It's funny. When you're used to things being a certain way, change feels uncomfortable even if it's an improvement. The first Sunday I spend at Jess and David's place, I'm anxious and restless all morning. As much as I always hated going to church, not being there is just weird. Jess notices my discomfort around eleven and offers to pack a bowl for me. That helps take the edge off.

  Still, it doesn't take me too long to start settling into things. I spend most days hanging out with Cassie and her friends. We end up going to the skatepark a lot; it turns out I'm actually pretty decent on a skateboard. More and more, I'm noticing that even when I'm not transformed, I'm stronger, faster, and tougher than I have any right to be. It's not quite superhuman, nothing a professional athlete couldn't match or exceed, but definitely more than a sixteen year old girl with a habit of slacking off in gym class should be capable of.

  I need less sleep, too, feeling completely rested after just six or seven hours. That's especially useful because it gives me time to practice. Every night after Jess and David go to bed, I sneak out and transform. I take to flying out into the countryside, where I can mess around and experiment a little more freely without worrying about being spotted. Water is especially useful for practice, since I can tell how good my control is by how much I spill. At first, I have to land by the bank of the river to pick up any at all. After just a few days, though, I find I'm able to maintain two gravity fields at once, one to lift the water and the other to lift me. They're weaker, smaller, and less stable than if I focus on just one, and I go for an accidental swim more than once, but I'm definitely still improving fairly quickly. Already the maximum size of my fields has grown a few inches, passing eight feet.

  My other main hobby is going to the library, which isn't really anything new. I still get the same astronomy or sci-fi books I used to, but now I can also get books on magicals without needing to worry. This time, I'm interested in the serious academic stuff, not just the photoshoots. There's not a ton of information out there; magicals are still a pretty new phenomenon, after all, and ABRA prefers to keep most of their research to themselves. Some details do inevitably slip out, though, and really anything is useful.

  All magicals (or abhumans, according to the official term that literally no one actually uses) have three types of powers. The first is universal for all magicals, things like increased strength, speed, toughness, and so on. As I've noticed, these are present even in our base form, but they're massively amplified when we're transformed. An untransformed magical might be able to lift two or three times as much as their muscles should allow; a transformed magical can bench-press a car. We also apparently have some sort of danger sense, or maybe even limited precognition, that usually appears as superhumanly fast reflexes. I'm not sure if I've actually experienced that yet.

  The second is our weapon, which is really just the expanded form of our talisman. Magical weapons come in all kinds of different forms, even things you wouldn't normally think of as weapons, but they're always vastly more destructive than they should be. I've yet to find anything which offers any significant resistance to the spear blade I can project from my staff, not even solid rock. Like our other powers, our weapons grow with us, for example a melee weapon eventually gaining some kind of ranged attack. Notably, magical weapons are the only way to reliably harm other magicals.

  Finally, there's our actual "magic." This is unique to every magical, but there are patterns and similarities. The general consensus (although there's plenty of argument) is that magic is best divided up into four broad categories: internal, physical, organic, and creation. Internal magic affects only the magical themselves, things like shapeshifting or invisibility. Physical magic is what I have, magic that modifies the existing world in some way. Organic magic is similar to physical magic, but it acts specifically on living things, particularly humans, things like telepathy and healing. Creation magic doesn't modify existing matter, but instead creates matter or energy from nothing, like conjuring fireballs or lightning bolts. Although magic can harm other magicals, there seems to be some kind of limitation, an ability to partially or completely resist the magic of others. If and when I get into a fight with another magical, I probably won't just be able to toss them around the room.

  A week after I move in, Jess takes me to see her lawyer. The office is on the edge of downtown, in a three story building that's clearly seen better days. We head up to the second floor, to a door that reads Samuel M. Sterling, Attorney at Law. Inside is a tiny waiting room. A single sofa, another chair in the opposite corner, and a small square table with a few magazines take up nearly all the available floor space, and everything is some shade of beige. We settle down onto the sofa. "You're sure this guy knows what he's doing, right?" I ask after a minute.

  "Oh, absolutely," says Jess. "He went to Harvard and everything, used to work for some big-time firm in New York. Never asked him exactly how he ended up here instead, but I know it didn't have anything to do with incompetence. In our line of work, you want a lawyer with a little bit of… flexibility."

