Chapter Ten:

We Are Who We Are

"Aren't you three supposed to be in class?" Charlie asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Nigga we cut that shit," Talon said, "Heard yo ass got locked the fuck up."

"Yeah," Jazmin said, looking around, "This place…ain't looking so hot. How you even get caught up like this, tho?"

Charlie shrugged, "I was teaching 5th period P.E and all of the sudden the police came, saying that I'm a prime suspect in the death of Keisha Chinchina…they said witnesses saw me around the ravine, where she was found dead…got me on camera and everything."

"Camera?" Jazmin asked, "The fuck…"

"Yeah…someone was sneaking around and whoever hurt that girl and was caught on camera. But the person identified in the video was me."

Jazmin exchanged looks with Portia.

"I swear it wasn't me," Charlie said, his ears drooping in distress, "I wasn't anywhere near the ravine that night. I told the police I was going to store around that time—but nobody saw me. They don't think my alibi checks out." Charlie sighed, shaking his head, "You three are much too young to be involved in all this. You cut class to visit me? This doesn't concern you, this is business of adults."

Jazmin looked around and then leaned against the table, "Yeah it does concern us. Just cuz we kids don't mean it don't."

"Besides Keisha was good peoples," Portia said, "Even tho they was like mad rumors about her being a big ass hoe."

"That's…irrelevant," Charlie said, "I don't know why those rumors are even part of the conversation."

"We think Mr. Roak did that shit," Jazmin said finally, "I saw his ass with Keisha on the night before she died."

"…That doesn't mean anything…so what?"

"Keisha was talkin' about being pregnant and shit and wanting to keep the kid. And Mr. Roak was beggin' her not to keep it."

Charlie's ears perked up, his eyes wide, "Wait…are you sure?"

"Yea we sure," Portia insisted, "I saw what went down with my own damn eyes. We heard what went down with our own damn ears. And then the next day, she turn up dead. Mr. Roak definitely offed her."

"Did you see him do it?"

Jazmin shuffled her feet, "Well…nah. I didn't see him do it. But I'm fucking sure he did it."

"Why?"

"Cuz he was the last one with her," the freshman explained, "Ion know who else would kill her. He got a motive and shit, ya know?"

Charlie scratched his head, "I find that strange you guys are saying this."

"Why?"

"'Cause I was talking to Mr. Roak on the night Keisha supposedly died. I was talking to him on the phone. He said he was heading home and complaining about how disrespectful students are these days. There're phone records of him doing it."

"That ion mean shit!" Jazmin snapped, "That must mean he coulda been talkin' to yo ass while he was with Keisha."

"I would think I would hear Keisha in the background. My hearing is very sensitive."

"It him bruh," Jazmin insisted, "And the reason you got busted is cuz he can shape-shift—uh, make illusions and shit."

"Illusions?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah nigga," Talon said, "He's of a Zoroark line—they make illusions, glamour, whatever the fuck y'all call it."

"He made himself look like you," Jazmin explained, "Just in case somebody saw him. Ion know for sure, but I'm like, ninety-six percent sure that's what the fuck he did. That's why you on camera."

Charlie swallowed hard, "But there's no proof of anything you're saying. It's all hearsay. The whole pregnancy thing, everything you saw and heard—there's no proof of it. And him killing her, it's just speculation."

Jazmin tapped her foot and Portia decided to speak.

"When they found her dead…don't it show she was pregnant?"

"No," Charlie said, "Maybe she wasn't far along enough. Maybe it was a false positive."

"The…fuck," Jazmin muttered.

"Even if they found her pregnant, there's no way they could run a DNA test on a dead fetus and confirm he was the father."

"…Wait," Jazmin lifted her finger, "Wait…how she die?"

Charlie winced, "She was bashed over the head multiple times and drowned in the river by Stillwood Ravine. When they found her body, she bled out, a bloated body in the river's shallows. And the only reason they found her is because someone jogging along the ravine saw her corpse."

"Wha'bout the person who filmed that shit—they filmed the murder?"

