Route 66 – Tips and Tricks

At the start of this summer, I was set to embark on a trip I’ve been wanting to take for a long time. I don’t remember when I first wanted to take this particular road trip, but over this last winter break, I finally decided this was the summer I would go. I planned to drive the entire Route 66 – Chicago to Santa Monica. I spent my winter break plotting my trip, all the stops I wanted to make, where I would camp (and made reservations). I picked a couple motels, so I’d have a few nights with some air conditioning. And then I waited. Summer could not get here soon enough.

I was a bit nervous about making the trek. (What if my car broke down and delayed me, and I’d have to change all my reservations? What if my plan for camping didn’t work out like I thought, and I couldn’t sleep?) Some folks were shocked that I would be driving the entire route alone. (Um, two weeks where I got to go wherever I wanted and stay for as long as I cared to and didn’t have to answer to someone else? Yes, please!)

I could see myself at the start – I could see myself triumphant at the finish!

But then Mother Nature had her say.

I only made it to the western border of Missouri, three days into my planned travels. The second morning, I had to leave early to skirt around a storm (that had been producing tornadoes…). The second evening, I made it to camp early so that I could avoid a second storm (that had been producing tornadoes…). The third evening, I landed at the campground knowing a bad storm was coming – only to learn my neighbors were a search and rescue team, and their presence meant things were about to get real nasty. The storm had already produced several tornadoes, and more were expected. (More about this exchange in a future post. And yes, I have photos of the rescue dog to share.) There was no way to skirt around this storm – no heading north or south to wait it out. AND a fourth tornado-producing storm was coming behind it. I admitted defeat and turned around – it was just too unsafe. (I will attempt the trip again next summer.)

But even in my short time on the route, I have some tips and tricks to offer.

First, take the trip you want to take. Don’t listen to anyone else who says you HAVE to do this or you HAVE to see that or that it only counts if you drive east to west. (Yes, there are people who believe west to east is the ‘wrong way’ to drive it.) Don’t let them tell you that two weeks (or whatever your plan is) isn’t enough. Decide for yourself how long you have to make the trip (regarding time, money, interest), and make your plan. If you only have two weeks, then plan for two weeks. If you have more time and can afford it, then take longer. You can probably drive the route in a few days, but you’re going to be driving the entire time. (Which, for some people, is enough.) You won’t see everything – but you can plan a trip for what you want to see and can reasonably afford.

Next, have a plan, but allow for the unexpected. There are SO MANY things to see along the route. There are books and apps galore that can help you with this. I used the website Route 66 Road Trip to start my plan (but there are MANY others, such as Driving Route 66, which has maps, and The Ultimate Route 66 Trip, which has interactive maps and discusses some attractions). I went state by state and read through what they had listed and included what I wanted to make sure I saw in a Word doc. I then mapped the distances between each stop, deciding how much I could reasonably drive each day, estimating how long I might stay at each stop. (Also tracked whether there was a charge or not. Budgeting is a good idea if you are like me and not independently wealthy. I managed to afford this because I set aside five bucks a day into a travel account for years, and since I went nowhere during the pandemic or really since, I had travel bucks to burn. So if you want to do this but don’t have a lot of disposable income, plan in advance so that you know what you should save before you head out. And plan extra high for gas prices just to be safe. Though the Trip Calculator website can help you make a more accurate estimate – even for your specific vehicle.) Make sure you plan extra time each day because you will see things as you drive that you just have to stop and see. 🙂 (There are also Route 66 group pages on platforms like Facebook, and people will post things that look interesting that you may want to add to your plan. I had to mute such groups because I couldn’t cram any more in!)