  "...Fair enough," I say, nodding.

  The door opens a minute later, revealing a man in his early forties. He's wearing a sharp dark blue suit, clean shaven with neat brown hair. "Miss Benson, always a pleasure," he says, shaking Jess's hand as she stands.

  "Thanks for squeezing us in."

  "Of course. And you must be Miss Harper," he says, turning to me.

  "Nice to meet you," I say, shaking his hand as well.

  "Likewise. My understanding is that you're interested in becoming a client yourself, rather than going through Miss Benson, correct?"

  "Right." Taking the hint, I pull four twenties out of my pocket and pass them over.

  He examines them briefly, then slips them into a pocket. "Well, I'm at your disposal, then. Please, after you," he says, gesturing me into the office.

  "I'll be back in an hour, okay?" says Jess, waving goodbye.

  "Yeah, thanks," I say. I step into the office, and Mr. Sterling closes the door behind me. The office is quite a bit bigger than the waiting room, but a lot of the space is taken up by the rows of filing cabinets lined up against both walls. He takes a seat behind the desk, and I take one of the chairs in front.

  "So. I should warn you that I'm not an expert in family law, and if you'd rather go forwards with someone who has more experience in the field after today, I'd be happy to offer some recommendations. But the state laws regarding emancipation are fairly straightforward. I have a copy of them for you here," he says, passing over a couple sheets of paper. "I suggest you read them thoroughly later, but to sum up, you'll be facing two major obstacles. First is that you'll need to demonstrate a degree of self-sufficiently, which effectively means a source of legal income. And second is that once you file, the court will notify your parents, and they will be able to contest your application at the following hearing if they so desire."

  Of fucking course they can. Why would I ever think they'd stop fucking me over just because I don't live with them anymore? "How much money will I need to make?" I ask, mainly because I'm not ready to deal with the other thing yet.

  "No exact amount is defined. A sympathetic judge might be satisfied by just a few hours of work a week, given that you already have a place to stay. But this is one of the places your parents, or more likely their lawyer, could cause problems for you. They could certainly argue that you would need to demonstrate sufficient income to rent an apartment on your own, as well as affording other basic necessities. That may prove difficult, given that remaining enrolled in school will also likely be a requirement."

  Fuck. Fucking fuck. I knew this was all too good to be true, I knew I couldn't get away that easy. They're gonna fucking make me go back, I can't ever fucking get away, I need to fucking get away, why is this fucking room so fucking small-

  No. My hand goes to my chest, feeling my talisman hanging around my neck. No one is ever forcing me to go back. I'll reduce that entire fucking house to splinters first. I take a few deep breaths until my heart stops racing, and then a few more just to make sure I've actually got control of myself. "What do you think I should do, then?"

  If Mr. Sterling notices my brief freak-out, he thankfully doesn't comment. "Well, as I said, I'm not an expert in family law. But I've found that the best solution is often to attack the root of the problem, so to speak. If your parents did not contest your application, or if they failed to attend your hearing altogether, the court would almost certainly grant your application so long as you can demonstrate even the slightest degree of self-sufficiency."

  That's enough to startle a laugh out of me. "You're saying I should blackmail them into giving up?" I'm starting to see why Jess likes him.

  "Certainly not. Blackmail is a crime, after all," he says, smiling thinly. "I'm merely suggesting that a private discussion before the hearing might convince them that allowing you to go your separate way would be in the best interests of everyone involved. Would you say they might be amenable to such an approach?"

  "Maybe. Probably, even." I take a few more deep breaths, getting my thoughts in order. "They really hate looking bad in front of the rest of the church, or even looking less than perfect. I think that's what they were the most pissed about, honestly. But I'm not sure how that stacks up against wanting to make sure I'm punished. Do you know if they ever called the police?"

  "That was something I checked. A missing persons report was filed for Gabrielle Harper on Monday."

  "So, four days after I left. I guess they must've assumed I'd come crawling back on my own after a day or two." Still annoying; it means I'll have to watch out for cops, and that they hadn't just washed their hands of me like I'd hoped they might.

