December. Alien territory p.4

Kori arrived home nearing six in the morning, after they settled the goat and the boys in Vic's garage, where Gar would watch the goat, and Victor would watch Dick, who had rambled the whole car ride and was still very active and talking as Vic tried to get him to lay down when the girls left.

Kori and Raven shared an Uber to each of their homes. Once at home, Kori was tired, but not in any way inclined to go to bed. She entered her apartment, went past Galfore's door –she could hear him lightly snoring- and opened the balcony door as quietly as she could. She sat outside, putting her legs through the rails. She loved that her apartment here had a balcony: it let her be home and not home at the same time.

She couldn't watch the sunrise from here, as the balcony faced west, but she watched as the sky turn lighter and lighter shades of blue, and the sun began to graze the top of the taller buildings.

Kori had always trusted Dick more than anyone. When he explained something to her she didn't know, she didn't feel patronized. When he corrected her, she didn't feel disapproved of. She just felt like he was taking care of her, so she wouldn't be embarrassed in the future, in front of others who might judge her. Not Dick, though. Dick didn't judge her. Kori believed that. She still did.

But she had trusted him because she thought he trusted her back, and shared everything he was with her. But tonight she'd seen another side of him, and now she was thinking maybe they were not on such equal footing after all. If she didn't know this about him, what else didn't she know?

And really, why wouldn't all her friends have a huge life outside of their friendship? She had always been too weird to be admitted into all social circles. Komila always said so. Kids don't like people who are odd, her sister had told her. It's not your fault, dear, people just prefer people they can feel comfortable with.

In the past it would always go the same way. She'd go to a new school and make some friends, first—it was almost like Komi waited until she had something to lose. After a season of peace, rumors would spread; if her sister wasn't physically attending the school, her agents would carry it out. It was always something embarrassing Kori had done, be it true or false. Sometimes it wasn't even rumors: just the whisper that she was extremely gullible was enough.

So it was when she spent a semester in Germany. Somehow it became known that she didn't know what cotton candy was. One day, a boy had approached her, said "You've never had cotton candy, right?" and offered her a piece of white cotton. Kori hadn't stopped to think of how this boy got cotton candy in school, or why he had a piece and not the whole stick; the rumor that she was trusting and gullible was true, after all.

She'd put it on her mouth. The resulting laughter and ridicule was as would be expected.

And it wasn't like she instantly lost all her friends; it was more like people's new hobby became seeing what other things she would believe, so soon the friendly, normal interactions were replaced by an uninterrupted series of pranks and tests, or teasing and jokes she was the butt of. So Kori herself put distance from her friends, for whom now she was only a toy.

But Murakami had been different from the start. The Project Club had been her shield. Komi's attacks via Jade and Angel hadn't succeeded in defeating her, because her friends had undermined those minions' effort. The spell had been broken. Everything was different now—except for her. Kori was still herself. What if those years as an outsider had rendered her unable to function as a normal person?

She could trust her friends, she told herself. Rationally, she knew this to be true. But what if they were her friends simply because they were wonderful people? What if she was just too weird, too out there, too incompetent for anyone else to befriend, and they knew this? What if there was an unspoken agreement that she had to be taken care of? What if her friends pitied her?

…What if Dick only pitied her?

She'd been so proud of herself at Kitty's party. She'd been holding her own, talking to new people, meeting that girl –that poor blue-haired girl-, being her own person. She's been comparing her current situation with her past, where she wouldn't think of reaching out to people outside her immediate circle, as they would have been poisoned against her by Komi. She'd been thinking her new world was embracing her, and she was blending into it. She'd been dancing, with Raven, with Dick, and thinking she'd done it well, until those girls told her the truth at the Terrance party.

Stupid. Everyone was just being nice to her.

When the sky was blue and proud, and she realized Galfore would get up in a little while, she got up. She'd finally gotten home to some privacy, and she didn't want to face her people again until she got her head on straight.

She went to her room, looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was suitably frizzy after a whole night out, the running and goat-lifting she did. Everything about her appearance was so inescapable, so impossible to get comfortable in. Her hair so red and so big. Her eyes too green, too weird and melancholic. Green was such an unstable color. The shirt she'd worn for the night was a rich purple—purple for girl power, for 'everything's good'.

