“Risa!” Boogerface calls for me, essentially pulling me out of my preferred life… the one I left in Boston because of Mark getting into an accident at work.

“Uhhhhhhhh!” I grumble to myself.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssaaaaaaa!”

It’s pronounced “Reesa” (or, if you’re from where I grew up, “Reesah”). “Wha-ha-ha-uht in the holy cheese slices do you waaaaaaannnnnntttt, Boogerfaaaaaaacccccceee?” I whine, almost ready to cry. I jerk the blanket upward to cover my face as my bedroom door opens, touching my face roughly with the balled up hands of mine.

Boogerface bursts out laughing, only to suddenly stop when I give him the family death glare. “Your momma said it’s time to get ready and that we have to start plannin’ for your thang in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I growl, only upset cuza him waking me up by yelling. “I’mma deck ya someday.”

“Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh, maybe in your dreams.”

I scrunch my face up at him. “Whatevah, Boogerface. Where’s your midget slave?”

He shows a befuddled expression on his ugly face for a couple moments. “You mean Trace?” I nod slowly, calling him dense without saying it. “He’s on vacation with his brothers.”

I roll my eyes. “Git out. I got ta get dressed if we’re gonna go places.”

“Yeah… I’mma wait down in the front room,” he informs me, closing the door behind himself.

“Dummy.” I grab a green mid thigh length skorts and a cute mint green tank top that I haven’t worn since last fall back home. I glance at my five pairs of footwear (yes, only five and they all serve specific functions), choosing my semi dressy ankle tan boots that zip up along my Achilles’ tendon. I put on my outfit and then seat myself on the floor near my old fashioned standing mirror by my plastic drawers that hold my hair and makeup things. “Hmmm. Mascara, light foundation, eyeliner, lipgloss. Updo? Or leave it down? Up. Uhhhh…. Zigzag French braid, tucked under, pin it with bobbies. It’ll look like it’s got nothin’ holdin’ it up.” I get all this done in less than 20 minutes, put it all away and head downstairs. “Boogerface. Yeah?” I question his opinion as I do a slow twirl.

“You got bobby pins to hide it, nice. Looks good. Let’s get,” he admits, proud of my “art”.

“Lessgo,” I whine, bouncing on my heels with a pout on my visage.

“I’m taking Risa now!” he shouts to my mom and dad.

“Make sure she’s back by 10:30 tonight,” momma tells him.

“Antie Em, it’s Saturday.”

“11:30, then. No excuses,” daddy enforces.

“Thanks, Uncle Jake!”

Boogerface and I look at each other, noticing the smug expression we share, and bolt out the door to his Chevy pickup. Once inside his truck and down the road, we begin to howl with laughter. “I didn’t think your parents would give you a time extension.”

After a nod, I take a deep breath or three. “Me either,” I admit. I look at the clock. “It’s seven in the morning? I’mma deck you.”

He feigns shaking. “Oooh, I’m shakin’.”

“In ya adorable rainbow glitter space boots?” I taunt him.

“Hey!” he loudly indicates his slight offense to my comment, causing me to grin. “I didn’t write that! JC did and you know that.”

“Can’t believe you still get butthurt ovah it.”

“I’m never gonna live it down.”

“You bet you ain’t,” I affirm.

“Maaaaannn.” He shakes his head. “It ain’t right.”

I give him a look that screams ‘like you are?’ “And whus ya point?”

He glances at me at the red light. “Restin’ bitch face much?”

I contort my face into a ‘what in the ever loving…’ expression. “I’m waiting on something exciting to happen.”

His phone rings, his thumb pressing a button on the steering wheel. “Sup, B?”

“Not much, Justin. You said somethin’ bout yer cousin coming. I tole muh boy and he wantsta go witcha.”

“Risa will look up how long it’s gonna take to get to y’all.”

“Since when do I…” I try to argue.

“Shotgun means copilot.”

I groan, grabbing my phone. “Go for it.”

“2094 Dresden Drive, Rex, Georgia.”

“From Patillo Way, it’s a 15 minute drive.”

“That means y’all are in Stockbridge.”

“Yeah, that’s where we are,” Boogerface confirms. “See you and Lil’ B soon.”

“Yep. I’ll let ev’ryone know.”

“Later.”

The phone clicks, signaling the connection has ended. “Who’re they? How do ya know ‘em?”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve known B since I was about 16.”