  "If I might make a suggestion?" says Mr. Sterling. "While your parents may in fact by quite humiliated by your actions and sexual orientation, I would not rely on that alone being enough to dissuade them. They could too easily spin it into sympathy for their efforts to bring you back to the flock, so to speak. Better would be to find something which reflects poorly on them in a more personal manner. I don't suppose you have any proof of their mistreatment, enough for a police investigation?"

  "Sorry," I say, shaking my head. The bruises are long gone thanks to my regeneration, not that I would've trusted that alone anyway. Bruises can come from anywhere, after all, and isn't it more likely that Gabby the troublemaker is just lying for attention again?

  "No need to apologize, plenty of other angles. Would you by any chance know if they're having any marriage difficulties? Any addictions, other vices?"

  I think for a minute. "Not off the top of my head. They're pieces of shit, but they're not hypocrites. They actually walk the walk, as far as I know."

  Mr. Sterling studies me for a moment. "Let me let you in on a little secret," he says, leaning forward. "Everyone is dirty. Some are better at hiding it than others, sometimes even from themselves. But everyone has a lever, if you can find it. I promise your parents are no exception." Then he spends the next forty-five minutes making an extensive list of possible ways for me to fuck my parents over. Some of them are definitely not even close to legal, and most of them I never would've thought of on my own.

  "So how'd it go?" asks Jess when she comes to pick me up.

  "You were right. He's definitely the guy I want in my corner," I say.

  She laughs. "Told you. He was a huge help when me and David were setting up our, uh, 'landscaping' business. If we ever do end up getting busted, I pity the prosecutor who has to go up against him."

  Even so, I can't quite chase away a lingering kernel of dread when I think about dealing with my parents. I know I don't have any reason to be scared of them anymore, I know they're really nothing but some random upper middle class couple. Shit, if I had a few grand to shell out to Mr. Sterling, he could probably destroy their entire lives without me ever needing to lift a finger. I know all that. So why can't I make myself believe it?

  Well, whatever. It won't matter until I get a job anyway, so I can put off worrying about it for now, and maybe it'll seem less daunting in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, it'd be nice if I could find a job that doesn't totally suck. If all else fails I can always just work at McDonald's or whatever for a couple of months, but the idea rubs me the wrong way; it's not really how I want to start off my new life. That raises the question of how I do want to start off my new life, and I don't really have an answer yet in either of my personas.

  A couple of days later, I get invited to a party. I've been to parties before, of course, but they've usually involved a birthday cake and lots of supervising parents. I'm pretty sure this one isn't gonna be like that. It's being held in an empty warehouse near the west edge of town, and Jess tells me a few hundred people are probably gonna show up. It's a big opportunity for her and David, a chance for them to move a lot of product at higher prices than usual.

  Me and Cassie are both going. I'm a little skeptical after the single punk show I followed her to (I left after half an hour), but she tells me the music here will be much more my kind of thing. She comes over to Jess and David's place, and we spent the afternoon helping them preroll a couple hundred joints. In payment, Jess gives both of us a little round tablet. Mine is orange stamped with a butterfly, and Cassie's is pink stamped with a heart. "Damn, you're breaking out the good shit, huh?" says Cassie.

  "E's hard to get, at least the quality shit," says Jess. "Not like we can just grow it. Better to sit on it until we know there'll be lots of demand."

  A little before 10, we pile into David's Toyota and head out. I'm wearing some clothes I picked up from the thrift store to expand my wardrobe from what I could cram in my backpack, a tight black tanktop and a pair of cutoffs that would have Mom screaming if she saw me in them. I've also got a big yellow plastic bangle bracelet which perfectly covers the silver bracelet holding my talisman; my neckline isn't high enough to safely wear it as a pendant. Meanwhile, Cassie's gone full punk, with ripped jeans and patches sewn into her jacket. David and Jess are both wearing nondescript hoodies; they're here for work, not fun.

  We park a couple blocks away, in the mostly empty lot of a big hardware store. This part of town is industrial, pretty much deserted this time of night except for a handful of bums. Part of me feels uncomfortable, and I remind myself that I wouldn't be in any danger even if I were alone. I hear the warehouse before I see it, the muffled pounding of a bass drum. The big garage door is open, and a dozen or so people are milling around out front. Apparently we're actually pretty early; things won't really pick up until close to midnight, and the party's going until either the sun or the cops show up.

