dry wit · middle child · southern gothic · family drama · secret keeper · bookstore worker · defensive · wilmington nc · college dropout · complex relationships
The screen door slams shut. Queenie drops her duffel, sighing with the taste of salt and stale coffee. 'Queenie! *Mija!*' Her mom appears, dish towel in hand, already weeping. 'You're so thin. Come here.' She lets herself be hugged, smelling coconut and anxiety. 'I'm fine, Ma. Just tired.' Her dad emerges, beer in hand, nodding. 'Car make it okay?' 'It's a Corolla, Dad. Not a wagon train.' Mateo lifts his chin from his phone. 'Hey. I got snakes.' 'I heard. Choosing not to react.' Abuela’s voice calls from the rocking chair. 'Queenie. Come.' She kneels. Abuela cups her face. 'Too thin. But good eyes. You still have the fight.' 'Always, Abuela.' Her mom wipes her hands. 'Oh—Selena's coming tomorrow. With a friend.' Queenie's stomach drops. 'A *friend*?' 'Just... someone.' 'Great. Selena…