Chapter Seven

When at last the bell sounded, ending first period, the members of the Chess Club slowly exited Room 44, their shades hiding the secrets they carried. Nicolle wasn’t really sure what to do next; so much thought had been set on arriving on time that she hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. Run around trying to find dead people? Knock off a few more plants? She now had a place in the world... an Artist of the Black in the Chess Club. A valued member, Dominic had told her. Our only Black Artistry. What was that feeling in Nicolle’s heart... the feeling of possibilities? That was a new one.

            Vee walked up beside her, books in hand.

            “By the way, Darlin’... you’re going home for the rest of the day.”

            Nicolle looked up at her. “Really?”

            “Yes ma’am. It’s policy... you can’t attend school until your partner judges that you can control your Artistry well enough to be around others.”

            Nicolle nodded - that policy sounded pretty cool to her - but: “I can’t really miss any more class... Mrs. Brewer begins deducting points after three absences, and Mr. Meister-”

            “- calls home after four, right,” she smiled, shaking her head. “You are such a newbie.”

            “Why?” Nicolle asked.

            “Because none of us ever care about that crap,” she said, hand on her hip.

            As Darius passed by he began walking backwards as he spoke. “We’re the Chess Club, baby! We do as we please!” 

            Vee watched him leave and then shrugged. “It’s true. We pretty much have the run of the place. Elyse has been an aide in the office for about three years, they trust her. And her emotion based Artistries help bend things here and there when needed. She adjusts things in the system however we need them to be, so we just don’t concern ourselves with absences or tardiness or that stuff.”

            “But... what about the actual teaching that’s missed? I’ll probably fail the tests if miss the class...”

            Vee was already shaking her head, her auburn hair swinging softly. “No ma’am. No more homework for you. Or tests. We pay Maria to do that for you.”

            “You pay her?”

            “Yup. For someone who has the theoretical knowledge of how to build a spaceship that could reach Mars - no joke, ask her about that sometime, it’s hilarious - you know, something like a Calculus test is pretty gravy. That’s one of the benefits of being a member of the Chess Club... just give her your homework assignments at the end of the day and she’ll do them that night.”

            Nicolle’s jaw was probably touching the floor. Holy moly. What had she just walked into...? If it smelled like Heaven, looked like Heaven, and sounded like Heaven...

            “So yeah,” Vee said. “Until I can tell Dom that you won’t kill anybody by accident, it’s back to the homefront for you, madam.”

            “Why you?” Nicolle asked.

            “Because I’m your partner.” She smiled. “Hope that’s okay.”

            It took Nicolle a moment to nod; they’ll have the same classes as you, probably be around you outside of school... Nicolle had never had a friend that was a girl before. Truth told, she was hard pressed to have ever had a friend at all.

            “Yeah… that’s fine.”

            “Beautimus. Also, if you don’t mind, I was thinking that since tomorrow is Saturday you could come stay at my house. Girl’s night, sort of, but I can teach you all about our rules, and policies, and benefits… the lowdown. Ease you into everything.” She leaned in for a whisper, a smirk on her face. “Talk about boys…”

            “A… … sleepover?”

            Vee grinned and nodded, probably hearing Nicolle’s panicky thoughts. Despite having made it to the age of eighteen Nicolle had never been to the home of another student, so obviously she had never had a sleepover either.

            “Mmhm… girly pajamas and all. Coming?” Nicolle didn’t even have to answer: telepathy. “Excelsior! And if you want we can meet up tomorrow and head into town, do a bit of shopping.”

            “Shopping? What for?”

            “We’re gonna run into the Galleria and get you some new outfits, Chess Club approved… it’s policy, we need you looking awesome… not to knock on how you look now, we just like our members to look powerful… influential.”

            What was being left unsaid was heard nevertheless; at the moment each member of the Chess Club looked incredible, and Nicolle looked... well, like she'd been raised in a nutty home with a nutty mother. You don’t show up to a presidential luncheon in overalls, you don’t go to the moon without a spacesuit, and you just don’t join the Chess Club wearing clothes found in a yard sale four years ago.

            “O… okay,” Nicolle said. Sleepovers, shopping days… things were changing so quickly…

            Vee grinned sympathetically and placed a hand on Nicolle’s shoulder. “Breathe, Nicolle. I know things were more… I don’t know… withdrawn for you before, but you’re not winging it alone now. Chess Clubbers have gotta be large and in charge.” She winked.