  Jess walks right up to the biggest group, four girls and two guys. The oldest girl, around Jess's age, notices us as we approach, turning and waving excitedly. She's wearing a tie-dye sports bra and miniskirt, a pair of fluffy pink leg warmers, a ton of little bead bracelets, and not much else. Do I take the opportunity to get a good eyeful? Absolutely. "Jess! You made it!"

  "You know I wouldn't leave you hanging," says Jess, grinning. "Managed to get some E this time, you interested?"

  "Fuck yes!" says the girl. "How much?"

  "Twenty a hit."

  "Deal!"

  As the rest of the group lines up, I'm a little bemused that Jess is selling her shit so openly, but I guess it's not like there's any security or anything. Apparently the attention is actually a good thing, because a few more people immediately wander over. "Shit, you guys have ecstasy? Can we get in on this?" asks one guy.

  "For sure," says David, heading over to handle them. "Got a little ecstasy, some coke, some acid, and plenty of weed. Whatcha want?"

  Meanwhile, the girl notices us. "Who're your friends?" she asks.

  "This is Cassie and Gabby," says Jess. "It's their first time. This is my old friend Sky."

  Sky squeals in excitement. "Ohmygod, baby ravers! You guys are gonna have an amazing time, trust me. Can I give you some of my kandi?"

  "Candy?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I'm pretty sure Jess is the one selling drugs, here.

  She grins. "Rave kandi!" she says, holding up her arm and shaking her bracelets. They're all handmade, just colorful plastic beads on a string, some with little letter blocks spelling out messages. I'm pretty sure I made bracelets just like that a couple times back in kindergarten, except none of mine ever read "FUCK?ME."

  "Not really my thing," says Cassie, grinning slightly and shaking her head.

  "You're cool," says Sky. "Everyone's welcome here, whether they're staying or just visiting. How bout you?"

  I glance around. Sky isn't the only one wearing bead bracelets… or kandi, I guess, although she definitely has the most. "Sure, why not?" I say, shrugging.

  "Awesome! Here, give me your hand." She holds her own hand up in front of me, so I take it, blushing slightly. She intertwines our fingers, then reaches up with her other hand and pulls one of her bracelets over our joined hands and down my wrist. It's made of red and purple beads interspaced with blocks spelling out "LOVE," and sits next to the bracelet hiding my talisman.

  "Megan's a rave virgin too," says Sky, stepping back and gesturing at the youngest member of their group. She looks like she's around my age, dressed pretty similarly, with long ginger hair in a ponytail. She smiles at us, and I blush again.

  "I really like your hair!" I say before I can stop myself.

  "Thanks! I've been growing it out since I was eight," she says.

  "I wish mine got that long, this is about as long as it ever gets."

  "Long hair is honestly such a pain, it just gets everywhere," interjects Cassie.

  "Quiet, you heathen," I say immediately. "So, uh, where do you go to school? I don't think I've seen you around at West before."

  "No, I go to Cedar Creek. My brother Derrick just graduated," she says, gesturing at a guy standing a few feet away. "I've been trying to get him to take me to one of these for forever! Either of you have older siblings?"

  "Only child," I say, shaking my head.

  "I've got a couple half-brothers, but they live with my dad," adds Cassie.

  "Yeah, well, you're lucky. You have no idea how overprotective big brothers can get, like he wasn't already partying when he was sixteen. He keeps scaring off all the boys I try and bring over, too. I mean, I guess the last guy I dated was kind of a prick, but I could've handled it fine. I didn't need Derrick to start shouting just cause he wouldn't stop getting handsy."

  I try not to react, instead waving a hand casually. "Whatever, guys are overrated anyway. We can have plenty of fun without 'em." Cassie snorts but doesn't comment.

  Megan laughs. "You said it! Come on, who wants to take some fucking ecstasy?"

  We all down our tablets together. We keep idly chatting as more people continue to show up, and eventually a new DJ comes on. The last guy had been playing some deep techno, and while I'd liked it, it hadn't really made me want to dance. The new beat is faster, like way faster. The energy in it is completely different than anything I've ever heard before, bright and upbeat instead of dark or aggressive like most of the stuff I listen to. I'm dancing to it before I even realize it, like the music is physically tugging on me. Cassie laughs at me, but she follows me inside anyway.