"No…they just filmed…ahem…me yelling at her, striking her," Charlie said, looking more and more mortified. "They left before they saw anything else."

"Who the nigga who filmed them?" Talon asked.

"I don't know. Their footage is in evidence, and the person was put under witness protection. Their identity is unknown."

Jazmin sighed, putting her head in her hands. No protection for us. No protection for our girls. We just out here, taking Ls and dying err'fucking day.

"Look…I know you claimed to have seen her that night. Maybe you feel like it's your fault…that she's gone. Maybe you feel that you should have followed whoever killed her and stopped them. But y'all three…you guys are kids. Your summer break is almost here. You shouldn't be chasing smoke. Enjoy your childhood. You aren't kids for that long."

Jazmin grew frustrated, "How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy my childhood when girls like me end up dead err'y other week! We got no childhood in fuckin' Los Lados, nigga! We dyin' to make ends meet, dyin' for a title, dyin' for cash and shit! Dyin' cuz some nigga wants to use us, hurt us or dyin' cuz nobody fuckin' cares!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Portia sighed while Talon was itching to smoke a cigarette right now.

"I…" Charlie sighed, hanging his head.

Jazmin grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, "Yo ass don't fuckin' belong here and you know that."

Portia got up with her, "And we ain't grown, but we ain't dumb nigga."

Talon sighed, getting out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a drag, "Double vision, playin' yo ass."

"Well if you're right," Charlie said, "The truth will rise to the surface soon enough."

Jazmin sighed and then headed out, her friends walking with her. Her eyes were wet with tears.

Y'all never bring me good news out here

Y'all never bring me truth out here

Got me losing sleep

But the end of life, ain't nothing but a peep

Is it even worth the fight?

Portia and Jazmin had decided to head home, but Talon was back out, despite the streetlights coming on. He went on each corner of every avenue, skateboarding as he did, linking up with his connects that had texted him earlier on in the day. The new merchandise he had gotten was enough to rack up 2000 within a few hours of selling. He found himself once again where the gangbangers were hanging out, after dark, drinking 40s and smoking up. He sold to them, collected the cash and headed back and forth between trap houses, giving X his cut via his intermediaries. By the time he sold two pounds, it had been 9 PM.

X wanted him to move some serious weight across route lines the last time he checked. Ten pounds of herb, Talon reminded himself. He had to move it into Brightwater to a man named No Snitching, but he wasn't given the merchandise just yet. Talon lit a cigarette as he counted his own cut, using a rubber band to tie it up and placed it in one of the compartment pockets of his backpack. Around 9:30 he found himself skateboarding to Alto's house, where Alto was outside, doing a bong rip. When Alto saw Talon pull up, he immediately set down his bong and gave him a bro hug, inviting him inside.

"My gran's asleep," he reminded Talon, inviting him in. Talon followed Alto to the kitchen, where he went into one of the drawers and gave him a medium sized baggie that was filled with pure yayo.

"My stove ain't workin," Alto said, "You gon have to either cook this shit up at yo house or go to Sandy's ol' trap house. Crystal be there, tho."'

"Man ion know how to cook crack," Talon admitted.

"Crystal does," Alto said, popping some molly and downing it with sherry. Talon raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Crystal. As in, Sandy's girl? Maaaaan… she prolly mad as fuck at me right now. I torched her fucking boyfriend and now the nigga heading to jail."

"Word on the block is she ain't all that mad," Alto said, shrugging. Talon sighed, rolling his eyes, pocketing the cocaine.

"Wish me luck nigga," Talon said.

"Yea good motherfuckin' luck. Also," Alto took another swig of sherry, "When you moving that weight into Brightwater?"

"Didn't get the kush yet," Talon said, lacing up his beat up kicks, "Waitin' for X to gimme the location to where to pick it up."

"Yea…he be kinda slow with that shit sometimes. Big warnin' tho," Alto said, "Brightwater don't play that funny shit, my guy. They pride themselves in being a teetotal neighborhood."

"…The fuck is teetotal, nigga? Use normal words, my guy, ol' 'I won the spelling bee' sounding ass."