She subdued her hair by wrapping a brown and gold scarf around her head; she changed her clothes. She picked up a sweater that was lime green like her weird eyes, and a hoodie that was a washed-out light blue. She pulled on dark jeans she never otherwise wore, put her shoes on, and left her room. She scribbled a note for Galfore and left her phone on the dining table.

She walked outside. The few people she crossed at this hour didn't know or care who she was, and Kori was happy about that.

In a way, Kori had always been comfortable being the foreigner. It gave her a free pass to be odd and not know things. People thought that was why she was strange, but here was Kori's secret: she really was just perpetually and irredeemably awkward. And whenever Komila eventually came to wherever Kori was living, then people found her out. Here was her older sister, a person with her same upbringing, same natural abilities, same opportunities, and she was so much better than Kori in every way. Komi talked in contractions, and picked up on hints and clues, adopted mannerisms and customs, and made friends in a snap where it took Kori ages. Komi made people realize there was no reason for Kori to be the way she was—except she just was, deep inside, odd. An alien masquerading as a girl.

Kori came to a bus stop and stopped walking. She got on the next bus that came around. She sat in the middle of the bus and let the city pass by her, but focused on the driver at the front rather than the windows around her.

She wished she was a bus driver. She thought how much she'd rather have that predictable life, waking up every day and following the same routes. People would get in and be a part of her life for a while, but then they'd leave; if she embarrassed herself, they'd take that memory with them, and she'd always have new people to try again with. She could perfect just a few phrases in a correct American accent, and never have anyone even notice she wasn't from here. She'd provide a service and people would like her. She'd have a set role and people would think they knew her, but they really wouldn't.

Before, she'd been quiet in the car ride to Victor's house, and among Dick's unending intoxicated ramblings, Gar had somehow sensed something and asked her if everything was okay. Kori had smiled and said yes, because she didn't know how to feel what she was feeling, or if she had any right to feel it. The smile had come naturally, and there was almost anger behind it, as if Kori was saying 'You're not allowed to see through this'.

Gar had smiled and left it alone immediately, because people trusted her when she said that. People never thought she could close up like that, but it was easy for her. She was used to it.

Before, she didn't see an issue with being that way. Being closed off and saying what she didn't mean and pretending to be fine were her means of survival. There was simply nothing left to do. But now she was free, of Komi and her past; she didn't have to do that. But she still… didn't know… how to not do that. She'd been pretending so long she didn't know how to stop.

She didn't know how to be a real person. She didn't know how to be a real friend.

The bus went through its route. Kori got off when she felt it was right, and came out onto a park. She found a bench beyond a line of trees that blocked the highway behind her, where she could pretend she was completely alone.

That was the thing. She could always find a bench to feel alone in. She could always find a bus to take her away. There was always a way out.

It was staying that she was bad at.

Perhaps she had moved too much in her life before. Too many friends had been taken away by Komila; Kori had grown up too certain the things she loved would be taken away. Now she didn't know what to do with what she had rightfully gained.

Dick laid his head on Victor's kitchen table, while an equally exhausted Victor attempted to get breakfast going, and Silas Stone openly laughed at the scene.

They were letting Victor's dad assume Dick's weed hangover was an alcohol hangover. It wasn't hard, because his head hurt and his mouth kept going dry.

And apparently he'd been a nightmare to the end last night. Starting with how he didn't want to get out of the car until he and everyone put on a suit, because he'd gotten it into his head that they were in space, and only the car protected them. Compared to Victor, Gar, who was in charge of the actual goat in the situation, had a walk in the park getting to the garage and tuning in for the night.

Then Dick had never gone to sleep at all. Victor kept drifting in an out of consciousness to find him sitting up and talking to himself. When morning came, he finally crashed. Vic had decided to make him stay awake and get some food in him, and he could nap later.

