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Author’s Note:
I'm dedicating this story to the public domain, which means I'm waiving all my rights to this work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law.
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The air grows hot and humid as the sun rises above the flooded residential neighborhood. In one of the streets reclaimed by the ocean the fishing boat stands still with its moorings tied to the half-submerged houses, their flat rooftops serving as an improvised pier.
Dead palm trees, rusty streetlamps, and bent traffic lights poke out the brown water near the vessel. At first glance, the boat seems more dignified thanks to the new coat of paint around its hull, yet a closer inspection reveals it’s almost as rusted and dilapidated as before.
On its deck a tall woman dressed in a blue foul weather jacket scans the rooftop archipelago with a pair of binoculars while two preteen boys lay on their stomachs behind her, their heads covered with golden sacks and their bodies bent in a hogtie with their wrists and ankles tied together behind their backs. They periodically mumble and struggle against their restraints yet do not make much noise due to the gags in their mouths.
Inside the boat's cabin a second, older woman —dressed also in blue clothes— types fast on a paper-thin smartphone with a wooden back. The sixty-something white woman has an elegant, thin complexion and long white hair with pink highlights tied in a ponytail. Her tattooed fingers move in a blur over the phone’s screen as she finishes writing a long message and clicks ‘send’.
She slides the phone back in her pants pocket, glances outside at the woman with binoculars who watches the end of the flooded street. The old woman follows the binocular’s line of vision and narrows her eyes, sees a vehicle approaching in the distance.
An old and battered Tesla truck screeches to a stop just where the ocean swallows the asphalt road. Two figures dressed in black tactical gear, skull-like face paint, and assault rifles over their shoulders jump out of the truck's bed and split. One of them, a skinny woman with a buzz cut, pops the truck’s tailgate to unload the cargo while her partner, a thin woman with short braids, walks to the cabin and engages in small talk with the driver.
“What a night uh?” she muses. The driver laughs.
The woman with the buzz cut reaches inside the truck’s bed and slides two more gagged and hogtied preteen boys in their pajamas which she deposits on the ground as if they were heavy suitcases. She closes the tailgate, grabs both kids with each hand, and tries to carry them all by herself towards the nearest building, stopping just a few yards later to rest.
The woman with braids notices her partner’s struggles, bumps fists with the driver, and hurries to help her. The Tesla makes a U-turn and drives away with a hum, the sound of its tires on the cracked pavement quickly fading in the distance.
"What's your deal lately with trying to become Wonder Woman?" asks the woman with braids as she helps her carry the captured boys inside the half-sunken house "First you spend all day in the gym, now this? Are you trying to impress the Boss or something?"
The woman with the buzz cut snorts "Girl, if only it were that easy..." she puts her struggling boy on the floor to readjust her grip "No, is my fiancée who I'm trying to impress. She's been a bundle of anxiety lately and I want her to... you know..." she lifts the boy over her shoulders, shrugs "Feel safe when she’s in my arms."
"Safe?" the woman with braids repeats in a mocking tone. She lifts her own hogtied boy over her shoulders and steps inside the house, heading to the roof "You have a fucking armory at your place! You could single-handedly overthrow this latest government!"
They both laugh as they reach the rooftop, carrying the twitching preteens as if they were big flour sacks. They walk across the rooftop and over a wooden plank connecting the house to the next. Similar planks connect the rest of the rooftops forming a path to the fishing boat docked further away.
"Maybe, but I may have to say goodbye to that firepower. I'll probably have to sell or give away most of my guns" continues the thin woman with the buzz cut "Now that she’s moving to my place, I’ll have to put them under lock or find other ways to keep ‘em out of reach." she shakes her head "And even then, they may get curious in the future, and I don’t want them to get hurt."
The woman with braids stares at her partner with a bewildered look, unable to grasp her line of reasoning. Suddenly she realizes something and stops in her tracks. The skinny woman stops as well, throws her a questioning look.
"Wait! Dude…! Are you...?" the woman with braids stutters, her voice growing in excitement "Are you and your girl expecting the Stork to knock on your door soon?"
