Word count : 2470
They drove for about 106 kilometers.
Which was roughly 66 miles, if you were American about it. Mara was not American about most things, but she'd been tolerating the imperial system for sixteen years of her existence now, and she figured it'd probably take another sixteen before she could do it without resentment.
The route took them east on the I-10, through the sprawling mess of greater LA — past Ontario, past Fontana, past Rancho Cucamonga, which sounded like a made-up place but apparently wasn't. It apparently also sounded like a noise an orangutan would produce. Cuca-Cuca-Cuca-Cuca-Monga-Monga-Monga-Monga. And into San Bernardino County. The scenery outside the window shifted gradually, from urban landscape to suburban sprawl and then to something almost rural but not quite.
Jules was still quiet. Emotionally wrung out from the Bitch fiasco. Plus, travel had never really suited her. Mara knew that the same way she knew everything about Jules by observing her obsessively.
David had the radio on, some classic rock station that he thought was cool, but coolness and David go together like oil and water, i.e. they don't. Mara let it play. She wasn't in the mood to fight about Spotify rights.
-x-
The outskirts of East Highland announced themselves about ten kilometers before the actual town.
First came the motels. The Starlight Inn. The Desert Rose Lodge. Places that charged by the hour and didn't ask questions and also accept cash. Mara learned the names automatically — force of habit. You never knew when you are gonna need a place like this. *cough* Horny Teenager *cough*
Then came the fast-food strip. McDonald's, Taco Bell. A gas station with a hand-painted sign advertising "BEST JERKY IN CALIFORNIA" which seemed like a bold claim for a place called John's Fuel & Food.
Then the auto shops. Used car lots with too many American flags. A gun store, because of course there was a gun store, they were kinda fucking everywhere. A pawn shop that probably did more business in the "no questions asked" category than the legitimate one, Hmm my kinda place.
Charming, Mara thought. Really charming.
And then, finally: the sign.
WELCOME TO EAST HIGHLANDPopulation: 56,000A Great Place to Call Home!
They entered from the west side, which meant they got the full tour whether they wanted it or not. David seemed to think this was exciting.
"Okay, so that's the main strip," he said, gesturing vaguely at a road lined with the usual suspects — Walmart, Target, a Starbucks, another Starbucks, a suspiciously empty storefront just titled 'Milk'. "And over there is the community center, and that's the park where they do the farmers market on Saturdays—"
"Davy," Mara interrupted. "We're not tourists."
"I'm just orienting you."
"Its 2018. We have phones. With maps. That tell us where things are."
"Yes, Dad, just take us to our new home," Jules says groggily.
David sighed a sigh of a dad whose kids refused to appreciate his enthusiasm. "Fine. But at least let me show you the school."
-x-
East Highland High School was... well a school.
Mara didn't know what she'd expected. Something more impressive, maybe. Or at least something less beige. Why is it always beige.
It was a complex of connected buildings, all done in that same Southern California stucco-and-tile aesthetic that made everything look like a strip mall. The main building had a large archway entrance and a sign that read "HOME OF THE HAWKS" which explained the bird motifs everywhere.
There was a football field. Bleachers. A track around the outside. A parking lot full of cars that ranged from "my parents bought this for my sixteenth birthday" to "I work three jobs and this is the best I can do."
Students were milling around outside, even though it was summer. Some kind of summer school thing, maybe. Or sports practice. Or just kids who had nowhere better to be.
"That's where you'll be going," David said, like he genuinely thought this was good news.
Jules made a noncommittal sound.
Mara stared at the building and felt absolutely nothing.
Same bullshit, just different zip code.
She did notice a few things, though. Force of habit. The overweight security guard at the main entrance looked bored. The gaps in the fence along the back where someone could slip through if they needed to, Hello friend. The camera placements were obvious and easy to avoid if you knew where to look. My kinda place.
She was already planning how she would sneak out.
-x-
The house was on a quiet street about fifteen minutes from the school.
It was a two-story affair, painted in a shade of beige-gray. Ugh, the shade that suburban developers seemed to think was 'neutral.' Neutral my ass, it looks like someone drank a lot of Pepto and then just vomited all over the walls. The lawns were neat though, the hedges trimmed, it also had a driveway that could fit two cars if you were careful about it.