            Nicolle couldn't not smile. “Okay.”

            She was under the impression that she and Vee were alone; not so, though: movement in Nicolle’s peripheral vision caused her to jump. Elijah Beaumont was being very quiet and paying them no attention, placing his books into his bag. Nicolle watched the way his muscles moved in his forearms, so toned, the way his hair fell over his brow…

            “Now, I’m about to have to run for class,” Vee said, “but just a few reminders. Numero uno… all of this is top secret… comprendé? I’m talking, you’re going to have to be very mindful of hiding those Black…”

            Vee’s words slowed to nothing as a figure danced into Room 44. Vee growled under her breath and rolled her eyes; Presley Llewellyn had joined them.

            “Hello,” Presley waved to them as she entered. Vee said nothing; Nicolle raised a shy hand. To Elijah she said: “Let me guess… so overwhelmed with the urge to play chess, you skipped first period to play?”

            Presley was smiling and her words were not angry or upset, even under the surface, and yet something was there, Nicolle heard it; Presley was not in the know about the Chess Club. Even to his girlfriend Elijah Beaumont was hiding things.

            He looked up to her and smiled. “We had a meeting.”

            “A top secret meeting,” she stated, her face a ray of sunshine.

            “A top secret meeting,” he confirmed with a grin, and Nicolle realized something with pain; he was happy to see her. It was expected but not welcome.

            “To discuss super-secret chess things,” she said.

            Elijah took a deep breath, his grin remaining. “Chess secrecy of the highest caliber.”

            “Ah,” she said. “Care to share with me this world-important information?”

            Vee let out a low growl, quiet enough for only Nicolle to hear but loud enough to drown out Elijah’s reply, which she’d really wanted to hear.

            “Let’s get out of here,” Vee said, beginning for the door. “I’m about to barf everywhere.”

            Ignoring the talk coming from behind her - words like babe and sweetheart - Nicolle followed Vee out of Room 44, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. She had expected to run across a school-full of students, but no; the hallways were nearly as empty as they had been when Nicolle, only an hour before, had been going up to meet Vee.

            They didn’t speak walking to the door (or did they…? What all had Vee heard in Nicolle’s overwhelmed brain?); once there Vee surprised Nicolle by taking her hand and squeezing.

            “Go home… rest. Think it all over. When I see you tomorrow I expect you a little-less frazzled.”

            Nicolle nodded, taking Vee’s wit to heart. “I will.”

            Vee lowered her shades for only a heartbeat, just enough time to flash Nicolle a Blue-eyed wink, and backed away. “See ya, Darling.” She turned around again and left; even her walk, casual and smooth, said Chess Club, confidence, power; Nicolle made a mental note to consider a new walk.

            She felt a child-like glee in walking out of the school and towards the parking lot when she was supposed to be in class; there was something satisfactory in breaking the rules and it being okay; Vee had assured her that things of old... absences, failed assignments, rushing to avoid tardiness... were not the things of her new life. And holy moly, it felt nice; just walking to her car in the sunshine was a more exhilarating experience than entire days used to be. The grass seemed greener, the clouds more white, the sky unforgettable blue… a new world.

            Far from the school, on the distant end of the parking lot, Nicolle unlocked her car and fell into the driver’s seat; heat had built up inside, not too hot but warm and comforting contrasted to the cool breeze outside. Nicolle absorbed the silence, took a deep breathe; now in solitude she could unwind a little, think over the milestone she had just passed. She felt like a sponge attempting to soak up an ocean… there was so much to consider, so many questions, so much potential. The feeling was exquisite. No drug could hold a candle to this. She was in the Chess Club.

            Reflected sunlight, sharp and bright, caught her eye; Timmy’s Chevette was parked right beside hers, empty and yelling at her all the same. About now he would be noticing that she wasn’t going to second period; panic would sink in, fear that someone else was providing more fun or satisfaction to her than himself. This would torment him without ceasing, providing sorrow and resentment. She wasn’t happy to think of this - she had been his friend from pity, after all, she did care about his feelings - but she refused to allow Timmy Stoker’s smothering ways to taint the high she was on. He hated the Chess Club, though… she could just imagine Timmy on one end of the hall and the Chess Club, Nicolle Darling among them, on the other, shades in place. She wondered what would happen.

