Alejandra Carmen Loud, known far and wide as Alex (or Alej, she guessed, if you wanted to split hairs) stood in front of the bathroom mirror on a warm Friday evening in late June and checked her reflection for blemishes, imperfections, and, most importantly, pimples. She was sixteen, shoved greasy food down her gullet like the government was going to ban it (which, if the Health and Regulatory Act of 2043 passed the Senate, it would), and didn't always wash her face the way she should (okay, she didn't wash it at all, except in the shower). Because of that, she got pimples and blackheads a lot. They usually clustered around her temples and hurt like a mofo to pop, but sometimes they grew on the tip of her nose, which made them impossible to get because trying to pop them felt like a knife was being plunged into the center of her brain. Ahh, I'm sorry, Jason, I won't do drugs/have sex/swim in your lake ever again, I promise, please stop murdering me.
There were no unsightly flaws today, though. Her caramel colored cheeks were as smooth as a baby's bottom and her pert little nose was free of owies. She slipped a brush out of a wicker basket on the back of the toilet and ran it through her long, black hair, wincing when she hit a knot. Ow! No matter how many times a day she brushed, she always wound up with tangles. She was seriously considering cutting it all off, but she kind of liked not being completely bald. She wasn't a fashion Nazi like her aunt Lola or anything (Alex was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal), buf she liked to look halfway nice, and having a bare dome that ginted and gleamed in the sunlght was not nice.
At least for her. Chris Slade, the drummer for AC/DC, freaking rocked a bald head. Rob Halford too,
Done with her hair, she brushed her teeth and gargled with Listerine. Her dad told her a story about his childhood once where he stole a Listerine Strip from auntie Luna but it wound up being a tab of LSD instead. He said he tripped balls for six hours and thought his pillow was going to eat his head. LOL. She doubted that really happened, but it'd be hysterical if it did, especially since he grew up to be so straight-laced. No drinking, no smoking, no cursing, church every Sunday - guy was a total buzzkill. She loved her but really, man, c'mon, I can't have the Highway to Hell CD because the cover is "Satanic"? Mom is right, you're a LAME-O, God.
Spitting into the sink, she flashed a toothy smile at the looking glass.
She was ready for phase two.
In her room, she kicked through drifts of dirty clothes, books, and DVD cases and sat on the edge of her bed. She bent to grab her shoes (red Converse All-Stars because those are the coolest kicks ever) but faltered.
They weren't there.
Uh, where are my shoes?
She blinked as if they would suddenly materialize, but nope, no shoes. Huh. She knew they were here earlier. She kept the patch of floor next to her bed clean and clear so that she didn't lose her most important stuff - like her shoes, or her iPhone if she fell off the nightstand. Her habit was to come home, sit down right in this exact spot, and peel her shoes off, leaving them right...there, next to the empty case for GoodFellas (where was the DVD, anyway?). That was a holy ritual that she undertook every single day, like how auntie Leni's holy ritual is to say "totes" a bunch.
Someone must have stolen them.
Alex's eyes narrowed and she creaked her head toward the open window. A cool breeze stirred the curtains, and the smell of freshly cut grass filtered through the screen. Scarlet light painted the sky in watercolor hues and long shadows crept across the side yard like demons in one of the horror movies she watched on her phone at night. In the west, the sunlight was rapidly draining from the sky and the lamps up and down Cleveland Street were probably just now winking on. She didn't know if the hour before dusk counted as "broad daylight" but it was close enough - someone opened her window screen, climbed in, took her shoes, and climbed back out again in broad daylight. What's this world coming to? I tell you, it's -
Mom's voice shattered the silence and Alex jumped a foot. "Alex! Get your shoes out of the kitchen! NOW!"
Oh. Right. She must have kicked them off when she came home from hanging out at auntie Luan's house. She didn't remember doing it, but it made sense: Auntie Luan was a health nut who hated snacks, so every time Alex came home from chilling with her cousins Jessy, Lorenzo, Luca, and Lara, the first place she went was the kitchen to stock up.
"Coming!"