The woman with the buzzcut is unable to repress a smile. “I don’t know what made you think that…” she says with a shrug and continues walking.
Her partner looks amazed, rushes to catch her "No freaking way! No freaking way!" she squeaks while shaking her shoulders.
"Hey, get off me girl!"
"DUDE!!! How am I just learning about this? We must celebrate BIG time! This is incredible!" she pauses, tilts her head "Wait… How the hell did YOU pass the government’s background checks?"
Suddenly the woman with the buzzcut turns and pushes the woman with braids to crouch close, bringing them to whispering distance. The tied boys over their shoulders bounce against each other and mumble a complaint.
"Shhh! That's enough! I'll tell you more later..."
The childish excitement in the face of her partner slowly transitions into one of apprehension.
"Wait... You did get a letter from the Stork... right? Otherwise, how did you two got pregn...?" her voice trails off, she raises her eyebrows and points at the fishing boat ahead with an are-you-serious? Kind of look.
The woman with the buzzcut grunts and pushes her hand down.
"LATER I said!" she hisses, then reincorporates and continues walking.
The woman with braids shakes her head, mumbles something to herself and follows her.
The two commandos step onboard the boat and deposit the hogtied boys next to the previous two already on the deck. They bump fists with the tall woman with binoculars and engage in some small talk as they store their weapons and tactical gear inside a hidden compartment on the floor, changing into the less conspicuous orange garments of a fishing crew.
"Hope these drones are worth the delay..." says the woman with binoculars as she inspects the new boys "And you only got two more?" she smirks, points at the woman with braids "Didn't you said you wanted a bonus?"
The woman with braids rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak before her partner interjects.
"Hey, give us a break, these were HARD to get!” she says removing her black and white face paint with a wet tissue “Our intel was wrong, again! So we had to improvise... Here, look!" she points at a purple stain in the skin under her eye, then at one of the boys on the floor "That little shit wouldn't stay still!"
"Oh wow! He got you good!" says the woman with binoculars with a laugh "Wait! Let me try to take a picture with this new thing..." she taps her temple, causing her pupils to light up with red circles.
The woman with the buzz cut snorts and turns away. She finishes removing her face paint and puts on glasses while under constant teasing by her two crewmates. Finally, she turns and stands awkwardly in place, but after some more teasing she starts posing, showing off her newest battle scar amidst the cheers of the other two women.
"So… Finish your story..." says the old woman as she steps out of the boat’s cabin, typing non-stop on the smartphone "How did you subdue the drone in the end…?"
The three women immediately shut up and advert their eyes. The woman with the buzz cut hesitates before answering “S-standard procedure Boss…! We disabled the house sensors and subdued the guardians, no casualties to report. Then we broke into the bedrooms and immobilized the drones readying them for transport. No Taser or gas, just using our hands as we practiced..."
"Mm, mmmh..." muses 'The Boss' sliding the phone in her pants pocket and crouching near the tied kids on the floor. She pushes one of them to the side and pulls his Spiderman shirt up and his dotted pajama pants down, exposing a tiny penis and brown stomach with a nasty bruise below his navel. The boy squirms and yells harder against his mouth gag.
"T-that wasn't mine!" the woman with the buzz cut hurries to say "He already had that! The guardians in that group home treated them like shit!"
"Relax, I believe you..." says the Boss with a bored voice as she reincorporates, leaving the boy in place with his midriff and groin exposed. She takes the phone out of her pocket and continues typing “At least until we return to the mothership and test his swimmers. And if it turns out you busted a drone's nuts again, your next payment will be held in escrow until you get me three more to replace him.” she looks directly at her “Understood?"
"Y-yes Boss..."
"Good." she waves dismissive in their general direction, never stopping her typing "Now cut the chit-chat, lose the moorings, and get us ready for departure.” she sniffles “We're late..."
She heads back to the cabin but then remembers something and turns back "Oh and throw out the ballast. But ladies, if you will..." she raises her eyes off the screen and looks at each of the three women in sequence "This time follow the procedure..."