If you don’t have a weather app on your phone, download one. And then store all the towns (or at least major cities) you will pass through. It’s nice to do this in advance as you plan your trip. Then, you can delete cities as you pass through them – but you’ll have a heads up for weather. You want to be aware in case things like tornadoes might pop up or areas might have flash flood warnings (looking at you, entire state of Missouri!). You never want to be taken by surprise. (If it’s too much to have ALL those towns and cities on the app at once, or there is a limit to the number you can add, then you can plan a bit of time at night to delete ones you’ve been through and add more. I would recommend at least two or three days worth of towns/cities, though. Depending on the way a storm is moving, you can see if you should perhaps speed up that day to skirt around it or perhaps slow down so that it passes before you get there. Just be weather aware. And safe.

If your check engine light comes on your dash, be aware that AutoZone will check dash lights for free and let you know what the code points to. If the car is making noise or not driving well, don’t drive, of course. But if it’s driving fine, AutoZone is a great place to aim for. Also, I would recommend AAA (or other such roadside assistance). If you have roadside through your insurance, check with them about whether they charge for dispatches or not. My insurance went up because I had made a call – even though the driver never actually came out to my car (they didn’t provide the services I needed them to perform). Because the call had simply been made, though, my insurance got charged. I went back to AAA because it was cheaper than having my insurance go up again. (Also, some places will offer discounts if you are a AAA member.) There’s no worse feeling than being stranded on the side of the road. Doesn’t hurt to plan ahead simply to have that peace of mind.

I learned a lot after even only those three days. I do plan to take the route and go the whole way, but I will make some changes. I decided I will go out west on my ‘fast route’ plan, and then make my way east along 66. This way, I can wait behind storms as they move out of the way (and be able to hug the mountain going through the Sidewinder between Kingman and Oatman). Or if I do get chased by another tornado-producing storm, I won’t be backtracking. I can still complete the route. Also, I won’t be making reservations for camping the whole route. (I had to cancel all of them once I got back…) That second day, because I had to leave early to avoid the storm, I ended up at the next camp super early. If I hadn’t had that reservation, I could have kept going and made it a bit farther along my itinerary. There are so many places to stay, and as long as it’s not a holiday, it should be fairly easy to find a spot. Worst case scenario, I can find a cheap motel/hotel on any of those ‘discount’ sites that have commercials starring the likes of Kaley Cuoco or William Shatner.

Have you ever driven Route 66? Or taken another epic road trip? Share your own tips and tricks in the comments. 🙂

Rapidan Dam

I spent two years living in Mankato, Minnesota. In the grand scheme of my life thus far, that is starting to feel like a blink. Even so, Mankato made its mark on me, and I still hold dear some of the folks that I met while I was there. Which is why when I first heard about the issues at the Rapidan Dam due to the unprecedented flooding southern Minnesota has been dealing with, my heart broke, and I couldn’t look away.

Yeah, not my typical post, I know. But here we are anyway. (I should note I was in Mankato for grad school. This is where I earned my MFA in creative writing and where my advocacy was first ignited.)

On Monday, June 23, Mankato and the surrounding area was under a severe weather watch, which, well, let’s just say they didn’t need more rain? In the wee hours of that next morning, there were reports of debris and water flowing over the dam. Crews, including the fire station (it’s an Excel energy dam, and there was concern the substation might start on fire), arrived to assess. Water breeched the western side of the dam and began carving out the land. The Blue Earth County/Mankato Area Facebook page has been gathering articles, alerts, photos, and drone footage over the next six, providing updates about the situation.

In less than one day, the river had eaten away enough land that it threatened to drop the Hruska family home into the river (note red circle on image below). The family had removed what they could on the off chance that this would indeed happen, and then they waited. The next evening, enough of the ground beneath the home had eroded, and the house fell. Attention then turned to the Rapidan Store, the family’s livelihood. (note orange circle on image below).

The river continued to eat away at the bank, even as the water levels dropped (far enough that the water was no longer running through the dam), and began to threaten the structural integrity of CT 9 bridge located behind the dam.

On Friday, June 28, the family, along with local officials, made the decision to demolish the store to keep it from falling into the river and causing problems upstream. They had looked at the possibility of moving the structure, but it wasn’t safe to bring in the necessary equipment, so they stripped everything from inside and accepted a purchase agreement from Blue Earth County.

