Fallout Dreams

mia 03

mia pinched her thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. her intro to gender studies class was one of her favorites, but nights had been sleepless and her desk was a tempting pillow.

the professor didn't seem to care that it was friday and spent the last forty minutes dismantling dichotomous thinking and society's notion that humans can only be one of two genders. mia hid a yawn, blinked vigorously, and forced herself to stay awake.

eleven months ago, ava had been just as politically correct as mia. they fought side by side for diversity and tolerance and change and love. but empathy was another casualty lost in the crash.

even though the sisters were finally in the trenches, ava rarely got passionate about minority rights or lgbt activism or trigger warnings. back in little rock, they drove past a truck flaunting a half-dozen confederate flags. when mia pointed them out, ava only rolled her eyes.

she had ranted about her sister's newfound apathy a hundred times in her head (and at least twice to gari-jean)... but something was different today. there was a new, pervasive thought gnawing in the back of her brain... a tiny notion she'd been repressing for the last several weeks... the fact that she too had become less empathetic.

since the skunk attack, gary's death, and ava's dark descent, the idea of warning students about offensive content seemed almost petty.

is this what happened to ava after the accident?

this small but relevant epiphany made mia feel connected to her sister for the first time in over a week (though she still thought ava herself should come with a trigger warning).

the prof finally dismissed the class with her usual parting sentiment. "remember to make the world a kinder place!"

one step outside and mia found dean standing against the brick, green blazer hanging from his shoulders as if he was a coat rack instead of a kid. his eyes—pink and restless—singled her out in the flood of their peers. he motioned to the quad with his head and mia followed.

sleeping with dean would have been the biggest mistake of the semester. luckily, his multitude of erection-deflating vices kept him flaccid enough to make the night a farce instead of a regret.

"nolan told me you dropped," mia said when they reached the dry fountain at the center of the square. "glad to have you back—"

out of nowhere, dean raised a joint—already lit—and stuck it to his lower lip. he removed a blue bottle from his breast pocket and spritzed his blazer and tee. one whiff told mia it was trashy cologne. "here," he said, offering the jar.

"oh... no thanks."

"you need it more than i do."

"why?"

dean nodded to her backpack.

mia narrowed her shoulders, yanked it off, and pressed her nose to the fibers.

the fucking skunk.

"is that why you're here?" she asked, "to tell me i smell like shit?"

dean pocketed the cologne. "i'm here to tell you your sister's a demon."

she dropped her bag. "what did you just say?"

"i didn't blame her for what happened to gary—"

"why the hell would you?"

"—but then it happened again." the joint nearly bounced off his lip.

"what happened again?" she asked.