Mom puttered around in the kitchen, preparing burger patties and toppings so she could get straight to cooking once Alpha and Dad were back. “I’m heading out for groceries after lunch. Stores are reopening here and there. Do you want to come?”
“No. Sorry.” I racked my brain for an excuse. “I—we were gonna do mini-golf.”
“All right.” She watched me for a moment. “You just say the word.”
She wasn’t only talking about groceries. I hadn’t gone past my perimeter since my return.
“Hey, Haze,” Caro said, “let’s get a haircut together next week. I know a cut that’ll look real nice on you.”
“Caro!” Mom said, exasperated.
I laughed into my drink. “No, thanks.”
“It doesn’t have to be the full rainbow. Just one color to start with?”
“I’m all right like this.”
“Good,” Mom said. “That girl was trying way too hard. I’m glad I got a sensible version.” She winked at me, and I hunched over the table, my every muscle rigid.
“Yeah,” I managed to say.
My hand went to my sternum, where a necklace might go.
That girl, I thought.
That girl.
That girl.
If I were brave, if I were that girl, I would say something and defend her.
But then, I never was any good at standing up for myself.
Alpha was terrible at mini-golf. She held the club wrong, smacked the ball too hard, and couldn’t control its direction for the life of her. She was a quick learner, though; thirty minutes in, she managed a hole-in-one.
“Nice!” Caro said.
Alpha seemed pleased as she crouched by the hole, fishing out the ball. Without getting up, she looked at us over her shoulder. “I need a new name.”
“Why?” I said. “You can still be Hazel.”
“Confusing as it is,” Caro added.
“No,” Alpha said. “I don’t feel like the girl I was before. And in this world . . .” She shook her head and stood. “Fresh start. Fresh name.”
“Anything in mind?” I asked.
“Not at all.”
“I’ll brainstorm,” Caro said.
Alpha offered her a slight smile. “Thanks.”
She’d seemed wary around our family: Dad and Caro were strangers to her, and Mom might as well be. The Mom who Alpha had lost was nothing like mine. But perhaps she’d warm up to them. Perhaps she’d feel at home someday.
Alpha overlooked the mini-golf course pensively. “Wonder what name Tara would suggest.”
I came to stand by her side. “You could contact her. This world’s Tara, I mean.”
“Wouldn’t be fair. I’d keep comparing her to my own. You could reach out, though.”
I’d considered it. I’d found Tara’s artwork online and saved her email address.
But I hadn’t contacted her.
I hadn’t contacted a therapist.
I hadn’t cut my hair.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d thought this would be a fresh start for me, too.
I’d thought I would change.
I placed the golf ball on the ground and got a hole-in-one as I always did.
“Tomorrow,” I said, “I want to go into West Ash.”
We had hot chocolate in the town square, all five of us. We walked around for an hour and I had a panic attack and we went back home.
We invited all three of my grandparents for their first-ever dinner at the house. We made lists of names for Alpha. We overhauled the office into a bedroom for her and consoled her as she cried.
And I sat at my computer until late at night, reading about asexuality and catching up on homework, not sure if the MGA was still watching my movements, not sure whether it mattered. I had five things saved:
1. My email draft to Tara.
2. A list of nearby therapists, including a Dr. Hayston.
3. The address to the frozen yogurt place Four had mentioned in the hospital.
4. The name of the nearest hairdresser who looked like they might enjoy a challenge.
5. A product page for a bright red dress in my size.
I hadn’t done anything yet.
I hadn’t decided anything yet.
I had nightmares and crying fits and I curled in and I lashed out.
The first time Mom grounded me, I thought, This is what I do now that I have a normal life?
I missed the Hazel the others had seemed to see in me.
I liked her better than the Hazel I was.
One weekend, Alpha and I stayed with Aunt Lina in Philadelphia. I’d forgotten the door code and her cat’s name and thought, I am a failure of a niece.
I ordered the red dress and put it away without wearing it. I left the hairdresser with just a trim and fought tears as I walked out. I emailed Tara and kept her reply unread in my inbox. I averted my eyes when I saw a pretty girl on TV because Mom might be watching me, and I thought, I am a failure of a Hazel.
I shouldn’t still be so scared. Less than a month ago, I’d stood atop a skyscraper and watched a city dissipate—
But when I slept over at Imani’s the first time, I curled up like a pill bug and wondered, What if I mess up, what if I say the wrong thing, what if she hates me, what if she’ll never want to do it again.
If anything, I was more scared. Before, my life had been carefully scheduled. Now, I had so many decisions to make, and if I made the wrong one, I might screw up any chance of becoming the Hazel I was supposed to be.
I felt alone.
I wasn’t, of course. Caro had fully moved in, and Alpha still sneaked into my room at night for long hushed conversations.
“I don’t know who I am here,” she’d whisper. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”
Or: “Your grandparents don’t like me much.”
Other times, I’d whisper, “Valk was right. I was