It’s astonishing how quickly this all evolved. It’s heart breaking watching this family go through this – but also heartening to see the Mankato community gathering support for them.

If you are at all interested in donating to help the family rebuild their lives, please consider the official GoFundMe (this is the link shared by official outlets). You can also donate through the Rapidan Heritage Society* (GoFundMe does take a fee – all funds through RHS go straight to the family).

*Rapidan Heritage donation information:
You can send checks to Rapidan Heritage Society with “Hruska Family” in the memo line.

Mailing Address: 55209 190th Street, Mankato, MN 56001

A Community Bank account has been set up for the family, as well. You can make check or cash donations at the following locations:

  • Community Bank Locations: “The Rapidan Dam Store”Mankato : 201 Poplar Street, Mankato, MN 56001All Community Bank locations can accept donations.
  • Minn Star Bank locations:
    • Mankato: 201 Poplar Street, Mankato, MN 56001
    • Lake Crystal: 202 North Main Street, Mankato, MN 56055

Inside Out 2

May be an image of car and text

Every year, it doesn’t officially feel like summer until I get to go to the drive in. Specifically, when we get to watch that Pic commercial before the movie starts – and yes, they still sell the product in the snack bar. 🙂

I’ve made it to the drive in twice already this summer, the most recent trip a couple weeks ago to see the second installation of Inside Out. I loved the first one, as many people did, and I couldn’t wait to see what was up for Riley now that she was about to enter the dreaded puberty years. Inside Out 2 did not disappoint.

I heard a lot of folks say that the movie wasn’t appropriate for younger kids – that the story was too complicated, or that they couldn’t understand these new emotions that Riley experiences. And for super young kids, perhaps. Hopefully they won’t get it (although there is plenty to keep them entertained). But for some of us who were incredibly anxious (and, yes, nostalgic) as young kids, I wish I had a movie like this – I could have pointed to the screen during Riley’s panic attack and said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” The lucky ones never meet this particular emotion, but some of us experienced it long before we had any kind of vocabulary to explain what was happening inside our minds and bodies.

Part of the joy of watching this movie in my favorite move-watching spot (Skyway Drive-In Theatre) was getting to watch it with some of my favorite people – friends of mine I’ve had since high school and their kids. The Skyway has a series of benches up front that as kids we always wanted to sit on – which involved getting there early to be first in line before the gates opened. There was always a race for those benches, parents dropping kids barely inside the gate, everyone running as fast as they could to claim a coveted spot. How we ever thought those things were comfortable, I’ll never know. 😂 The kids were fine, but we adults had backsides and lower backs that had some things to say about it.

There were moments throughout the movie we could all relate to having lived through it, all while looking at this next generations, most of whom were yet to experience it. “Sign me up,” Jen said when Joy catapulted uncomfortable memories to the back of Riley’s mind to be forgotten. “We definitely have those,” D said when they encountered the sar-chasms.

We are, of course, already excited about the prospect of an Inside Out 3 (and the TV series spin-off coming supposedly in the spring). And planning to bring more cushions if we are ever going to sit on those benches again. 😂

If I Had Published My High School Poetry

A little while ago, I attended a poetry reading at my local book shop. April is national poetry month here in the states, so it’s common for such readings to be in an abundance. End of April/start of May also happens to be the busiest time for my job, and the reading fell on a day I just needed to step away from my desk – so I went.

I knew nothing about the poet or their work, but I always enjoy live readings. The truly best poets can make their words breathe right on the page, but even then, hearing them live opens new avenues into their work.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered the poet was still in high school. Out of curiosity, while I was waiting for the reading to start, I looked them up.

Now, I have to say that I appreciate and support the confidence of a high school poet self-publishing their book and holding a public reading. I certainly didn’t have that confidence back then. I barely have it now. I still remember the UntitledTown high school poets reading event – the confidence to read in public and the support of their family members present! I sat there in awe of them all.

