something else,, quackity

iv

I'm almost buzzing by the time it gets to ten pm the next Friday. As usual, this week has been pretty boring — it's not like working two more jobs tends to be that exciting — so weirdly I've been looking forward to going back to my Chipotle shift ever since I watched that stream.

My phone screen lights up from the kitchen table as I lace up my mom's favourite sneakers — hers have always been more comfortable. I swipe it up and open the message.

germ
STAGE ONE OF OPERATION
NATITY IS A GO

gnat
you are such a nerd
also please come up with a
better name than that
why nat titties

germ
The other option is Quacktalia
Which sounds too normal for
someone like you
We're sticking with Natity
for now

gnat
WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN
can it be more lowkey
just two gal pals hunting down
a pretty boy 👍🤠👍

germ
Um
No
That's worse tbh

gnat
whatever
i need to leave see you in
like five mins 🤪🤪
don't sit on a plastic fork again
in that time pls
im never getting that close
to ur arsehole again <3

germ
Roger that 🫡

gnat
nvm im gonna go rip off
my toenails one by one to quench
myself of the pain you just caused me

germ
Aye aye captain 😉
Time to sail this ship LETS GO

gnat
is this a good time to remind you
how much i despise you

"Who're you texting?"

I jump, and look in the direction of the question. My sister is curled up on the couch with a Tim Burton film paused on the TV in front of her, staring at me intently from within her cocoon of blankets. Her brown eyes are so round and wide that she looks like a bush baby with all of her hair and body concealed.

"Why?"

Edie shrugs. "I'm invasive."

"Only Gemma," I sigh, pocketing my phone and giving myself one last check-over in the mirror. Yep. Still ugly. Luminescent skin, shadows of acne lurking on my forehead, and purple swipes under my eyes. At least my hair's parted evenly for once.

"Oh! How is she?" She perks up at that — Gem is one of her favourite of my friends. Not that there's many to choose from. But I still can't tell if she's got a crush on her or if she's just in awe, as any thirteen-year-old would be in the presence of a six-foot-five lesbian without a volume dial.

"She's normal." I snatch my keys up. "As normal as she can get, at least."

"There's nothing wrong with her."

"I beg to differ."

She notices my outfit. "I thought you were only working Chipotle on Fridays."

"It is Friday."

"Seriously?" She stabs at her phone screen, which reveals the time and date on top of her homescreen of a random Pinterest cat. "It is! Does that mean we can go visit Mamá tomorrow?"