Gardens, Jogging, and War

One peaceful morning in Desire City, Emily Jenkins stepped out onto her beachside property, immediately tending to her flower garden. Her long blue hair shimmered in the sunlight, her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, and a self-satisfied smile played on her lips.

"My name is Emily Jenkins. Not to brag, but I should've been the leader of the homeowner's committee. I own one of the biggest homes here, and unlike certain people, I actually have a family—well, technically. My ex took the kids, but that's beside the point. My home reflects me. Cozy, inviting… full of memories. Unlike somebody's house, which screams single-living." She snipped a few flower stems with precision, humming to herself.

Her thoughts turned to Liora, the current committee president. "Liora doesn't even have a proper couch. Just a lonely little loveseat. And don't get me started on that ridiculous sports car—totally impractical! Meanwhile, I've got a family car," she paused, a shadow of sadness flickering in her expression, "even if I'm the only one driving it these days."

Emily closed her eyes and strolled confidently toward the edge of her yard. "Yep, biggest house on the block, right here—" Her thought was cut short as she slammed into a stone pillar. She staggered back, clutching her forehead.

"IS THAT A FUCKING MANSION?!" she shrieked, her hair flying wildly like a nest of snakes. Catching herself, she smoothed her hair back into place, adjusted her glasses, and forced a strained smile. "I-I mean," she coughed, clearing her throat. "What a… lovely house Liora gave to the goddamn gangster," she muttered through gritted teeth, her smile tight and forced.

As if on cue, the door to the mansion swung open, revealing Lana Peck. She wore a black jacket draped over a swimsuit, her hair windswept and carefree. Lana jumped from the top step of her porch to the bottom, landing gracefully in a roll before popping up.

"It's a beautiful morn~!" Lana sang, twirling slightly as she headed to the driveway.

"Hey, neighbor!" Lana called, waving with unrestrained cheer.

Emily twitched, her eye nearly spasming as she reluctantly raised a hand in return. "H-hi," she said, her voice straining to stay polite.

Lana opened the trunk of her car, whistling a carefree tune, and pulled out gardening supplies. She strolled to the cobblestone path around her mansion and got to work, effortlessly trimming hedges and watering plants.

Emily watched in stunned silence, her lips parted in disbelief. "She gardens? She actually does yard work?" she muttered, unable to tear her eyes away.

Lana, catching her gaze, looked up with a cheerful grin. "I'm Lana. And you are?"

Emily stiffened before clearing her throat. "I'm Emily Jenkins. I know who you are. So…" she glanced around, trying to find an angle of superiority. "Biggest house on the block, huh?"

Lana nodded proudly, brushing her hand against a row of perfectly pruned flowers. "Yep. This is my baby." She knelt to adjust a garden ornament, her smile genuine and serene.

Emily's composure wavered as she mumbled under her breath, "Some baby…"

"Anyway," Emily began, trying to keep her tone light, "how're you enjoying Desire? Wouldn't you rather be somewhere that requires a metal detector just to get in?" She muttered the last part under her breath, but Lana's sharp ears didn't miss it.

Lana straightened up, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Desire's fun. So many zany characters here," she said with a chuckle, her gaze lingering on Emily knowingly.

Emily's lips twitched, and she forced herself to take a calming breath. Focus, Emily. Stay polite. "Hey, I usually jog in the morning. Wanna join me sometime?" she offered, her tone sugary sweet but her eyes glinting with challenge.

Lana tilted her head curiously, then grinned. "Sure, why not?" she replied.

Before Emily could bask in her apparent victory, Lana casually spun her shovel like a baton, flipping it effortlessly before tossing it into the trunk of her car. The move was so fluid and confident that Emily blinked in disbelief.

"Great," Emily said, recovering quickly. A mischievous smile crept onto her face as she turned toward her house. "She might be good with plants, but there's no way she can outrun me—not with that towering body of hers!" Emily thought to herself. She shot one last glance at Lana, then hurried inside, racing up the stairs to prepare.

Moments later, Emily trudged along the sandy beach in her tracksuit, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Sweat dripped down her face like a leaky faucet, soaking her collar. "Why is this so hard?!" she wheezed, forcing her legs to keep moving.

"On your left," Lana's voice rang out cheerfully as she breezed past, her strides light and effortless.

Emily's jaw dropped as she watched Lana speed ahead. "This is her tenth lap for no reason!" she panted, her chest heaving.

Before she could fully process her frustration, Lana zipped by her again, her pace unbroken. "On your left," she said with an infuriatingly calm grin.

Emily groaned, nearly stumbling as she fought to keep her feet moving. "Is she even human?!" she muttered under her breath, glaring at Lana's retreating figure.

After their jog, Emily collapsed onto the sand, gasping for air, while Lana stopped nearby, barely winded and taking a sip of water. "Out of breath already?" Lana teased with a grin.

Emily sat up, her chest heaving as she pointed an accusing finger at Lana. "How do you do it?! How are you not dying right now?"

Lana shrugged casually, her smile widening. "Cardio, I guess." She chuckled, tossing her water bottle back into her bag.

Emily wobbled to her feet, clutching her sides dramatically. "Listen here, you. I run this neighborhood, okay?! You won't beat me next time!" She jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, her voice half a threat, half desperation.