But I also know (now) that I surely wasn’t writing publication-worthy poetry back then. For a couple decades, I moved from place to place and carried around notebooks full of such poetry, thinking someday I might do something with it. I eventually burned them.

I do wonder how this young poet might feel a couple decades from now when they hold this collection. Will they wish they had not done it? Or will they be proud of their fearlessness at that age? (Please know – these questions are not at all an implication of how I felt about their work. Just honest wondering given my own experience looking back.) I wonder what I would have done if I had had access to publish my own work into a collection back then. It was my dream, after all, to hold my own book in my hands.

I feel like an old lady saying ‘kids these days,’ but I do think a lot about the access kids these days have and how they will feel about it when they are older.

Book Clubs

After grad school (many moons ago), I found I missed talking about books so much that I convinced my new boss (my now bestie) to read a series with me – and we spent each morning before work discussing them. (Well, complaining about them…because they were awfully written…) Whether for fun or learning, there is something about the shared experience of reading/discussing books that I thoroughly enjoy. Even if that shared experience is one of regret. ¯\(o_o)/¯

Last June, I considered joining a book club at my local bookshop in an effort to both meet new people and talk about books. The book club in question was specifically reading queer authors. I had high hopes – but the first one I attended involved about ninety-seconds of discussing the book and the rest of the hour with those in attendance going off on tangents about their lives (clearly they knew each other outside of this club). I thought I’d give it another chance, and I returned. There was more discussion of the book – but not much. I gave it one more try, and that time, the leader didn’t even show. I decided I was done with this particular club.

During this time, I also opted to join their SciFi/Fantasy book club through the bookshop – and I found what I was looking for: someone that came prepared and spent the entire time on the book. And I’ve been back almost every month since (aside from one week where I had concert tickets). I will say that the leader has chosen some really excellent books – I’ve enjoyed reading all of them. But wowza… this genre with it’s lengthy titles and lack of stand-alone stories is time consuming. 😛 BUT – with the connection to a book club, it’s easier to make reading a priority when there are so many things vying for my attention. (In other words, it allowed me to keep doing this thing I enjoy without the guilt that I “should be” doing something else.)

I’ve since joined a second club of theirs that reads a variety of books, such as WWII historical fiction, memoir, local true crime, and popular fiction. This group is about twelve women who all come prepared with reactions to the books – who even with differing opinions all get along and stay on task (for the most part). It’s been so refreshing getting to share about books again. 🙂 (And it’s not restricted to women – that’s just who shows.)

Are you in a book club? If you aren’t, but are looking for one – check with your local library or local bookshop. If there aren’t any – start one! I promise there are others around you that are looking for the same conversations.

Books I’ve read so far in these clubs (and our upcoming books) in case you’re looking for something to read:

SciFi/Fantasy Club:

  • Hail Mary by Andy Weir (Jul)
    A Darker Side of Magic by V.E. Schwab (Aug)
    Red Rising (Sep)
    Dune (Oct)
    Binti by Nnedi Okorafor (Nov)
    Leviathan Awakes by James S. A. Corey (Dec)
    The Witcher: Blood of Elves by Andrzej Sapkowski (Jan)
    The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (Feb)
    Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson (Mar)

Mixed Club:

  • The Librarian of Burned Books by Brianna Labuskes (Sep)
    Hello, Transcriber by Hannah Morrissey (Oct)
    Seven Aunts by Staci Lola Drouillard (Nov)
    The Maid (Dec)
    The Maid and The Socialite by Lyndra Drews (Jan)
    Trust by Hernan Diaz (Feb)
    Tailspin by John Armbruster (Mar)
    Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt (Apr)
    West with Giraffes by Lynda Rutledge (May)

Wisconsin Pride

A few months back, I had the opportunity to attend the launching of UW-Green Bay’s digital archive – Our Voices, a series of LGBT+ narratives from Northeast Wisconsin. In tandem, there was a screening of Wisconsin PBS’s documentary WI Pride, currently a two-part series.

