped her hand on the table and finally, he asked. “So, how was your first day of school?” and his wife sighed In slight disappointment. Riley was beginning to be fed up by her parents constant probing. “Why don’t they just leave me alone? Let me wallow in my own tears for once!” Then she snapped. “School was great, alright!” They were in shock, and a brief silence was permitted. Riley gazed into her father’s eyes. Her pupils dilating slightly. He was prepared for it, and stood his ground. Her Mother was quite concerned over the two, and left them alone, hoping for it to end swiftly. Riley stared, and slapped her fist on the table. “Riley!” he called, and her face gazed intently at him once more, now with even more focus. “I do not like this new attitude!” “Oh, I’ll show you attitude old man!” she thought, and quickly, and with great aggravation, she screamed. “So just shut up! Leave me alone!” “That’s it!” He stood up. “Go to your room! Now!” Riley threw the chair to the ground and went upstairs, slamming the door as loudly as she could. Her Mother sighed deeply, picking up the chair and cleaning up her mess, and soon sat back down. Her husband continued eating as she started up again. “Bill…” he looked up. “What’s going on with Riley?” “She’s just a little upset about the move, that’s all. I guess you’re asking about her attitude, and if you are, she’s just a bit stressed, that’s all.” “But, this is a big deal for her. She’s been uprooted, and I’ll emphasized that word for you, uprooted, from Minnesota. Oh we’ve been there for generations, and all of a sudden you decided to pack up and leave. And for what, for Brang? What’s Brang anyways, you’ve never told me about it.” “Well, Brang is…” he looked around a bit, trying to find a good description for his newfound company. “ Brang is an e-commerence company. It’s a big deal nowadays, so I gotta jump on it somehow. You see Jill, if this becomes successful, and I hope it will, because I asked the priest if I should do it-” “Consulting your priest for business?” “Yes, our priest. He said that we could spread the gospel through it, unless we get greedy, I guess? Nah, we’re not gonna get greedy, hopefully, but it sounds like a good plan! I really wanted to do this (and because the government and the VA has a program) for Riley! Riley would have a better future, more money for college, better chance at a good career, and everything a young girl could ever want!” “I get it Bill… It’s good for her, but… I don’t really know, maybe we should have… you know what, we did, and I agreed to this.” “It’s called ‘bearing your cross’ as the Greeks would say! Say, I wonder how Meg’s doing?” “Probably fine. She definently misses Riley, but I guess she will understand it, probably. Her family seems more dedicated than us… weird Latin-speaking Catholics. I mean, I guess I’m fine with it? Riley doesn’t seem to care, and don’t make that smug little face in front of me… I’m just worried about Riley.” “I understand Honey, and I am too. But, hopefully once this all passes, we’ll be living the American Dream, what our forefathers were after.” “I-I don’t really know…. I guess we could? But, everything’s too expensive here, broccoli on pizza costed twenty dollars, without anything else, and it’s a medium size back at home at the local pizza parlor. Maybe we should have actually moved to Texas, heard everything’s cheaper, but… it’s not really that cold down there.” “Maybe…. But here, there’s more opportunity, much more! Riley could one day work for PIXAR! Making computer chips and designing robots to-” “PIXAR? You mean that company that’s holding up this economy?” “You know they used to have a film business until Disney bought them out, he-he-he. Monster’s Inc was their last one. They weren’t really that good, and yet nowadays after fifteen years of obscurity, everyone treats it like Shakesphere. Maybe they should actually read real literature instead.” “Oh honey,” Jill chuckled slightly. “that’s quite the statement. You know, Riley used to love Disney films. Remember Frozen?” “What, the weird merch-driven film about the song ‘Let It Go’ that got stuck in her head for a solid month? She dropped that at the tip of a hat after that. Honestly, every Disney film seems… too happy. I was in a warzone once, I know how it feels to feel a sense of dread. I hope she doesn’t go that far.” “What are you talking about?” “Well, she admires my service, and we should keep it that way.” He got up and pushed his chair. “I’m going to go talk to her for a bit.” He went upstairs and lightly tapped her door, and then softly opened it. Riley was laying down in her sleeping bag with the lamp on, watching the window with great intent. She was eerily quiet, with the only sound was her breathing. “So, uh… things got a little out of hand downstairs.” She didn’t respond. “You want to talk about it? Come on, where’s my happy girl?” He kneeled down next to her. “Monkey! Oo oo ooo!” She ignored him, and muttered a bit, and remained silent. He softly closed the door, allowing her to have some peace. The next morning, Riley woke up. She checked her school laptop, as required by the teacher, for emails and upcoming assignments. She decided to video call her old friend, Meg (occasionally called Margeret). She remembers her well, they walked together, played together, sat on each other’s porch together, and even went to church together. Her church has no confessional, which confused her, and offered the Eucharist on a spoon instead of a host. She was told she couldn’t do it, and would usually sit in the back and wait. Coffee hour was chit-chat about business and other topics she didn’t care about. Honestly, her church had the same problem. They were mostly full of old people and all they discussed was the pope doing bad things, Novus Ordo being absolutely horrendous, and politics. All this talk about the new canidates, at least she didn’t have to hear that again. She answered the call, and Meg excitedly greeted her. “Do you like it there?” she asked with glee. “Did you feel any earthquakes? Is the bridge cool?” “Yeah, it’s good…. What happened with the playoffs?” “Oh, we won the first game! Coach says we might actually go to finals this year!” Riley seemed unenthusiastic, but listened on. “And look, we got this new girl on the team, she’s so cool! We can pass the puck to each other without even looking, it’s like mind reading!” Riley didn’t seem to care, thinking. “Mind reading? Did you just replace me? I thought you missed me, you told me you did!” “Gotta go!” and immediately she slammed the laptop shut, and there was silence. Riley headed downstairs, ignored her parents, and went to school. Riley sat alone at lunch, feeling the hot California sun hit her cheeks. Everyone else were at least being social, while she remained alone, contemplating herself. “So, I’m alone here. No one seems to care about me. Meg abandoned me. Mom and Dad don’t get it, what’s with this Brang thing? I guess I’m on my own? I’m not sure about it.” Later on, Riley and her Mother arrived to the local hockey rink, located just across the bridge. Her Father was quite busy setting up his workstation, taking phone calls, and printing out documents. It was a large building, towering over her, dominating her view. Everything seemed to tower over her in this town, as if it was purpose built that way. Inside was a group of kids, skating around and slapping pucks aimlessly. “These kids look pretty good, considering they’re from San Francisco.” Said her Mother as she sat down. She chuckled a bit, and Riley still wasn’t amused. She made her way onto the ice right as the coach called her. “Andersen, prove your skills.” The coach hollered out. Riley obliged, passing the puck to another player sloppily. She repeats it multiple times and never seemed to get it right. More drills, and still, she managed to fail. The frustration mounted, seemingly mocked by lesser players, one’s who never had even an inch of snow, let alone every year. Then, they play a small skrimish. Riley stood in the center, and then with a loud whine of the whistle she took off, attempting to take the puck with her. She stayed away from everyone else, who were following her on both sides. Then, with a loud clack she slapped it, fell on her face, and missed the goal by a long shot. Her eyes well up, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she failed. Immediately, she went off the ice, took off her helmet, threw it on the ground, and demanded loudly. “Let’s go!” You’re not going to finish tryouts?” Her Mother asked. “What’s the point!?” “Hey, it’ll be all right. Let’s just-” “Stop saying everything will be all right!” And then she left. Her poor Mother following behind her. She fell fast asleep: there was something off about the dream. It repeated itself. She was in school without pants, her teeth fell out, and there was mockery everywhere. She saw something familiar, Bing Bong! Her old imaginary