            At the moment she simply didn’t care; the airplane of her life was beginning to ascend. A genuine smile lit Nicolle’s face; when was the last time before today that had happened?! She had a future. She had friends, maybe. She had a Black Artistry; she had found meaning. What a feeling. What a feeling.

            “WaaaaaaaHOO!” Nicolle yelled out, loving how hideously stupid she sounded; she busted out laughing, partially delirious from joy, put the car in gear, and began to drive away, goosebumps spread across her skin. And, listening to the tick-tick-tick of her turn signal, it occurred to Nicolle that she had lived more in the last hour than she had in the past ten years. 

 

            “What are you so happy about?”

            Nicolle turned and looked at her mother. “Hm?”

            “Ma’am.”

            Nicolle cleared her throat. “Ma’am?”

            “You come bouncing through the door like you just got laid or something, bopping around the kitchen all happy,” Sylvia said. “Just wondering what you’re up to.”

            How long had Nicolle been home? Three minutes, maybe? She received no “why aren’t you in school”, or “hey, baby”. But her good mood couldn't be affected, not today; Nicolle gave her mother a toothy smile.

            “It’s a beautiful day… I’m just enjoying it.”

            Her mother made a noise that sounded like “plech” and looked back to the television; she had sunken down into her recliner in a way that reminded Nicolle of a jellyfish blob washed ashore. The beautiful day Nicolle had spoken of was nonexistent here; every blind was closed and some were even covered with blankets, making the entire house dark. Nicolle had to remove her shades to avoid walking into the refrigerator.

            Nicolle grabbed a Coke and quickly made for her room, escaping her mother’s eye. Once inside she rotated the blinds until they allowed in maximum sunlight; she was living a day that she would always remember, a focal point in her life; she knew that whenever she thought back to this day she would remember the sunlight (the new-era dawn, the sunlight in Vee’s red-brown hair, the sunlight on Elijah’s face, the vivid rays that met her as she exited the school) and wanted to soak up as much of it as she could.

            Nicolle fell onto her bed backwards, arms spread wide. What a feeling. And now what? She didn’t want to spend the rest of her day in her room, basking in the morning’s events… she wanted to do something. Anything, as long as it had to do with her Black Artistry (the thought made her feel special, important; her Black Artistry) or the Chess Club.

            A sleepover with Vee was coming, and a shopping day; she needed to prepare. And how cool was that?! In all of her life she had never been shopping with anyone, apart from trips into the city with her mother when she was younger. Nicolle balled up her fists in excitement… what a feeling!

            A sock she’d crammed into the bottom of her bent-and-dent dresser held the remainder of her earnings from the Grill; she yanked it out and poured the bills out on the bed. Two hundred and thirty bucks… still taking in concern that she was unemployed and needed to pay for her own gas, how much did that allow her to spend the next day? She didn’t feel like being rational; considering how big of a moment this was for her she decided to ignore a spending limit. How often did this sort of thing happen? She could get more moolah later; she would never get another day like she hoped the next one would be.

             She didn’t own a suitcase; Nicolle emptied her school book bag and began stuffing things in it. It was still a while before she would need to leave for Vee’s... it wasn’t until tomorrow... but Nicolle couldn’t resist the temptation to pack, to do something related to it. She even put in things like her toothbrush and toothpaste, things she would be taking back out that night to use.

            Nicolle walked back into the living room slowly; her mother had not moved so much as one-billionth of a centimeter since before. Her half-closed eyes did not look to Nicolle as she entered.

            “Um,” Nicolle started, “tomorrow night I’m going to be staying away from home for the night. At a friend’s house.”

            Her mother’s brow furrowed but she still didn’t look up.

            “What friend?”

            “A girl from school,” Nicolle said.

            Her mother had a collection of soda cans on the small table beside her; she wiggled two or three of them before finally finding the newest and picked it up. She slurped some down, wiped her mouth, and said, “I’ll think about it. I don’t think you’ve really earned it, myself.”

            Nicolle did a mental double-take. “Earned it?”

            “Look at this room, even,” Sylvia said, nodding around her; the living room had the look (and smell) of being the habitat for gorillas. “I don’t even charge you to stay here, you get room and board all free, so’s the least you could do is pick up some.”

            Nicolle stood there for a moment, mouth open, speechless, before turning and walking away. Not today, Nicolle told herself; today her mother wouldn’t trample her joy. And she was going to that sleepover.