She grabbed a pair of dirty socks from the floor, slipped them on over her feet, and got up, jamming her phone into her pocket. On her way out, she checked herself in the full length mirror on the back of the door: In tight jeans and a black T-shirt with KROKUS across the front in yellow, she looked awesome.
But she always looked that way, so…
In the kitchen, The Mom Formerly Known as Ronnie Anne stood over a steaming pot of Mexican soup and stirred it with a wooden spoon. Alex spotted her shoes next to the fridge, grabbed them, and tugged them on, dancing on one foot and then the other. "Are you leaving?" Mom asked.
"Yeah, I better get going."
"Be home by ten."
"I will."
After trading kisses goodbye (you know how affectionate we Latins are), Alex hit the road. Her house, a tiny ranch, sat at the end of a narrow residential street overhung with leafy trees. The late afternoon heat wrapped itself around Alex like a wet towel and sweat sprang to her brow. Whew. Gotta love that heat. It was better than the cold, though; Alex hated the cold. She was half Latino and Latino people do not do well in the bitter Michigan cold.
A mile and a half later, just as the streetlights zapped on one-by-one, she reached Aunt Lynn's house, a stylish one story something or other with a stone facade, bay windows, and a pitched roof over the door. Aunt Lynn's brand new Bently sat in the driveway, all sleek flanks and smooth plains. Aunt Lynn owned a car lot that she took from her second husband in the divorce and made money hand over fist. Her house wasn't very big, but trust me, she's loaded.
Alex went up the flagstone walk and knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened and Clyde McBride, clad in a pair of dress pants and a sweater vest, appeared.
Two years ago, Lynn's then husband walked in on her "with" Clyde (which is how the divorce happened). As soon as the paperwork was finalized, Lynn and Clyde got married and started pumping out kids. So far, they had two, a boy and a girl. Lynn ordered poor Clyde around like a housewife and Clyde catered to her every whim. If word on the street is to be believed, they went to swinger parties and had sex with other people as well.
"Hey, Alex," Clyde said.
"Hey, Mr. McBride," Alex replied, "Lynnette here?"
"Sure, come on in."
The door opened onto a wide living room with cream colored carpet. A leather sofa faced a plasma screen TV and a glass coffee table sparkled in the overhead light. Mr. McBride minced off to the kitchen to finish dinner and Alex went down the hall to Lynnette's room, a small, obsessively tidy space with bare walls, a single twin sized bed, and a desk beneath the window. Lynnette sat on her bed in a green and black bodysuit (the kind all the cool kids were wearing in the year 2043). Her blonde hair was pulled back from her broad head in a ponytail and her hands rested in her lap.
How could Alex describe her relationship with Lynnette? A long time ago (twenty-one years, eight months, and three days, to be exact), something strange happened in the Loud house. See, it was summertime and Aunt Lynn had just been accepted to the best college in the country where she would get to play on their storied women's basketball team. For some reason, she and Dad were home alone, and after getting drunk on Grandpa's secret stash, they, uh, got a little frisky with each other and wound up banging on the living room floor.
As you may have expected, Aunt Lynn walked away from that encounter with more than just shaky knees and carpet burn on her butt.
She had a bun in the ol' oven.
A Lynnette shaped bun.
Long story short, Dad married Mom and Lynn married her first husband. In the early days, Lynnette used to come over to Mom and Dad's on the weekends, but then she turned into a sullen teenager and that stopped. These days, she was a community college dropout, a DoorDash delivery driver, and Alex's girlfriend.
Yes.
You read that right.
C'mon, it's not as bad as it sounds. Look, incest is only teh big gay because everyone's afraid of incest babies. Alex and Lynnette were both girls, so it's not like they were going to pop out kids with abnormalities: No cleft palates, schizophrenia, or spaghetti legs for this gruesome twosome.
If you're wondering how in the world Alex could fall for her half-sister, well...Lynnette made her feel good, and being with her was like...you know how The Wizard of Oz starts in black and white but switches to color when Dorothy gets to Oz? Yeah, like that.
Hey, love is love. If you're down with two women getting it on, why not two half-sisters? Sure, you might think it's icky, but you know what, buddy? They used to think black people were icky too, and I don't see very much segregation these days.