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  The warehouse is pretty big, probably about a hundred feet long and a little less wide. Someone's hung a disco ball from the rafters and set up some colored spotlights to shine on it. The only other lights are a couple of lasers tracing out patterns on the wall. There's a fog machine too, making the beams visible in the air. The dance floor is active but not packed yet, maybe fifty or sixty people, so there's plenty of room. I make good use of it, jumping around and grinning like an idiot, not giving a shit how ridiculous I probably look.

  I literally cannot stop smiling. Everything is amazing and perfect and I want to keep feeling this way forever. The music feels like it's caressing my entire body, the lights are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It's almost a religious experience, a real one, not that fake shit I always had to listen to every Sunday. I love the entire universe and everyone in it, and the universe loves me back. It's getting more crowded now, I keep bumping into people, and every touch is an electric connection. Soon I'm dancing with a blur of strangers, guys and girls both, I don't even care.

  Then Megan's in front of me, and I can't believe how beautiful she is, the most beautiful girl I've ever met, smiling and laughing without a care in the world. First we're just holding hands as we dance together, and then we've got our arms around each other as the crowd forces us closer together. Her skin is the softest thing I've ever touched, her hair is so silky I can't believe it. Her face is so perfect, her eyes are so perfect, her lips are so perfect…

  The first kiss is quick, but it still hits me like a thunderbolt. She's startled, but she doesn't resist when I go in for the second. This one is longer and even more electrifying. The third time, she kisses me, and the rest start blending together after that. Time passes, I don't know how much, but the music changes, slows down again. We stand together on the dance floor, slowly getting our breath back.

  "I've never kissed a girl before," she says when there's a break in the beat, still needing to shout to make herself heard.

  "You're pretty good for an amateur," I shout back. She laughs. "Wanna go outside for a bit?"

  "Okay."

  I take her hand and lead her through the crowd. It's really packed now, there's got to be almost two hundred people crammed into the warehouse. Another few dozen are standing around the parking lot, smoking cigarettes or weed. I don't join them, leading her around the side of the warehouse instead, towards a little alley in between the building nextdoor. She hesitates for a moment when she realizes what I've got in mind. I give her a grin and tug gently on her hand, and she lets herself be pulled along.

  We only make it about ten feet down the alley before I push her up against the wall. Her hesitation evaporates in seconds when we start making out again. The heightened sense of touch isn't quite as intense as it was earlier, but it's definitely still there, and she obviously feels it too. After a minute, I try sliding my hand up under her top. She doesn't stop me. I slide it a little higher-

  "You girls look like you could use some company."

  Even with the ecstasy still in my system, the interruption manages to annoy me. We break apart, looking down at the entrance to the alley. The two guys standing there are probably around twenty, maybe a little older, wearing baggy t-shirts, cargo pants, and grins. I don't like their grins much. "Nah, we're good, thanks," I reply, hoping they won't ruin the moment.

  They glance at each other, then start down the alley anyway. "Hey, come on, we're all here to have fun right? Two of you, two of us… That lez shit is hot, but it won't make you scream like a good dick will."

  Yeah, they're definitely gonna ruin the moment. Megan is already pulling back, edging away from them down the alley. That's the wrong way; it'd be better to start yelling and get attention from the crowd out front. I take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly. "Sorry, school's out right now, I don't need a lesson on microbiology."

  It takes them a couple of seconds to figure that out, and I can't help a snicker. Now they're pissed. "Bet you never had a good dick before, have you? Don't worry, after you try mine, you won't-"

  He's close enough to try and reach for me. I don't even think. I just punch him. Turns out, I punch pretty hard now. He goes down like a tree falling over, out cold. "Fucking bitch!" snarls the other one. His hand goes into his pocket and comes out with a switchblade. "You think you can fuck with us? We're the Wildfire Boys, bitch! No one-"

  It's almost like he's moving in slow motion. It's easy to tell he's not actually trying to stab me yet, just stick the knife in my face. I grab his wrist. Now he actually tries to cut me, but he can't. I'm stronger than him, and not just a little. His eyes widen as I wrench his arm away. Then I kick him in the balls. I hold back, I don't want to accidentally send him into orbit or something, but he still doubles over with a wheeze. For good measure, I hit him with an uppercut as well, and he goes down next to his buddy. I look at him for a moment, then lean down and grab his switchblade off the ground, because why not?