Now, as someone that has lived in WI for most of my life, who is part of this community, who has done studies in LGBT+ history – I was shocked to discover how little I actually knew about queer history in WI. Like did you know that in 1982, WI became the first state to include sexual orientation in their nondiscrimination policy? I didn’t.

If you are someone that is interested in queer and/or WI history, I HIGHLY recommend checking out this two part series – it feels particularly important to make this recommendation during June, LGBT+ Pride Month here in the states. You can watch both parts on the WI PBS website:

Part One: Hidden Histories

Part Two: Struggles & Victories

Both videos utilize closed captioning and provide a full transcript.

GvM: Where Your Coffee is Served with a Side of Puns

I often hear how isolating writing can be. And there is a lot of truth to that. It’s usually a writer and the page. Now, not everyone types their manuscripts (like my writing bestie, Jack Lelko, who hand writers his entire first draft) – but for the sake of this argument, let’s just say they do.

The average words per minute (according to a number of articles I just Googled – not my most extensive research) is about forty words per minute. For those whose jobs require more computer time, they tend to average 80. We can probably put most writers there (though I imagine there are plenty of us who are closer to that 40 wpm stat). This means that an 80,000 word manuscript requires about sixteen hours and forty minutes of typing. This does not include the amount of time spent staring at the screen, researching obscure facts, revising/editing as we go, deleting entire chapters and starting over, day dreaming about our characters, searching the thesaurus for the exact right word that’s sitting on the tip of out tongue, doing the dishes in an effort to avoid sitting down and writing, etc. Unless you’re R.L. Stine, you’re probably not whipping out an 80K word manuscript in sixteen hours. So yeah, there is a lot of time where it’s just the writer and their story – and little else. (Part of me is tempted to actually time the writing of my next manuscript.)

But I’d also argue that writing doesn’t need to be isolating. It’s not lost on me that my writing really began to flourish with finding my writing bestie. And even more so with my writing group. Little by little, others have been added to my writing community – even folks who aren’t necessarily writers but have a love of reading or other sorts of interests that come in handy.

So it might seem weird that a post about the launch of my next book is not going to be much about said book – but oh well. I want to take a moment and shout out two people who were perhaps unexpected helpers in the writing of this story.

The first is my friend Matt Weibel. In addition to being my friend and a fellow teacher at the college where I work, he’s also the pun master in our group (whether we want him to be or not). To let a pun go by without uttering it would cause him physical pain. At one point when I was writing, I reached out to him and said – I’m probably going to regret this, but give me every coffee pun you can think of. Then I waited for the responses to come in. And he did not disappoint. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) I even gave him the assignment of naming the café – which is owned by a former villain with super strength. Pun master indeed.

The other friend that was a big help is my Cody. We’ve known each other since we were both the new kids in fourth grade, and they are to this day one of my dearest friends. Over the thirty (WHAT???) years we’ve known each other, they’ve been my go to for all things tech. I’m a proficient googler – and I like to figure out things on my own. But when I officially get stumped, it’s Cody to the rescue. Within this story, there is a lot of tech – and while I love a good research rabbit hole, and spent a lot of time diving into them during the drafting process, I also wanted a second pair of eyes with (far) more actual knowledge to make sure that everything I was attempting to do made sense. Not only did they help with that stuff, they offered some great feedback on the story itself. (They also acted as a beta reader for Wherever Would I Be.) And yes, I’m still mad at myself for not changing ALL the references to the character I named after them. I mean, it was still a surprise – I just let the cat out of the bag a little too soon. Oops. (>_<)

Big thanks to both Matt and Cody for helping to make this story even better than I could manage on my own. ♡

You can pre-order Goode vs Melville at Bookshop.org (paperback), Barnes & Noble (hardcover or paperback), or Amazon (paperback or Kindle). You can also ask your local bookshop to order you a copy.

