I needed to get the coin back from Alesha.
I walked up the stairs and stopped in front of the room that had been my study room and had since become my gym. I paused in front of the door. I could hear music, loud and strong and brash, on the other side. Nothing I listened to, either, for all that it was maddeningly familiar.
I opened the door.
My study was gone. So was my weight set; I would find out later that it had been relocated to the garage. Instead there was...
A bedroom. Posters with unfamiliar artists and aggressive political slogans adorned the walls. There was a bookcase and a wardrobe stuffed into the small room, as well as a tiny writing desk. There was a laptop on top, open and active.
And sitting in the seat was Alesha.
She'd changed at some point since we'd come home. She wore a tank top that showed off her rich dark skin and a pair of loose leggings. Her hair was longer than I remembered and was done up in fetching braids. She had a pen gripped between her teeth as she typed. She looked at me. "Heya."
"Um." I blinked as I felt new memories begin the trickle down into my mind. "What, um..." I thought about saying
what's happening
but it was fairly obvious at this point, wasn't it? "Do you have that coin I gave you?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Coin? Nope. What are you talking about?"
"Um." I stepped inside the room as she pushed away from the desk. "Do you- do you remember the conversation we had, like a minute ago?"
"Yes," she said in the slow tones of someone showing immense patience in the face of extreme stupidity.
"Uh, and..."
"And I'm messaging her right now." She let out the huff of the unfairly put upon. "It's been all of two minutes- did you expect an answer right away?"
"You mean Mai?"
"Yes. Mai. Now go away for a bit, okay? I'll come to your room in about half an hour." She made shooing motions.
...I shut the door.
I'd lost my study, hadn't I?
Actually,
fuck
the study. I'd gained a
fucking sister
. And not just any sister- the most irritating, judgemental, uses-wokeness-instead-of-a-personality girl that I'd ever met.
I walked down to the kitchen. Dinner. I needed to go and get dinner. I opened the fridge door and reached for the ready meal-
Gone.
Gone and replaced with a- fresh vegetables? Ground beef? Who had got all of this?
...Oh. I had, hadn't I? I stared at the ingredients as the trickle of memories began to pour in.
I knew how to make spaghetti. Why couldn't I have learned kung-fu or something cool?
...Fine. Whatever. I reached for the ground beef and vegetables and pulled out the cutting board. I sifted through my new memories...
***
"Honey?"
I ran down the stairs and into the longue room. There was a girl about my age sitting on the couch. She had black skin and her hair was tied up in dreadlock-style braids. Her eyes were on the floor and I saw that one of her arms was in plaster.
"Who's this?"
Mom smiled at me. "She's the daughter of a friend. She's going to be staying with us for a while."
The girl looked up from the floor long enough to shoot me a glare loaded to the brim with suspicion.
"I need you to help her, okay? John. This is important." She moved to hug the girl, who went stiff. "I need to you look after her. Promise?"
I didn't know anything about the girl. I had no idea what was going on. But there was an intensity in my mother's stare that cut through the confusion in a heartbeat.
"I promise."
***
I paused, the knife hovering above a mass of cut onions and garlic- thank fuck for muscle memory- while new history flashed before my eyes.
***
"Don't."
I stood at the doorway. She turned to glare at me, away from the half-empty pack. "Don't what?"
"Don't go."
She laughed. "No-one wants me here."
"It's not true."
"I don't belong here, okay? Your mom only let me come here because she felt sorry for me. You think I need your pity?"
"I don't pity you. Mom didn't pity you either."
"Bullshit." She looked away and then turned back to her bag. "Look, I know you don't want me here."
"I do." Alesha was- she was a lot. She had opinions on everything. She'd never warmed up to me. She got sullen a lot, and that was saying a lot coming from an overweight thirteen-year-old. My life would probably be better if she wasn't around.
But.
I promised.
I reached over to grab her and she flinched away. "Don't- don't," I put my hand back down. "Look- I'll just leave, alright?"
"And go where?"
"Away." She shrugged. "Just away."
"Don't go."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd miss you, okay! I don't want you to go! You think you're not the only lonely one? You think I don't miss her too?"
She looked away. One of her jumpers twisted in her hands. "Look, Mo- your mom is gone and your dad is..."
"Around sometimes? Yeah. But we still got each other." She snorted. "I'm serious. Look, if you stay, I'll- I'll cook. Every night. I'll learn." She laughed as I kept talking. "I will. I promise I will. Just don't go, okay? Please." I reached out and touched her hand. "We can look after each other."
"You'll really cook?"
"Yeah. I'll bake, even."
She wavered. Then she said, "You're such a loser." Her lips twisted into a smile.
***
The beef simmered while I rooted through the unfamiliar contents of the pantry. I found the tinned tomatoes and then- much, much later- a can opener. The memories continued to pour in.
***
She got into the bed with me and I turned quickly. "Another bad dream?" I asked.
"Yeah. Sorry."
"S'okay."
We lay in the darkness for a while. Then she said, "Thanks for today."
"It's okay." The protest had been scary. Loud and noisy and full of angry people, even if they were angry at things other than me. I'd nearly backed out but Alesha had been fearless and angry in a way that she often was. I noticed she was beautiful when she was angry.
I noticed a lot of things about her like that lately.
She turned and I stiffened as the swell of her breast pressed against my arm. "Hey. I gotta ask. Is there anyone at school you..."
"I like?"
