Nine By Nine Novels & Stories

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" "I need you." "What do you mean?" "Let me be your boyfriend for ninety-nine days. Don't worry, I am bringing the deal to you this time 'cause I need you." Her eyes widened, almost pulling out of its sockets.

Site 9. Then another. Then another. The room became active again. Files opened. Pages turned. Labels checked. Patterns assembled. Finally Vivian found the key. An old planning binder. Yellowed pages. Brittle edges. Inside, there was a list. Site 1. Site 2. Site 3. Nine locations total. Nine community areas. Nine long-term observation zones. And directly beside Site 9... The address. Ground. Or rather, the address that would eventually become Ground.

"No, you're Jenna. You've finally returned." Tears streamed down her face in thick rivulets. "I'm so sorry for letting you suffer for nine long years. But now, you have me, and all my love is yours. You don't need to be afraid anymore. That little wretch is gone. She got exactly what she deserved, just like that monster…" Fear coursed through Anna, making her body quake. She flailed in a desperate and weak frenzy, as if she might crumble into pieces. Mom rose, carrying a bowl of her ever-greasy stew. "Jenna, just drink a little…"

She carefully picked up each piece from the trash. She worked patiently to put them back together. There were exactly ninety-nine make-up cards. She remembered five years ago when she had looked at the cards with sincerity and said, “Yoel, don’t worry. I’ll never give you a chance to use them.” She also remembered all the times she had casually offered to use them over the years. The feelings she had worked so hard to save had been wasted in the two years with Connor until they were completely gone. Yvette, who had always been careful about numbers, seemed to lose all sense of the ninety-nine make-up cards whenever Connor was around.

His gaze was fixed on the scribbles on the little girl's notebook. Summer raised her finger again. "First, we need to know that 90 is 100 minus 10. So, if we want to subtract 920 from 90, just subtract 100 from 920 and then add it to 10." All the children frowned in unison. They were confused by what Summer explained. Before the minds of the 2nd graders became even more chaotic, Mrs. Ross cleared her throat.

The baby had already grown tiny hands and feet. But it still couldn't stay. That time, I completely broke down. I grabbed the divorce agreement from Gary's hand, signed my name across it, and threw it back at him. "I've had enough. Let's just get divorced!" My throat tightened as I shouted like a madman, my voice shaky and desperate. Gary looked at me in surprise. Then, he laughed. He reached out and slowly pulled me into his arms, his voice gentle. "Don't be silly. Back then, I proposed to you 99 times before you agreed to marry me. If we're going to divorce, we'll wait until we reach the 99th agreement. Otherwise, I'd be taking too big a loss."

Even though our new loft apartment was practically empty, save for a few cardboard boxes and a blow-up mattress we had dragged in, the energy inside it was pure, unadulterated chaos. We were using the massive, gold-framed bathroom mirror to do our makeup, our voices bouncing off the bare hardwood floors as our favorite playlist blasted from Chris's portable speaker. ​"If we are doing this, we are doing it right," Chris declared, aggressively blending his eyeshadow. "I am nineteen tomorrow. I am practically an elder. I must look the part."

I will never regret it either. In an instant, Mrs. Grant looked as if all strength had been drained from her body. She turned back and looked at me with apology in her eyes. Vivian rubbed her temples, then lifted her chin as if making a concession. "Julian, if you want to remarry me, fine. We'll only get divorced again anyway. You'll be the one embarrassed, not me. "If you really can't live without me, then let's go to the courthouse now. "This is your eighth divorce, isn't it?"