friend from years past, still roaming around her head. “Heya Riley, say wanna play?” he asked. Nothing made sense, there was confusion everywhere, and it felt like a nightmare that would never end. She wanted to repress him, but it was no use. He pestered her with song: “Bing Bong, Bing Bong! Who’s the friend who likes to play!” Then, a massive clown invaded: “Who’s the birthday girl!” and slammed his hammer down. She woke up, shaking and nearly out of breath. She headed downstairs and drank some cold water, splashing some on her face and asking herself: “Maybe I’m crazy? Maybe I should stay here? No, I need to go back, this is not the place for me.” She headed back to her room, suddenly with an idea, and a good one to be exact. She wanted to go back, and she wanted it now. She pulled up the laptop and opened the Greyhound website, finding one nearest to her. “So, a bus ticket costs money. How will I get it?” She whispered to herself, contemplating on taking it. “I’ll take Mom’s card, cash it out in Minnesota, and go back home, and then I’ll make more memories, I guess… This is stupid, I should- no, do it.” She remembered where her mother left her purse, on the kitchen table. She went downstairs quickly, her mother surprisingly awake this early in the morning, on the phone with someone. It sounded like the moving company, they didn’t seem to happy. She snucked down, took the card, and swiftly made it back to her room, all without her mother looking up. She packed everything she would have needed: Clothes, laptop, a notepad, and the card. She had some doubt, but immediately pushed it away, exiting the room as soon as dawn hit. Her parents said their goodbye, jokingly monkeying around, and she left without any response. It was a long walk to the station. The cramp corridors, the noise, and various types of homeless men and women asking her for money: “Hey, you got clothes?” “Got any change?” “Are you rich?” “Can I have your shower?” It disturbed her, but she kept pressing forward. She had to resist going back with every fiber of her being, convincing herself that going back, even without her parents, was the way to go. She went to a local library, still having some time to spend. Going through the shelves of books, she found one that dealt with the subject of missing children. She had her own doubts, and the book seemed to exacerbate it. Despite it’s complex language, she understood the subject matter well enough to well up in tears. She also took a map of her home state, and left after asking if she could return the books to another library. The bus stop was quite small, old, and lit by bright neon lights. She bought a small bag of trail mix to keep her company on the road. As she headed for the bus, more homeless men begged for her. They had a horrible stench. She didn’t even want to look at them, that’s how vile they were. She would like to help, but was too much afraid of getting shanked (a rumor from school) by one of them. She boarded the bus, stared out the window, and ignored her parents phone call. The bus moved forward, heading towards a ramp. Then, something came to her mind: “I will die out there. Get out Riley! No one will help you!” Immediately she stopped the bus and headed out, quickly running pass every single delinquet she saw last time. She hastily opened the door, and embraced her parents. Riley’s eyes welled in tears: “I know you don’t want me to… But… I miss home…. I miss Minnesota…. You need me to be happy, but I want my old friends, and my hockey team…. I wanna go home…. Please don’t be mad….” To her, it felt like the end. Her parents embrace her, consoling her: “I miss Minnesota too.” She’s not sure if they were sincere, but it seemed to her that they were. She knew one thing, that this would be a long, long road ahead. Chapter 2 The van finally came! All of her, and her parents stuff, were in that van. She hanged up her hockey posters, her stars, and placed her precious trophy collection on the other side of the room. They took in her dresser, bed-frame, everything that mattered to her. The room was swept clean beforehand, ensuring a dust free environment. Riley seemed quite content, forgetting the turmoil she went through within the past few days. School was alright, she meet a boy named Jordan. He liked her Father’s rock music, AC/DC. Such loud, obnoxious noise. Still, she felt alone. No one talked to her, and no one seemed to care for her. She even learned a bit about the city. She lives in Richmond, a somewhat more wealthier neighborhood, if shabby houses and tight streets were considered “wealthy”. It all seemed to go quite well for her. School was still isolating, however. No one shared her interest in Hockey, everyone shoved her around, and their was an air of absolute bitterness around her. She felt it very well, it was nothing like her small Minnesota school, where there was purple tile and the mascot was a reindeer. This school has no mascot, nor anything else for that matter. It pulled kids in and squeezed them out, that’s what she has heard. Each day it was quite boring, mostly sitting on a school issued laptop, watching videos on it, and wasting plenty of time that could have been spent on something more interesting. Walking to and from school became a habit, watching the street, listening to her surroundings, it was something she has gotten used to. That night, at dinner, they had homemade pasta and alfredo sauce, with chicken. Her Mother wanted Italian but it was too expensive. They did some small talk, asking her about school, if she made any friends, and then asking: “So, do you still have an interest in hockey?” her Mother asked. Her Father quite busy with business matters on the computer. He has claimed that Brang has been off to a great start. “I guess. I mean, I would like to play hockey again.” “Oh, I’m so glad you have at least some enthusiam, especially after what you did a few days ago.” “What?” She feigned ignorance. “I didn’t do anything.” “Well, you did spend fifty-five on a Friday morning, at 4:38 AM?” “What?” “And did you skip school that day? I called the teacher and-” “I thought you said you weren’t mad at me.” Her Mother sighed deeply, resigning back to eating. Riley believed it was all over, like a Disney film. Once the conflict was resolved, nothing else ever happens, and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. She thought she was going to live in Minnesota forever, and that was toppled as soon as they left Minnesota. “Hey Mom, are we going to Mass Sunday?” She asked quite suddenly. “Oh! Well… maybe ask your father? I guess we’re going, or we could just… watch it on the TV?” Her husband had to comment from the other room. “Nope, we’re going.” Riley was quite relieved, at least something familiar was happening around her. Mrs. Sanders gave the class another lesson today. More boring homework on the First World War. Trenches this, Chemicals that. The kids around her believe that World War three would start at any minute, and she doesn’t want to hear it, believing it to be a ridicolous joke. “Why would they drop a bomb just because?” she thought, and ignored it instantly. Mrs. Sanders was a nice lady, understanding her frustrations with moving away. “Well Riley,” she said. “I was also taken out of my home, from Mississippi, and then I came here. I wanted to go back too! It’s just so different here, it sometimes doesn’t feel safe, but it’ll be alright.” “Well, why didn’t you go back?” “Ummm…. Maybe because of the pay here?” “But…. Isn’t money not everything?” “Money? Oh no no no no no, it’s about the kids. They need teachers you know. There’s plenty of them here.” “Well, yeah, I guess… I wanted to go home too, and I still miss it. I’m just here and I have no choice, for now. Maybe when I get older I’ll move back.” “That’s really up to you.” The weekends were even more boring than she thought they were. After the debacle, it started to become quite mind-numbing to sit at home, staring at the window, pretending to play hockey on the floor, watch videos on her laptop, and sit in silence. Her Father was quite busy setting up an office for his newfound business. She’s quite unsure of what’s it for. They go to Mass every Sunday, listening to the chants, smelling the incense, and taking communion. Riley crosses herself and kneels down, letting the priest place the host on her tongue. She did confession the day before. The priest would sit on the other side, slightly hidden by the small hole to her right. “So Fr. Mackley- I mean Fr. Joseph. I-I-I almost left on the bus this past Friday, nearly went back to Minnesota, stole my mother’s credit card, and probably almost died? I am deeply sorry, Lord have mercy…. Should I say Kyrie Eleison?” The priest crossed her, saying a short prayer in Latin. She didn’t understand any of it, but to her, at least it was something she could root herself in. Coffee hour felt exactly the same as it did back home: politics, complaining