baby really hurt me, crying in the taxi

he don't wanna know me

says he made a big mistake of dancing in my storm

says it was poison

sankavi dhar (14)

The early morning rush of her routinely jog before school never failed to wake Sankavi up. Perhaps it was something in the slap of the wind in her face, or maybe just the familiarity of it—nothing failed to get her blood pumping more than the feeling of accomplishing something, especially at five o'clock in the morning. The weather was particularly nice; recently, the sun seemed to be taking pity on Chicago after its long and dreary stretch of winter that all her classmates whined about. Secretly, she didn't really mind it either way. Rounding the corner to her street, Sankavi tilted her head up and listened to the rhythmic pounding of her running sneakers on the driveway as she sprinted the final stretch, letting herself into her house through the garage. Her mom was already up, like she was every morning around this time—she was making her signature poha, or as Sankavi liked to think of it, one of the best things she'd tasted in her entire life. She was busy at the stove, but she still smiled gently and waved at her daughter when she heard her coming in.

"Good morning," Sankavi greeted, leaning over to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. The table still needed to be set, so she grabbed the spare plates and placemats off the counter and wordlessly began helping. Her young sister, Ashrika, was already seated, slinking down in her chair as if trying to blend into the furniture, another routinely thing that she did every morning, a sight that never failed to make Sankavi laugh. She handed the spare spoons over to Ashrika. "Come on, you have to help out, too."

Ashrika pouted. Right now she was in what she liked to call her "movie star phase," which was code for she wanted exactly to be like Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly when she grew up; nowadays, she was growing to be more dramatic than before, but Sankavi couldn't exactly get mad at her, not when her little frown was so adorable. "I don't want to," she whined, but she grabbed the spoons anyway, setting them down next to the plates without further argument. Sankavi exchanged a fleeting grin with her mother and laughed. Out of all the people in the world, her little sister was always going to be her favorite.

They all sat down at the table together, after her mom was done cooking. Sankavi sat next to Ashrika—"Eww, you smell all sweaty!"—and poured herself a glass of lemonade. "So, what's in store for everyone today?" she asked, not just to make conversation but because she genuinely wanted to know. Whenever Sankavi asked anyone a question, really, she tried to pay as much attention as she could to the answer, filing it away in the deep recesses of her mind in case she needed it again, analyzing it to find out as much she could about the person. She thought of it as one of her better traits. It was something that a lot of her classmates at school needed to do more often.

"Cleaning." Her mother laughed. She worked from home. "Ashrika?"

"My class is putting on a play today," Ashrika said proudly, puffing out her chest. She looked ridiculous, but it was funny. "I'm playing the lead role. We get to perform it for the younger grades."

Classic Ashrika. "Sounds great," Sankavi said, biting back a smile. "I wish I could go see it."

"What about you?"

Sankavi shrugged, playing with her spoon absentmindedly, contemplating her answer. To her, it was always best to think before you spoke, even if it was for the most simple of questions. "Well, I have two tests today, but I studied, so it should be fine. After school, I have book club, and then I'm going to go to track practice, since we're getting ready for that big meet tomorrow."

Ashrika's eyes were wide. "High school seems busy. I don't want to grow up."

She laughed modestly. "Don't say that. You just have to stay on top of things, that's all."

"Are you the smartest person in your grade?"

"She better be," a proud voice boomed from the staircase. Her father was standing at the foot of the stairs, buttoning up his collared shirt, and he looked exhausted from being on-call at the hospital all night, but he still strode into the kitchen purposefully, planting a quick kiss on his wife and kids' foreheads. "With all that studying and working she's doing all the time, I wouldn't be surprised if she's valedictorian in four years."

"Dad," Sankavi said, cheeks flushing deep red from the compliments. Her parents were both very proud of her, and they never failed to let her know that. "That's so far away. I'm only a freshman."

"Never too early," her mom added with a gentle smile. She just wanted the best for both her daughters. "College is right around the corner."

Ashrika let out a little whimper, putting on her pouty face again. It was another one of the perks to her "movie star phase," letting her put on a free show for them every morning. "But then I'll be all alone."

"You have a lot of friends."

"But I'll miss Sankavi," she cried dramatically, reaching over to give her sister a tight hug. Sankavi rolled her eyes good-naturedly but let her stay there, clinging tight to her, as if she was already gone. She would willingly admit it to anyone who asked: she loved her little sister more than anything.

melody void (17)

"Goal!"

Panting, Melody ran back to the half line beside her teammates, who slapped her on the back encouragingly. "Nice one, Melody," Alissa called as she ran past her, offering a high five. Alissa's dark ponytail swung side-to-side as Melody watched her jog up ahead, some strands plastered to the back of her olive skin. She tried not to get distracted by the girl. This was Melody's third goal in her game today, and their team was going up against one of the best soccer teams in the state—the score was close, since they were only trailing by one goal. She could not afford to do anything else but have her head in the game. Winning this would ensure her team's ticket to the championships, happening later on in the month. They didn't work this hard to fall just short.