"Yes Boss!" the women chant in a chorus before scrambling around the vessel. Two of them release the boat's moors while the third disappears below deck, reappearing moments later carrying yet another tied and gagged young boy over her shoulders. Only this one is older than the previous four, in his mid-teens, and completely naked except for the usual golden sack around his head.
She places the bound teen next to the new, younger boys already on the floor and walks below deck once again. The teen quickly notices the murmurs of the four boys struggling next to him and starts yelling against his gag trying to communicate with them, to warn them about something. The preteens stop their struggles and listen carefully to his muffled words.
The boat's engine coughs and roars loud as it comes back to life, swallowing his voice. The teen yells even louder, but then the woman returns and carries him away. The four boys start yelling against their gags.
She transports the teen to the other end of the deck and forces him to stand leaning against the boat's stern railing, then yells above the noise of the engine “Wait here!”
The golden sack around the teen’s head balloons and shrinks as his breath grows more agitated, his nude body already shining from sweat.
After what seems like an eternity the golden sack is removed. He turns his face away when hit by the sunlight, blinks as his eyes refocus, and looks to his side where he discovers another naked teen boy leaning against the railing in a near-identical situation, with a ball gag in the mouth, wrists and ankles tied together, and looking just as blinded by the light.
They look at each other and frown, taking them a second to recognize their peer. They've seen each other’s faces many times before but never really interacted before this moment. A wry smile crosses their faces, thankful to not be alone in their predicament.
A mechanical clank in front of them, a sound so unique and distinct it rises above the engine’s deafening noise. The teens turn and see the three women standing in front of them wearing white, featureless masks without slits for their eyes or mouths. More worrisome than the masks thou is the woman in the center holding an assault rifle which she lifts and aims at them.
The two nude teens squirm and close their eyes.
"Wait!" yells one of the women, remembering something. She whispers to the one aiming the rifle who groans and drops her shoulders. She holsters the weapon and descends with angry steps below deck.
The two nude youngsters shake and tremble as they press themselves against the railing, terrified of her return. They throw pleading looks at the other women waiting in place but see no reaction from the masked figures. From inside the boat's cabin, the old woman watches the scene with a bored expression. She checks the hour on the smartphone, sighs, and continues typing.
The woman with the assault rifle finally reappears holding an empty 5-gallon water jug in each hand. She approaches the trembling teens and presses the plastic containers against their chests.
"Here!" she yells "New procedure after the last one of you almost drowned! And remember, these zip ties dissolve in saltwater, but it takes a while!"
She smiles and pushes both teenage boys off the boat. They splash in the brown water below and panic when they resurface, trying to hold on to dear life to the empty water jugs while the three masked women laugh and point at them, enjoying the spectacle of their struggle.
One of the teens finally manages to hold on to his jug, but in doing so he floats closer to the boat and grabs on to it for extra support. The woman with the assault rifle waves the weapon at him.
"Hey! No touchie!"
The teen jolts and swims away. They keep kicking and splashing until they seem able to keep their heads above the water. One of the women raises her hand with a thumbs-up.
The engine roars louder and the boat starts to move away. The three women cheer as they leave the boys behind, throwing air-kisses, yelling sexual innuendos, and waving them goodbye as the vessel navigates between the half-sunken houses.
Inside the cabin the old woman holds the ship's wheel with a hand while typing on the phone with the other, her eyes darting between the screen and the water ahead.
She glances back at the two teens who are mere dots in the distance by now, holds her glance for a moment, and turns back around, her expression unchanged.
A near-empty city street outside a concrete apartment complex. Wide and weathered sidewalks and rows of yet-to-be-open stores readying themselves for the massive influx of traffic later in the day. Standing alone near a fenced tree with two chained bicycles, Carolina bites her lip as she reads an explicit Yaoi manga on an old, thick smartphone, two empty shopping bags on her other hand.