It looked like every other house on the street. Cookie-cutter (HEH, it's me) architecture, courtesy of whatever mass-production housing company had built this whole neighborhood in the eighties. She was reminded of Privet Drive. Hope the neighbors were at least interesting.
David pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Behind them, Marcus' semi rumbled to a stop at the curb.
"Well," David said. "Home sweet home."
They got out.
Mara looked at the house again.
It was... smaller.
Not dramatically. Not "oh my god we're living in a shoebox" smaller. Just... noticeable. A difference you'd only clock if you were paying attention, which Mara always was.
The LA house had been bigger. More spacious. This was... compact. More economical. This was what you bought when you were trying to stretch a budget without admitting you were stretching a budget.
She glanced at David. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, a slightly uncertain expression on his face. Like he was bracing for complaints.
Ah. So that was it.
The credit card thing. The scolding about overspending. It wasn't just David being Dad about money. He was actually worried about it.
Mara felt a small twist of guilt in her chest. She'd known David wasn't exactly rolling in cash, but she hadn't realized it was this tight. The shopping spree. The Steam games. All those little purchases that added up to not-so-little numbers.
Ah, Shit.
She was going to have to find an alternative revenue source. Couldn't keep bleeding Davy dry when he was already stretched thin. Maybe she could pick up some of her old hustles — the homework thing had worked well enough in LA. Or maybe something else, she could always peddle drugs. She'd figure it out. She always did.
Mara didn't comment.
Jules didn't seem to notice. She was already heading for the front door, phone in hand, probably texting someone.
She'd always been less perceptive about this stuff. Money, logistics, the practical shit that kept life running. Jules floated above it, trusting that someone else would handle the details. That someone was usually David. Or Mara. Or both.
It wasn't a flaw, exactly. Just how Jules was wired. Head in the clouds, heart on her sleeve, completely oblivious to the fact that clouds didn't pay rent.
Mara didn't resent it. Much. Tch.
"Let's see the inside," Jules said, pushing through the front door.
-x-
The inside was normal, that's the only word to define it.
Living room, kitchen, dining area all connected. A narrow passage ran along the far wall to a bedroom, which was most probably David's, which was fine, whatever, at least he wasn't sleeping on the couch. A backyard that was more of a back patio. And upstairs—
"Wait."
Mara stopped at the top of the stairs.
There were two bedrooms. Two small bedrooms. With a bathroom in between.
Not one big room that they could share. Two separate rooms. Two separate small rooms.
"Davy."
David came up behind her. "Yeah?"
"There are two rooms."
"Yes."
"Two separate rooms."
"That's... generally how multiple rooms work, yes."
"We had one room in LA." Mara's voice was taking on a slightly hysterical edge. "One big room. That we shared. Together. In the same space."
"You're both getting older," David said carefully. "I thought you'd appreciate having your own space—"
"I don't want my own space. I want Jules's space. Which is also my space. Because we share it. Together."
Jules appeared in the doorway of one of the bedrooms, looking mildly concerned. "What's happening?"
"We have separate rooms," Mara said. The words came out like they were physically painful. "Separate. Rooms."
"Okay...?"
"Jules. This is a tragedy. This is an actual, literal tragedy. How am I supposed to—" Mara gestured wildly. "—sleep next to you? Watch you sleep? Know what you're doing at all times?"
"That last one is a little creepy."
"It's not creepy, it's sisterly."
"It's definitely creepy."
"How am I supposed to spy on you openly?" Mara continued, undeterred. "In the old room I could just... look over. And see what you were doing. And know things. Important things."
"What important things?"
"I don't know, that's why I need to spy!"
David was trying very hard not to laugh. "Mara, all the houses in this area were built by the same company. Jacobs' Developers. They all have the same layout. Two small bedrooms upstairs. There's nothing I can do about it."
"You could knock down a wall."
"I'm not knocking down a wall."
"You could let us share a room anyway."
"The rooms are too small for two beds."
"We could share a bed."
"You're sixteen and seventeen. You need your own space."
Mara stared at him. Then, slowly, dramatically, she sank to her knees.
"Mara—"
She lowered herself further. Hands on the floor now. Head bowing.
"Mara, what are you doing?"
"I'm mourning."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm mourning dramatically." She lowered her head all the way to the carpet. "I will never recover from this. My life is over. The sacred bond of sisterly cohabitation has been severed."