Alto sucked his teeth, "Stupid ass, it means them niggas don't like drugs up there, iight? So don't get caught cuz you looking at twenty-five to life fo yo mid brown ass, feel me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Talon said, scoffing, "I gotchu."

"Right," Alto gave him a pound, "How much you sell tonight anyways?"

"Pound and a half I think, maybe two pounds? I made like 2000, gave X his cut, now I'm down to 1300."

"Right, right," Alto nodded, "Well, good luck again."

Talon headed out when he got what he needed. He got back on his skateboard and cruised down the street, lighting a new cigarette as he did. X-Large handled that particular Officer Jenny well enough—so much so that all the charges were dropped. However, he knew that was a one-time thing. If he was stupid enough to get caught again, that would be his ass. He skateboarded from 15th Avenue, which was where Alto lived, back down to 12th Avenue, where Sandy's former trap house was located. It took about fifteen minutes to reach there and it was almost 10, but his mother hardly cared if he stayed out late anymore for her sobriety had reached its penultimate limit. He cautiously pulled up, seeing that Crystal was lingering around on the veranda. She was drinking some liquor out of a flask, something strong because Talon could smell it from where he was standing. He kicked up his skateboard and leaned against the stoop, trying to give her a charming smile. Crystal, on the other hand, wasn't impressed.

"The fuck you doing here, ol' hook bitch?" She asked, finishing the last drop of her liquor and tossing the flask in utter disgust and frustration. Talon walked up the two steps that led off the stoop and into the yard that was half burnt out from his flare blitz. Crystal snorted in annoyance as he got closer and stood in front of her, showing off his lanky height. He looked down at her as she gazed back at him. Talon reached into his pocket and she flinched, but then calmed down when he showed her the baggie of cocaine. Crystal stared at him and then at the baggie. She was quite tipsy and so, she began giggling, jumping up and down as she laughed. She leaned into Talon, sniggering into his chest. When she regained her composure, she purred, giving him an intense look.

"Tryna whip up the pots," she said softly.

"Yeah," Talon said, "Heard you good at cookin."

Crystal laughed again and opened the door, walking in first. Talon followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. She pulled the curtains closed and turned on the light. The interior was a horrifying scene. There was trash everywhere and the carpet was filthy. There were two types of wallpaper that didn't match and had been peeling from the corners. Some of the walls were singed and the stairs leading into the upper floor bedrooms were rickety and broken. The bedrooms themselves was just two separate rooms, one that was completely empty and another one that just had a mattress in the middle of a filthy, half-carpeted floor. There was barely any furniture and the light fixtures that were in the ceiling were blown out. The kitchen was filthy: the tiled floor was covered in dirt footprints, grease, used condoms, used needles, cigarette butts, smoked blunts, hair and discarded gum. There was a pizza box that was half open, with a half-eaten pizza that was dried up, now food for the roaches. The kitchen countertop had scorch marks all over and the stove looked half blown out, with rust creeping around the edges. Some of the burners had baking soda caked around it. Crystal reached into the sink, which had plates and dishes piled up and grabbed a pot, washing it out.

"Whatever you sell, you gimme a cut," she said, filling up the pot with water and setting it on the stove, lighting it.

"Yeah, yeah," Talon said, handing her the yay. Crystal set a timer, waiting for the water to boil. As she did, she lit a cigarette and took a puff.

"Yeah…uh…about yo boy, Sandy—"

"Fuck him," Crystal said, shrugging, "He doin' too much. He got got. That's what his stupid ass gets."

Talon looked mildly surprised, but then again, Alto did tell him that Crystal wasn't too broken up about it. The timer went off and the water was sufficiently hot. She poured the cocaine into the water, letting it dissolve as she did, making sure there was just enough water for it dissolve evenly. When she did, she mixed the baking soda into the mixture and let it sit for a few, before mixing together and turning the fire up 'til the solution became an even boil. As it boiled, the solids began separating. She took a turkey baster to remove excess water and squirted it into the sink.

