Ceilings

The library was quieter than Vi remembered it being. Then again, the last time she’d been here was probably freshman year, and even then, it was only because she’d been dragged in by a bitchy teacher threatening detention.

She strolled past rows of bookshelves, trying not to look too conspicuous as she carried the dog eared copy of Catcher in the Rye that had been stuffed in her locker for… well, a lot longer than it should have been. The guilt of finally returning it hadn’t outweighed the annoyance of the librarian’s inevitable glare.

As she approached the counter, something caught her eye. A familiar figure hunched over one of the library tables near the back. Caitlyn Kiramman, textbook-perfect in every sense of the word, surrounded by a fortress of books and papers. Her blue hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and her face was set in a serious expression, her pen flying across the notebook in front of her.

Vi hesitated. The memory of yesterday at the rink still lingered, Caitlyn’s pale face and the way she’d collapsed replaying in Vi’s mind. She felt a twinge of guilt for how things had gone down. for her dumb comment.

Screw it. She could apologize. Maybe check in, too. She didn’t need a perfect excuse to talk to Caitlyn.

Dumping the overdue book on the return counter with a hurried “Sorry, my bad,” Vi made her way over to Caitlyn’s table.

“Yo,” Vi greeted as she leaned casually on the table. Her grin was half a smirk, trying to gauge the skater’s reaction. “Miss Perfection hard at work again?”

Caitlyn’s pen froze mid sentence. She lifted her gaze slowly, fixing Vi with a glare cold enough to freeze the sun. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning a book,” Vi said, shrugging as she plopped into the seat across from Caitlyn. “Figured I’d check in while I’m here. After yesterday, I thought someone should.”

“I don’t need anyone to check on me,” Caitlyn said flatly, returning her focus to her notebook. “Especially not you.”

Vi snorted. “Well, excuse me for giving a shit. You freaked everyone out, collapsing like that. It’s not normal, you know.”

Caitlyn’s hand tightened around her pen, her jaw clenching. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Right. Totally fine. That’s why you’re in here, surrounded by books like you’re cramming for finals in every subject ever,” Vi shot back.

“Not everyone can get by without trying,” Caitlyn snapped, her tone sharp.

Vi frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caitlyn leaned back, crossing her arms. Her blue eyes flickered over Vi, and the disdain in her gaze was palpable. “You don’t get it. You’ve never had to. People like you just coast through life, expecting everything to work out because you’ve never had real expectations placed on you.”

Vi stiffened, her jaw tightening. “People like me?”

“You’re from the Undercity, aren’t you?” Caitlyn said, her tone cutting. “You don’t have to deal with the kind of pressure I do. You’re used to scraping by. Barely doing enough is probably a win where you come from.”

Vi’s heart sank at the words, but anger flared up to meet it. “Wow, okay. I didn’t realize this was the Caitlyn Kiramman Superiority Hour. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Caitlyn said, her voice icy. “You’re reckless, you don’t care about rules, and you think you can just... do whatever you want because you have nothing to lose. Must be nice to live without consequences.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who gets chauffeured to a mansion every night,” Vi shot back, leaning forward. “You’ve had everything handed to you, Caitlyn. Don’t act like that makes your problems bigger than anyone else’s.”

Caitlyn’s lip curled. “At least I’m not wasting my life running around pretending hockey will ever matter. Or using it as an excuse to...”

“To what?” Vi interrupted, her voice rising.

“To flirt with every girl you meet!” Caitlyn snapped, her words hitting like a slap. “That’s all you are, isn’t it? Just some… some lesbian with nothing better to do.”

The words hung in the air between them like a live wire. Vi’s face hardened, her usual smirk replaced with something colder, sharper.

“Wow,” she said, her voice low. “You really went there, huh?”

Caitlyn faltered, her face paling slightly, but she recovered quickly, her expression steeling. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“The truth?” Vi said, standing abruptly and leaning across the table, her voice dangerously calm. “The truth is, you’re so terrified of being human, you lash out at anyone who doesn’t fit into your perfect little box. But you know what, Caitlyn? That’s on you, not me.”

Caitlyn looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line, but Vi wasn’t done.

“You think insulting me makes you better? All it does is show how miserable you are. Enjoy your books, Jerk.”

With that, Vi turned and walked out of the library, her heart pounding and her fists clenched. She didn’t look back, even as a small, guilty voice in her head wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d pushed too hard.

Vi shoved open the heavy library door, the sound echoing through the quiet halls. Her fists were still clenched, her pulse hammering from the confrontation with Caitlyn. She stormed down the hallway, ignoring the curious glances from a couple of students loitering by their lockers.

Screw this. Screw Caitlyn and her holier-than-thou piltie attitude. Screw staying in school.

Her boots scuffed against the pavement as she stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. She could already hear the lecture her coach would give her for skipping class, but right now, she didn’t care. She headed straight for the school parking lot, weaving through rows of shiny, expensive cars that gleamed under the sun.

At the far edge of the lot, half hidden by a patch of scraggly trees, sat her beat up pickup truck. The paint was chipped, the bumper held on by sheer willpower, and the engine sounded like it might give up the ghost any day now. But it was hers, and it had gotten her through more than one rough spot.

Vi climbed in, slamming the door shut. The familiar scent of old leather and motor oil greeted her. She jammed the keys into the ignition and turned them, the engine sputtering to life with a protesting growl.

“Home it is,” she muttered, throwing the truck into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot.

The roads blurred past as she drove, her hands gripping the worn steering wheel tightly. The argument replayed in her mind, Caitlyn’s biting words cutting deeper the more she thought about them.