The Rules of Fire & Ice

In the world of Goode versus Melville, there is a game known as Fire & Ice. Below are the official rules:

The Cube: Twelve-foot court walled in with fireproof glass invented by Agent Cody En. The glass was created in such a way that it extinguishes fireballs without leaving a scorch mark. He came up with porous maze pattern of the glass that keeps the fire in but allows noise to pass through so that the audience can hear the players and vice versa. The maze also guides the light through it in a way that disables Speedsters’ powers and to keep the ice from melting too quickly on its own.

The team: Five players on each side – one goalie and four scramblers. The goalie’s task is to keep the opponent’s fireballs from reaching their block of ice, which would speed up its melting. Non-firestarters are allowed to wear fire gloves in an order to handle fireballs; at this time, synthetic-fire-making gloves are not allowed in official games.

The ice: Official game blocks are provided by Fire & Ice, Inc. They are 10″ x 6″ x 6″ and weigh ten pounds. They are frozen by directionally solidifying the ice so that the ice block is clear and any air is pushed out. This allows the block to last longer and to ensure each team’s blocks are exactly the same.

The fire: One fireball is allowed in play at any given time. When a fireball is extinguished against an ice block, the block’s team gets to create the next fireball and reset at the center of the court. When a fireball is extinguished against the glass, thereby going out of bounds, the opposing team gets to create the next fireball at the spot where the previous one went out.

Start of game and reset: The four scramblers from each team will line up along the mid-court line, each on their own sides. The rightmost scrambler will either create or receive the fireball and call “fire”. Neither team may cross the mid-court line until this is called. If the offensive team crosses before “fire” is called, they lose the fireball. If the defensive team crosses the mid-court line before “fire” is called, the offense gets a penalty shot.

Foul: Any illegal personal contact or unsportsmanlike conduct will result in a foul and penalty shot. This includes personal fouls (anything that can potentially injure another player – pushing, blocking, striking, charging, or burning) and technical fouls (fighting and verbal abuse). Five personal or two technical fouls will result in expulsion from the game. Twenty personal or six technical over the course of a season can result in expulsion from the league.

Penalty shot: For a personal foul, one penalty shot is taken – the scramblers on the team which caused the foul will have to remain at the mid-court until a shot is taken at the ice. For a technical foul, two penalty shots are taken – the scrambles on the team who caused the foul will have to remain at the mid-court line until two shots are taken at the ice.

Goode vs Melville: Excerpt

From Chapter One:

Antony Melville stepped onto the path that circled Stirling Park, the four-block green gem in an otherwise overcrowded metropolis made entirely of steel and glass. From inside the park, it was hard to believe anything existed beyond the walls of the nearby skyscrapers, which extended so far up that the trees peppering the park only received direct sunlight around high noon. As Antony sauntered along, all that remained of the sunlight was a halo to the west peeking above the cityscape. School had let out about an hour before, leaving the park dotted with kids playing and parents observing from a safe distance. In the far corner sat the Fire & Ice court with an intense game in progress. Antony, not in any hurry, made this his destination, allowing the cheers and cries from the crowd to carry him closer.

Eventually, he took a vacant seat on the first row of a set of bleachers near the twelve-foot walled cube. Inside, eight players scrambled around the middle of the court, a fireball flying from one member of the offense to another. One player from each team stood stationed at their goal, doing their best to keep their team’s block of ice from being melted by their opponents. The game was a friendly one, so all the players wore street clothes instead of uniforms, and because of that, keeping track of who was on what team quickly became difficult.

Antony shifted his weight to find any bit of comfort against the hard surface of the bleacher and glanced around at the players, seeing if he recognized anyone. He should be at home and patted his pocket for the tenth time since he left to make sure his phone still sat inside. If his father came looking for him, expecting to find him doing homework in his room, his phone would alert him.

A seated figure off to the side caught Antony’s attention, and his jaw dropped. Acting as referee was none other than Jake Siem, the head blocker for the city’s professional team. For a short time in his childhood, Antony had wanted to play like him, but upon learning he held absolutely no skill or coordination for the sport, he ran down a different path. Even so, he still loved to watch him play. Siem shifted his wheelchair back and forth, always facing the direction of play, eyes laser focused.