  "Holy shit," breathes Megan. "Holy shit. I… We should… we should probably get out of here, right?"

  "Yeah, probably," I agree regretfully. After a moment, I head towards the far end of the alley. People obviously saw us come in here, but better not to draw any extra attention if we can help it. She follows my lead.

  We stop on the far side of the warehouse. "You're, uh, okay, right?" she asks. "I thought for a moment that guy pulled a knife, but I guess not."

  "Nah, I'm good," I say, deciding not to correct her. "You okay?"

  "Yeah… Yeah, I'm okay," she says, clearly not completely okay. "Do you think we should leave, though? I don't want Derrick to freak out, but…"

  "I wouldn't worry about it. I doubt those dipshits are coming back inside even after they wake up. Besides, they were definitely shitfaced anyway, they probably won't even remember what we looked like."

  Slowly, she starts to relax, nodding. "Yeah, you're probably right." She grins a little. "Sill super badass how you totally laid them out like that."

  I grin back. "What can I say? I'm stronger than I look." I hold up my arm and flex my bicep. It's not like I've really been working out, but I notice that there's still definitely a little more muscle definition than there was a month ago. She reaches up to touch it, then quickly snatches her hand back, blushing.

  "...We could dance a little more if you want," she says after a moment. "But, uh… I think I just wanna dance for now, if that's okay?"

  Yup, the mood is thoroughly ruined. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. "Yeah, of course that's okay."

  "Sorry," she says, smiling awkwardly. After a moment, she leans forward and gives me one more kiss, just a little peck. "I had fun tonight, but I don't, uh…"

  "No problem. I get it. I had a lot of fun too." We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. I glance up. "Jupiter is rising," I say to break the silence, pointing.

  She's confused for a moment, then follows my finger. "Oh, that's Jupiter? Huh. How do you know it's not just a star?"

  "Too bright, and not in the right spot. The brightest star you can see right now is Vega, up there," I say, pointing. "Arcturus is brighter, but it's behind the building right now. It's too late to be Venus, and nothing else except Jupiter is that bright."

  "...Wow. That's really cool, that you know so much about stars. I don't really know anything, I just think they're pretty."

  "Yeah, they are. But not as pretty as you."

  She giggles. "You're terrible."

  "I know. Wanna go back in?"

  "Okay."

  She lets me take her hand again, and we make a full lap of the warehouse to head back in from the other side. I doubt anyone's gonna give us trouble even if they figure out what happened, but the best way to avoid it is to just get lost in the crowd anyway. We start dancing again and I manage to get back into it after a few minutes, not as hard as I did before, but it's still fun. I catch a glimpse of Cassie a few times; she's managed to find a guy with a red mohawk and spiked cuffs to suck face with. I'm glad she won't be in any position to give me shit later. Another DJ comes on after like half an hour, playing some heavier stuff. We all go fucking wild when he plays Closer, and despite what she said earlier, I end up making out with Megan again, just for a minute.

  It's close to three by the time he finishes up, and I'm starting to crash a little as the ecstasy wears off. The crowd is definitely thinning out some, although plenty of people are still going strong. I don't really feel like taking more drugs to keep my energy up, though, so I start looking around for Jess and David. They end up finding me after a few minutes, with Cassie already in tow. We all head outside, along with Megan and her brother, who are also about ready to take off.

  "I had a lot of fun tonight," she says, hugging me.

  "Yeah, me too." I hesitate for a second. "Maybe I'll see you around again sometime?"

  "Yeah, maybe so." She doesn't say anything else, smiling and waving as they leave.

  Cassie comes up beside me. "No number?" she asks, smirking.

  I shake my head. "It probably wouldn't work out. I don't think she's really… you know."

  "Well, I guess if I ever feel like trying out for the other team, all I need to do is take E with you," says Cassie, still grinning.

  "Promises, promises," I say, grinning back. We both know she won't do it, it'd just end up making things awkward, but it's fun to joke about. And maybe fantasize about, just a little.

  "You kids ready to get out of here?" asks Jess, coming up behind us.

  "I think so, yeah," I say, nodding. We start walking away, back towards their car. "How'd your guys' night go?"

