Amber's POV
Hazel finishes taping up the shiny sign on the wall right as Andi comes trudging into the kitchen. Her sleepy eyes shock open as she sees the birthday sign, and Hazel stands smiling, waiting for the rest of her mom's reaction.
"Oh, look," Andi says. "Forty."
Those numerals stands out the most across the sign that reads 'Happy 40th Birthday.' They also appear to be the most off-putting for Andi who quickly pivots to turns into the kitchen where she pours herself a glass of orange juice and chugs it back.
"Happy birthday," I say, trying to lift her clearly rocky mood, but unfortunately Hazel doesn't notice it.
"How does it feel to be one year closer to dying?" she asks.
"Hazel," I hiss.
"I'm kidding," she responds. "She could die at any time. Age doesn't affect that."
"Great," Andi cuts in, her tone tense. "It's great."
Hazel nods and comes into the kitchen by her mom as she says, "I love when people say great when they obviously don't mean it."
"I'm perfectly awesome," Andi insists in a voice no more believable than before. "I'm going to be even more awesome when our friends get here to celebrate. Until then, um, I'm going to work on my art."
She takes her juice glass with her down the hall toward her studio, leaving me with Hazel in the bleak atmosphere of the room she's left behind.
"Well," hazel sighs, "I have to go to school, but let me know if you figure out what's wrong with Mommy."
She grabs her backpack and heads for the door, giving me a wave before locking herself out.
________________________________________
Brayden's POV
If humans weren't already lab rats for society, the bell surely proves otherwise. We are free. Are we? Are we free when a simple ring makes people scatter to go fill their brains with more propaganda for how to think like the norm, how to be regular, how to shut up and go along with society. I and my twenty-five other classmates who sit down in the history room all do so because there is no other alternative. If one were to choose to not stay, where would they go? Well, they would be an outcast. They would lose the support of their peers, the conditional love that is conform or leave. Because to not conform is to break the law, but when every single piece of grass, every stone, every wave is owned by someone, where does someone who doesn't want to lean back into the mould go? Nowhere. So they stay.
I like history class, I do. But I'm not oblivious to the conscious construction of our past that our textbooks communicate. Hence why I do much of my learning outside of the classroom, away from typical materials. Currently, I'm learning about some history of the Southern Paiute people. That book lays open on my desk while my friends in the desks directly in front of me and left of me talk about their typical carefree things.
"I love your braid," Linny says. "What kind is that?"
"I think it's a Dutch braid," Kelsey replies, sweeping her hair over her shoulder to get a better look.
"No, a Dutch braid is like an inside out French braid," Linny says.
"Then maybe it's a Spanish braid," Kelsey suggests, "or a Canadian braid?"
"I don't think there's such a thing," Linny says.
Right on cue, they both look to me, as they always do to settle their disagreements. They know that if anyone knows, it's me.
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The Good Hair Family Sitcom
Fanfiction{4 seasons and complete} Tyrus, Ambi, Muffy, and Wonah are adults now, but growing up and having families brings new kinds of challenges. Through the complications of them and their kids, their life-long friendship is the one thing they can always r...