When Alex came in, Lynnette looked up, face blank and devoid of emotion. Alex dropped onto the bed with a bounce and flopped back. Draw me like one of your French women, Jack. Lynnette fixed her with an expressionless look. "Don't...do that." She spoke in a flat monotone that made her sound like a robot.
"Cut me some slack, it was a long walk over," Alex said. She rolled onto her side and rested her cheek in her upturned palm. "You're wearing that on our date?"
"Why...wouldn't I? It's what I usually wear."
Alex shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno, it's just hot out there."
"It got hot when you walked in," Lynnette said, "and you don't see me...taking it off."
Alex grinned and slided up to her sister-cousin-lover. "Maybe you should." She laid her hand on Lynnette's leg, pulled herself closer, and placed a hungry kiss on her arm.
Lynette yanked away. "I'm not in the mood for...that," she said.
Sighing, Alex threw herself back against the bed. Alex loved the blonde, but she could be such a stick in the mud sometimes. They'd been together for eight months now - ever since Lynette professed her feelings and gave Alex mind-blowing head - and Alex had spent much of that time trying to get her to loosen up her butthole.
It was going...well…
Like they say, one step at a time.
"Fine," Alex huffed, "you ready?"
"Where are we going?" Lynnette asked a few minutes later. They were following the sidewalk toward downtown Royal Woods. A tiny crack of orange defined the western horizon and purple twilight filled the world like black water.
Alex took Lynnette's hand and threaded their fingers together. "Somewhere," she chirped.
She had been planning hers and Lynette's date for weeks now and she was stoked.
Lynnette stiffened and tried to pull her hand away, but Alex held fast. "Stop. Someone might...see."
"So?" Alex asked. "You're not embarrassed of me, are you, Lynnette?"
"No," Lynnette said, "but we're...sisters."
They were on Main Street now, town ahead. Cars passed by on either side of the street and a warm breeze rustled the trees lining the sidewalk. "Yeah," Alex said and squeezed her hand, "and sisters hold hands. What?"
"What if someone realizes?"
Alex shrugged but didn't let go. They weren't obviously sisters - Lynnette was tall, white, and blond, and Alex was short and Latinotastic - but some people knew they were related. Those people were few and far between, though, which Alex now pointed out. "Plus," she added, "girls are like that. They act like lezzies without actually being lezzies."
Lynnette was quiet.
For all of her great qualities, ol' Lynn part three was a little weird when it came to displaying her emotions. You better believe she had them, but she kind of looked at showing them the way a normal person looks at showing their private parts. OMG, I'm naked, SHAME! SHAME! She reminded Alex of Hank Hill. You know Hank, the guy from King of the Hill? He was an old school manly man who acted like guys couldn't have any emotions or they were gay. Alex delighted in kissing her cheek in public and making her blush. No, Alex, not...here, she'd say, a little note of horror creeping into her voice. Yes, Alex, Alex would reply, RIGHT here.
Instead of going into one of the shops or restaurants on Main, they passed through and kept going. After crossing the Royal River, Main turns into Route 12 and curves away to the right. Darkness closed over them, and with it came the soothing night song of a million crickets. Overhead, icy stars splattered the inky heavens, and looking up, Alex spotted something streaking across the sky. "Make a wish," she said.
"I wish you would tell me where we're going."
Alex hummed. "I guess all wishes don't come true."
Lynnette sighed.
A half mile later, the pine trees pressing against either side of the road fell away. Off to the left, lights clustered together in a field, a hundred or more cars parked in the cars between them and the highway. Faint strands of music and the good, ghostly smells of fried food seasoned the air.
"The carnival?" Lynnette asked.
Alex grinned. "The carnival."
Rides, booths, concession stands, and food trucks flanked a grassy midway at the head of which sat a massive Farris wheel. Metal barricades and a box office guarded the main entrance and orange mesh fencing edged the parameters. A cacophony of noises washed over them as they approached - laughter, dings, the clack of metal wheels on metal tracks, someone yelling "Step right up!" At the ticket booth, Alex paid, then led Lynnette through the gate.
"There are a lot of people here." Lynnette said. Though her voice was as flat as always, Alex could detect a hint of apprehension. She didn't do well in large crowds. She didn't go crazy or anything, they just made her uneasy.