"Let it boil for a bit," she said, taking another puff of the cigarette. Talon watched and decided to roll up some haze for himself as they waited for it to reach the proper temperature. He lit the blunt with his pinkie and took a hit, coughing a bit as he blew out the excess smoke.

"Here we go," Crystal whispered.

When it cooked enough and became solid, she inspected it for the proper "complexion." Talon watched intently as she did this. She rapidly cooled them, using her icy touch to do so. When she did, the crack rock looked off white in color. She began separating them into smaller bits using a razor blade. After that, she reached into the cabinet for baggies and placed the cut up rocks into them. She handed them to Talon.

"Actually," she said, putting out her cigarette, "Ima take one. Here," she reached into her purse, giving him fifty-six dollars for one of the smallest rocks. Talon reluctantly gave her one and she took it, heading into the back to grab her crack pipe—an icy blue thing, that was ornamental and sadly beautiful. When she came back, she held it out for Talon to light it, which he did. She began to smoke up, sitting on the kitchen counter as she did. Talon stuck with his weed—Kanto Kush, which had a tendency to give one the munchies.

"Y'all got snacks here?" He asked, feeling the hunger hit him.

"Nah…" Crystal said, taking in her high. She coughed a bit and pointed to the cabinet, "Prolly some fruit loops or some shit in there tho, you can check."

Talon opened one of the cabinets and a spider hopped out and onto the floor, scurrying away. There were fruit loops, but the box looked like it was ten years old and so, he declined.

"I'ma just grab a chopped cheese on my way back."

"Iight, do you," Crystal said, focusing on smoking, "Ay, don't be no fuckin' stranger."

Talon, picked up his bag and his skateboard, giving her a reassuring nod and headed out.

Lakeda fixed up her hair, smoothing down her edges and slipped on hip hugging jeans, stiletto heels and a nice tube top. She had on impeccable makeup and loud, hoop earrings and got her nails done the other day—long acrylics with flower shaped rhinestones. Jazmin rubbed her eyes, getting up from her nap after she finished part of her homework, heading to the fridge to grab an energy drink, noticing Lakeda was looking fly as she put the finishing touches on: deep berry lipstick and gold bangles. Jazmin raised an eyebrow as she sipped the drink. It was 11 PM and work was within an hour or two. Why is she all dressed up like this?

"You look really nice, ma," Jazmin commended, "But you going to work like that?"

"I took the day off," Lakeda said, putting her pack of cigarettes into her matching purse, "I'm goin' out with some friends."

"You have friends?" Jazmin asked, legitimately confused. Lakeda shot her a dry look.

"Yeah I have friends," she said, "Why wouldn't I have friends? Err'body got friends."

"Not everyone…" Jazmin muttered, sipping her energy drink.

"Ay look, don't worry 'bout me, worry 'bout you and yo grades, Jaz," she said, grabbing her keys and heading out the door, "They better ain't be slipping. And don't be stayin' up all damn hours of the fuckin' night either, get to bed. I ain't getting you up for school tomorrow, but don't you even think 'bout cutting no damn class."

Jazmin nodded, wide-eyed as Lakeda left through the front door, locking it behind her and making her way to the elevator. She primed and prepped herself for a few more seconds, checking her foundation in her compact mirror, making sure it wasn't too shiny or caked-on. When she was satisfied, she slipped the mirror back in her bag and strutted her way into the lobby and out the door. She walked down the meandering path that led to the street side, where a red sports car had been waiting for her underneath the northern streetlight. X-Large was standing outside of it, smoking a cigarette and smiled when he saw her.

She marveled at his car, beaming from ear to ear as he opened the door for her. He jumped into the driver's side, starting up the ignition and pulling out slowly, then drove off into the glittering lights of near midnight city. Lakeda smiled as she sat, taking in the cool night air that ruffled through her curly mop of an afro. The smell of Los Lados was not the best, but fresh air was fresh air no matter where it was from. X-Large glanced at her, observing how beautiful she looked this night. He stopped at a red light and reached in to kiss her, slightly smudging her lipstick. She didn't mind however and kissed back before the light turned green. He sped up, pushing the limits as he got to a less than busy intersection. People, who'd been coming home from their shifts, eyeballed his car. X-Large looked in his side mirror, smirking to himself as he could feel the jealousy ebb from the people who watched him. He turned up the trap music, letting the bass reverberate through the car, taking another drag of his cigarette. A middle aged man of Linoone descent walked by, on the phone as he gave the car a quick once-over.

