“Final boarding call for Pioneer-Blue, flight 105.” Shit. The gate check-in counter is in sight. I dash to it like I’m in an Olympic relay, ticket in hand. With the other hand, I clutch the duffel bag slung over my shoulder to keep it from clobbering me as I run. I weave my way around other passengers, milling about during their layovers or filing to their own gates, and I race past emergency workers trying to revive Ethan. He’s lying on the floor of the airport, muddied and limp. Ahead, and just to my left, a little boy is watching. He looks small and scared. There are grass stains on his jeans. A bike is laying on the ground next to him. “Last call for flight 105.” “I’m here,” I say, shoving the ticket in front of the worker. She radios to the flight crew and sends me down the jetway

 I stay frozen in my spot. The dream version of Ansel sweeps back a flyaway strand of hair from Zara’s face. My stomach knots itself into a pretzel when she leans in to kiss him. His arms are around her. Her hand is in his hair.  My Ansel is as awkward as I’ve ever seen him. He’s looking down, and seems to be holding his breath.  Dream Ansel puts on the brakes, pulling back.  “What’s wrong,” Zara asks. “Did I… do something?” “No.” He looks frustrated and runs his hands through his hair. “Not at all.” He clears his throat. “I think we need to stay focused,” he says, standing, “On the task at hand.”  “That was the extent of it, mostly,” Ansel says next to me, wearing a guilty expression. “This was as close as it got to a rebound.”  “I don’t have room to talk,” I say, thinking ashamedly about kissing Ethan. “And, we were broken up.”  I blush. “We are broken

Karin“Tick tick tick…” The jet of a sprinkler shoots water across the green lawn, painting a rainbow in the shimmer of water droplets against the morning sun. Henry wakes up to the sound of his wife crying against the closed bathroom door. “Mags?” Silence. Apathy. Untouched plates of food.Henry sits on the porch, wearing a faded Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard print. Maggie’s in a chair across from him, almost unrecognizable with greasy, unwashed hair and wrinkled clothes. He’s made her iced tea. “With a dash of mint,” he says, his tone gentle. Maggie stares ahead. There’s a dead look to her eyes.Leaves crunching. Greased palm. Black car. Maggie’s hollow eyes torment him. He misses when her eyes were alive, when they sparkled with joy, and even when they sizzled in anger at whatever dumb things he did. It’s her eyes that flicker in his mind when he’s approached. ‘I can be a rat,’ he thinks. He says “yes,” without asking the obvious: “Why me?” Later, he will ask himself

Ansel Ansel’s eyes flew open and chaos ensued. Filled with adrenaline, he sprang up in the bed, grabbing a masked stranger by the neck. “Lorazepam!” Ansel could not place where he was or what was happening. The lights were blinding and painful. Blue gloves, blue masks, and eyes of strangers encroached him, swirled over him and around him. He felt overwhelmed and attacked. Hands pried Ansel’s hand from the neck. A dozen arms held Ansel back from flinging himself off the bed or doing further damage. Ansel felt something cold in his arm and it spread through his body. A voice chuckled. “I think the atro-corticoid worked a little too well.” Ansel’s fight instinct abated. His body relaxed. The glaring light dissipated and his eyes adjusted. He registered for the first time where he was. A hospital room, with whirs and beeps, white tile floor, the sound of footsteps outside in the hall, and the smell of sickness, chemical cleaners, and grief in the air. Ansel was surrounded by a conce

#Ansel’s Epilogue: A New Tomorrow Ansel and Karin waited together on the wings of the stage, listening to the cheers and booming voice over the microphone. Edwin had been removed from the election ballot. The next in-line for the throne, a cousin, replaced him. Ansel won in a landslide. Ansel looked at Karin. She was leaning against her crutches. Her raven hair fell down over her shoulders. Her brown eyes were warm and flecked with gold. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, “How proud I am of you?” A blush came over her cheeks. She raised her eyebrow. “What for?” “You llean into your confidence more and more everyday,” he said. “I always knew you were feisty as shit, but until the day of the attack, when I really saw you in action, I didn’t fully recognize just how courageous and strong you are.” Karin looked down at her feet, hiding a smile. “I was always scared of Ada’s power,” she said. She looked back up at Ansel. “I held her back constantly, but I think I’ve finally learned to