“Easy now!” Siem called toward the scramble of players near the goal. “It’s a friendly game!”

Antony followed his gaze and froze, recognizing the goalie a mere twelve feet from him, someone he had not seen since he was a kid. Back then, they had gone to the same school, before the city council decided to split the district due to the population boom as the skyscrapers continued to be built higher and higher, allowing more and more people to remain in the city rather than spread through the suburbs. It had been almost ten years, and that boy had been a too-skinny beanpole – nothing but knobby knees and elbows, his hair a tangled mess that was a far cry from the flawless afro his father had sported at the time. What made it all worse for the boy had been the glasses – bright red plastic frames attempting to hold together lenses thick as the bottom of a cola bottle, for which others had teased him mercilessly. That he hadn’t toppled over due to the sheer weight of them had been a constant surprise. Every few seconds, he had to reach up and push them back up his nose, so much a habit that he’d reach up even if they hadn’t slipped down yet. Even so, the boy had still always been kind to everyone, something that had caught and held Antony’s attention back then.

This was not the same skinny boy standing there, but it was undoubtedly him, Terrell Goode. The identifying black ink tattoo sat barely discernible against his dark brown skin of his shoulder – a capital G with the skyline of the city perched atop the straight line of the letter. Antony knew the details of that tattoo from far away because it matched the one Terrell’s father had. It also happened to be the logo of the Goodes’ foundation, a larger-than-life replica attached to the side of a skyscraper on the other side of the park.

As Terrell moved, his muscles rippled, and Antony imagined that up close, the city appeared as if submerged in water. He easily stood another four inches above Antony’s own 5’5” frame. When Terrell jumped up to block his opponent’s lobbed fireball with his bare hands, keeping it from melting the ice block he attempted to protect, his tank top lifted, revealing his stomach – and Antony felt a tingle somewhere around his own. He crossed his legs, forgetting to breathe.

Terrell whooped in celebration of the save, the white of his teeth startling, and Antony found himself wanting to run his tongue against them. Terrell’s hair was no longer the tangled mess it had once been, now shaved close with the straightest lines Antony had ever seen. It took all he had not to raise his hand and trace those lines in the air with the tips of his fingers.

In a split second, Terrell’s expression changed from one of celebration to one of panic. Antony averted his gaze in the same direction and found the source at the corner: a toddler had wandered into the intersection, the mother on the sidewalk, arms outstretched, her mouth contorted into a scream with no sound – and a car, a mere three feet away from the child, tires squealing as it tried to stop in time.

Antony didn’t think. He moved. Before anyone could even react, before his heart managed a single beat, he had scooped the toddler up, pausing only long enough to place the child in the mother’s arms – and, despite his better judgment, long enough to glance back at him. Antony knew Terrell saw something, saw him? He hoped Terrell would question what he saw, that Antony fled before any solid image could properly form.

…

Antony sauntered out to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed an ice-cold cola. When the doorbell rang, he grabbed another, and then headed to the foyer. He opened the front door to find Jackson Roberts, his lifelong best friend, standing on the other side.

“Do y’all have to read The History of Strength this term?” Jackson asked.

Antony handed his friend a cola and then moved back to let him in, shutting the door behind him and then plodding after him toward the stairs to the basement. “Not until next semester. That good?”

Jackson stopped in his tracks, and Antony almost crashed into his friend as he whipped around. “I’d scratch my own eyes out, but there’s probably an audio version of it. And then I’d have to poke out my own ear drums.” Jackson spun on his heel, his tight black curls bouncing as he bounded down the steps.

“It’s your history,” Antony pointed out, stepping carefully to keep himself from tripping and falling down the stairs. “It should be interesting to you.”

The basement was large and mostly empty, save for the corner where an old, gray, overstuffed couch sat in front of a wall-mounted, flatscreen TV, various wires snaking from it to the game consoles Antony had collected over the years from thrift shops around the city. A scratched-up, black coffee table sat before the couch with matching end tables on each side. Remotes and controllers littered one end table, a rather large container of rechargeable batteries Antony had rigged up buried among them.