about the pope, and the old people. It was primarily old people, with very few young children there. She wanted to go to a Norvus Ordo, believing it to at least have someone to talk to, but her parents insisted on staying at the Tridentine church, in the belief that Norvus Ordo was to secularized (as if she understood these words. They passed through her like anything else that’s quite complicated). Every week seemed to blend together. Her Mother cooked, contemplated on returning to her surgeon career (but then turns back on it), checks the bills, and tries to make sense of Riley. While her Father busied himself with the business, struggling with calls from curious investors, moving everything around, and taking up the whole living room. Riley sat around, watching the television while her Father typed furiously what seemed to be another highly technical report. The clacking on the keyboard bothered her, but she attempted to ignore it. What was on the television, you may ask? It was Bloofy’s House, an old show she used to watch as a child. She stared at the purple dog… thing, meandering about, singing songs about going on adventures. Her Father didn’t seem to notice, so she turned the volume up. She watched his cartoon frame introduce the audience yet again to Pouchy, a sentient fanny pack. “Oh, Pouchy!” Bloofy yelled out, letting the sentient bag come into view. “Hey, everybody!” The bag announced proudly, his voice muffled through the tinny speakers as they crackled. “I’m Pouchy!” “Hi Pouchy.” Riley greeted with as much enthusiam as a bored child could have. Bloofy explained the current situation. “Pouchy, we need to get across that bridge. Do you know what would get across that bridge?” “I don’t know,” mumbled Riley. “something stupid.” The bag talked again. “I have lots of items! Which one do you think will work the best?” and Riley immediately changed the channel. She shifted through the news, a new candidate named Trump, who yammered and whined. She didn’t seem to care, even if his skin was orange. Talk shows, because her Mother still watches those. Disney’s collection of channels, playing everything she already hated, because she thought she outgrew them. She missed the sentient fanny pack, but hated it enough to not care. She turned off the television and headed for the bookshelf. It’s all these weird titles: Crime and Punishment, War and Peace, The Brother’s Karamazov, everything she didn’t want to read. There was Charles Dickens and Tolkein, which she enjoyed, but reading the Hobbit was like going to school. She didn’t want to go to school, she wanted to have some enjoyment for once in her life. There was also a plethora of technical manuals, some old children’s books centered around Disney characters (more particularly, Frozen, whom she has great disdain for.), and some CD’s, primarily her Father’s old rock collection or her Mother’s collection of Bach, Beethoven, Gregorian chants, and a CD titled “Sacred Treasures III: Choral Masterworks from Russia and Beyond” that she remembered Meg’s father, Stellios, gave to her. She even knows what it sounded like: heavy, sorrowful chants that made her either bored or wanted to weep from it. She decided to go upstairs and enter her parents bedroom, they weren’t really paying attention anyways. She went into their room, feeling the soft rug under her bare feet, entered the small closet and looked up. She felt her way their until she hit her hand on a hard object. She grabbed it; it’s weight nearly pulling her down. It was a wooden case, likely full of something she probably thought would be enjoyable. She placed it down with a soft thud, opening it, and revealing it’s contents. She was quite surprised, it wasn’t anything like a toy, or some electronic game. Instead, it was a massive collection of photos that seemed older than her, some medals, and a rusted piece of barbed wire. She sifted through the photos, not even knowing nearly half the people in it. They apparently worked on a farm, somewhere in Minnesota, and it was at least a century ago since it happened. She had a bit yearning for it, being a bit envious of those old people, having family while she, in the middle of a concrete jungle, has two distracted parents. She sifted through it more, grabbing a small notebook and with great curiousity opened it. There, she read an entry dated January 22nd, 1919. It landed on her birthday, and she wanted to see what they thought on her birthday: “It’s been hell for the last two years. I’m stuck in France playing some games waiting to get back home. I yearn for home, I want to go back. I’m hoping I’ll be able to continue the Andersen lineage.” She was disappointed and yet oddly intrigued. “Andersen lineage” she thought. She flipped through the pages, finding recipes, poems, and what seemed to be the daily task of her great-grandfather (as she could guess). She read another entry: “I’ll explain my lineage here. Dad said we’re the Andersen’s. Our Lineage goes back to Denmark, in the Scandies. We came to America a scant few years ago because of the war, and I was drafted two years ago. I didn’t pick this life, but I really had no choice. The Great War has finally ended, thank the Lord, and we’re now at peace! I’ll be back in Minnesota helping Ma’ with the loom and Dad with the farm.” She never had a loom or a farm growing up. Everything was bought in stores. Mrs. Sanders sometimes would explain that it has been much better nowadays because they couldn’t eat whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It struck odd to her, being raised on Lenten days, refraining from anything except fish on Fridays and Wednesdays (her Father insisted on it, and she still follows it, somewhat marginally.) She closed the box and replaced it, heading back downstairs to engage in more television. She watched Bloofy’s House, unable to keep the thought of apparently being from Denmark. She thought she was from Minnesota. She asked her father. “Am I from Minnesota or Denmark?” “What is it Monkey?” He asked, not turning his back on his work. “Are we Danish?” “Well…. I guess you found the box, didn’t you?” He finally turned around. “Yes, our distant family are. We’re actually born here and… we were raised in Minnesota. Actually, I was born in Canada and my parents moved south because we didn’t really like it’s government. Your grandma still lives there, however, and she’s not quite happy up there because of it’s government.” “What government?” “Well…. It’s complicated…. So, your mother’s side is from Ireland. Jill!” He called her and she immediately came, asking. “What is it Bill?” “Riley’s asking about lineages, isn’t this exciting? Oh, I love this conversation already.” “Well Riley,” Jill started. “I, actually my distant grandparents, immigrated from Ireland earlier last century, stayed in New York for a bit, and then came to Minnesota in hopes of gaining a foothold here. I guess Ireland was having problems: Famine, a civil war, I don’t really know anymore, it’s been a long time. Maybe we could go to the library and check out some books, wouldn’t that be fun?” Riley shook her head. “No? Alright… Well, I’ll tell you my maiden name. O’Reily! We named you after me! Well, we took out the O and-” “I get it mom, I get it.” Riley didn’t want to hear it. “Well…. And your Father was Andersen, and now I’m- I guess I get excited over this?” Of course you do Honey,” Bill said. “Of course you do.” Riley sat back down on the couch, thinking to herself the various adventures her long gone family members went through. The days blended in, sitting inside (her parents don’t want her out), watching the television, skimming through her father’s books, going to school, doing homework, and meandering around her home, finding various curiousities. The rat that died on the floor was thankfully swept away. She founded some smoke stains on the walls. The police seem to pass by every four days (she counted). The internet signal was weaker on ocassions. And, the walls are thin enough to hear conversation from her neighbors if they were loud enough. They argued and fought many times, apparently bumping into the wall on occassions. One time she thought they would break through, but thankfully they didn’t. She walked around, glancing at the small prayer corner. The Lady of Sorrows was it’s centerpiece, with the cross right behind it. It wasn’t used much, and if it was, mostly by her Father early in the morning. Her Mother was never seen there, only to admire the art and return to whatever she was doing. She would fidget with her rosary if she thought about it, usually hidden in her drawer. She can’t exactly recall the prayer, but understood Lord’s Prayer and Nicence Creed. One day, her Father must have strucked it rich. He called everyone downstairs with grand excitement. “Riley, Jill! Come quick! L-l-look what we made!” “Oh honey,” Jill rubbed her eyes. “did you make a small profit?” “No, but it’s much, much