Author's note: Sorry about the short chapters! I know most people don't prefer them, but they're more manageable for me. This story is up to chapter 11 over on Archive of Our Own, but a reviewer requested I post it over here as well, so my apologies for the formatting issues! I'm still trying to figure out how to get my section breaks to transfer over. When I'm not insanely busy, I try to do a new chapter every couple of days, or every week at most; when I am busy, it's more like every couple of months.
"It's another hurricane. That's gotta be it, estoy segura."
"So it's gotta be a bad one, right? They turned off the TV because there's news coverage and they don't want us to see."
"Ay!" Gloria rounded on them, giving Maritza a light slap upside the head and fixing Flaca with a steely look. "Don't scare the pregnant girl."
"Sorry, Daya," Flaca said absently, sitting up on her elbows. "I don't think it's raining."
"Sí, not yet, but they report on these things early, you know." Maritza shrugged, looking around at the others gathered in Gloria's bunk. "I'm not trying to scare her. But we wanna prepare her, because of last time. If it—" The clatter of footsteps cut her off, and they all looked up to see Officer Bennett rushing down the aisle towards them.
"Hey guys, is Daya h— oh, thank God." Relief spread across his face when he spotted her reclining on Gloria's bed. "Can we have a second?" Maritza gave everyone a significant look (then immediately had to dodge Gloria's hand again) as they stood and filed out.
"He's gonna tell her about the hurricane," Flaca whispered urgently the second they were out of earshot. Gloria rolled her eyes.
"He's gonna talk to her about the baby the way he always does, so cállate la boca and ven conmigo; let them do their thing."
"So… wait." Tiffany leaned further over the sink, peering into the dirty mirror. "Do I gotta keep cutting it? Keep it short? 'Cause you know it's just gonna keep growing back; it's already almost longer than my ears."
Boo considered the question, trying to decide which answer would bring the most amusement. "… Eh. I'll tell you what. Since you've been doing so well with the initiation, we're gonna let you grow it out. If you can remain true to the movement, you won't have to worry too much about looking the part."
"Okay." Tiffany tugged a strand of her hair down, as if she could pull it longer right now. She 'd never had hair this short in her life— and while she was getting used to it, sometimes it still took her a moment to recognize herself when she saw her reflection in passing. "But how do I remain true?"
Boo walked over to stand next to her at the mirror, copying the tugging gesture with a strand of her own hair and making Tiffany grin. "You say your prayers every night before bed, right?"
"Of course."
"Before you do that, you're going to have to recite the Dyke Pledge of Allegiance. Don't worry— it's short, and easy to memorize. I'll jot it down and get it to you by the end of the day." Once she wrote it.
Tiffany nodded seriously. "That don't sound so—" She was cut off by the blaring of the alarm. Both women hit the floor.
"Again?" Tiffany shook her head incredulously. "We just had one of these a few weeks ago for that black lady."
"All inmates return to your bunks for a count immediately."
"Yup," said Boo, hauling herself off the ground and offering Tiffany a hand up. "One of us makes it out and gets hit by a van, and suddenly everybody wants a piece of the action. Come on. I'll teach you the Dyke Pledge some other day."