Pedestrians throw furtive looks at the Asian girl as they walk by, not just from her reading material, but her overall look. ‘Caro’ is the same age as Miguel but on the taller and heavier side of the boy’s short and lanky complexion. Long and unruly black hair reaches down her shoulders with alternating patches of rainbow color on the tips. Her green hoodie with bold and complex Zelda artwork is three sizes too big yet not large enough to completely cover her beige dress underneath which pours out the hoodie’s bottom like an upside-down cupcake. Given the color salad on the top side of her body, her pale thighs and socks and sneakers of mismatched colors look comparatively tasteful.
The entrance to the apartment complex opens, Caro immediately turns to look but is disappointed to see two older men walking away holding hands. She checks the time on her phone, sighs, and is about to continue her lecture when she hears children's laughter on the other side of the street and turns to look.
A family of five has just exited a convenience store and surrounds a small car parked nearby. Given the bags, toys, floating devices, and two massive umbrellas inside the compact vehicle, it seems obvious the middle-class family is heading to the beach. The two white parents open the side doors and struggle to fit their newest supplies while their three young daughters await restlessly for their turn to hop inside the Tetris puzzle that is the interior of the tiny vehicle.
Carolina lowers her phone and watches the family struggle and banter with a smile, enjoying the domestic spectacle happening out in public. Of particular interest to her is the oldest daughter who is closer to her age, a twelve-year-old black girl with a short afro, stylish sunglasses, a big straw hat, and an adult-sized baby blue shirt that barely covers a slim, nude body below.
Caro bites her lip as her eyes roam around the suburban nymph, her pupils dilating each time the girl turns or bends and another part of her petite body is momentarily visible. The eleven-year-old girl shuffles in place, growing restless.
Suddenly the black girl turns and looks straight at Caro who freezes on the spot. The girl then smiles wide and waves at the asian tween who immediately raises her phone and continues scrolling her manga, pretending not to have noticed her.
The parents finally manage to squeeze everything and everyone inside. When the car’s doors close Carolina finally dares to throw a look only to find the black girl staring right at her while pushing her sunglasses down her nose. The two preteens throw furtive glances at each other as the car reverses and drives away, their long-distant courtship continuing until the electric vehicle turns around the street and, mercifully, disappears.
Caro drops her shoulders and brushes sweat off her forehead, then cheers up when she sees Miguel just exiting the big concrete building.
"Hey! How was it?" she asks storing her phone in her hoodie's kangaroo pocket.
The boy puffs his cheeks and shakes his head "Bad! Sorry it took me so long! She was asleep and I had to wake her up. And THEN I couldn't cum for some reason. Took me ages!"
"Ah! That... Um... sucks…" says the girl, apprehensive "Is that common? Does it happen to all boys as you grow older?"
Miguel shrugs, the two kids move to unchain their bicycles from the fence around the tree.
"I don't know, it has never happened to me before. And I'm supposed to be one of the boys who cums fast!" he shakes his head, frustrated. Then he thinks of something and chuckles "Maybe I'm just getting bored? I mean, sex the first time it's great! But all the following times it's..." he shrugs "Kind of the same… you know?"
Caro laughs and shakes her head "No, I don't know! Remember?" she hops on her bike and starts pedaling away, yells over her shoulder "You're supposed to be the expert here! Some of us are still waiting for the right person...!"
Miguel laughs, but his voice is forced, growing worried. He jumps on his bike and hurries to catch up with her.
The two reach the next street corner and merge with the growing number of bikers and pedestrians flowing down the avenue. A rising tide of slow-moving traffic surrounds the few cars on the road like water hugging stray boulders on a river.
A busy street market cooking under the morning sun. Made-shift stalls shielded from the harsh light with colorful pieces of canvas held haphazardly to any vertical wall, pole, or surface available. Sometimes to none.
A river of people pulses through the market’s main street and its many tributaries, spreading itself through side roads and alleys. People yell and gesture prices and orders to stressed-out street vendors who move in a frenzy behind their stalls trying to keep up, all while a long line of shoppers wait impatiently for their turn to try and catch their attention like a day trader in a XX century stock market. The shoppers queue pacing in place, complaining with their neighbors, or just standing and sweating in begrudging silence as nearby street vendors advertise their products in droning yells, raising their irritation levels even more.