“People like you…”
“Just some lesbian…”

Vi shook her head, her grip tightening. She shouldn’t let it get to her. She’d heard worse before. But something about Caitlyn’s words, about the way she said them, like they were calculated to hurt, stung in a way that was hard to shake.

The truck jolted as she hit a pothole, jerking her back to the present. She let out a long breath, forcing her shoulders to relax as she turned onto the gravel driveway that led to her house.

It wasn’t much, a small, rundown place on the edge of the city just close enough to the bar Vander ran. The paint was peeling, the porch sagging, and the lawn was more weeds than grass. But it was home, and it was quiet, which was what she needed right now.

Vi parked the truck and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. She stood there for a moment, leaning against the hood and staring at the horizon. The city skyline loomed in the distance, a sharp contrast to the sprawling mess of the Undercity just out of sight below it.

“Perfect little princess,” Vi muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Vi kicked off her boots by the door, the thud of them hitting the floor echoing in the quiet house. She glanced around, noting the cluttered living room and the faint smell of burned toast lingering from that morning.

“Powder?” she called, her voice cutting through the silence.

A muffled rustling sound came from the small bedroom down the hall, followed by the unmistakable creak of the bed frame. Vi sighed, running a hand through her short hair as she made her way toward the room.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as she took in the scene: Powder, her little sister, was sprawled across the bed, a tablet in her hands and an untouched bowl of soup on the nightstand beside her.

“You’re supposed to be sick,” Vi said, raising an eyebrow.

Powder looked up, her wide blue eyes brimming with faux innocence. “I am sick,” she said, punctuating the lie with an exaggerated cough.

Vi smirked, stepping into the room and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “Uh huh. And I’m guessing that’s why you’re playing games instead of, I don’t know, resting?”

Powder quickly hid the tablet under a pillow, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s boring just lying here,” she muttered.

Vi ruffled her sister’s messy blue hair affectionately. “You’re terrible at faking, you know that?”

“I wasn’t faking,” Powder insisted, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“Sure, kid,” Vi said, her tone teasing. She grabbed the untouched bowl of soup, giving it a skeptical look. “At least eat this. You’re gonna get busted when Vander gets home if he sees you haven’t touched it.”

Powder groaned but sat up, taking the bowl reluctantly. “Fine. But it’s gross.”

Vi snorted. “It’s soup. It’s supposed to be gross.”

As Powder took a grudging sip, Vi leaned back against the wall, letting the quiet settle between them. The earlier argument with Caitlyn still lingered in her mind, but being here with Powder helped ease some of the tension coiled in her chest.

“You’re home early,” Powder said, her voice muffled as she slurped the soup. “Did something happen?”

Vi hesitated, then shrugged. “Nah, just needed a break.”

Powder tilted her head, studying her sister with that unnervingly perceptive look she sometimes had. “You’re lying,” she said simply.

Vi laughed, but it came out forced. “Maybe. Don’t worry about it, though. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Powder didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she set the bowl aside and reached for her tablet again. “Wanna play with me?”

Vi glanced at the screen, where a cartoonish battle was unfolding between tiny warriors. “Sure,” she said, sliding down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “But only if you’re ready to lose.”

Powder grinned, her earlier pout forgotten. “You wish!”

“Alright, kid,” Vi said after a few rounds of the game, setting the tablet aside and leaning back against the bed. She glanced at Powder, who was grinning triumphantly after beating her again. “Time to spill. Why’re you faking sick?”

Powder’s smile faltered for a split second before she looked down, fiddling with the frayed edge of her blanket. “I told you, I’m not faking.”

“Uh-huh,” Vi said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a lot of things, Powder, but a convincing liar isn’t one of them.”

Powder scowled, crossing her arms. “Maybe I just didn’t want to go.”

“Didn’t want to go where?” Vi pressed, tilting her head. “School? What’s going on?”

Powder hesitated, her fingers still tugging at the blanket. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vi scooted closer, lowering her voice. “Hey, come on. You can tell me. Did something happen?”

Powder bit her lip, her eyes darting away. “It’s just… some of the kids are being jerks, okay?”

Vi’s expression darkened instantly. “Jerks how? Are they picking on you?”

Powder shrugged, her shoulders curling inward. “Kinda. They call me names. Say I’m weird ‘cause I like tinkering with stuff and don’t hang out with them.”

Vi’s jaw tightened, anger bubbling under her skin. She knew how cruel kids could be, and the thought of anyone messing with her little sister made her blood boil.
“Who is it?” Vi asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“It doesn’t matter,” Powder said quickly, shaking her head. “If I tell, it’ll just get worse.”

Vi sighed, forcing herself to soften. She reached out, gently tilting Powder’s chin up so their eyes met. “Listen to me, kid. People like that? They’re just loud because they’re scared of anyone who’s different. You’re not the problem. They are.”

Powder blinked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But what if they don’t stop?”

“Then I'll deal with it,” Vi said firmly. The old Vi would have beat the bastards up. Even now, she wanted to pound their heads into a concrete floor. But she had to trust that things would sort themselves out, without violence.

Powder sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Vi said, pulling her into a hug.

For a moment, they sat there in silence, the only sound the faint creak of the house settling around them. Vi could feel the weight of Powder’s worries easing slightly in her arms, and for now, that was enough.

“Now,” Vi said, pulling back and smirking. “Let’s go over how to fake a sick day properly next time. You’ve got a lot to learn, rookie.”

Powder giggled, swiping at her eyes. “Shut up, Vi.”