(He'd texted Raven for advice to decide it. She'd told him to give him water and try to make him eat a breakfast high in protein. Just as Viv was breaking out his protein shakes, Raven had added, Not your fucking protein shakes. I mean like oatmeal and fruit. He'd frowned at his phone, but made the decision to leave their ongoing pro/anti protein shake debate for another day. So he'd converted to oatmeal with peanut butter and bananas, and made enough for himself and Gar, who was still in the garage with the goat.)

Dick now gathered all his might to raise his head when Victor set the bowl in front of him. "From now on…" he swallowed to quell a wave of nausea, "we're always having a contention plan in case the car is suddenly not in the picture."

"Okay," said Vic, then looked at him and snickered. "Sorry man, I can't take you seriously with some of the things you said yesterday."

Dick ignored that. It wasn't the first time Victor hinted at Dick having said some interesting things after they got to his house. Dick had decided he didn't want to know what he'd said.

But suddenly Vic got serious. "Hey, don't worry, man. Everything you said is safe with me." Dick raised an eyebrow briefly –it made his head hurt- and Victor put a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes I feel that way too."

Dick opened his mouth to ask about it, curiosity winning over. Then he decided to leave it alone until he felt better.

He would end up never getting around to asking about it.

Her friends had called for a Sunday meetup, so at midmorning, Kori went to their usual diner.

When she turned up, the other four were already at their table, and Raven was saying, "…I don't know, it's like I become aware of my diaphragm, and then I just…" She sat straight and made a vague gesture in front of her stomach. "I don't know."

Vic said, "But how? What does it feel like?"

Gar turned to Kori. "Raven can stop her own hiccups with her mind."

"What?" Kori laughed.

"She was sitting there and she hiccupped twice, and then she concentrated and stopped," said Gar.

Raven was shrugging helplessly. "It's no big deal."

"Teach me," said Vic, ever the one to want to better himself.

"Just, you sit up straight. And then you like," Raven placed a fist in front of her belly, "feel your stomach."

Gar pointed at her. "This is one of your yoga superpowers."

"Maybe," Raven said begrudgingly.

"You can't stop a hiccup," said Dick. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You just saw it, though," said Gar.

Dick shook his head stubbornly. "It was a coincidence."

"It really wasn't," Raven stated.

Kori basked in her friends' conversation as the debate turned into what other bodily reactions you could control.

"You can't stop a hiccup, same as you can't stop sneezes," Dick defended.

"You can stop a sneeze, but you cannot stop a yawn," said Gar.

Dick asked, "You mean the small sneeze you do when you're trying not to sneeze?"

"No, you can concentrate and not sneeze at all," said Raven.

"You can stop a yawn," Vic defended.

"I cover my nose if I want to not yawn," provided Kori.

"That's bad for you," said Dick. "This is all bad for you."

"But you can't hold back a yawn, Vic," argued Gar.

Vic set down his glass for the sake of the dramatic sound. "None of you ever sat through a three-hour Baptist service. You can so stop a yawn."

"How?" Dick laughed.

Vic said, "Mind control. You convince yourself you can just keep breathing normally."

"Well, that's what I was saying about hiccups," said Raven.

Dick turned to Kori. "Where were you yesterday? I texted you," he told her in a low voice as the conversation went on around them.

Kori smiled at him.

She'd gotten texts from both him and Raven the day before. She'd seen them when she turned up at her house again.

Dick's texts were telling her she was badass for getting Butter out the way she did, and praising her for having made sure the mission was a success. Raven had written You wanted to talk about something yesterday at the party. Still want to talk? That one had touched her especially, because it felt like Raven had taken care of the wording to not expose their previous conversation or scare her off, and because she knew Raven didn't like talking about feelings.

"I turned the phone off yesterday," Kori said, and cocked her head. "Self-care."

Dick gave her a mystified smile, but didn't ask further. "Fair enough."

She left it at that. She still felt the hurt, the uncertainty, the distance from her friends, even coupled with the doubt that of whether her feelings were remotely rational. It didn't mean she couldn't be with them and smile with them while she figured herself out.

End of December.

Next up: January: Vanquishing a demon, at great personal cost

(Okay so I've been interviewing for a new job, so now December is done, if the next chapter is late it's because I got it. Otherwise I'll be here next week with the chapter in time and my tail between my legs!)

~The Lighthouse