t w e n t y - s e v e n : a fish on land

Kara's POV:

"You really need to clean up in here."

"Put that down," I slowly remove a glass snowglobe from her grasp. She's literally rearranging my room, and calling her commands suggestions. I know I don't actually have a choice in the matter.

"I think it's pretty neat, actually."

She lifts an eyebrow, "In what world?"

"Wait, why do I have to clean? It's not like anyone's gonna be in here."

"The cookout," she rolls her eyes, "Remember?"

"Oh, right," I slap my forehead. I almost forgot. Another event where we discuss the success of the New World and stocks. Yay. My parents' friends, whose children also happen to be my friends, come over to eat good food (courtesy of my dad) and listen to music.

The idea of this cookout could not be more excruciating right now. Jack's dad will be there. Tiana will be there. Usually Andrew and his parents attend, but who knows where he even is?

I wonder if mom knows about Jack's dad's suspicions about me. The whole thing is conflicting because I know she'd send me off. The New World always comes first. The fear in her eyes when she thought Shawn and I were sexually active is enough evidence. I can't imagine her reaction to something as big as the truth. Even thinking about anything anti-Reversal is a sin in her eyes.

"The only thing good about the cookout is the abundance of good food," I frown, "I really don't want to hear about politics all evening."

"Hey!," she snaps, "Politics is our life. It determines our rights and well-being in the world. You're getting older, and you have to wake up to reality."

I am awake to reality. If I told her the extent of that, though, I'd never hear the end of it.

"Yeah, right," I murmur.

She takes a deep breath, "I'm gonna go check on your father. Make sure he doesn't burn the food. Get dressed."

A new Text Mesage from Shawn:

"We haven't really made a concrete plan yet. Let's meet to sort out the Revolution--Re-Revolution."

I never told him about the cookout. I text back "Can't. Busy w family stuff."

"K," he replies.

No need to bore him with the details.

I clean up and dress. Walking downstairs, I'm greeted with a crowd of people, food, drinks, and decorations.

Everyone I expected to be here is here, and then some. It smells wonderful. The cookout smoke is permeating the whole house. I love that familiar smell.

I try to sneak a piece of chicken, and a hand smacks mine.

"It's not time to eat yet," dad scolds.

"I'm hungry," I whine.

"You should have woken up and eaten breakfast like the rest of us, Kar."

"You say that every year."

"You do this every year," he points with the spatula.

I sigh, and all I'm left with is mingling with our guests. Eww.

"I see you're rummaging through the food again," Jack chuckles.

"You know me: hungry," I scratch my elbow. This is getting awkward. "Yeah, I'm gonna go over there," I point to a random spot in the yard.

"Wait," he places a hand on my forearm. "Our date."

"Nondate," I emphasize.

"Right. You pick the place. I'm free next Friday."

Ugh. Why the hell did I agree to this? Old feelings? I don't know. When I look at him, I feel nothing. It's just the thought of losing a long-term relationship in one swell swoop that frightens me--that much time cannot amount to nothing in the end. Right?

"The movies could be fun," I shrug. I try to muster up enthusiasm, but it's not there. I'm lacking food.

I finally make my escape, and it turns out to be a trap.

"They don't deserve free vasectomies."

"Right. If they want to be infertile, they need to consult their wives, or simply deal with what God gave them."

I try to sneak away, but my aunts, well not really my aunts--my parents' friends--pull me into their conversation. They're die-hard supporters of the New World. And now I have to pretend to be, too.

"What do you think, Kara?"

"I-I..." I don't know what to say. Vasectomies? I couldn't care less about what they do with their bodies. "I think humans should be able to," I pause. Their expressions are horrified. I need to go in another direction, "I think... yeah they should keep what God gave them," I say lowly.

I can't escape them faster. Once I've consoled my aunts on this political view, they commence their discussion of mens' rights. The truth is I don't think we should have a say in what they do with their bodies. I don't think anyone should have a domain over another's body. I thought we learned this from the atrocity of slavery.

Then Tiana and I lock eyes. Forget the food, I'm going back upstairs.

Just as I reach the foot of the steps, mom calls me. Why me? Whyyyyyy?

"Yeah, mom."

"Get down here. Socialize."

"Yeah, socialize," Tiana interjects. Nobody asked you...

"I was just gonna socialize... upstairs... with my phone," I smile to ease the tension.

"I'll come up, then." You don't need to do that.

"Fine," I settle.

"Jeez, could you sound any more unenthused?"

Yes, yes I can.

We enter my room, and I want to throw this bitch out the window.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I think you know," she looks back at the door, and gently closes it.

"I tried to mention you having a crush on him yesterday. He didn't seem entertained."

She's fuming, "You need to try harder. What don't I have that he wants." Hmm, I have no idea. That's sarcasm, of course I know. I know he'd never like her, but being on the other side of blackmail, I have to comply with this ridiculous plan.

"I-I got him to consider it. All you have to do is throw yourself at him, like usual."

"What? I do not do that!"