Yet despite all this, the crowd’s mood is one of relief. The ongoing chaos is but a gentle simmer compared to the hellish flood of shoppers coming in later in the day. People frequently check the hour on their implants, glasses, bands, or phones, trembling in nervous anticipation. Trying to finish as quickly as possible.
Amidst the human melting pot, Miguel and Caro chat and laugh as they advance in a crawl between the stalls. Inside their bulky shopping bags there are fruits, vegetables, and groceries of various kinds that have transformed the bags into boulders they struggle to carry each time the queue advances. Yet they too don't seem too bothered, enthralled as they are in their conversation.
"No, no, I'm telling you!" Miguel says gesturing wildly, underlining the sheer importance of his words "The sequel HAS to include zombies! It's the only way they can finish this mix!"
Caro snorts, her face one of disgust "Zombies? On this franchise?" she shakes her head, raises a palm "I already conceded this mix will end with another pandemic, the signs are all there. But ‘zombies’ Miguel...? How many Millennials are watching this?”
She giggles, Miguel rolls his eyes and handles her smartphone back. They leave the stall and follow the crowd, the boy’s thin arms straining to carry the shopping bag as he walks.
They stop in the middle of the next intersection, Miguel drops his bag and scans the street market with narrowed eyes, looking for a specific vendor in the distance. Caro waits nearby fanning air to herself by waving the fabric of her oversized hoodie. She seems like she’s about to give up and take it off, but then notices the people throwing glances at her and she reconsiders.
Then she notices something else. While most people just throw annoyed stares at them for the way they obstruct the flow of the crowd, some eyes glue specifically on Miguel, staring at the lanky boy as if he were a piece of forgotten jewelry laying on the street —and provoking a similar moral dilemma in people’s faces—.
Caro grows more and more nervous as the crowd seems to move closer. As if it was getting ready to swallow the boy. She moves closer to Miguel with one hand inside her kangaroo pocket and the other hovering mere inches away from his arm, readying to hold him with all her might.
Miguel smiles and points towards a parked brown van in the distance. "There! That's the last one!" he announces. Caro breathes in relief. She lifts her heavy shopping bag and follows him.
The stall in front the old Arrival van sells cheese, milk, meat, eggs, and other lab-made products arranged around a U-shaped white table. An old man with a cowboy hat and two identical teenage girls with hairnets and white aprons scramble inside taking the client’s orders. Normally it would be near impossible to distinguish between the twin girls, but thanks to the six-month belly of one of them it’s much easier. When the pregnant teen sees Miguel approaching her face illuminates and she hurries to attend him. Her non-pregnant sister notices him too but is unable to reach him first given she’s busy attending to a client.
"Hey Migueeel...!" says the pregnant teen with a flirty tone "We were just talking about you! I need your help with a pet project of mine..."
Miguel drops the bulky shopping bag close to the stall and tilts his head, not understanding. The teen giggles and looks back at her sister who throws her a warning look.
"Well, you see…" she continues "Anna starts ovulating this week, and I was imagining how cool it would be if her baby had the same father as mine!” she lowers her voice, leans closer “And look, I know it’s supposed to be a secret which of you boys is the one who conceived which baby… But come on!" she smiles, points at her belly, "I think it's pretty obvious in our case..."
She winks, then glances again at her sister who is hiding her face with a hand and mouthing a silent apology to Miguel for her sister's outrageous behavior.
"So, what do you say?" the pregnant teen continues, speaking normally "Think you can fit Anna between your house visits this week?” an idea crosses her face “Oh! How about right now? You can use Dad's van over there!” she says pointing at the brown van, but then remembers something and drops her shoulders “Oh, but we can't pay you right now, we already spent the Stork money…” her face illuminates “Buuut I can give you some cream cheese for your grandma!"
She starts moving crates and boxes around the stall, taking for granted his agreement on her proposal. Miguel waves his hands trying to stop her, glances back at Caro who watches him in silence. He shrugs and throws an embarrassed smile.