bigger! It’s huge! We’ve made at least two million in a week!” “Two million…. At least it would finally pay off this house.” “Yes! Now we could pay off the house and get a new car! Oh, we needed a new car, badly! What would it be, Corvette, Lamborghini? Nah, something much cheaper, like a Civic? Maybe a truck… Tacoma, really good quality vehicles, last forever, used by workmen everywhere! Well, actually I don’t really need a truck.” “Dad, probably need to get something more useful, like a van.” “Oh, right! Caravan or Town and Country?” Riley doesn’t know what those are, but listened with intent. “Bill, please don’t treat this like you won the lottery. I get it, we’ve got a lot of money now. But, you still have expenses, and their not…. Cheap.” “Right! Bills first, then car.” Days later he came home with a new Caravan, outfitted with such features as a DVD player (why would Riley ever need that?), some extras he likely didn’t need, and good gas mileage. Gas itself was expensive, closer to five dollars a gallon than back home. Jill decided to comment. “Bill, we have one kid.” “Well, if we to transport her and her teammates to hockey practice, or games, then it could get some use. Besides, the station wagon is old anyways.” “Well…. Keep it, just in case we manage to wreck it.” “Me? I’m a good driver, used to drive a truck, a big rig, on the road.” “Yes, I know.” Riley decided to try hockey again, going back to the intimidating building, embracing the small crowd of lesser players, and actually trying her best. She felt proud of herself. “So, how was hockey?” “Well, good! I mean, I actually did good this time. I guess I just had to get used to living here.” “It’s an adjustment period, I understand. You doing great for a happy girl like you.” “Thanks?” And then they left, coming back a week later for Riley to receive her new jersey. It was in a small conference room, Riley stood in the middle with the other kids. They decided to nickname her Minnesota, and she preferred it. They handed the neatly folded jersey to her. Her surname embroidered in a darker navy, popping out on the teal nylon. It was significantly higher quality than the old red and yellow Prairie Dogs jersey she received back in Minnesota, with it’s heat-pressed, fading letters. She checked the front and saw the teams logo. The word’s Foghorn in a blocky font, with a orange character wearing a helmet, legless, and it’s nose like a horn. Their team chant: Awooga! They spent their first Thankgiving alone, eating the usual festive foods in silence. It was a small gathering, and it seemed her Mother preferred it. Her Father wanted to go to family, but thought it would trigger Riley’s yearning and cause her to take the bus again. Then Christmas came, and she received a new helmet from a brand named Safety Hat, a DMR bag and stick, a new pair of skates, and some pads. She was ready to play again, and it felt like Minnesota once more! Except, it wasn’t. The environment was quite different than back home. Everything felt foreign, even after a few months. She still had no friends, and even if she tried they would ignore her. At school she dropped her hockey puck keychain (received as birthday gift) and stubbornly placed it back in her pocket. She bumped into a girl, an African-American, apologized and made her way to class, sitting in the middle of the room. She just turned twelve, which made her especially proud, because it’s one more year before she’s an adolescent. Today Mrs. Wilkens had a quiz, it wasn’t particularly difficult. Then, the next day Mrs. Sanders had a presentation day. Everyone in the room were quiet, sitting on their desk and reviewing cards. It was quite an ambitious assignment: What do you think could change the world. Such an ambitious project, and only eighth graders could come up with such clever ideals. Riley thought about Hockey, but that sounded idiotic. Hockey changing the world, might as well get all the pocket change to do that. And her assumption was correct. A girl named Grace Hsieh was called first. She was Asian, and twirl her locks of hair nervously. She carried a large glass jar filled with change, seemingly weighing more than she could carry. Immediately, she yammered. “Hi, I’m Grace,” there was a slight tremble in her voice. “And this my presentation on how the change in your coach could change the world.” She place the jar down, picking up back up by it’s lid, and before should could say “Did you know-” it slip, slamming onto the concrete, and shattering. The coins spread all across the floor and nearly every kid grabbed some. Riley felt ashamed, and it wasn’t even her. She decided to help to poor girl, and was joined by the African-American girl she managed to bump into, whom she didn’t even notice. They introduced each other briefly. Bree Young is the African-American, Grace Hsieh is the Asian. Riley felt as if she made new friends. At the lockers they chit-chat a bit, discussing themselves and various interest. Riley decided to tell them. “So, my hockey league is starting soon, so I’ll have to work around practices and games… and stuff. But I definitely want to hang out.” “Wait, you play hockey?” Grace gasped loudly. “I play hockey! “I do too!” Bree chimed in. “So, what team do you play for?” Asked Riley. “Foghorns!” Both exclaimed. Riley has never seen them, or maybe she did. She remembered seeing the African-American with glasses on the rink, and in the conference room, but never bothered to say anything. She was quite surprised by the announcement. She asked where they were from: Bree from Shrevesport, Lousianna, and Grace from Chinatown. Th e bell ranged and they all left for class. Chapter 3: The days went by much, much faster after she meet the two. They introduced her to the local culture, showing her graffiti art, tags, historical artifacts like streetcars, the large cathedral dedicated to St. Mary. She admired the towering red brick building, having a bit of homesickness from the architecture. Grace explained that it was built in 1853, is a historical landmark, and was replaced by an “uglier building” in the 70s. They saw that one as well, with it’s white steel frame curving upwards, Riley didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as the older cathedral. They walked by little Russia, where Grace lives. Passing by the Holy Virgin Cathedral, with it’s onion domed architecture and gold accents. Riley was intriguied, and asked. “Do you believe in anything Grace?” “Nah! My parents don’t really believe in anything either. I hear from the locals that go here that there’s ‘holy relics’ here. I guess they still hold on to their little myths, don’t they?” Bree chimed in. “Mom would tell me that it’s idolatry, according to the bible. I go to a baptist church, and we play rock music at our place. It’s fun!” “Well,” Riley said. “I go to a church where they sing in Latin, and they swing incense around, and they have statues.” and then they laughed. Reassuring each other that they will still be friends somehow. It was Sunday, and Riley decided to go to Bree’s church today. Grace didn’t seem to care much about it, and only tagged only because they have an important game the following Saturday. The room was massive, around the size of her parish, but with significantly more carpet. There were stadium style plush seats all around her, no kneeling boards, no confessional, no statues or icons, and only a single cross in the middle of the room, surrounded by two massive screens, displaying various messages about events happening around the church. She probably felt like regretting this decision, but decided to go on with it, hoping it would get better. Everyone stood up, the lights dimmed, and then a rock band, right in the middle of the stage, started playing the most excruciating loud church music she’s ever heard. It didn’t have a sense of peace, but yet, it felt oddly exihiliarating. The pulsating bass, the brash guitar, and the cheery lyrics singing “I praise you, I praise you, O Lord!” were pure escatsy, not because of the lyrical content, but because of the feeling. It was the emotional thrill absent in her Latin church The head pastor came and told a short speech, thanking his audience for donations and with great joy jumped up and down like a madman, “blessing” them with his existence. The concert started back up, going through slightly slow to more exciting, then it ended as the band leaves and the podium was placed. Riley knew about the homilies in protestant churches, much longer and more intellectually minded with constant rambling about why the Bible itself was absolutely correct on specific political matters. He decided to discuss the Holy Spirit, a familiar concept, and told everyone that they could absolutely have it if they “just ask. If you just ask the Lord. ‘Oh please Lord, give me your spirit!’ and he’ll the give it to you. The enemy will tell you, ‘Oh, you’re not worthy of the spirit. You don’t deserve it’, but God see’s your worth. He knows how much your just so worthy of it all!” Riley felt a pang in her head, thinking. “What? Original Sin, is that a thing here?” She asked Bree, who answered. “Well… I guess we don’t really believe in original sin? Yes, there’s sin, but we can’t just bog people down with it.” “In Catholicism we’re considered as unworthy, at least that’s what my Dad tells me.” “Hey, don’t worry. God loves you.” Then the “Holy Spirit” descended down on some audience members, causing them to bark like dogs, spasm on the floor, and laugh. “This is the work of the Holy Spirit!” the pastor exclaimed, excitedly waving his hands around like a madman, proclaiming it many times. Riley became disturbed, wanting to leave immediately. She didn’t believe it was right. After church Bree invited the two to her house. It looked quite similar to Riley’s, except with much more people. She counted around ten people in total, excluding her and Grace. Bree’s grandmother sat on the rocking chair, reading a book, while what Riley assumed to be the grandfather watched the television, laughing at the political talk. “Oh, what idiot!” he exclaimed. It was much louder in the house. What she assumed were her brother’s screaming at each over who would play Call of Duty next, and then they went silent, only to scream again after a mere twenty minutes. Bree’s parents greeted the girls kindly gesturing them to the long table (barely fitting the room) and handing out bowls. Bree decided to introduce herself. “So, my family is quite loud. Everyday I have to deal with Jacobie and Josiah screaming at each other because they want to play their video games. My sisters are out again, probably doing something extremely stupid, my grandparents mock the TV all day, and my parents are busy at work. Well, grandma cleans the house, grandpa does the repair work, and…. Both complain about our generation being quote-on-quote ‘lazy and stupid.’” She sighed. “I don’t want to feel that way, but I guess when you have the internet it probably gets worse? I just want some peace and quiet and these kids-” She points to the ceiling. “are so frickin’ annoying. I at least desire to go to church and I do my prayers everyday, while they sit on their behind playing video games all day. Actually, Josiah told Mom to change his diaper.” “What?” Riley was in absolute shock. “Well, I’m by myself.” “Lucky. I guess both of you are lucky. I have to deal with these kids all the time. Well, my sisters are actually adults, but they go around clubbing and stuff like that, and then come home drunk sometimes, and I hate it. Sometimes I want to get out and be on my own, but I’m still in middle school. Mom understands, so does my grandparents. Dad’s quite busy at work. He works for PIXAR, you know, that company who makes those computers? Manufacturing department, soldering, PCB- whatever. I think it’s cool, and I feel like I could join him one day.” “Yeah, my Dad told me about it. I don’t know, I just want to play hockey. Are we overcomplicating things here?” “Oh no no no. We’re here to help, and maybe go through school.” The bowls were filled with fresh smelling gumbo. The smell of spices filled Riley’s nostrils, and Bree’s grandparents came to the kitchen table. “Do the boys come down to eat?” “Rarely. They stay in their room and eat their food there. They rarely even leave, and they’re fresh out of High School! I swear, it’s as if things have gotten worse since we moved from Shrevesport. Yes, it was bad there, but it seems worse out here. I mean, Josiah wanted to join a gang, and when Mom found out, she said ‘No!’ and he threw a fit!” “Are you rambling at me?” Riley tried to ignore her. “Well… I guess. So, hockey plans, right?” The three girls agreed. “Saturday is the big game. We gotta win this one, and then it’s road to Championships!”Again, they agreed, and the conversation shifted to hockey plans, tactics, and manuveaurs. Later on Bree decided to show her friends her own personal CD collection. It was in the garage, which was technically her bedroom. Bree took a CD from the shelf titled: “Get Up and Glow.” It was an intriguing name, catching her interest immediately. The CD player boomed, and Riley knew what she wanted, more of them! The relatable, catchy lyrics; The simplistic melodic content, and the absolute perfect timing. She was enthusiastic, and asked her friend about it. She could buy them at the CD store, and she wanted more of it. Then came Saturday. Riley arrived with her Mother, as her Father was still quite busy reeling in the success of his newfound company. School has just ended, and the game felt like the treat after a years worth of struggle. Still, the city felt quite strange to her, especially after hearing about Bree’s sibling’s, rowdy as they are. They enter the rink and sat down on the bleachers. Riley joined her friends on the bench, sitting separately to the rest of the team. They discussed a plan; The Needle, pass it underneath a player and bounce it off the wall, or was it the other way around? They decided the latter, shook hands, and made their way to the rink. Grace commented on Riley’s face. “You look a bit older.” “I do?” and then the horn blared. Riley pushed forward, grabbing the puck and bouncing it off the wall to Grace, who scored the goal. Again, they performed the manuver with great success. They successfully pass it once more, and again, another goal. Riley felt extremely proud of herself, the wind rushing through her hair, it all seemed like the world has finally put it’s pieces together. They take a break for the second half, and Riley decided to head to the bathroom, just to check on herself. She turned on the sink and washed her face, looking at her delicate features and noticing some distinct changes. Her nose was slightly small in proportion to her head. Her hair, formerly a dirty blonde, is now a bit light. Still, she looked the same as she did last year, except her chin was slightly longer and her face a bit more angular, but still round enough for her to not recognize any changes. She returned to her friends, and played the second half. Performing the manuver was an exihilerating experience, granting them more goals than she ever thought she would, especially with players who weren’t raised on the ice like her. They won, being granted medals for their efforts. Riley felt extremely proud of herself that day, and hoped for the other games to be similar. Summer was quiet and boring, except for hanging out with her friends. She ended up visiting Grace’s parent’s restaurant in Chinatown. A small spot mostly selling standard Chinese fare. They sat down, being granted colorful menus filled with photos of delicacies, primarily leaning more to the less economical side. Grace started up a conversation. “So, you said you’re Catholic, right?” “Well…. Yes, I was raised Catholic. I still go to Mass on ocassions, but I don’t really seem to care much anymore. Before I met you it was the only thing keeping me grounded in this town.” “Well, my family has been here since last century, when they immigrated from China. They talked about Mao and his horrible ideals, starving literally millions of people. I guess China is still communist today, and something about Russia? I don’t know, they exist and they were communist. They apparently have their own Catholicism, and they made books like Crime and Punishment-” “My Dad reads that!” Riley became excited. “Except, I don’t really read.” “Nah, I don’t either. My Father does, and he does it very often. In fact, I’m actually forced to read it, along with Tolstoy, Gogol, Chekov, Dickens, Twain, Hemingway, because he said it would accelerate me to a higher level, make me more money, and I get to show off against the other’s. He said that this town is not so smart, and actually, he called it ‘stupid’ once. I’m not really good at hockey….” The plates were passed down and Grace thanked the waitress. “I’m not the athletic type. I guess I see it in you: rough, slim, fast, and maybe a bit loud?” “Oh yeah, I guess I’m a bit loud!” “Woah! Okay,” she laughed. “I guess you are. So, my parents want me to go to Harvard, or any other school. We have lots of money, my grandparents own casino’s in Macau, small ones, but they bring in the cash somehow. I’m well aware of Brang, you know…. Wait, isn’t William Andersen your father?” “Umm…. Yes?” “Cool, I met Brang’s daughter.” She laughed again. “So, my grandparents, who fund this restaurant, and around twenty locations after that, gave him probably the most money. They don’t seem to place nice with anyone else, especially anyone who leaned towards… Judaism. I hear weird things about them. I know a jewish kid, he’s quite nice, and he tells me he’s jewish a lot. He says that his parents don’t seem to like other’s and that he feels bad, and he wants to become Catholic one day because he believes it’s better than his own religion. I told him I don’t really believe, and he said. ‘Well, everyone has to believe in something, even if it’s wrong.’ and he’s quite nice. He helps me a lot, but then they moved away. He said it was because his parents wanted to ‘build an empire’ in New York, and San Francisco was full of…. People they don’t like. He told me not to go on 4chan, whatever that is, because they really hate people like him. They have a rough history, so I guess their justified in what they do, right?” “Not really…. I mean, as a Catholic, God see’s everything, and….. we’re all sinners, that’s what I was told.” “Interesting. I was told that we all have potential.” “Well…. I guess talking about sensitive subject matters make’s us all thirsty, right?” She takes a drink of water, smacking her tongue due to it’s strange metallic taste. “Yeah…. Also, there’s no water filter here. We should have installed one yesterday but the filter guys never came.” Riley nodded her head, and then they remained silence thereafter, focused on their meals. She laid quietly on her bed, watching the window carefully for sirens, lights, and a bang or two. San Francisco hasn’t gotten better since she arrived, and it noticeably detiorated the moment she arrived, and then more so the more she stayed. Suddenly she heard someone yell. “Honey, look!” and she got out of bed, headed downstairs and watched as her Father showed her Mother his phone. She looked confused, taking off her glasses and squinting. “Honey… did you buy a yacht!” “Of course I did!” He exclaimed. “We could take Riley out on the ocean!” “I didn’t say you could- why did you- what about Riley?!” “Well, we made another big break, and for that, I decided to buy us a yacht! Oh I’ll be listening to my CD’s again, just watch!” “No! Why- what did you…” Her Mother took a deep breathe, and acknowledge Riley’s presence. “Riley, we know your up there.” “Come down Monkey.” She obliged, sitting down on the coach and listening in with great intent. “Well,” Her Mother started. “your father bought a yacht, and we would like to have your opinion on it?” Riley tilted her head, asking. “Are you mad or something?” “Oh no, no, no, no. I’m not… maybe? I mean, I’m quite happy about the yacht?” “Are you lying?” And then, her Mother snapped. “Of course I’m lying! I can’t believe I’m lying to my own child! Honey, that yacht is a major expense and now we got a house bill, mortgage, taxes, water, and the yacht and the insurance!” “Oh, I know.” He said with great confidence. “I already calculated the expenses for a few months.” His wife sighed with a sense of relief. Riley doesn’t seem to know, or care, about the yacht. She was more concerned with her parents arguing over expenses. It worried her every night, whether or not she would be able to sleep in the house or on the street. Sometimes she didn’t think about it, and other times she did. “Goodnight Mom. Goodnight Dad.” She said cheerfully. The couple sit at the table across from each other. Jill asks the first question. “So, about the yacht. Why did you buy it in the first place?” “Well, it was actually quite cheap-” “Cheap? Your average yacht it around…. At least a million. Honey, you know you’re now juggling expenses around, and for a damn yacht?” “Woah, go easy on me.” “Go easy on you?” Jill stood up, opening the fridge door and grabbing a large bottle of red liquid. “I’ll go easy on you! Wine! More specifically, red wine, fermented for twenty-five years, five hundred a bottle.” “You took my cre-” “Of course I did. Because if Riley could do it, then I could to. If she wants to make herself happy, then I’ll make myself happy.” “That was for Brang.” She poured a glass. “Not anymore!” and gulped down the entire bottle. Her words came out slurred. “I…. Well, I’m getting drunk.” “Hey, let’s just- nevermind.” and he left, letting her pour another glass, her hand shaking profusely, staining the table and her nightgown, and then took another gulp. She stood up and wobbles her way upstairs, but managed to only make a few steps before collapsing onto the floor. Riley walked to school, wondering why her parents seemed to be acting so strange recently. She went to Bree and Grace, chattering amongst each other about the next hockey game, their faces seemingly changing, and whatever their doing for Halloween. Riley told them that her father bought a yacht. “Yep, he did, and apparently Mom’s mad about it.” “Really?” Bree asked. “Yeah, she’s… not to happy about it. I mean, I want to see it, but the way my parents have been acting has been, kinda weird, don’t you think?” They nodded in agreement. “Brang is doing quite good, so I guess he should reward himself. He always wanted a boat back in Minnesota, and now has one, as big as a small house.” She chuckled slightly. “Hey, want to see it with me?” And they agreed. The next hockey game happened, and they won. Performing the same exact manuver again multiple times led them to victory. The game would begin the following year in march, and then championships in June. Riley felt oddly proud of herself, thanking herself for forgetting all about Minnesota and making it through San Francisco without a hitch, despite all of it’s problems. She went out of the bathroom and onto the deck, watching the waves lightly tap the boat. Her Father’s yacht was comparably smaller than the other’s, and yet still had a small bedroom, a kitchen, a living space, and an engine compartment (She likes to hang out there, because “it’s quiet”). The background noise of AC/DC and other bands played in the background. Her mother sitting on the couch, a bit unimpressed but relatively relaxed. “Hey Mom!” “Hey, where’s Bree and Grace? You know, your new friends?” “Oh, they’re… probably on the deck, I guess.” “Well, why don’t you go meet with them, show me your medals. You know, I’m very proud of you, even after all we’ve went through.” “Well… thanks.” She headed off to her friends, and sat with them on the deck. Grace gloated. “My Father owns a bigger yacht than your’s.” “Hey, don’t compare. We all play fair, right?” Asked Bree. Grace pouted, she didn’t like the sound of that. “Well, my grandfather owns multiple yachts, in China. I guess he could also buy us a bigger house if he wasn’t so selfish.” “How big is your house?” “Well, average.” “Can we visit?” And Grace begrudgingly accepted. The next day they went to her house. It was surrounded by a gate, beautiful gardens, multiple workers riding their lawnmowers, edging the lawn, and plucking weeds. Riley noticed their skin, they seemed to be brown. The house seemed much bigger on the inside, with all white walls, all white furniture, and all white carpet. Riley didn’t seem to enjoy it that much, her eyes cringing at the white paint as it reflected the bright evening sun. Grace introduced the house to them extremely excitedly. “So, like, this is my house! Oh, I know you girls are jealous, right? We have a lot of rooms, oh you should come see mine!” They walk down the long corridor, passing by various rooms of varying colors, which Riley appreciated. To her, it felt somewhat worse than living in the victorian, which at least was brown. They headed into Grace’s room, which was primarily pink, plastered with posters from such bands like Get Up and Glow, 4*Town (some band from the 2000s that Riley cared even less about than Get Up and Glow, which she forced herself to listen to on ocassions), and other bands that may or may not seem irrelevant. She showed off her vanity, naming it’s price (aroun d two-hundred thousand), and describing every feature it has: lights, a mirror, and it’s heart shaped. The other two pretended to be impressed, which Grace caught easily, and made a slight frown. They headed back down the hall, heading to the stairs and into the game room (so aptly named by Grace). She owned nearly every video game console that was manufactured, and Riley was astonished. She never owned any one of them, preferring to remain outside, but Grace was never allowed outside because she would “taint the grass” as her parents say. She showed off her favorite game: World of Blades, starring this weird purple haired, highly muscular man named Lance Slashblade, who apparently has to save the world and Aqua (some girl) from evil, and has a melodramatic backstory. Immediately, Riley was intrigued, and asked if she could play it. The disc was inserted into a PIXAR PlaySqaure, beeping loudly as it turned on, and displaying a fuzzy image on the flat screen television. The game started and Riley watched attentively, pretending as if she’d never heard of video games. She admitted, her obsession with the franchise started a while back while browsing the internet. Somehow, Lance intrigued her, and she has some…. Questionable fancies of him. She’s not sure what caused her to find it; was it curiosity, idiocy, or something much worse, lust? She didn’t want to admit it, but watching Lance flail around peaked her interest. Grace seemed to only like to find random spots, attempting to