The whistle was blown. The girl on the other team tried to feint her out; Melody intercepted. She dribbled the ball down the field expertly, putting everything she learned over the years into good use—after all, when you have been playing soccer practically since you could walk, you learned how to run fast with the ball. Somewhere up ahead, one of her teammates was calling to her, maybe Alissa—the goal was just in sight. Without hesitating, Melody breathed in hard and then passed the ball up to her.

Another whistle, and then, the familiar voice of the referee: "Goal!"

Alissa jogged past her again, a big grin on her face. She wrapped one of her arms around Melody's shoulders quickly, just a fleeting, one-armed hug, but it was enough to set her heart on fire all the same. Melody felt as though her skin was burning. "That was a good assist," she said to Melody. Melody just shook her head modestly, trying to fight off the inevitable blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks. It was an exercise of self-control, something she had been familiar with trying to do for about three years now, whenever a cute, nice girl happened to be in her vicinity.

"Your goal," she said with a shrug, hoping her voice wasn't shaking. Alissa just grinned again and said something else, but Melody wasn't quite listening. She just looked away, balling her hands up into fists, watching as the referee brought the ball back to the start. She could not be thinking about things like that, not right now, probably not ever; she didn't know if that was her parents' voice in her head, or if it belonged to her strict Christian religion, or if it was her own.

Her team ended up winning the game. Ultimately, the score was 5-4, and as she made a beeline back to the sidelines after shaking hands, desperate for her water jug, Coach June smiled proudly at her, patting her on the back. "The college scouts were very impressed," was all she said before turning away, turning to congratulate Alissa and the other girls who had played well. Melody sat on the bleachers with her water, undoing her long chocolate hair from its braid, trying to still her pounding heart. The adrenaline from whenever she stepped foot on the soccer field happened to stick around for a long time—or any field, for that matter. Her friends used to say that she had sports in her veins. From the number of times she'd been in the local newspaper for her athletic accomplishments, perhaps they were right.

Uncle Reggie met her on the other side of the field with a gentle pat on the head, pulling her into his chest for a hug. "Good job today," he said in his signature raspy voice, roughed up from too much smoking and drinking when he was younger. He was so unlike her mother Janice, Melody had a hard time believing that he was Janice's older brother; for starters, he was much more likable. She gave her uncle a tight hug back, ignoring his good-natured grimace when he complained about how bad she smelled.

"It was hard work," she joked. He let her be.

They walked back to his truck together, her with her school backpack and soccer duffel, him with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lips. She left her cleats in the back, since he had been driving her to and from games since she was small, and they were both familiar with the routine. As he took her home, she opened the windows, letting her hair loose in the harsh wind that rushed past the car's windows, blocking out any other sound. Uncle Reggie had turned the radio on to some oldies stations, so Sublime was blaring through the pickup, a good soundtrack for how fast her heart was pumping right now, she thought. Melody let her mind go blank, throwing one of her hands out the car window, feeling the crisp breeze on her skin, at one with this moment in time. Her parents would hate to see her right now, especially with her "degenerate" uncle, but for now, she savored the moment, soaking it into her mind.

He parked around the corner from her house, since they had both agreed a long time ago not to risk any chance of Janice and her dad Henry seeing Melody with the rebellious Uncle Reggie. "Thank you, Uncle," she muttered as he shut off the radio, leaving the rest of the world in relative silence. He just shook his head—he hated goodbyes, always had—and unlocked the car doors for her, a kind gesture in his own Reggie way.

"You call me if you need anything, okay?" He was a good uncle, probably with better parenting skills than both of her biological parents combined, even if he didn't have any kids or even a wife, even if he still smoked every day and tended to buy liquor at the little shop downtown more often than not. At least he never forced her to be someone she wasn't. He knew enough about the struggles of being individual to yourself when everyone else around you didn't understand. "If you want me to pick you up or whatever." Reggie wasn't incredible with words, but Melody still got the gist: he cared.

She smiled, a little melancholy. It didn't quite reach her eyes. "Okay," she said, and she wanted to say something else, but she couldn't think of what else she could add. The cool evening air on her skin was chilly as she grabbed her things from the back of the truck, and then Melody made her way down the sidewalk as slowly as she could, back to the household she couldn't help but want to leave.

A/N: I had a good time writing both Sankavi and Melody! What do you guys think?

There are still spots open, particularly male spots. I'd love more submissions!

The song lyrics at the top are from "Liability" by Lorde. It's a great song.