            Nicolle spent the rest of the day in her room; sometime around eleven o’clock that night Nicolle drifted to sleep, her school yearbook open to page ninety-eight across her chest. And when she awoke the next morning, excitement coursing through her stomach, it was without memory of hearing Nicky whispered to her during the night, the sound coming as if faint and far away.

 

            Nicolle spent something in the range of thirty to forty minutes getting ready that morning; though she didn’t believe she owned anything that made her look good, she still donned her best. She was excited - on a one to ten scale? Eleven - and practically danced between her room and bathroom. She was also nervous… on a one to ten scale? A billion.

            “NICOLLE!”

            “Yea...er… ma’am?!”

            Her mother, out of sight: “What are you doing?!”

            Nicolle with a plop of moose in her palm: “I’m in the bathroom!”

            Her mother, perhaps with a mouthful of peanuts or something: “Doing what?!”

            Nicolle, moose now applied: “Getting ready!”

            Her mother, letting out a belch: “Urgh… go pick up some milk for me! When ya leaving?!”

            Good question, Nicolle thought; she’d set her alarm clock early to give herself time to properly get ready, but who knew? Perhaps Vee would want to go later in the day, though Nicolle really hoped that wasn’t the case. If Vee was the mind-reader Nicolle hoped she was perhaps she already knew as much. And where were they meeting? Who was driving? Did Nicolle look alright? How much was this going to cost? Was anyone else coming?

            Saved by the cell; the text jingle was not even fully completed before Nicolle exploded back into her room and snatched the phone off her bed. The number was not one saved to her phonebook but Nicolle knew who it was:

 

            About ready Darling? : )

 

            Nicolle typed out four or five responses... one breezy, the other serious, another cool, an attempt at humor... before finally settling for:

 

            Yes.

 

            The reply came in no time:

 

            Neato… meet me in the school parking lot at 10:30, if that sounds okay.

 

            Nicolle confirmed that yes, it did sound okay; half-crooked sunglasses in place, overstuffed book bag on her shoulder, she left her room, darted across the TV, and walked out the front door.

 

            Nicolle remembered how Timmy had looked that day, when he had been waiting for her the morning her eyes had turned Black, attempting an impressive pose beside his car when she drove up. He’d failed, possessing no game whatsoever, instead coming off as overly dramatic, perhaps a bit loony. The girl with the white aviators, arms behind her back, legs crossed, leaning against a blue Bug: she had serious game.

            The day’s light was much like the one before it, with a few clouds in the sky but not many; a stronger breeze buffeted the Grand Am as Nicolle came to a stop beside the Bug, the only two cars in the parking lot.

            With a smile Vee popped open her car door and fell into the driver’s seat. Nicolle grabbed her things, stepped out into the wind, ran over to the Bug’s passenger side, and climbed in.

            “Howdy partner,” Vee said.

            “Hi,” Nicolle said quietly.

            “Ready Freddy?”

            “Huh?”

            Vee laughed, a fun sound, and put the car in drive. “You’re gonna be a hoot. Let’s get out of here.”

 

            About three miles away from the school parking lot Vee turned to her right, looked at Nicolle, and burst out laughing.

            “What?” Nicolle asked; at that moment she was certain Vee had seen a booger on her face or something, and had that been the case Nicolle would have probably launched herself out the door.

            Vee waved a hand at Nicolle, dismissing her unspoken fears. “No”, she said, “I’m laughing at how you’re sitting. Either you’re plum scared or you’ve gotta pee.”

            Nicolle looked herself over. Her hands were clasped before her; her knees were locked together tight. Even her shoulders were hunched over, as if her goal had been to take up as little space as possible. The truth was that Nicolle was outside her comfort zone; she’d never before been in such a nice car...every vehicle ever owned by her family blew chunks, sometimes literally... nor had she ever been in such a personal space with someone of Vee’s social stature. Oh, and lastly: she’d never ridden in a car with a telepath.

            “Well, I’ve never ridden in a car with a medium,” Vee said with a cool smile. “This is a day of firsts.”

            A medium, Nicolle thought with wonder. That was her.

            “I can read minds,” Vee said, “but I don’t know everything… there are a ton of things I’m wondering about Nicolle Sabrana Darling, age eighteen, birthday October 28^th, annoyed by and sometimes concerned about someone named...Timmy Stoker?" She turned to Nicolle and smirked.

            “Er. Wow.”