jump and break through the low-poly, janky world he inhabits. She went “underneath” the area, walking through various flashing enemies, invisible walls, and other strange tidbits. Riley was highly intrigued, more so by Lance than by the idiotic choice Grace made. Riley took the controller and restarted the level, going through it as if she knew how to play at all. They had dinner at Grace’s table, served Chinese-American fare on standard plates, disappointing Riley, because they proudly display their massive collection of fine china right in the dining room, never to be touched. They all ate in silence, unsure of what to say to each other. Riley could only think about Lance, and figuring out a way to emulate it on her phone. Her device however, didn’t have enough processing power to actually run a PlaySqaure emulator. She needed something newer, much newer than the old Galaxy she held on for so long, especially since she held it back when she used to live in Minnesota. Her Mother picked her up, drove home with a hint of exhaustion, and immediately she went off to bed. Riley went to her room and shut the door, checking her phone as usual on weekends. She started up the browser, typing: “pixar playsqaure emulator for android”. Each one required at least two gigabytes of RAM, which her device did not have. She instead searched: “lance slashblade” and browsed through the infinite scroll of official renderings, fan artwork ranging from highly skilled to absolutely horrendous, and strange artwork involving distended stomachs, feet, funny animal characters, and then… blood. More specifically, of the character Aqua, the blue haired princess who had to be saved, dead on a pole. Riley thought she abhorred violence, but the image left her intrigued. The horrendous picture depicted the woman on a pole, fresh crimson escaping her mouth, all captured eerily on an image, created by a fan. Riley looked up the tag: “guro” and immediately horrific images full of vile reds filled the small screen, and she was captive! Each image more horrendous than the last, and she was dragged down into the hole, refusing to escape. Lance showed up occasionally in positions reminiscent of a fallen soldier. She ended up looking for “normal stuff” on the phone instead, showing naked pictures of the characters in various positions. She was highly intrigued, but the gore seemed to yearn for her. She went back and then searched: “ao3.org” and immediately read through a long story consisting of poor grammar, mediocre spelling, and bad pacing about Lance deciding to go on a murder spree: “Then Lance took his longsword and shoved it up her-” and then she stopped reading, checking the clock, 2:34 AM, and immediately shutting off the phone and heading off to sleep. Chapter 4: Christmas came and went, she received even bigger hockey equipment. She sure has grown, her face was much more angular than even half a year ago. Her body was longer, and her hair grew longer and was more brighter than before. She turned thirteen today, and as usual on the twenty-second of January, her parents celebrated with cake and ice cream. They congratulated her for making it through San Francisco for two years. Soon enough she will finally make it to High School, which was only months away, and the last four years of her public education. She seemed giddy for it, impatiently waiting for it to happen. Then, the doorbell ranged, and it was Bree and Grace, carrying a large wrapped box. “Happy Birthday!” they exclaimed. Riley decided to perform the “Celly Dance”, a strange flailing of arms and legs, apparently humorous to her friends. She particularly took inspiration from the inflatable men near car sales lots, and they all followed, screaming “Awooga!” with great effort. The Foghorn’s ended up adopting the dance, and now is considered a staple within the team after every victory, much to the parents absolute disappointment, commenting on how they’re great-grandparents knew how to dance to actual music. Riley took the box and quickly ripped it open, “I love it!” Riley squealed, holding up a a black jacket, adorned with sequins and glitter, and inscribed with signatures of each band member from Get Up and Glow. Said jacket was Limited-Edition, of which she was unawares. “It’s been sold out for months! How did you get it? How?” The two looked at her nervously. Grace cleared her throat, saying “Well….” “We have our ways.” Bree winked at Grace. “Bree means her dad works with a guy who knows a guy who-” Riley seemed suspicious, but it didn’t seem to bother them, as they scream for her to put it on, and shrieking in unison: “It’s so Glow Glamorous!” Riley thought to herself: “I guess this is how you make friends?” and attempted not to show her face, and instead screaming happily with the other girls. The last few months of middle school went swimmingly. She ended up going on a field trip to the Marine Life Institute, a sprawling concrete metropolis, filled with domes domes of swimming fish of various sorts. She watched otter’s hug, whales crash into windows, and generally enjoyed herself. She ended up naming a bird Becky, because it looked absolutely horrendous. She then went to a concert for Get Up and Glow with great excitement, along with Bree and Grace. It was their first one, and from what they heard, the last one. The stage was massive, sprawling seemingly forever, glowing brightly with it’s massive walls of light. The crowd vibrated, and she was confused whether or not it was herself or the others. Grace showed off her “lizard tongue” and Bree embraced her. She recognized the stadium, primarily used for hockey, converted into a massive floor for a mass of bodies, huddling around each other in embrace, holding their devices up, waiting for the it to start. The crowd roared as the lights dis began pulsing onstage.mmed and the strobes flashed. It was like a ceremony, like Mass, but much, much more crowded, louder, and significantly more absurd. They screamed in obligatory excitement, watching the band play the first bar of Riley’s “favorite” song, pumping bass into the air. The screeching highs pierced her ears, the middle range nearly made her wept, and the pulsating low made her body tremble. She ignored everything around her, as if in a trance, only fixating herself on the absolute wall of ceaseless noise she decided to embrace. Like smashing into a wall, the bass pushed her muscles slightly, hew jaw clenched slightly, and her eyes watered. There was beauty in the absurd noise, the senseless lyrics of “girl power” and “girl life”, and the screaming, wailing crowd heading towards the front of the stage. Grace attempted to pull her, but she was as if glued to the floor. Riley didn’t want to move, she was quite comfortable right there. A week later the band ceased. Middle school ended, and three weeks later was the hockey championship. Riley and her friends sat on the bleachers, discussing the various plans to win the championship. Sea Lions, they would likely be quite difficult, but their confidence overshadowed anything else. Riley mentioned they could bounce the puck off the wall, pass it underneath the opposing player, and hit the goal. The horn blared, letting the game begin. Riley ploughed through two opponents and slapped the puck into the goal. Each pass felt exihilerating, even after months of pracitice and familiarity. She sped through the rink, making a goal nearly every time. She trusted her DMR Carbo-speed stick and thanked it for the effort. The horn blared for intermission, and she went back to the bathroom to check on herself. She’s definently seemed older than last year, looking much more like an adult now than she did even a year ago. It made her full of pride. The second half started, and yet again she slapped the puck with ease. Every single shot made it, and they won the championship, whom they overpowered everyone else with one player. The entire team performed the Celly dance and hollered out it’s call. Riley felt a pang of disappointment, as it was the last year she was able to even play on the team, due to the restriction against high schoolers. The victory felt fleeting, and would soon be a distant memory. Somehow, she had to get a way to continue her hockey tenure, something that would extend it a bit longer. It still, and she had some doubt about it, reminded her of home. She didn’t want to let it go. Suddenly, a sullen, feminine voice called out behind them. “Hey, girls!” They turned around, seeing a tall, African-American, woman, likely in her middle-age. Her hair was short, her face a bit wrinkled, and her eyes gazed with great attention, and stood tall. Riley knew who she was, Coach Michelle Roberts, a high school varsity coach. “Congratulations on your win!” she said. The girls screamed excitedly, and Riley was relieved to have a chance to continue her hockey tenure. “What a game!” the coach exclaimed proudly, crossing her arms. “That last play. The