  "Not bad. We pretty much sold out, made some decent cash. Couple guys took something nasty and ended up OD'ing, though. No one we sold to, thank fuck, but it's still bad for business."

  "Shit. They okay?" asks Cassie.

  Jess shrugs. "They found 'em out in the alley next door, no idea how long they'd been laying there for." I stumble, suddenly glad no one's watching me. "They wouldn't wake up, so one of the organizers dropped 'em off at the hospital. Could go either way. It happens. That's why you should never take shit from a dealer you don't know, at least by reputation."

  I'm very aware of the switchblade in my pocket. If I hadn't taken it on a whim, things could've gotten sketchy. Now… I'm not really sure what to think. Even knowing I'm a lot stronger than I have any right to be, it hadn't occurred to me that I might've seriously injured those guys, that that's something I can actually do with a simple punch. I try and decide whether I should feel bad about it. On the one hand, fuck those guys, they definitely had it coming. But I don't like the thought of having hurt, maybe even killed someone by accident, even if they deserved it. What if I'd just been messing around with a friend?

  I'm quiet as we drive back, dropping off Cassie on the way, but everyone's tired, so it doesn't stand out. When we get home, Jess suggests I smoke a bowl to help me sleep. I still end up tossing and turning for a couple of hours, but I eventually drift off.

  The next morning, I wake up feeling legitimately fucking awful. My head is pounding, and I can barely muster the energy to roll over, let alone get up. The night before feels like some kind of bizarre fever dream, except I know it really happened. Jesus, what the fuck was I doing, making out sloppy style with some random girl I'd known for a whole entire hour? Did Emily really mean so little to me, that I'd forget her the instant some other girl caught my eye? Not to mention the way I completely took advantage of Megan, she's probably disgusted by me now that she's sober. And let's not forget about those guys I maybe gave brain damage or something just for the crime of annoying me.

  I try and go back to sleep, just forget about it all for a couple more hours, but it's not happening. Eventually, my bladder forces me to get up no matter what I want. I stagger into the kitchen after I take care of business, although I don't really feel like eating anything. Jess is sitting at the table. "Hey," she says, looking up with a smirk. "Feeling like shit?"

  I blink. "I, uh…"

  There's a banana on the counter next to her. She reaches over and tosses it to me, and I catch it reflexively. "Coming down from E is a bitch like that. Eat some fruit, and drink plenty of water. You'll feel fine in a day or two. Just take it easy and don't make any big decisions until then."

  I reluctantly do as advised, eating the banana and drinking a big glass of water, then go back to my room to curl up with a copy of Foundation from the library. Surprisingly, I do start feeling a lot better by the afternoon. In retrospect, it's easy to see that my mental state was definitely still out of whack when I woke up, although in the opposite direction from last night. I still feel a little guilty over Megan, but… Well, it's not like she wasn't enjoying herself in the moment, and the whole point of taking drugs is to broaden your horizons, right? At worst, it'll just be an embarrassing memory. As for those two guys, I resolve to be more careful in the future, but I don't regret what I did. After all, things could've ended a lot differently if it'd been some other girl in that alley.

  The next day, I go over to Cassie's. She's still suffering, so we spend the day sprawled on the couch with Buster watching cheesy movies. I suspect my fast recovery is thanks to magic, so it's the least I can do. I order a pizza, and by the evening, she's perked up enough to shout "We want… A SHRUBBERY!" with me.

  An idea has been percolating in my mind since the rave, so I approach David when I get home. "Hey, do you know anything about DJing?" I ask.

  "Not a thing," he says, grinning. "I do know a couple DJs, though. You thinking about trying to get into it?"

  I nod. "Yeah."

  "Nice. I can call around if you want, see if anyone's down to answer a few questions, maybe show you the ropes a little."

  "That'd be awesome," I say, grinning back.

  He gets back to me the very next day. "My friend Chris says he'd be up to meet with you tomorrow afternoon, maybe even do some ongoing lessons if it works out. He's one of the DJs who played last weekend."

  "Sweet! Thanks a ton."

  David gives me the address, and I head over around two. Chris ends up living in a loft apartment in an old brick building, near the train tracks west of downtown. He looks like he's in his late twenties, with a buzz cut and a goatee. I recognize him right away; he's the guy who played that super fast and high-energy music I went crazy to right when the ecstasy was kicking in. "Hey, Gabby, right? I'm Chris."