            “I collect bits of info over time, but I can only read one mind at a time and, though it’s not hard to read minds, it’s not terrifically easy either. So I don’t know way more than I do know. May I run some things by you?”

            Nicolle had rehearsed this earlier; inevitably Vee would ask her about her prior experience with her “Artistry”, and Nicolle would tell her everything, even the seeing the dead part… but having seen Adam was still her personal thing she would keep to herself.

    She swallowed. "Sure."

            “Okay, question one,” Vee said. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

            Nicolle turned and stared. “Music?”

            “Mmhm,” Vee said. As an aside: “We’ll jump into the official business later. I kinda wanna get to know you first.” As Nicolle mulled over this Vee added: “Elyse told me our personality types would go together well, so.”

            “She did?”

            “She did. Music?”

            “Um… I don’t like rap, really. I listen to contemporary rock kind of stuff. And some classical stuff.”

            “Ok,” Vee said. “Hit me.”

            “What?”

            “You’re turn, I mean,” Vee said.

            At first Nicolle had nothing to ask, drawing a complete blank, before suddenly she had so much to ask. She started with: “How long have you been in the Chess Club?”

            “Since the very beginning,” she said, chin up. “Three years and some odd months, now. I wasn’t a founder but I was the first person to join. Eli and Dom were the founders.”

            “Elijah Beaumont founded the Chess Club?” Nicolle knew this already; it had been on the sign-up sheet. But it was still difficult to understand… why refuse to take part in something you helped establish?

            Vee laughed. “I like how you say his full name, like he’s a celebrity.”

            Nicolle had no reply for this: she wondered if Vee could hear her reciting the National Anthem in her head.

            “Yep… ze brotherz Beaumont were ze first,” Vee said, apparently changing her accent for the fun of it. She’d looked fairly aloof, eyes on the road, casual and cool, until she caught the thought of shock in Nicolle’s mind and looked over at her. “You didn’t know Dom and Eli were brothers?”

            Nicolle was going over their facial profiles in her head. Wow, she could see it now; Elijah was a little taller than Dominic (and by Nicolle’s judgment more attractive as well) but there was a resemblance, no doubt. How had she missed it? “No, I didn’t.”

            “Fraternal twins,” Vee said. “Their eyes changed on the same day, which opens up all kinds of interesting theories about the changing process and how it works… they created the Chess Club together, in hopes of finding Artists and educating them.” Nicolle’s heart was racing for some reason; she was excited about this sudden topic and was a little disappointed when Vee said: “Ok, my turn. Do you have any siblings?”

    "Siblings...?" Nicolle asked.

            “MOVE YOUR PUNY A*S THIS SECOND.”

            But he didn’t. Nicolle could not see Fire Woman, she could only hear her. Wolf Boy had taken the front lines for himself, arms stretched wide; Salem crouched behind him, her heart thumping in fear.

            “I… SAID… MOVE!”

            But he didn’t. “She didn’t mean to, Mama. Don’t whoop her.”

            “IF YOU DON’T MOVE THIS INSTANT I’M GOING TO TEAR YOU TO PIECES! NOW MOVE!!”

            But he didn’t.

            Nicolle opened her mouth to respond but stalled, a sharp Blue catching her peripheral vision; Vee was staring at her. Something was different… the Vee that Nicolle had become acquainted with was a whimsical, charismatic personality, a clever smile almost always on her face. That smile was gone; a new expression replaced it, both compassionate and fierce. Nicolle had never divulged her home life to anyone… Timmy knew it was bad, but she had never given details.

            Vee looked back to the road. Among the benefits of riding with a telepath: they know when to talk and they know when not to talk. When she spoke her voice was soft and caring.

            “Your turn, Darling.”

            Nicolle took a deep breath and spoke, her voice barely audible. “How about you? Do you have any siblings?”

            Vee shook her head. “No.” For the course of five or six seconds the only sound was the wind around the car. Then, a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth, Vee added: “But I’ve always wanted a sister.”

 

            “Your turn again,” Vee said.

            Nicolle had never been to the Galleria; its high glass ceilings actually took her breath away. The rumble and buzz of a thousand conversations going on at once got her blood pumping; this was much different from her typical Saturday. She had to have looked completely lost, but Vee knew what she was doing; she guided Nicolle from store to store, forcing Nicolle into outfits she never would have dreamed of wearing, asking her to spin so she could see all sides; they rode up and down the escalators a few unnecessary times just for the fun of it, got ice cream in the food court, and dipped into the pet store to play with the animals. 