"No, no Isabella! It's okay! Just the usual things from my abuelita's list! We're kind of in a hurry anyway."
The pregnant teen shakes her head.
"No, no, I insist! Your grandma LOVES our cream cheese and won't mind some this week. She can make some flautas! Do you like flautas?"
With the situation rapidly going out of control, Miguel leans forwards and grabs the plastic crate Isabella is about to lift.
"Just the usual, please!"
The teen looks at him with confusion "You sure? It won't take long. I can keep an eye on your bag while you and Anna have sex in the van, you're a fast shooter anyway... I mean, come on!" she says with growing excitement "Can you imagine if our babies were twice sisters?"
She motions to lift the crate again, but Miguel keeps his weight on it, his face one of desperation. He moves closer and whispers in her ear.
"See the girl behind me? With the green hoodie? I'll ask her later today if she wants to be my novia, and THIS isn't helping!"
Isabella's eyes open wide. She glances at Carolina who smiles and waves back. The teen forces a smile.
"Y-yeah, okay, we're also in a hurry anyway..." she says releasing the crate and straightening her white apron, pretending nothing happened "So, the usual right? Cotija, eggs, rompope, string cheese, you know…” she shrugs “The usual..."
"The usual…" Miguel says taking a breath. He turns to Caro and motions her to prepare the payment while avoiding her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry about that..." he says with a red face as Caro unlocks her smartphone and handles it to him "I mean… We don't actually ‘know’ if her baby is mine...” he chuckles “How could we? I mean... each time I cum inside a girl there's only like, what? A ten percent chance of getting her pregnant?"
Caro smiles, amused at his discomfort “Well... is someone's baby!” she says with a shrug.
Miguel forces a laugh, waits in place looking like he would welcome the pavement opening and swallowing him whole.
Isabella is about to complete his order when her father beckons for her help. Anna quickly moves to replace her, throwing her sister a knowing look. She passes Miguel the items he ordered which he distributes between his and Caro’s overflowing shopping bags.
"Sorry for all that..." Anna whispers as they finish, she presents the inside of her wrist with a tattooed QR code. Miguel waves the phone over it "Sometimes Isa gets these 'cool' ideas in her head and can't seem to let them go."
Miguel nods "Yeah, it's okay. Just tell her not to speak so loud next time…” he swallows, looks around and whispers “I don't want to get in trouble again."
Anna nods, taps her temple causing her pupils to flash with white rectangles "It would be really cool thou... For you to be my baby’s father I mean..." she says absentmindedly as she completes the payment “Hope you can visit me this week if you have an opening on your schedule…” she leans closer, talks with a softer tone “Or even when I’m not ovulating… Anna says she also misses feeling you inside. Have you had sex with twins yet?"
The boy is caught off guard. He looks back at Caro who is distracted fiddling with her phone. He babbles taking a step back.
"I-I'll think about it. Thanks Isa!" he says and yanks his shopping bag up, looking for a second as if he just tried to dislodge a tree from its roots. He stops and tries again, finally managing to raise it a couple of inches off the ground.
Anna chuckles and waves him goodbye. Miguel nods and walks away. The teen sighs, rubs her forehead and turns to the next customer who keeps demanding her attention with frantic desperation.
Distant knocks on a wooden door, wrinkled thumbs stop their scrolling motion across the massive phone screen.
The eighty-year-old white woman looks around the small bedroom for the source of the knocks. She’s dressed in a pristine white bathrobe and sits with her legs straight in a single bed placed in the middle of a minimalist room populated by a bedside lamp, a big wardrobe, stacked boxes, framed GIFs, and a robotic walker.
The old lady frowns, waiting for the sound to repeat. When it doesn’t, she turns her attention back to the 11-inch paper-thin screen in her hands and its endless stream of news.
"Those Selenites... always the same BS..." she mumbles while reading the captions of a short video showing a group of dignitaries shaking hands. A blue UN flag on one side and a black flag with a single white circle on the other.