"Nah, nah keep talking, just lookin' at these goddamn expensive sport cars these cats have…bunch of fuckin' show-offs, must be tax season."

X-Large pulled continued driving, putting his arm around Lakeda as she leaned into him, smiling softly.

"You hungry?" He asked. Lakeda considered for a second and nodded. She was a bit famished. She had forgotten to cook dinner tonight. He grinned and did a U-turn into another lane, taking a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying the feel of the mild buzz that soothed him as he sped off into the night. Lakeda, hooded her eyes as the loud trap music faded into something more chill and melodic.

"How yo kids?" He asked, as he began slowing down.

Lakeda laughed a bit but then looked unsure. She'd been so caught up with work she hadn't been really following what they'd been doing. "I…guess they're doing okay…I should…prolly be more on top of them. Ion really know what they going thru."

"Yeah," X-Large agreed, "It's hard growing up in Los Lados."

Lakeda looked at him as he continued. He took a shallow puff of his cigarette, "It be like that ya know? Yo childhood just cut short. If you ain't shot by cops, yo get got by rival gang niggas, shot cuz you tryna trap…ain't much out here."

"Yeah…it is what it is," Lakeda said, remembering Zebadiah for a brief second, feeling a pang of sadness pierce her heart.

"Yea, can't escape fate," X-Large said softly, putting out his cigarette and parking in front of an unfamiliar house. He got out and opened the door for Lakeda, helping her out the car and shutting the door behind her, locking it remotely.

"What's this?" She asked, looking at the house. X-Large walked up to the front door, knocking on it multiple times. The light turned on and there was quick shuffling and then the sound of latch being lifted. The door cracked open, the chain lock still on. X smiled at the faces behind the door.

"It's me," he reassured. The door was closed and the chain lock undid, opening it up fully. Standing in the entranceway were three identical looking girls. They were all the same tall height, slim—built like models and they were all at least a few inches shorter than X-Large, who'd been a rather tall man himself. They had brown tightly curled hair, light brown skin, brown eyes and red tail feathers popping out their house shorts they'd been wearing. These three were of the Dodrio-lineage. Those who were of that line were always born as triplets.

"Wassup, Danielle, Delta, Daria," he said with a grin, "Ay, this is Lakeda, she's my girl."

Lakeda walked up to them, giving them a friendly smile. They, on the other hand, were less cordial.

"Nigga! You go missin' for months and you pop up with some random ass bi—"

"Yea, yea—I wanted Lay to have a home cooked meal," X-Large said, "Ma, home?"

"She sleepin," Daria squawked, "The fuck this be—"

"Clarence?" A voice called out from inside, down the corridor. An elderly woman shuffled towards the entranceway. She was dark skinned with light brown hair that had a white streak through it. She was of an Eevee-lineage, having the mon's ears and fluffy tail.

"Fuck, bruh!" Danielle moaned, "Ugh—this nigga is motherfuckin' worthless."

"Ay, shut up," X-Large said, showing Lakeda to them, "Hey…mom," he began quietly, "This…is Lakeda."

The older woman looked at Lakeda, looking her up and down and she nodded in approval.

"Finally," she said, "Maybe I'll get some proper motherfuckin' grand-babies cuz Arceus' knows these three ain't tryna get married."

The triplets made a face and Lakeda laughed nervously as she stepped into the house. X-Large shut the door behind him.

"My name's Edna," the older woman said, "You're very pretty. Clarence, you better not fuck this up. I keep hearin' you running around with them damn hoes and strippers. You need to do better—"

"Okay mom," X-Large said, exasperated. The triplets walked back into the living room, going back to watching their soaps. Edna shuffled over to the kitchen.

"I ain't seen yo trifling ass in months," Edna said, "You can't call or something?"