“More of yer idiot friends..” I complain, dropping my head back onto the headrest of my seat.

“Just give them a chance, it’s all I ask.”

I fold my arms under my bust, not happy I have to put up with other people that I don’t know from a hole in a tree. “Fine,” I huff.

I type the address this guy spewed into the gps and stare out my window. “I get you don’t wanna deal with someone seeing Mark or helping us plan for your party, but I did tell him that if his kid wanted to meet you, that I’m alright wit it.” We endure the rest of the way, nothing more being said, until he pulls into a driveway like his in Tennessee. “Lemme text him and see where they’re at.” He does just that and his phone sounds like someone dribbling a basketball. “He says backyard. Be nice, please.”

“I hate you.” I slide out of his truck, considering I’m 5’6” and still have to climb into his truck. He uses the hanging step and can easily get into it cuz he’s like six feet tall. I have to use the step, step on the flooring, pull on the ‘oh no’ handle and then pull myself into the cab. I follow him to a fence opening, my eyes darting around nervously. This blonde guy with the most beautiful sky colored orbs and a smile that can rob you of the breath in your lungs stops to give a fist bump and a brohug to Boogerface, turning to me after. “I apologize for my rude manners. I’m Baylee. You must me the miss Risa this guy spoke about to my dad.” I blush and a smile takes over where a scowl of nervousness had been not long ago. “Pictures do you no justice,” he compliments me, softly grabbing my fingers to position them in a way that he could brush a soft buss to the back of my left hand.

My heart sped up so fast I can’t feel it beat or it skipped a beat or five, my breath is caught in my throat, and my brain refuses to cooperate. “Yeah, this is my little cousin from up north.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Y’all want ta meet muh friends?” I can only nod my answer. “Let’s git. Mind if I take her four wheel drivin’, J?”

“Nah, s’alright by me.”

“I’mma have my phone.”

“See y’alls in a bit.”

“C’mon, Risa,” he calls to me, offering his hand for me to take so I can chill with him and his besties. I place my hand in his and he gently pulls me to walk beside him. “I’m an only child. Do ya got any siblins?”

“N-no,” I stammer my answer.

He chuckles. “Y’all shy?”

“Ye-yeah. Around new people. New places.”

He goes quiet for a minute. “No worries, miss. My friends and I will help ya get used to bein’ here. We’re nice folks.”

“Yup.”

“Hopefully, you say more than this in time.”

“You talk like Boogerface after being in Tennessee for a bit.”

He chuckles, stopping beside a four wheeler. “I’m from Georgia.”

My eyes widen at the sight of the ATV, taking a step back. “No way, no how. I’m not getting on that thing.”

“Promise I’ll go easy,” he offers, holding out a bright orange helmet.

“Yeah?”

“Never broke no promise yet.”

I close my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. “You’re safe,” I whisper to myself.

“You from a big city,” he observes, as I had about his accent. “Boston or Woosester, I’d guess.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Wister’, if you mean Worcester.”

“My apologies.”

“First, I’m from Boston; second, stop apologizing.”

“Alright. I can tell you was raised in the city.” He sits near the front, his palm open and out for me to hold onto it to assist me in getting on the vehicle.

I place my hand on his and sit behind him. “I have, but I guess I gotta get used to the country.”

He loosely takes my wrists, pulling them around himself with my hands meeting at the top of his abs. “Y’all gonna wan ta hold tight. Gets ser’ously bumpy.” I nod, my head resting on his back with my eyes closed tight. “Here we go.”

I feel the breeze on my arms, so I peek at the passing scenery. I’m happily surprised at its beauty. I gasp, lifting my brain container off his back. “Not so bad, huh?” he shouts over the wind and engine.

I can feel the muscles in his abs and lower back flex and relax again. “It looks so pretty!”

“Always has been. Gotta love home.”

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be 16 in November. You, Risa?”

“14, June 27.”

“Born 04?”

“Yep!”

“’Bout 5 minutes till we get there.”

“Aight.”

He chuckles again. “You city, alright. You’ll go country soon ‘nough.”

I raise an eyebrow, curious, but let it slide with a shrug of my shoulders. I spot a group of kids around our ages waving at Baylee from their camping style seats with a few left empty. He comes to a stop, killing the engine. He skillfully dismounts the recreational vehicle, removes his cranium protection, and offers to help me get my feet back on the ground wordlessly. “Who’s she?” a boy a year younger than me (at least) inquires.