  I shake his hand. "Nice to meet you. Thanks a bunch for doing this."

  "Always happy to help someone get into the scene. And David's good people, so if he says you're cool, you're cool. Come on in." He shows me around briefly, then leads me over to the corner where he's got his turntable set up. "So what made you want to get into DJing?"

  "I mean, I've always been into electronic music, since the first time I heard Head Like A Hole on the radio," I say after a moment. "But last weekend was on a whole different level. I didn't know music could even be like that. Especially that stuff you were playing, I've never heard anything like that before. I want to be part of that."

  "Nothing like your first rave," he says, grinning. "Happy hardcore's where it's at, you've gotta get that energy up. Alright, so here's my set up. I keep all the tracks I might play in a night in these crates here. You want a big enough selection to have a little diversity so you can match the energy of the crowd, but not so big that you can't quickly find a specific track you're looking for. Here, this'll do to start off with."

  He pulls an album out of a crate; the sleeve reads Lipstick - I'm A Raver. "So, this slider here is gonna adjust the speed of your track. Right away when you pick a new track, the first thing you need to do is match it to the BPM of the track that's already playing. To do that, you'll want to find the spot where the beat kicks in. This track here has a pretty long intro, so I'll let it play for a minute…"

  As soon as the beat kicks in, he puts his finger on the album to stop it, then wiggles it back and forth to make the first beat play repeatedly. "That's what you're looking for, hear it? Alright, lemme grab another track. So, this right here is the cue button, that's gonna make your track play on your headphones but not for the audience so you can match the beat. I'm gonna play it out of the speakers instead so you can hear what I'm doing, and then I'll do it properly so you can hear what it'd actually sound like. Alright, I'm gonna spin this second track forwards to find the first beat instead of just letting it play…"

  I watch him do it a couple of times, and then he hands me the headphones so I can try. The first time, I keep messing up the order of things, and the first track runs out before I can match the second to it. The same thing happens the second time. The third time, I almost have it, but then I accidentally nudge the first album and fuck everything up. "Motherfucker," I growl.

  He laughs. "No sweat, it's tricky. Give it another try." The fourth time, I get it, matching the beats and then smoothly fading one track into the other. "Nice!" he says, clapping me on the back.

  After an hour of practice, I'm getting it maybe two out of every three times. Chris tells me I'm actually picking it up pretty quick, even though he's still handling a lot of the work like actually picking the tracks. "No substitute for practice," he says. "Speaking of which, I'm down if you want to do this again. I can't keep doing it for free, but I'll give you a good deal, call it like fifteen an hour? I can give you a few more tips, but the main thing is just letting you get a better feel for it before you start buying equipment yourself, cause this shit isn't cheap."

  I think about it for a moment, then nod. "Yeah, that sounds pretty reasonable."

  "Cool. The other thing you wanna do is listen to whatever you're gonna play, over and over again. You've got to be super familiar with the tracks to know what'll mix well with what. If you're into hardcore, you should check out the Bonkers compilations. Just remember CDs won't cut it for actual DJing, all your shit needs to be on vinyl."

  I thank him again and head out, swinging by the music store out in west Franklin on the way home and picking up some stuff that looks interesting. That evening, I take stock of my finances, finding that I've still got just under a grand left. That might be enough for some basic DJ equipment if I can find it used, but only barely. I also don't really want to let Jess and David know that I have so much left, since I implied that the rent I paid to them was the majority of what I had.

  When I meet Chris again on Thursday afternoon (he obviously works evenings), I broach the subject of actually DJing as a job. "It'll be a little tricky," he says. "Clubs can't hire anyone younger than 18, even if they never actually touch alcohol. Proper underground raves and house parties don't give a shit, and they can pay pretty decently, but they're not reliable. I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I'll keep an ear out for you."

  It's not the most encouraging news in the world, and I resolve that if I can't figure something else out by August I'll just settle for a McJob, but… The memory of that night, the lights, the bass drum so loud I could feel it in my whole body, the energy of the crowd, the euphoria coursing through me, I won't settle for just one taste. I want more. My new life is a puzzle that I'm still putting together, but I'm pretty sure I've found at least one piece.