three of you wre impressive.” “T-t-thanks, Coach Roberts!” Riley kneeled down almost as if by instinct. The coach had an announcement to make. “Look, it’s last minute. But, every year I host a three-day skills camp. I invite all the best players in the area, and it starts tomorrow. If you want, I’d love for you girls to come.” The girls were stunned, it was an offer they couldn’t refused. The affirmed, excitedly telling their parents about the team. Riley sat on her bed in preparation for the camp, treating every piece of equipment delicately, and she couldn’t keep her lips from smiling. The fact that she was invited by a varsity coach seemed to excite her. The absolute potential, the new world just beyond her reach. It seemed quite close, and yet, so far. Those were high schoolers, who would likely over-power her frail frame. Her parents opened the door, congratulating her on the win. Her Father hugged her dearly, impressed by his only daughter’s efforts. A thought came through her mind: “What if I don’t do well? What if Coach see’s me mess up so badly that she thought it was a mistake to invite me?” She remembered tripping another player, which forced her into the penalty box. After the embrace, Riley had to tell them something. “My penalty almost lost us the game today.” she said solemnly. “What if I get to camp and screw it up?” “Hey, don’t talk like that.” responded her Father. “You did great today, honey. Those Fire Hawks will be lucky to have you!” Riley made a slight smile, unsure of what to say. “We’re so proud of you.” “Night, Monkey.” and then they closed the door. She was chained to the wall, unable to get away. Every part of her that moved was chained: hands, feet, and neck. She wondered if she could every escape. And, she did. She woke up, unsure of what strange dream she just experienced. She had many dreams before, and she remembered the one with that clown and the purple elephant two years ago. She doesn’t remember both of their names. She went fast to sleep, forgetting the entire dream even happened. “Chains, why?” she thought. “Come on, Riley! We’re going to be late!” the sun shined brightly, emitting a bright ray of light to her window, shining her bed with a slight glow. Her father called again, this time more demanding. She ignored it once more, smacking her lips, tasting something horrible in her mouth. She lifted her head slowly, everything felt disorienting, and she now pays attention to every, single, detail. Every fiber of her being screamed, nothing felt right. Her father’s old Brang shirt and her sweatpants were dripping wet from sweat, in spite of the absence of a cover during the night. She has heard of this before from some other kids, but was unsure if she would ever get to experience it. The entire room was in chaos, nothing was in order, and her DMR bag still stood empty. Her Mother came into the room, complaining. “Riley? You haven’t packed up for camp?” She finally responds. “Ugh! Mom, you’re always on me! Can’t you lay off, for like, one, second?!” Her Mother stood back, her eyes widended, and she stared at her daughter. Riley breathed heavily, throwing a small fit for no apparent reason. Her Mother knew what was happening, it was the early stages of puberty. Her Mother asked. “Are you okay?” Riley overreacted once more, not startling her mother, but making her come closer. She attempted to reassure her. “You’re not gross, honey, you’re just changing. Remember that beautiful butterfly we saw in the park last week?” Riley’s face remained dumbfounded, and then she screamed. “Oh my gosh, Mom! Just go away!” and with a loud grunt immediately stomped out of the room and slammed the door. Her Mother thought to herself: “Maybe she needs to see a psychologist?” She packed Riley’s equipment and shoved it into the Caravan’s Stow and Go (despite having a back trunk large enough for the bag.) They headed north, slowly escaping the city limits and into the redwood forest. The sun shined brightly, casting it’s rays downward, bringing some brightness to an otherwise dim forest. The silence was deafening, except for the birds chirping and the sound of the wind. They made it to the campus, with it’s towering glass structures, steel beams, and various adults lounging around doing whatever they wanted. The glass is pristine and the wood surrounded the entire campus. Her Father murmured that it reminded him of Boot Camp, while her Mother silence him on the subject. The girls seemed quite excited about it, yammering away on their plans. Riley seemed particularly enthusiatic, showing them a photo of a brown woman with long hair, sporting a sliver of her hair dyed red. “Oh my gosh! Her name is Val (or Valentina Oritz) and she’s, like, the best! I mean, I could talk about her all day long! She’s, like, the best! And guess what, she’s our captain now!” She was a legend at Bridgeview Middle School, every single movement of hers was unparralled, unrivaled by anyone else. Riley treated her with both great jealously and respect. Admiring everything about her, and yet, also wanting to tear her down. Unfortunately, Grace’s face turned into a slight grimace, then a full on cringe. Riley wasn’t sure of what she was doing. Grace blurted out. “Coach Roberts isn’t going to be our coach next year! We got assigned to different high schools!” Riley felt her heart sank. Of all things, separation from the only friends she’s ever made in the town worried her. “We’ll still get to hang out, right?” Bree promised, but there was nothing to reassure them. They all agreed, this will be their last time playing on the same team together. Bree nervously chime in. “Friends are forever, right?” and fist-bumped Riley. Finally, they arrived at the rink, towering over them with it’s glass and steel structure. As they left the vehicle Riley’s Father joked. “You sure you don’t need an assistant coach? I’m available.” Riley rolled her eyes, said her goodbyes and reassured him that her phone was charged, and then they left. Her friends left without her. Tears welled up in her eyes, overwhelmed by the experience of loneliness for the first time in a long while, the towering structure, and the masses of people she doesn’t know. Her Father mentioning Boot Camp jokingly didn’t help. But she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of what she likened as the “cool kids” and immediately wiped away every tear. “I guess they have each other,” she whispered to herself bitterly. “Why would they need me?” She was quite hard on them, but she understood that it was outside of their control when it came to school assignment. She ran up the stairs, and slammed right into someone else. The other girl asked if she was alright, helping reorient herself on her feet. Riley rubbed her eyes and was quite shocked at the sight, Valentia Oritz, her idol, right in front of her. “Hey… Hi, I’m Valentina Or-” I know!” Riley’s voice went up a pitch. “You’re the varsity captain, you set the all-time goal record as a junior, your favorite color is red, your skate is nine and a half- just like me! You love-” Valentina cringed at the girl’s obnoxious rambling, but seemed to let it go after she quieted down. Valentina has heard of some blonde headed girl coming her way, and they exchanged names. “You’re from Michigan, right?” Riley was confused, and would have said “I’m from Minnesota” if it wasn’t for her head going in circles. All she could think was her idol, Val, even speaking to her in the first place, despite it being quite parasocial. “Yeah,” she responded. “that’s me! Riley from good ol’ Michigan.” and ended it with a nervous laughter. Riley reached her hand out, and immediately Val pushed her hair away. Riley snapped back, unsure of what she was doing. Val went down the hall with Riley in tow, entering the locker rooms to her right. Riley didn’t know what to expect, only believing it’s quite similar to the Foghorns, down to the musty smell of sweat and bleach. Everyone else seemed to quite familiar with each other except her, as if they have done this their whole life. She finally felt alone for the first time in a long while, and sat near her two friends, who were sitting on the bench by themselves. Val came up to her and offered. “I want you to meet the other Fire Hawks.” and grabbed her by the hand, showing her around the room. Every girl had a streak of red on their hair, likely signify their alliegance. “Why me?” she thought. “Does Val like me that much?” “Riley is from Michigan.” Val explained. “She and her two friends, Bree and Grace are at our camp today. Try your best to keep them company, alright?” One of the girls adorned with cropped brown hair and an eyebrow piercing, ask. “Where in Michgan are you from?” Riley stammered, unsure of what to answer. Finally, she did. “I’m from… all over.” The cropped haired girl responded. “Nice. I’ve got a cousin in Minneapolis.” Riley acknowledge it. Val offered Riley for her to sit with them, and she did.