A low chuckle escapes the throat of the blonde teenage boy. “Slow down, Cap.”

“Wait till you see my ugly mug,” I retort, removing the helmet and smooth my hair as I check it for any major flaws.

“This is Cap...” Baylee begins.

“Why’s he called that?”

“Real name’s Steve. Ashley, Andria, Andy, Nate, Jeff, Jackie, Jase, Jonah, Jameson, and Zelda & Link,” he lists each of their names off as he motions to each person.

“Zelda and Link?”

He rapidly focuses on me again. “They’re kinda like the characters, but their real names are Catrina and Cole.” He looks back in his friends’ direction. “This is Justin’s baby cousin, Risa.”

“The Justin yer daddy’s known forever ‘n’ a day, Bay?” Jackie asks. She looks Dominican.

He sighs, sounding annoyed. “Yeah, JT.”

Cole and Cat look like Zelda and Link; Cap looks like the Sam Wilson Captain America; A³ look like they’re related cuz they all have the stereo-typical Irish/Scottish/Welsh/German characteristics; the rest look Spanish or Asian, yet so different.

“World to Risa,” Andria playfully calls, clapping her hands with a playful teasing expression.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Sorry. It’s gonna be awhile before I get your names right.”

“That’s cool,” Jonah comments.

“Not to be nosy, but are any of you family? What’s your background, like heritage-wise?” Great, now I'm rambling nervously for information that I normally wouldn’t rush to know! “I’m Irish, Canadian, Swedish, and Russian, far as I know.” I’m missing a couple things... I know it. Shut up! Too much, way too soon! “Oh! And also German and Trinidanian!”

I mentally punch myself in the face. “Cole and Cat are brotha and sista,” Baylee supplies.

“Ashley, Andria and me are cousins,” Andy explains.

“I’m Creole,” Cap informs me.

“I happen to be Haviian,” Nate tells me, meaning “Hawiian”.

“Haitian,” Jase spews, a single digit raised on his left hand.

“Jameson and me’re cousins to Jackie ‘n’ Jonah. We’re Dominican and Cambodian, but Jackie ‘n’ Jonah are Dominican and Thai,” Jeff admits.

“Hmm. Sorry about being so nosy.”

“Nah, no problem. Oh, Grace and ‘Randa gon’ be here in a few,” Andria says in a ‘I just remembered this!’ way.

Fear and hatred grips me, flowing through my veins, and causing my body to vibrate... making it hard to breathe. “Y’all, Risa looks like she’s about to skeedat,” Jase observes, worry in his eyes.

My eyes slam shut and I lean on my new friend’s ATV, slowly lowering my body to sit sideways on the seat. “Do Grace and Miranda have the name Cavanagh?”

They fall silent, forcing me to open my eyes to notice the ‘how did she know?’ looks being exchanged between them all. “’Bout ya tell us how ya know them?” Nate demands, folding his arms over his pecs.

I sigh. “Their Memé lived at the end of my road and the only time the two of them would show their nasty attitudes was in the summers. I took care of their Memé every day and they would terrorize me, taunt me, and be all around horrendous to me about caring for her up to the day she passed away. They had the cops ban me from her wake and burial. They treated her so bad, and most people would say it borderlines neglect.”

“Prove it,” Jonah quietly growls, in disbelief. All the girls look ready to jump me and beat the snot outta me.

I produce my iPhone Xs, unlocking it to find videos of the Csavanagh sisters’ behavior at their memé’s and how she and I had been treated by them. I relinquish my phone, allowing Baylee to hold it. He slowly sinks into a chair near him, a look of embarrassment and horror encompasses his visage with his free hand covering his mouth. “Swipe left and then go through voice memos that have ‘CS @ Reneé’s’ followed by dates,” I quietly inform them, my stomach doing cartwheels. I’m nervously flicking my nails while staring off into space.

It feels like an eternity of silence and shame before I pulled into an apologetic embrace from everyone, all at once, tears burning my eyes while holding in the sobs do the same to the same t the back of my throat. “They got no excuse or reason ta be disgusting,” Jase softly comments, assuring me they’re not mad at me.

“They ain’t like that here,” Nate claims.

“Y’all, what’s gon’ on?” I hear Grace worriedly inquire.