More knocks on a wooden door. The elder woman sighs.
"Miguel! Someone's at the door…!" she yells while clicking reaction buttons on the phone.
"Yeah! It's me!" says the boy’s muffled voice in the distance.
The octogenarian huffs, lowers the phone and waves at the bedside lamp as if it were a pet.
"Come on Joe! You heard him! Open the darn thing!"
The wardrobe’s door pops open, revealing a mess of clothes, cardboard boxes, and rows of silver and golden statues inside. The old lady groans.
"As useless as always. No wonder they dragged and shot you on live TV..."
She turns in the bed, pushes herself towards the edge, and slides her bare feet in the white slippers waiting on the carpeted floor.
The door knocks again.
"Maybe I should've called you Ted. Just as useless as Joe, but at least the memes were funnier when they lynched him..."
She ties the string of her bathrobe and walks out of the bedroom, holding on to nearby walls and furniture for support.
The door knocks again, the old woman lets out a chuckle “And those were some funny memes... I wonder if I can find them..."
She has almost reached the small house main door when she pats her bathrobe’s pocket and stops. She pats her other pocket, sighs, and turns back around.
"Was it Ted or Mark the one who squealed like a piggy when the mob finally caught him...?" she shakes her head "That was so random..."
Outside, surrounded by the bushes from a garden in dire need of a prune, Miguel leans with his back against the wooden door and knocks again. Caro sits on the head of a big porcelain Goomba nearby, her chin resting on her fists.
"I'm starting to understand why you're always late to class..." she muses.
Miguel chuckles "No, no, this is normal, only two or three more knocks left. When I’m late for school is for another reason...” he chuckles, notices Caro is waiting for him to elaborate and panics. He babbles for a different topic “A-anyway, this stop won’t take long. I just gotta store this week’s food, take a quick shower, and we can leave."
Caro perks up "Ah! Think I could take a shower too? It's been giga hot today...!"
Miguel hesitates, struggling to find a reason to deny her request. But before he can answer the door behind him opens and he falls back, narrowly avoiding landing on his butt.
"Ah! Miguel. Was it enough money to buy cream cheese?" the old woman says fiddling with her massive phone as the boy struggles to regain his balance. He shakes his head, she huffs "Oh well, maybe next weekend."
"Y-yeah abuelita, we’ll have flautas next time…" says Miguel giving her a quick hug, then he hurries to carry his massive shopping bag inside the house.
Caro raises her bag too but stops near the entrance, unsure whether to follow him inside. The old woman finally notices her and smiles.
"Ah! Charles. Glad to see you so early." she crosses her arms in front of her as if caught "Sorry to welcome you in my pajamas! I didn't know you were visiting. Want to come inside?"
Caro smiles and nods, walks inside the house carrying her shopping bag which she places with a thud next to Miguel's.
The boy is already busy storing the food inside the fridge and cupboards. He notices Caro approaching and stands up, gives her a quick explanation of where everything goes in the kitchen.
"Got it? Yeah? Don’t worry if you put them whenever, I’ll reorder them later."
Caro nods and starts taking food items out of the bag. Miguel turns and rushes to the bathroom, stopping before he almost runs over the tiny old woman who stands in his way.
"Hey, where are you going?” she asks, unfazed. Points at Caro in the kitchen “You're making Charles store the food?"
"Oh! N-no, no Abuelita, it’s just so I can go shower in the meantime. We're running late!"
Carolina yells from the kitchen "Ah! Remember I want to shower too!" she leans by the doorframe, looks at the old woman and adds "Um, if that's okay with you…"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, it's fine, you both look like you survived a wildfire…” the elder says waving a hand, then raises her eyebrows “Hey, why don't you shower together? That’s what we did back in the day to save water."
Both kids stop in their tracks, throw awkward glances at each other.
"Um... I-it's okay abuelita! Water isn't scarce anymore. We’ve talked about this before, remember?” says Miguel in a steady, practiced tone of voice. He chuckles “And we're not in that much of a hurry anyway."