Jules watched her. She'd seen this exact performance many times before — exasperated but not surprised.
"I will never again know the joy of watching Jules sleep," Mara continued, her voice muffled by the carpet. "Never again pat her beautiful head while she dreams. Never again—"
"Okay, the head-patting thing is weird."
"It's affectionate."
"It's WEIRD, Mara."
"I can't believe I'm being denied the simple pleasure of observing my sister twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week—"
Jules poked her with her foot. "Get up."
"No."
"Get up, you gremlin."
"I'm dead. I've died. The separation has killed me." Mara pressed her face harder into the carpet. "Tell my story. Tell them I loved Jules more than life itself, and the cruel architecture of Jacobs' Developers tore us apart."
"You are so fucking weird.", Jules giggles.
"FUCK YOU JACOBS."
David had given up on maintaining composure and was now openly laughing. "I'll leave you two to sort out which room is whose."
He retreated downstairs, still chuckling.
Mara lifted her head just enough to make eye contact with Jules, who was standing over her with arms crossed and an expression that said I can't believe we're related.
"You're really not getting up?"
"Not until you acknowledge my pain."
"Your pain is acknowledged. Get up."
Mara considered this. Then she rolled over onto her back, starfishing on the hallway carpet.
"I need a moment."
"You need therapy."
"That too."
-x-
The room debate was surprisingly brief.
"I want this one," Jules said, pointing to the bedroom on the left. It had a window overlooking the backyard and got slightly better light.
"Okay," Mara said.
"Okay? That's it?"
"I mean, I was going to fight you for it, but..." Mara shrugged. "They're basically the same. And you called it first."
Jules narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"
"No catch."
"There's always a catch with you."
"Fine." Mara grinned. "The catch is that I'm stealing that room."
She darted past Jules and threw herself onto the bed that was still wrapped in plastic from the moving company.
"Mara!"
"Too slow! This is my room now!"
"You just said I could have it!"
"I lied! Psychological warfare! You're getting slow due to age, it seems."
"We're basically the same fucking age!"
"A year is a year, grandma."
Jules grabbed a pillow — still in its packaging — and swung it at Mara's head. Mara dodged, cackling, and grabbed her own pillow-weapon.
What followed was a brief but intense pillow fight.
"You absolute gremlin—"
"You snooze you lose, bitch—"
"I'm going to suffocate you in your sleep—"
"In your dreams, whore—"
"Stop calling me a whore!"
"Stop being a whore!"
"You're the whore! You have a body count of like forty!"
"Thirty-eight, and most of them were mediocre!"
They crashed into each other and went down in a heap, laughing too hard to keep fighting. Mara had Jules pinned — one knee on her hip, pillow raised triumphantly overhead— while Jules squirmed uselessly underneath her.
"Okay, okay," Jules gasped. "Uncle. Uncle."
"I win?"
"You win the battle. But I'm taking this room."
Mara groaned. "But I earned it. Through combat."
"You earned a participation trophy. Now get out of my room."
"Ugh. Fine."
She rolled off the bed and trudged toward the other bedroom, making sure to drag her feet as dramatically as possible.
"You're insufferable," Jules called after her.
"You love me."
"Unfortunately."
Mara grinned over her shoulder. "The other room better have good vibes or I'm filing a complaint."
"File it with Dad. See how much he cares."
"He won't care at all."
"Exactly."
-x-
They spent the rest of the day unloading the semi and hauling boxes upstairs.
It was sweaty, exhausting work. Marcus helped with the furniture.
Mara's room was the smaller of the two. Not by much, but enough to be annoying. She arranged her bed against the far wall, under the window, and started unpacking her wardrobe.
Skirts. Dresses. Crop tops. More skirts. The lingerie went in the top drawer where David would likely see it and have a heart attack. On second thought she put them in the bottom drawer.
She could hear Jules in the next room, doing the same thing. Music playing from her phone — something dreamy and electronic, very Jules.
For a moment, Mara just stood there. In her new room. In her new house. In her new town.
East Highland.
She didn't know what to expect from this place. Didn't know if it would be better or worse than LA. Didn't know if she'd make friends or enemies or both. Didn't know anything, really, except that Jules was in the next room and David was downstairs and they were all starting over.
Again.
Whatever, she thought.
She went back to unpacking.