"Don't worry about them," Alex said and slipped her arm through Lynnette's. "Worry about me, your awesome -"
Principal Mason from the high school walked past.
" - sister."
Their first stop was at a booth where a carny with scars on his face waited for marks to come and part with their money. For five dollars, Alex got three plastic balls: The point of the game was to knock over a big glass bottle. Alex leaned left and right to examine it, but couldn't tell if it was weighed down or not. Probably was. Carnies are the biggest hustlers in the world after fan artists and they will take you for all you're worth. "Alright," Alex said and rolled her neck, "I'm gonna win you something."
Lynnette scanned the prizes. Toys. Stuffed animals. "There's nothing I like."
"What about that chip bat?" Alex asked and nodded to a plushie. It was a potato chip with bat wings and little fangs to suck the joy out of things.
Lynnette pursed her lips. "I don't like those."
"You're impossible sometimes," Alex sighed.
Taking a step back, she rolled her shoulders, stretched, bent, and cracked her neck. Lynnette and the carny both eyed her as though she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. "Alright," Alex said, "let's do this."
She wound up and pitched. The ball hit the bottle and bounced off. "Strike one," the carny said around the filter of his cigarette.
Darn.
Alex rocked back and forth on her heels. "Alright. This one for sure. Mark my words."
"I will," Lynnette said.
Taking a deep breath, Alex wound up again and let fly. The ball missed by a mile, struck a teddy bear in the face (sorry!), and rolled away. "Steeee-rike two."
UGH.
A wan smile played at the corners of Lynnette's lips.
"That one doesn't count," Alex said.
"Typical," Lynnette said.
tYpIcAl.
Okay, one ball left. Alex flexed, jumped in place, twisted from side to side to limber herself up, and regulated her breathing. "You makin' a exercise video?" the carny asked.
Ignoring his 'tude, Alex locked her eyes on the bottle. She was going to win her girlfriend a cute chip bat whether her girlfriend wanted it or not and that was final. She was Alex Loud, no two-bit carny game was going to stop her.
Stepping back, she lifted one foot off the ground, coiled her arm, and whipped the ball with all her might. On the forward swing, she lost her balance and spun around, her heart rocketing into her throat. She went down and landed on her side, the air knocking from her lungs. Before she could register her colossal failure, Lynnette was helping her to her feet and checking her for wounds like a worried mother. "Are you alright?"
No, she was badly bruised.
In her ego.
The carny laughed and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "Now that was funny right there." He reached under the counter and brought out half a pack of Juicy Fruit. "Tell you what, you can have this. Think of it as a...consolation prize."
Really? A pack of gum? Are you serious? How insulting! How degrading!
Alex swiped it off the counter and held it out to Lynnette. "Here you go. I won you this."
"I don't like Juicy Fruit."
Alex's face fell.
"Sorry I didn't win you something better," Alex said as they walked away. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"You don't have to do that," Lynnette said. "I really don't c -"
Alex cut her off. "Look! Bumper cars!"
Lynnette started to speak but Alex tugged her toward the bumper car set up. The blonde let herself be dragged like a woman by an excited dog and offered no protest as they waited in line behind a group of teenagers. "Don't hit me," she said when they reached the gate. "It makes me nervous."
"I won't," Alex promised. "We'll just go for a nice, leisurely drive."
"That sounds...good."
When their turn came, the operator helped them each into a car and pulled the safety belts tigiht across their chests. Alex firmly grasped the wheel like her name was Squidward and waited impatiently for the operator to finish buckling everyone else in. She glanced at the next car over, where Lynnette faced forward with her hands at 10 and 2, and batted her eyes. "Feels good to be in the driver seat, huh?"
Lynnette turned and fixed her with a baleful glare. Lynnette was almost twenty-two and still didn't know how to drive. Clyde tried to teach her but she was entirely uninterested. She said My bike's good enough. Alex couldn't deny that - her leg and pelvic muscles were really, really strong wink-wink - but she liked to rib her anyway.
"Even Auntie Leni can drive," she said.
"Not very well."
"She can still do it, though."