He turns to leave but Caro interjects again “Ah! We ARE kind of in a hurry! The first movie starts in half an hour." she pauses, makes a little shrug "Maybe showering together isn't such a bad idea..."
The boy stops once more on his way to the bathroom, looks back at the Asian girl who watches him expectantly biting her lip.
He babbles and continues walking backward, waving with his hands trying to form an answer. But before he can begin, he notices he’s already standing by the bathroom entrance and jumps inside.
"I'll be real quick!" he yells and slams the door.
Caro drops her shoulders and turns on her heels, disappointed. She returns to the shopping bags and continues storing items inside the fridge.
The old woman has remained silent throughout the kid’s interaction. She ponders for a moment, tilts her head, and enters the kitchen mumbling words as she fiddles with her phone. Caro notices her approaching and throws a questioning look.
"I’ll schedule an Uber so you don't miss your movie,” she explains “Although for some reason I can’t find the App…”
Caro frowns “A what...?" she shakes her head "Um, it's okay! Really! We'll just have to ride our bikes faster." she stands up and closes the fridge, starts storing the rest of the food inside the cupboards "We've seen this movie before anyway..."
"Oh…? I thought I heard Miguel say you were going to a movie premiere. Is it a re-release then?"
The girl smiles, confused "Ah... no. It IS a premiere for a new movie. Just one we've seen many times."
"A remake then?"
Caro shrugs, amused by how off the mark she is "N-no. That's another thing entirely. This is a mix made with a series of..." she stops, shakes her head "We're watching a movie..." she says simply.
The old woman nods and stores her phone back in her pocket. Pats her sides "Well… do people still eat popcorn at the movies?"
Caro nods while pouring flour inside a glass container. The elder woman smiles and opens a nearby drawer, starts gathering small items from the inside in her palm.
The girl throws glances at the old lady as she finishes storing the rest of the dry food, unsure what she's up to. The old woman closes the drawer, beckons the girl to get closer, and deposits a handful of wrinkled bills and rusty coins in her hands.
"Here, get Miguel a big, BIG bag of popcorn. He's so skinny!"
Caro holds the coins in her hands as if they were artifacts from a museum "T-thanks! But...! Um... people don't accept these anymore? And even if they did, I don’t think they're enough for..."
Her words trail off as she watches the confused smile of the old woman. The preteen girl shakes her head and stores the money inside her hoodie's kangaroo pocket. She smiles and hugs her.
"Thanks! I'll make sure to buy your grandson something nice."
"Thanks Charles..." says the old woman tapping her back "Oh, but this money is for Miguel! My grandson perished in the war."
Carolina separates with a confused look “Ah... Mmh... Then how are you two related...?” she shakes her head “No, it doesn’t matter. Oh, and by the way, I'm not going by 'Charles' nowadays? I’m back to ‘Carolina’, or just ‘Caro’… B-but it's okay! You can still call me Charles if you want."
The old woman blinks and smiles, no longer able to make sense of their conversation. The tween chuckles and shrugs, also giving up. They stand smiling in place, enjoying their generational confusion.
"Ready!" shouts Miguel from the other side of the house. Caro excuses herself and rushes to replace him in the bathroom.
She bolts inside but doesn't slam the door. She slowly peeks over the doorframe to the next room where a naked Miguel dries himself with a towel, his tanned bubble butt perking each time he bends his body or shifts his weight.
Caro gulps and bites her lip, raises her phone and starts recording. Her eyes dart between the screen and the olive-skin boy as he turns his white NASA shirt around, wondering whether to wear it again.
"You’re not going outside with that thing, are you?" says the old woman walking past Caro who squeaks and recoils back inside the bathroom.
"Uh? Why not?" says Miguel "It's still clean..."
"It's old! All your shirts are old! What happened to the money I gave you to get new ones?"
He sighs "We've talked about this abuelita. Clothes are expensive now! Remember? The money you gave me was barely enough to pay for your bathrobe."
"What? This silly thing? How much did it cost?"
The sound of their argument continues for a short while, then silences once Caro closes the bathroom door.
To be continued…
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