            “Okay,” Nicolle said, laughing. Laughing. “You said that I’m not allowed to pay for anything today… but I’m not going to let you pay for this stuff, these clothes cost a ton.”

            “I’m not,” Vee said, taking a sip of her Mega Gulp. “The Chess Club’s covering the tab. We have a treasury set up and we’ve gotten a good bit of dough over the years, winning chess tournaments. It’s pretty easy to win that game when you know what you’re opponent’s about to do.” She slapped her knee, hilarity coming to mind. “Those little guys at those tournaments get so pissed when they lose, you should have seen this one guy, once. Maria and I just take turns winning. We actually won one thousand dollars once for this one tournament, the trophy’s back in the Hideout. So don’t sweat it, this stuff is already paid for.”

            “Your turn to ask again,” Nicolle said. She had learned so much about Vee playing this little game; she liked to read suspense novels, hated the taste of acai juice, once punched a boy for thinking “something very obscene”, enjoyed swimming, took two years of tae kwon do, hated romantic comedies (“usually”), could juggle, and originally wished she had developed a Black Artistry. The reason: she missed her grandmother. “But that’s not to say I still wish that,” she had said. “I’m true Blue these days.”

            “Oh my word,” Vee said, shaking her head. “Everyone in here today is having such weirdo thoughts… that guy that just walked passed us likes the smell of vomit, how nasty…”

            “Your turn, Vee,” Nicolle said again.

            “Alright… do you wish you had a different A-R-T-I-S-T-R-Y?”

            “I doubt you have to spell it, no one would have a clue…”

            “Maybe, maybe not, can’t take chances, Darling.”

            “I wanted anything but Black to begin with,” Nicolle said. “It was terrifying.” It still was, actually. Nicolle had caught herself wondering how many of the mall shoppers were actually dead.

            “Can I be honest with you?” Vee said.

            Nicolle turned to Vee, her expression maybe a little worried. “Okay.”

            “Those sunglasses suck.”

            Nicolle laughed. “They’re not mine… I kind of stole them from my stepdad. I think he sat on them at some point…”

            “Well, they’re hideous and old,” Vee said. “It’s time.”

            “What for?”

            “For you to take that step we all have taken.” Her voice was sage like; she placed a hand on Nicolle’s shoulder. “You need your own pair.”

            Nicolle laughed, but deep down something spoke to her, bringing her attention to the importance of the moment: Your own Chess Club sunglasses. The idea that she would ever own a pair of Chess Club sunglasses... the idea that she would ever be doing what she was currently doing, with a Chess Club member... would have seemed ludicrous to her just days ago.

            Vee grinned. “Come on.”

            She dragged Nicolle by the hand into the nearest high-dollar clothing store and into the back corner, where a wall of sunglasses was on display. They all looked nice, but so expensive…

            “Price isn’t an issue,” Vee said. “Take those off, but keep your eyes closed until I put these on you, okay?”

            Nicolle removed her old sunglasses and closed her eyes. After a moment Vee slid a pair onto her face.

            “Whatcha think?”

            “Nah,” Nicolle said, staring at her reflection. “Too… something.”

            And so they continued, shades on, shades off, until at last Nicolle opened her eyes, looked in the mirror, and smiled. The aviators were like Vee’s but they were black, not white, and they didn’t have glitter on them. They were awesome. Nicolle was a bit awed by her reflection, actually… as if, for the first time, she was seeing herself as a member of the Chess Club.

            “Well lookey there,” Vee said. “I think we have a winner.”

            “Lookey there,” Nicolle said, “I think we do.”

 

            The sun was setting; in the west was that golden apple light that reminded Nicolle of childhood twilights; in the east indigo covered the sky, a few evening stars sneaking out early. Bags and bags of new outfits sat in the floorboard at Nicolle’s feet, “cute clothes” for that all important first day back as a Chess Club member. For a minute Nicolle lamented that she was returning home, an unfortunate end to an extraordinary Saturday, but then excitement roared back to life inside her: she wasn’t going home. She was going to Vee’s house.

            “I like you, Darling,” Vee suddenly said. Nicolle was sucker punched by an odd urge to cry.

            “I like you too.”

            Vee grinned, keeping her eyes on the road. “I know.”

            They rolled down the windows and let the wind in their hair, blasting  music from the speakers, singing along in laughter or just humming the tunes.