The operator got behind the panel and flipped a switch. Lynnette pressed down on the gas and her car jolted forward. Alex pulled away from the curb, got clear of the other cars, and executed a perfect three point turn. She spotted Lynnette across the floor, driving along like an old grandma on her way to church, and spun the wheel. She pointed the nose of the car at Lynnette and waited for her to get into position.
Come on.
Come on.
Lynnette went around the rink and passed in front of Alex's crosshair. Giving out a high pitched battle cry, Alex stomped the gas and shot forward. Lynnette turned and saw her, and her face went white. She got out of the way, and suddenly Alex was hurtling toward the wall. Her heart jumped and she stamped the brake, but the pedal went all the way to the floor.
Screaming in holy terror, Alex threw her arms up to protect her face. The car hit the wall and tore through in a shower of splintering plywood. It dropped to the ground and kept going, tearing up chunks of grass. People yelled and jumped out of the way. A clown in big floppy shoes walked in front of her, and she wailed. He turned, screamed, and started to run away. The car gave chase like something from a Stephen King novel, and Alex repeatedly hit the brake in hopes that it would work this time. The clown threw a frightened look over his shoulder and howled. "Get out of the way!" Alex screamed. "I don't wanna kill you!"
He dove to the left and Alex jerked the wheel. The car fishtailed, sideswiped a booth, and started to roll. She would have been crushed, but at the last minute, her dry rotted safety belt (which she didn't know was dry rotted) snapped, and she was thrown ten feet away, landing in front of the tilt-a-whirl. She moaned and tried to get to her feet, but the world was spinning too fast and she flopped onto her back. Lynnette ran over and Alex winced. "Ow. My tit."
Lynnette stared down at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. She doubled over, waved her hand (stop, stop, you're killing me), and shook with the force of her amusement. Alex sat up and rubbed her head, and Lynnette hitched like she was choking to death. Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Alex's brow knitted in anger...then smoothed because the sound of her sister-cousin-girlfriend's laughter was really cute. "Yeah, yuk it up," Alex said.
"You should have seen your face," Lynnette said. "It was priceless. You looked like you were going to shit yourself."
"I think I did." She craned her neck to see around Lynnette. "How's that clown? I almost clipped him." Twin tracks of mutilated earth led back to the bumper cars stall. A gaping hole stared back at her like an accusing eye, and people turned their heads to follow the trail of destruction that ended at her.
Gulp.
"We better get outta here," Alex said. She held her hand out and Lynette pulled her to her feet. "They might get mad and make me pay for everything I broke."
They made their way to the front gate in a zigzag pattern to lose anyone who might be watching, then slipped out when the guy in the ticket booth wasn't looking. The whole time, the back of Alex's neck tingled and she expected someone to stop them. They made it to the road unmolested, however, and Alex let out a pent up breath. "That was close," she said and looked over her shoulder. No one was following them.
"You could have been seriously hurt," Lynnette said.
Alex blew a raspberry. Her? Seriously hurt? Inconceivable.
"No, really," Lynnette said.
"I'm too cool to get hurt."
Alex started when Lynnette grabbed her arm. They stopped, and in the light of the summer moon, Lynette's face was a mask of sobriety. In her shimmering eyes, however, Alex saw something she wasn't expecting.
Fear.
"Will you take this seriously?" Lynnette asked. "You get too crazy sometimes and you're going to wind up really hurting yourself. You need to be more careful."
Alex sighed and darted her eyes away from Lynnette's. "Im fine, okay? I just hurt my boob a little, that's all."
"Yeah? And next time it might be your head, or your arm, or your spleen."
They looked at each other, then laughed. They started walking again, and Alex was a little surprised when Lynnette's hand closed protectively over hers. "But really, be more careful. Please?"
"I can't make any promises," Alex said.
"For me?"
Alex looked at her, and was struck by the earnesty in her eyes. She was genuinely concerned.
"I guess I could try to be a little more cautious from now on."
She heaved a heavy sigh as though being safe were a tall order, which, to be fair, it was. Safety is lame and dumb and really no fun.
"That's all I ask," Lynnette said.