"Been busy ma," X-Large said, "Did Veedah call ya?"

"Yea she did—she said you been missing yo child support fo' yo lil bastard," Edna said, brewing some tea.

"Veedah be spending the child support on her fuckin' clothes and nails, bruh…" X-Large hissed, "I ain't finna send her money while Danny goes hungry, fuck that. I'ma take care of Danny myself, ol' hook ass hoe."

"Enough of that," Edna said, walking up to Lakeda, "You are really pretty, indeed. Would you like some tea?"

Lakeda smiled a bit, a bit overwhelmed with everything, "Yeah…I would."

Edna nodded, "I'll go get some sugar." She trundled off, clicking on the light and heading into the basement where spices and seasonings were kept. Lakeda turned to X-Large who leaned against the kitchen's countertop.

"Yo mom's…an Eevee?"

"Yeah, and my dad's a Lycanroc," he said.

"Then who them three girls?" Lakeda asked.

"My cousins," he said, "Edna's sister's kids. Her sis in jail tho, so she took 'em in."

Lakeda nodded, unsure about all of this, but X-Large held her hand, giving it a kiss.

"I know this lookin' kinda suss—but if you gon be with me, you gotta at least meet my fam," he said, a little worried that Lakeda was put off by all this. Edna came back up the basement stairs, with a bit of sugar, putting it in the orange-honey tea she was boiling. She poured a cup for Lakeda.

"You must be hungry," Edna said, "I cooked earlier today. Still fresh! Made some roast chicken, collard greens, some sweet potato pudding and baked mac and cheese."

Lakeda looked impressed, "Well damn," she commended, laughing, "I cook like that for my kids—damn, lemme see!"

Edna went over to the stove where the leftovers were and gestured for Lakeda to look.

"On Sundays we eat ackee and saltfish and Wednesdays, some jerk chicken with rice and peas," she said.

"Lookin good," Lakeda purred. Edna got a paper plate and took up a decently sized portion for her and another for X-Large, setting it around the table. X pulled out Lakeda's seat for her and then seated himself across from her. Edna was smiling widely, looking absolutely thrilled.

"She gives me good vibes," Edna said, heading back upstairs to her bedroom, "You treat her nice, Clarence. None of that playa playa shit."

"Yea ma," X said, digging in. Edna gave Lakeda one more smile before creeping her way back up the stairs, into her bedroom leaving them to their dinner. Lakeda took a bite, making a thrilled "mmmm" sound as she ate.

"Now I know where you got yo cookin' skills from," Lakeda said, laughing.

"Yea, ma's a good cook," X said, "Especially when she was young. She used to trap, cookin up that yayo, no cap."

Lakeda raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, enjoying the food and sipping her tea. X-large went into the fridge for a beer, popping it open and downed half of it within seconds and sat back around the table. Lakeda finished her dinner within the half an hour, stuffed and satisfied. When she was done, X-Large took up their cleaned plates and tossed them in the trash. He gave her a quick kiss and called out to the triplets.

"Yo! Daria, Delta, Danielle—I'm headin' out, lock the door!"

"Yeah, see you in another couple of months…ol' cappin' ass nigga," Danielle muttered as she got up to lock the door.

Around 1 AM, Strika had been with Belilah at her place after a successful date at a slightly more upscale restaurant. Their clothes were scattered on the foot of her bed as Strika reached for a blunt to smoke up. Belilah laid naked on her stomach next to him, humming softly as he stroked behind her ears and down her neck. He shared the blunt with her and she took a long puff, blowing out smoke rings when she finished.

"Ay you really can throw it down," she said, smiling into her pillow, "Ion think anyone make me cum like that."

Yes! Goddamn, yes! Strika felt proud, trying his hardest not to smile too hard. He tried playing it cool instead.

"Well, I got moves," he teased, humming in delight when she rested her head on his chest, pressing her soft, warm body on him. She touched the scars on his chest and torso, and the newest scar that was across his abdomen. Strika watched her do it. She seemed worried, but also drawn to it—like a primal urge to the more violent parts of the natures of mons.