As she turned to storm off, Emily nearly tripped over a nearby surfboard, catching herself just in time. "Ow! Damn surfboard!" she grumbled, glaring at the offending object.

Lana laughed, shaking her head. "Have fun with that!" she called out, already jogging away with ease, leaving Emily fuming—and plotting—on the sand.

Moments later, Emily and Lana stood side by side in the community center kitchen, kneading dough at their respective stations. The warm scent of flour and yeast filled the air.

"I'm happy you invited me here," Lana said, rolling her dough with enthusiasm. "How'd you know I've never baked before? It's something I've always wanted to try."

Emily groaned, narrowing her eyes as she focused on her dough. "It's not rocket science—just knead with precision and—"

She was abruptly cut off by a collective gasp from onlookers.

"Whoa! Look at her juggle that dough!" someone exclaimed.

Emily's head snapped up, and her jaw dropped. Lana was effortlessly juggling the dough, tossing it between her hands with such grace that it formed perfect circles in the air. The dough spun so quickly it almost looked like it might catch fire.

"Are you serious?!" Emily muttered under her breath, watching Lana turn a simple task into an impromptu performance.

Lana caught the dough in one hand and grinned. "Is this what you meant by precision?" she teased, her tone light.

Emily's eye twitched. "I meant precision, not a circus act!" she huffed, doubling her efforts to keep up.

Lana presented her freshly baked bread, its golden crust glistening under the warm kitchen lights. The crowd at the community center eagerly sampled it, and a unanimous cheer followed.

"Ten out of ten!" someone announced, and the room erupted in applause.

Emily stepped forward confidently, placing her own bread on the table. The rich aroma wafted through the air as the judges took their first bites. Moments later, they nodded in unison.

"Ten out of ten!" another voice declared, and the room buzzed with excitement.

Emily froze, her jaw tightening as her inner monologue screamed. "She's on par with me? Me?! The queen of this neighborhood? Impossible!" Her hands clenched into fists as she watched Lana casually accept the praise, flashing her easy-going smile to the cheering crowd.

"How is she so calm?" Emily thought, her eye twitching. "Does she not realize this is war? Baking war!"

Lana glanced over and gave Emily a friendly thumbs-up. "Your bread was amazing, Emily!" she said with genuine warmth.

Emily's smile cracked as she forced herself to nod. "Th-thank you," she stammered, seething internally. "Oh, it's on now."

They faced off in a series of challenges. A volleyball match? Lana spiked her way to victory. A house decorating contest? Lana's creativity stole the show. Surfing? Lana rode the waves like she was born in the ocean. Even a DIY challenge saw Lana crafting effortlessly while Emily struggled to keep up.

In every competition, Emily poured her heart into the effort, coming tantalizingly close each time—yet always falling short. No matter how determined she was, Lana's natural skill and calm confidence seemed unbeatable. It was infuriating. How is she good at everything?!

Emily lay sprawled on the floor of her house, staring at the ceiling with a defeated groan. "I suck at everything," she muttered, pulling a pillow over her face to hide from the world.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted her pity party. She waved a limp hand in the air. "Come in," she called weakly, her voice heavy with shame.

The door creaked open, and Lana walked in, carrying a tray piled high with food and snacks. "Hey, bestie!" she chirped, her usual energy lighting up the room.

Emily let out a groan, peeking out from under the pillow. "Bestie? We're not friends," she shot back, her tone half-hearted.

Lana tilted her head, a teasing smile spreading across her face. "All the stuff we did today, and we're not friends? That's cold."

Emily blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, eyeing the tray in Lana's hands. "Depends," she said cautiously. "What'd you bring?"

Lana grinned and held up the tray like a trophy. "Your favorites."

Emily sighed but couldn't fight the small smile creeping onto her lips. "Alright, fine. Maybe we're sort of friends. But only because of the snacks."

A while later, Lana sat on the floor, her back resting against Emily's legs as Emily carefully braided her hair. Lana's voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. "But yeah, when you're old and dangerous like me, nobody really wants to deal with you. I've relocated so many times I lost count. Then I came here, and it's different. Fun, even. I've met people like you and the prez," she said, referring to Liora.

Emily's fingers slowed as she listened, her face softening. "You've really been through a lot, huh?" she asked quietly.

Lana nodded, staring down at her hands. "Don't let anyone fool you—appearances matter. If someone had to choose between saving a supermodel or a deformed kid, I'd bet a million bucks they'd save the. supermodel without a second thought." Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly covered it with a laugh. "That's just the way the world works."

Emily paused, her hands hovering over Lana's braid. "I get it," she said after a moment, her voice softer. "That's why I try so hard, too. To be the best. To look the best.

You came here, and you're amazing at everything. It's like you don't even have to try, and… it reminds me why appearances matter so much. If I can't be the best, what's the point?"

Lana glanced up at Emily, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "You don't have to be perfect, you know. Just… be you."

"Be me, huh?" Emily said with a small laugh, tying off the braid. "You know, you're alright, Lana."

Lana tilted her head back to glance at her, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks. You're alright too."

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of the day's challenges and confessions lingering between them. Emily smiled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Friend."

Lana's grin widened, and she reached up to give Emily's hand a light squeeze.

They sat there in companionable silence, the unspoken truth settling between them:

Comparison is the thief of joy.

The end.