“But that’s the thing,” Jackson said, then plopped down on one end of the couch, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I already know all this stuff. Why do I have to read about it?”

“Because it’s important to know where you came from.” Antony shrugged as he sunk into the cushions on the other end of the couch, opting to face his friend and cross his legs like a pretzel. “And to make sure what you’ve heard growing up is accurate.”

“You sound like my teacher.” Jackson took a sip from his cola, set it on the end table, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.

Antony smirked, knowing what Jackson said wasn’t as much of an insult as one might guess. Jackson was a star student, and while he griped about reading history, the subject was actually his favorite.

The two boys were opposites in many other ways. Jackson’s light brown skin had warm gold undertones; Antony’s was white with cool pink tones. Jackson neared six feet tall, and Antony hadn’t grown since the eighth grade. Jackson loved history, and Antony preferred to consider the future. But the two formed a connection early on as only children when they met the first day of kindergarten, bonding in a way that tipped past friendship and into brotherhood and remaining tight as ever even after they were sent to different schools when the district split. They confided everything in each other, knowing that anything said would stay between them. In fact, Jackson was the only other person on the planet who knew that Finlay was tucked away below them plotting his revenge.

“Can I ask you something?” Antony asked, tracing the logo on his cola can.

“You can ask me anything,” Jackson offered, not moving. “You know that.”

“I went to the park today, and I saw someone I haven’t seen in a while. Terrell.”

“He’s probably changed quite a bit.”

“Yeah,” Antony said in a way that made Jackson open his eyes and visually cross-examine him.

“He’s a Goode.”

“I’m aware.”

Jackson considered his friend for a moment, likely trying to get a read on what could possibly be going through Antony’s head. “He’s also good. Like, really good. Like, won’t-even-kill-a-spider type of good.”

“I assumed.”

“Ant, your dad would disown you.”

“I know.”

“You got any sentences more than two words that you’re willing to share?”

Antony sighed. “I realize it’s a ridiculous fantasy. I don’t even know him. But…” Antony pictured Terrell’s startlingly bright smile and his stomach as his shirt inched upward.

After a beat, Jackson pulled his feet from the coffee table and shifted to face his friend. “He’s not seeing anyone, never has that I know of. I mean, I don’t think it’s true, but there’s always been rumors about him and his best friend, Gwen. Who, by the way, if you and Terrell end up a thing, you need to introduce me to her.”

“You go to school together.”

“Yeah, and?”

“So go up and say hello to her.”

Jackson laughed. “Right. You do that next time you see Terrell and tell me how easy that is.”

“So…” Antony started but couldn’t finish.

“I don’t know if he likes guys, but I can dig around.”

“Thanks.” Antony took a sip from his cola, then set it down and grabbed the TV remote.

From Chapter Two:

“There you go, little buddy.” Terrell lifted the cup from the piece of paper where he had trapped and transported a spider that had shown up in Gwen’s bedroom. He gently tilted the paper to the grass and waited for the spider to step off.

“Little buddy? That thing is creepy as all get out, and you call it little buddy?” Gwen stood a short distance away, Terrell knew, to see which direction the spider moved in the hopes that it would head away from the house.

“Him, not it. And he’s not creepy. He’s useful.”

“What use does he have in my bedroom?”

Terrell paused a moment and peeked up at his friend, considering whether to tell her about all the other critters that would now flourish without their predator gobbling them up for lunch. “Probably better you don’t know.”

“Gross.” Gwen shivered noticeably, and she shook her hands as if she could feel the spider crawling on them.

Terrell turned back to the little arachnid and observed as it took a few steps, paused, and then changed direction, heading back toward the house. Terrell held his hand parallel to the ground, palm up. He ignited a small fireball in his palm, and the spider, sensing the heat from the flames, completed an about-face and marched away from the house.

“Thanks.” Gwen backed away toward the patio door.

“Of course.” He stood up, extinguishing the flame before following her inside.