The lights of town appeared across the moon dappled river and Alex sighed. "Sorry I ruined our date," she said. "I made a lot of plans and...I kind of fucked them up."
"I'm not worried about it."
Ignoring her, Alex went on. "We were gonna feed each other funnel cake, kiss at the top of the Farris wheel, and eat cotton candy until we exploded." She drew a deep, watery breath. "I'd kick myself in the butt but I'd probably lose my balance and break my neck."
"Hey," Lynnette said. She pulled Alex to a halt and Alex turned to face her. Without warning, she leaned in and claimed Alex's lips with her own. Alex missed a shocked beat because she was usually the one to initiate their kisses, then gave in and swirled her tongue around Lynnette's, pushing up on her tippy toes for better access. Lynnette put her hands on Alex's hips and Alex threw her arms around Lynnette's neck and crossed them in an X. Lynnette broke the kiss and cupped Alex's cheek in her hand, a soft smile on her lips that looked out of place but beautiful nevertheless. "How's that for a kiss?"
Alex hummed thoughtfully. "I dunno, it wasn't on top of a Farris wheel."
"We could go back if you want."
Alex's eyes widened and she shook her head.
"Okay, then," Lynnette said.
They started walking again. "We didn't get to do very much, though," she said. "It feels like a waste of - oh, I have an idea."
"Uh-oh," Lynnette said archly.
Fifteen minutes later, they stood together before the Space Invaders cabinet at Gus's Games and Grub. Because the carnival was in town, the place was empty save for a couple little kids and a janitor with a greasy, nasty, sweaty headband with a poorly drawn cow skull on the front. "This is my jam," Alex said. She bent over the controllers and crinkled her forehead in determination. On screen, ranks of alien spaceships faced her fantastic flying red square. The game started, and she mashed the buttons and swiveled the joy stick. "Die, alien scum," she hissed.
Lynnette laid her hand on the back of Alex's neck and affectionately brushed her thumb along the side of her throat, sending shivers down Alex's spine. "Fucking pieces of shit," Alex spat, "motherfuckers, goddamn cock sucking dick monkeys. Stay away from my planet, bastards." She slammed the button, and one by one, the spaceships exploded. "That's right, you hunks of dog shit, you can't see me, you can't fucking see me. Suck my clit, you ugly sons of bitches. Die! Die! Fucking DIE! Uh!"
A spaceship blew apart with a pixelated cry of death. "Uh! That's right! Take it! Take it up your fucking ass! Who's your mama, you piece of slime lickng, space nigger shit! Take it up your ass! What's my name? WHAT'S MY FUCKING NAME?"
"Uh, Alex?"
Alex did not hear her, for she was in The Zone, a place where nothing existed but the screen before her, and all the good people back on earth counting on her to stop the alien menace. If she didn't deal with these punks, billions of people would fall under enslavement.
Uh-uh. Not on her watch.
"Bunch of bitches," she said through clenched teeth, "faggots, bastards, assholes, dickheads, ahhhhh, die!"
The final ship exploded, and Alex slammed her fist against the game cabinet in primal triumph. "Yeah! I made them my bitch." She turned around, and her heart sank. All of the kids and their parents gaped at her in shock, and a black man in a Gus's uniform glared, presumably at her casual use of the N word. Lynnette's face blushed deeply and she sucked her lips into her mouth to keep from laughing.
Someone cleared their throat, and Alex swallowed thickly. A man with greasy black hair, glasses, and pimples stood off to the side, his hands on his ample hips. A badge pinned to his chest gleamed in the light. MANAGER. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he said in a high, reedy voice.
Darn it.
"I got too carried away again," Alex admitted as they walked home.
Lynnette laughed. "Yes, you did, but I have to admit, it was funny."
They reached Lynnette's house and stood hand in hand on the step beneath the soft electric glow of the porch light. "Despite you getting us kicked out of two places," Lynnette said, "I had a nice night."
"Really?" Alex asked.
Lynnette kissed the tip of her nose. "Really."
They kissed deeply, and unless Alex was mistaken, the earth moved. Just a little. "I love you, Alex," Lynnette said.
"I love you too," Alex smiled happily.
Lynnette went inside, and Alex started home, already planning their next date.