"I like it," she said, giggling a bit, giving him a kiss. Strika kissed her back, groaning softly into the kiss, feeling himself getting aroused again. But before he could get back into the flow of things, his phone buzzed. He broke the kiss and reached over to the nightstand to get his phone, yawning. There was a text from Arty.

Arty: I need to talk to u, plz answer.

Strika stared at the text and then looked at Belilah who appeared loved up and serene. She waggled her tail behind her, her eyes hooded in anticipation.

"You good?"

Strika got up, slipping on his boxers, "Y-yea, lemme just take this, real quick."

"Iight," she said, taking another puff of the haze. Strika walked into the bathroom, locking it and opened the notification, texting back.

Strika: Tf u want? I'm busy

Arty: Tessa ODed.

Ion got no other friends and 2-Zap ain't pickin up

Plz come to the Poke Center

I'm sorry fam

Strika looked blankly at his phone, feeling his heart sink and he gritted his teeth. He opened the bathroom door and walked back to the bedroom, looking forlorn. Belilah took another puff, this time on her back, her breasts in full view. She noticed Strika's upset countenance and frowned, looking concerned. She sat up, setting down the blunt and watched Strika gather up his clothes, starting to put them on.

"You good?" She asked again.

"One of my ex-girl's friends ODed," he said, "She at the Poke Center."

Belilah looked concerned but the frustration seeped into her voice, "You leavin' now? Right now?"

"Yea—look, sorry—she ain't got nobody else. Ion know what else to do."

"Uhhh—fuckin stay here, the fuck you mean? Yo ex girl texted you fo what? This ain't yo problem."

Strika sighed, "Tessa is cool peoples. I ain't going for Arty."

"Arty," Belilah derided, folding her arms, "The same bih who invited you to her party to watch yo ass get beat."

"She with a worthless ass nigga, but her friend ain't," Strika said, lacing up his black Js.

"I'm comin," she insisted, getting up and getting her clothes. She started sliding them back on, "Wait up."

Strika did exactly that, watching her quickly get dressed. She slipped back into her cocktail dress but this time reached for flats instead of heels. She grabbed her purse and phone, finished the blunt and flicked it. She blew out a few more smoke rings and walked up to Strika.

"You calling a Drop?" She asked.

He picked her up in his arms, "Ain't no Drop faster than me, Be." He raced out the door, gone in a blink of an eye. Belilah held on tight to him, her face amazed as the city lights turned into a blur of immersive colors. As he ran, she noticed his eyes glowing bright blue and the lights flickering—as if he was absorbing electrical energy to fuel his momentum. He reached the Pokemon Center within three to four minutes at his top speed, skidding to a halt and setting Belilah down. She was trembling a bit, a bit frazzled but Strika wasted no time. He jogged through the automatic sliding doors and went to the front desk, asking about Tessa Tres. Nurse Joy who sat at the front, informed him that she was in room 3C and gave him a visitor's pass for himself and any plus ones. Belilah, now regaining her composure, walked behind Strika as he languidly ran through the hallways until he reached 3C. He entered and saw that Arty was sitting in her chair, her eyes red, her face running with makeup from crying. She got up to hug Strika but Belilah put herself between her and the senior, staring Arty down. She backed away, confused.

"Who this old ass bitch?" Arty quipped, not feeling particularly friendly today.

"The ol' ass bitch who'll rock yo motherfucking jaw right the fuck off if you don't back up."

Strika gently pulled Belilah away, not wanting to get into any unnecessary pettiness at the moment.

"Ayo, not now," Strika said, "Why 2-Zap not with you?"

"The nigga ain't pickin' up his goddamn phone," Arty cried out, "Ol' trifiling ass, shoulda never got back with him. All this nigga do is smoke weed, play 2K and fuckin' spend his daddy's money on fuckin JV belts and loud, dumb motherfucker…"

"That's yo man," Belilah said, "Sound like a whole ass piece of work."

"Ain't nobody asked you, bi—"

Strika snorted, shaking his head, "Is Tessa okay?"