“Go home.” Baylee and Jackie let go of me, moving to block me from sight with their bodies. He points at the dirt path. “Ser’ously, go home. Y’all ain’t welcome no mo’; not ‘round us or our fam’lies.” He means business. “We over ‘n’ done, Grace.”

“Why?” she demands, clearly upset by the growling undertone in her voice.

“I know the truth about y’all and how you really are. Videos and audio proof.”  

“Now git gone… before I make you git,” Jackie growls, sounding like she’s about to bash their heads in.  

“Whatcha mean?” Miranda questions, trying to be coy.  

“I done sent the ev’dence to JT and muh dad. Think of when ya went to Boston… yer mamé’s. We know about that. You ain’t in good wit us no mo’. Beat tha path an’ don’t come back ‘round, not evah,” Baylee orders them. Sounds like he’s getting ready to scream.  

“Who tole y’all ‘bout it?”  

“Name ‘Risa’ mean anything?” Cap barks at the two sisters.  

“Nah,” Grace replies, enraging me in a single moment.  

“Cuz I was nothing more to you than a punching bag, bitch,” I yell, angry tears blurring my vision. “You’re so two-faced, I dunno which one to believe. You’re so bipolar, I dunno which way you’re gonna try to b.s. your way outta this with what mood, ya schizo skank!” I shout, trying to shove past Baylee and Jackie. Lucky for them: he, Nate, and Cap caught ahold of me… so I settle for poppin’ off at the mouth a little more. “I took care of Reneé around school, year-round for nothing more than to show I care and she felt like someone actually wanted her to know she mattered. You dunno how to care cuz you got nothing more than a single cell of ice you call your hearts! You’re selfish, greedy, self-centered, pretentious, pompous, egotistical, nasty sluts who dunno how to be nice if it don’t get what you hoes want!” I spit at them, looking dead in their eyes. It’s a polite way of wordlessly “go screw yourself” in the “good” part of a good majority of ghettos back home. 

They look ready to whoop me. “Y’all take one step ta her and we let go,” Nate threatens them, his grip loosening enough for me to pull that arm and his hands “slip” from barely above my elbow to my wrist. “Only defending yaself,” he quietly tells me. 

“Fine! Believe this worthless junkie’s lies,” Grace spits, approaching Baylee. She attempts to kiss him and he pulls away from her, losing his hold on my other arm. I manage to give her a good left hook that knock her rear end. “How dare you?!” 

Cap spins me, it feeling choreographed, and Baylee entangles me in his arms with his fingers locking on my abdomen. He’s got a good grip on me, but I’m trying to wriggle free by pushing him off and let go cuz I wanna throw down. “Lemme at her! Lemme go! I’mma knock her flat!” I shout, fighting him tooth and nail. “Watch yo’ backs!” I warn them, watching them storm off as I become short of breath. I take a handful of deep inhalations and I’m able to nearly have a normal respiration pattern. 

“Ya done?” Ashley asks, looking me in the face from a distance just beyond my reach. 

I nod. “Yeah, I’m good,” I peacefully confirm, Baylee releasing me slowly, with my arms in a lowered surrendering position. 

“Ya fight much?” He questions. 

“I’ve beat the Carter brothers, a few years back, cuz they spewed some words they shouldn’t’ve in fronta me. They didn’t think I could knock the air clean outta their chest... They know otherwise now.” I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “Whoosa... I’ve always been a fighter, more street than anythin’. I ran with a rowdy bunch.” I slowly open my eyes to find them all sitting in the seats now facing the 4 wheeler I came from B’s house on, the same one I’m standing to the side of. They look like little kids during the setup for story time. It makes me anxious, uneasy. “What?” 

“What’s it like to live in Boston?” Andria inquires, showing absolute interest by her expression and the gleam in her eyes. 

My eyes fearfully dart back and forth between all of them. This causes them to cachinnate. “I don’t get what’s so funny...” I slowly confess, entirely puzzled. 

“We couldn’t resist doin’ that,” Jeff explains, shaking his head. 

“That was mean, making me nervous like that.” I scrunch my face up in a “you guys suck” sorta way. 

“It’s our way of acceptin’ ya inta the group,” Cap explains, “Only ones who didn’t have ta were Baylee and Nate.” 

“I’mma get you guys back,” I warn them all, the basic plan forming in my mind while I become calm and maintain a serious face. 

“She ain’t goofing,” Andy observes, nodding in my direction. 

“She is JT’s fam’ly,” Jameson reminds everyone else.