An outstretched arm crashes into Diego’s hip. With a yelp he crumbles to the floor. Penelope’s horizontal
frame falls hard upon the floor and lands with a profound thud. Jamish screams loudly in shock as there is
an invader in the house. He drops his phone and jumps up and over the back of the couch darting to the
light switch. He grabs an umbrella and lifts it up planting himself while leaning on his back foot, ready to
strike. Penelope coughs loudly through her laughs and buckles as she winces in pain firmly holding her
abdomen. Diego gets up, annoyed with the disruption as Jamish was set to beat a top ten record in his
mobile game and the distraction was better than he thought as he painstakingly waited for the set dinner
time.
Burying her face into the floor, she pulls her knees to her chest pointing her butt into the air. She is
coughing and laughing loudly to cope with the intense pain in her torso. Her ribs might be bruised and
taking deep breaths hurts. She hasn’t noticed the bruises on her left knee nor has she noticed her
stubbed toes. Contented that it was worth it, she calls out for Qisha, “Haha, I got you. I told you I would.”
Diego, more confused now than anything responds harshly, Penny, what the hell? That really hurt.
“Oh don’t be a baby. You ok, Quiche?”
The room is silent, save for sparse groanings and whispered complaints from Diego and Penelope. Diego
and Jamish take turns looking at each other and then back at Penelope. Their confusion is apparent and
their frustration is evident. Penelope calls out for Qisha again, “Qisha, come on. It’s the boys, so what if
they see you in your booty shorts? You’re an 8 when you ‘look like stay at home trash,’ which I find
offensive because even when I am all dressed up I don’t think I’m as pretty as you are when you’re an 8.”
Who are you talking to, Penelope? Qisha isn’t here.
“WHAT?”
It’s just you. You attacked me, which hurt by the way. But not too much. I’m not a baby.
“And yet you bitch. Did I miss her?”
You’re mean sometimes, you know that?
“Again, ‘and yet you bitch.’”
Rude.
Jamish chimes in, “What were you ladies trying to do?”
“Well, Qisha didn’t want to come tonight, sorry boys. She said she doesn’t feel as connected to the three
of us, which is stupid because she’s already my best friend. She told me she didn’t need to have my back
anymore since there is a place for you boys to step in.”
Oh, well I don’t want to take her place at all. It’s been amazing having someone to share poofing with. I
was so alone for so long, I can’t imagine going back to that. I am so happy to have you guys, but I don’t
want her to feel excluded. She’s a part of this.
“She doesn’t think so. It doesn’t seem like she’s jealous either, I think she’s just letting me go since she
thinks we’d be spending a lot of time together. If it’s her or you though, I choose her. No offense.”
None taken, I’d choose her over you too.
“No. You do not get to holler at Qisha.”
If I was you! I don’t choose her over you now, if I was you though.
“Uh huh.”
Jamish shuffles back to the couch to retrieve his phone hoping he paused the game he was playing
before he dropped it. He hangs his head in disappointment at the thought of Qisha leaving the circle. He
has found solice in there being someone else in the circle who can only stay put. The stomach aches not
withstanding, he has yet to fully embrace the connection between the foursome. The thought of it being a
threesome and he being the only one without the ability to leave everything behind and go somewhere
new, or at least to someone else in the group weighs heavily on his heart. He mutters quietly to himself,
“No one wants to be a background character in their own story.”
What’d you say, Jamish?
“Oh nothing. Just looking for my phone. I really hope I hit pause.”
Were you trying for a high score?
“Obviously, dumb dumb. I’d been burning through that game for like an hour. I was almost done with the
part in the volcano where you have to swing from helicopter.”
“What the fuck are you two talking about?”
This game he’s been playing last couple weeks. He’s been back at it competitively, which is so awesome
to see. Ever see someone who is so good at something, like better than you will ever be at anything do
their thing? I oscillate between jealous, being in awe and sheer excitement at how good he’s doing.
“Alternate.”
What?
“You alternate, not oscillate.”
No, Penelope, oscillate.
“Oscillate means you go back and forth, like a fan does on the oscillation setting. Alternate means you
switch completely between. And since you have more than two things you’re experiencing, that’s a better
word choice.”
Mom? Is that you?
“Whatever.”
Penelope slowly stands, grimacing as she does. The pain is tolerable now and her breathing has returned
to normal. She rubs her ribs on both sides with both hands. Scanning the living room for Qisha reveals
little more than she already knew. It is just as she remembers it, a chouch and a couple comfy chairs
provide seating. A linen chest, a record player and two bookshelves on either side of the television
provide entertainment. The blinds on the bay window are up as they let the last of the day’s light trickle
through as the sun sets. She notices Diego is dressed nicely for the evening. His collared shirt is neatly
pressed and his dark slacks are without wrinkle. His black leather shoes look mostly unworn and his hair
is done. The tight curls have a soft shine to them and they are closely compact. Jamish is in a v-neck t-
shirt and work slacks. His bare feet show the gentle care he takes of them. There is no sight of Qisha.
Penelope reaches down and grabs at her waistline and her back pockets looking for her phone. She is
wearing a tank top t-shirt and a pair of grey capri pants. Her fluffy house shoes hide the no show athletic
socks she wears to cover the soles of her feet while wearing flats. She runs her hand through her hair
brushing it away from her face. “You see my phone when I came in?”
I didn’t, no. Maybe you left it at home?
“No, I’m pretty sure I had it on me when I poofed. I cannot believe I am calling it that.”
Maybe it’s under the couch, I don’t know. And it’s called ‘poofing,’ you should call it that.
“Why was the light off when I came in?”
“Because it helps me concentrate when I’m trying to beat a score, a level, a boss or whatever. Reminds
me of when I would play as a kid coming up in the competitive scene and helps me focus.”
“That’s not weird at all.”
It’s not weird. We all have quirks. Do you not have any?
“Well, I don’t play games in the dark.”
You’re not mad at him.
“What?”
You’re not mad at him. You’re mad at yourself or Qisha or your phone, but you shouldn’t take it out on
him.
“Don’t mind him, Penelope. He randomly will same some pretty aware things. I’m not sweating it. I’m
pretty superstitious so I do things a certain way when I have something big coming up.”
Don’t brush it off. We need to support each other.
“Look, Diego, it’s okay for him to be weird. Okay?”
Diego suspiciously squints his eyes and glares at Penelope. Being protective of Jamish isn’t completely
out of character for him, but ever since the four of them met, he has become very protective of the three
of them. Even if it means standing up to one to support the other.
“Don’t give me that look, Diego. Just help me find my phone, please.”
“Oh hey, I had my notifications turned off. You texted me.”
Who, me? I didn’t. Did you, Penelope?
“No.”
Let me get my phone. Diego rushes to his room and retrieves his phone. A notification from fifteen
minutes ago sits at the top of the phone. The contact is labeled Penny. Ooh, you texted me too.
“No, I didn’t!”
Yeah you did. Like fifteen minutes ago. You were on the floor then, right? Are you playing a prank? I don’t
think it’s working.
“I’m not playing a prank. What did I text?”
Diego and Jamish respond in unison, “SEND PENNY HOME, NOW, PLEASE. THIS IS QISHA.”