Arty pointed at Tessa who was lying in the recovery cot, unconscious and hooked up to a machine that regulated her breathing and energy levels. Strika stood over her, looking uncertain, even afraid.

"What she even take?"

"Ion know!" Arty cried out, "We was at some party—"

"On a school night," Belilah mocked, "Wow, bih."

"Yo," Arty glared at Strika, "Come get yo girl, my nigga. Don't think cuz I'm from Stillwood I can't still lay out a bitch."

"On Arceus, I'd like to see you try you with yo sadiddy lookin' ass. Don't step to me and think this'll end well for you. Just cuz you got a legendary lineage don't mean I won't end that shit this second, nigga—"

"Bruuuh!" Strika barked, "Just tell what the hell happened, goddamn!"

Arty sighed, wiping her eyes, "We was at a party and I think she took some yayo. But she already had some shit in her system beforehand. Ion know what it was but I saw her pop some pills."

"…The fuck kinda party was you at?" Strika asked.

"Ion know, Tessa invited me—she said they'd be like…niggas with bread, ya know. Tessa said she got a nigga who buys her drugs and designer shit and stuff."

"2-Zap ain't cuttin' it I see."

Arty shrugged languidly and sat down besides Tessa, who looked weak and pale and felt unusually cold for a fire-type.

"She be partyin' with old niggas who got bread," Arty admitted, "And I just…ain't never bothered to question it."

"Some friend you is," Belilah muttered.

"I'm busy!" Arty defended, "I model! Ion got time to be keepin' tabs on niggas, anyways!"

"Oh boo hoo, you strut down a catwalk, so that mean you can't make it so yo friends not getting into fuck shit?"

Arty glared at Belilah who folded her arms, giving her a look. Strika sighed, looking at the both of them.

"Can y'all not do this right now?" He asked, "Who gave her the yay, anyways?"

Arty tapped her chin, trying to remember, "Uhh…I think…"

"C'mon Arty," Strika insisted, "Who was it?"

"I'm tryna remember nigga!" She retorted, "He was some middle aged cat …uh…"

"What he look like?"

Arty stood up, trying her hardest to remember, "Uh dark hair with silver, uh…Malamar line. He got a cane. Uh…Mal Mezzos, is his name…"

"And you let this creep nigga give yo friend drugs?"

Arty looked ashamed, "He said he was gon' take us shopping at the boutique after all this."

Strika glared at Arty and then looked at Tessa, whose breathing was faint. Arty sat back down, exhausted.

"Y'all some fiends," Belilah muttered, shaking her head. Arty shot her a dirty look.

"I ain't no fiend," she yelled, "And Tessa ain't one either—"

"Giiiiiiiiirllllllll you better take that bass out yo voice if you talking to me," Belilah warned and Strika grew angry now.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BOTH OF Y'ALL," he shouted. As he did, the lights flickered and the power surged. He stood up, sighing deeply.

"Call her moms or something," Strika said, rubbing his eyes, "Where that Malamar nigga be at?"

Arty stared at him, "Why?"

"Cuz I'm gon beat his ass that's why. Sick of this shit," Strika yelled. Belilah also gave him a look.

"What the he—Strika no," Belilah contended, "You lookin' for shit. You don't need this

right now."

"Nah, he's goin' get this smoke," Strika said, "Y'all high schoolers. Tessa is a fucking junior—why she with grown ass, old ass men doing motherfuckin' drugs."

"Ion know," Arty said, "Why are you with grown ass women?"

Strika turned to Arty, glaring her down, "It ain't the same damn thing and you know it. Belilah ain't old, she in her twenties. These niggas are forty, fifty, sixty bruh—the fuck."

"Wha'ever nigga," Arty grumbled, "If you get laid out like what happened at my party, don't—"

"Just tell me where the nigga is," Strika shouted. Arty gave him a glassy eyed look and then sighed, texting him the location. His phone buzzed and he looked at it, giving Arty a nod and decided to leave. Belilah gave the Stillwood senior a stank look which was returned with a rolling of the eyes. She followed Strika out of 3C and out the Pokemon Center.