"You're blackmailing me into getting you a date with him, and now you're defending your decency? We are definitely past that."

"You're forgetting what I have on you," she crosses her arms with a smirk. "All I have to do is prove to him that your crazy ass stole his diary."

"Just give me until the end of the day. I'll get him to call you," I sigh.

"Wait," she clicks her tongue. "No fucking way," she emphasizes each word.

I fiddle with my braids. What the fuck is she talking about?

"You like him," she points. What?

I chuckle.

"What are you laughing for?"

"You've got this all wrong," I can't stop laughing. My stomach is starting to hurt.

"Whatever, he's mine. And you will make sure of that. Next Friday--remember."

"How do you suppose the book will be returned, even if I get you this date?"

"When I go over his house--eventually--I'll put it somewhere in his room, I guess," she rolls her eyes.

She could literally place it anywhere. He has the messiest room I've ever seen.

"I'm hungry," I look at my phone, "and I think it's about time to eat, so I'm going downstairs."

Even more people crowd our living room. Mom's coworkers, dad's tea friends, etc.

I just want food. I'm hoping desperately not to get pulled into another political conversation.

I grab an empty plate and pile chicken, a burger, potato salad, and more onto it. I make my escape from this sad excuse of a party, and eat in the basement. Once I close the door and plop down on one of the couches, I take a breath. I don't remember this cookout being so excruciatingly boring. I used to love these events, before this summer. I never minded the politics. I never thought about anyone but myself. Shawn makes me open my mind to everyone. I couldn't care less about what the government paid for before now. I was alright. I am alright.

I must have seemed so horrible to him for all those years of school. I was in a totally different mindset. Now, I feel like it's ridiculous: the policies we have in place.

The only thing that isn't ridiculous about this day is the food. It's so good. But, I know what I have to do.

I polish off the rest of the food, and shoot up the stairs, past the party, to my room.

Grabbing my car keys and an umbrella, I sneak out.

I'm shaking--even more than I was on my driver's test. I need to get a grip on the steering wheel, or the police will think I'm drunk.

I go down that familiar street to Shawn's house. Good, his car's there. I ring the doorbell. Please be home.

The door cracks open. "Who is it?!"

"Me."

"Me who?"

"Just open the damn door, Shawn."

The door opens fully, "That's not the way to speak to someone whose house you want to get into," he crosses his arms. He's wearing a white tank top and shorts. Again, his muscles are accented. I keep forgetting that he's fit now. I swear he's been bony for the longest time.

I walk toward the door, but he blocks the way. "Ask politely."

Ugh. "Can I please come in?," I ask in the highest voice possible.

He finally steps aside. "Asshole," I chuckle.

"I thought you had some family stuff to do."

"I ditched."

He lifts an eyebrow with a confused look. "You're not gonna try to convince me to take your friend out again? Right?"

"Uh, actually..."

"Kara, I don't even go on dates."

"Just take her out next Friday, please. I'm literally begging you." And then I've realized my mistake.

"Well, since you're begging... yes."

"Really?," I let out a breath.

"No."

"Shawn."

"Hmm?"

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?," I ask higher.

"No."

"PLEEASE?," I take a few steps toward him.

He throws his head back and groans, "Fine. But after I'm not promising a second date."

"Yes!"

He doesn't even know how relieved I am. Now I can prevent an extremely awkward encounter. I haven't even read the damn thing yet, and it's caused me so much grief. I wonder what it says.

"Wow, you could not be more excited for me to go out with her," he chuckles.

"I owed her a favor," I shrug.

"Right," he sighs.

"But, other than that, I came to talk about our future, or should I say past, plans," I chuckle.

He doesn't get it.

"Because we're going back in... nevermind," I sigh. "Have you maybe studied the buttons on the remote or anything like that since last time."

"Even better," he pulls me upstairs.

Once we're in his room, he shuts the door, "I went back to like the 1900s."

"The what?!"

"Like 1989 or something. I don't know. The point is, everything looked different. Everything was different. Way before the Reversal."

"Wow." He seems so excited. The most excited I've ever seen him.

"It was like opposite day or something. The men were literally ruling shit," he shakes his head slowly.

What if that's the kind of world he wants to live in. Did the 80s wow him?

"I accidentally went there, though. I think I clicked a random date generating button, or--"

"Wait, a what? Why the hell would there be a need for a button that--"

I'm so confused. If anything, that could be harmful.

"I don't even know. I'm not going to click it again, though."

"Yeah," I scratch behind my ear. "Do you think that world was... I don't know, better than this one?"

"What? No. I don't think the roles should be tipped toward any one side. I told you," he steps closer, "I'm not straying from the plan."

I nod, "Okay. I believe you," I smile.

"I was thinking," he smiles down, "We should use it again."

I smile, "Yeah, we're gonna have to."

"I mean like today," he beams.

"Oh, today," I glance at my phone, "I've been gone for like 20 minutes already. I don't know."

"The best thing about time travel, I've realized, is that when you return, it's like no time has passed," he twirls the remote in his hand. "You in?"

I smirk, "Hell yeah."