Hole in One

What an absolute buffoon I was to accept the challenge!

"Ariana, open your fucking door, you asshole!"

It was times like this when I was so ridiculously thankful that my parents worked in the afternoon and never bore witness to Cherry's antics. We would have had our mouths bleached or smacked off our faces in mere seconds—*if* the teachers at school didn't get to us first.

"Fuck off! My name's not Ariana!"

If I had to again give her the spiel about how "Ari" wasn't short for "Ariana" because it was a Japanese name (referring to love and affection, specifically), I was going to burn every loose key to the front door so that Cherry couldn't come in anymore when she pleased!

Heck, my parents couldn't even be bothered to hide the rusty pieces of metal to prevent that from happening several times a week, so it would be easy to claim that as a measure I took to protect myself from intruders.

"You're the one who asked for my help!" she yelled as she kept banging on the entrance to my room, growing more irritated by the second based on the sound of her pounding.

The next time I really needed something, I certainly wasn't going to ask her to go down to the Dollar Shrub again for me.

Frankly, I didn't *want* to be doing this in the first place, but I was a stupid puppy who wanted to follow my love to the afterlife without death on my part, a monogamous animal waiting years in one place for its mate. I was pathetic and selfish. Utterly idiotic.

Something bitter settled on my tongue in the short silence until it sweetened on my taste buds. I clicked the muscle to sheath it once more in saliva and dispel either flavor.

With a groan, I spun in my swivel chair, flinging a mass of long black hair with highlights in it behind my shoulders while I stood up.

"Coming, Miss Cheryl!"

Without even seeing her face, I knew her expression was indignant. If she wanted to play the name game, she should have remembered her real name existed.

I nearly smirked out of malice as I let her and a handful of plastic bags in with the creaking of the metal lock.

"When's Zixin getting here?" I then asked.

Cherry huffed and launched the loot onto my bed, falling onto it herself while she removed her phone from her pocket and shoved a red lollipop into her mouth.

Clicking a few apps, she placed an index finger by her face as the nail poked some of her freckles.

"He should be here in like twenty minutes."

I questioned, "Why'd you invite him again?"

While stretching, she sat up and rested her back against the oak headboard. "Maybe he can give us some personal advice on how to write a dude so that we don't end up on some troll's Redlit post for bad male character writing. Good research."

I glared at her. "You invited him here as a fucking guinea pig?"

Zixin was our best friend, so I loved him dearly in that sense; however, he wasn't the best at staying on track whenever he was with us. We nearly failed a group project as a trio once because he coaxed us into playing video games for three hours the night before it was due.

To expect any different from him when he arrived would be like wishing for a rock to grow legs and sprint away on its own.

"You wanna play 'observe the Starlucks Petri dish' with me? You have to get an idea about how people act and talk from somewhere," Cherry replied, and it was probably best not to argue with her when she was the one about to discuss writing with me.

"Preferably not. Coffee tastes and smells like shit."

"Take that—"

I cut her off by saying, "Let's talk about the stuff in the damn bag and not about some capitalist enterprise!"

Pursing her lips, she said, "Fine. We can argue about drinks another day, but you should know you're wrong."

Was the little aside from her anything I wasn't used to? Nope!

That was precisely why it wasn't worth getting into a heated debate while she pulled out a notepad, pens, pencils, a miniature whiteboard, markers—

"Cherry, did you buy the whole damn office?"

"I have more than this in my backpack. This is just the starter kit," she mused, brandishing a stapleless stapler—a safe choice.

Every item she dragged out was like another hit to my resolve in an already fickle project, and I gulped at the thought as my eyelids drooped in weariness.

This… All for a girl who I loved…

Thinking about it, perhaps it was the least I could do for her to show how much I appreciated her. I never had the guts to express my feelings while she was alive, and anyone's retrospective was as clear as Hawaiian water—as clear as the body of a spectre.

The sense of regret that loomed over me was potent as it wracked my senses and fogged my mind. It wasn't like being a widow if I didn't try in the first place. I was just a coward; I was just a hesitant little schoolgirl with no spine of my own.

And I was going to grow one. One damn word on that eerie laptop screen at a time.

It was time for me to wash away that reputation I had with every tear of grief that poured from my eyes and every drop of sweat that dripped from my skin—every bit of remorse flowing from my body as a sacrifice to her.

I was going to use this as an opportunity to show myself—show everyone—that I was not the lazy bum they perceived me to be and that I had the determination to finish something for once in my life after being branded a measly quitter.

Because it was all for her. Everything.

My compensation to her didn't have to be extravagant, but I would still make it that way to compensate for all the little moments I could have instead seized to make her day.

Melina… I hoped she would see me every step of the way and cheer me on from the heavens or wherever she wound up.

Stupid, idealistic me!

"Pay attention!" Cherry complained while waving a hand in front of my face.

The unconscious smile that adorned my soft features flipped into a grimace, but it then shifted into a truly neutral expression.

Again, I could do this! Baby steps!

"I want to learn this stuff," I answered in a serene yet joyful tone. "I promise."

She eyed me suspiciously as if she found me too receptive to her demands when I replied to her with some semblance of enthusiasm and a sparkly grin on my face.

"Open up her laptop so that we can start."

I nodded to Cherry, stepping to my desk to pull the chrome device off it. It was then I wondered why she grabbed so many paper items to write a digital story, but I chose not to question her methods. She had to have had some process that led to her becoming the vice president of our school's writing organization. (Obviously, Melina had been the president since she was bold enough to write a full novel.)

Once I typed in the passcode that was written on a separate scrap, the computer proceeded to take forever to load—damn technology—and finally opened to a lime wallpaper with a few digital folders dirtying its pristine surface.

I smiled. It was funny how Melina's favorite fruit and color coincided.

The little things. They were by far the most interesting facts about her. From her mannerisms to simple preferences, observing the tiny paradoxes as they weaved themselves into a spider's web was what I loved to do the most. It was funny how that was the only thing I ever got right when it came to her.

Frowning at the color choice, Cherry immediately took the computer from me. (She hated green because it always made red look like it was time for Christmas—a holiday which always irked her when she had to visit her irritating family.)

Like the brainiac she was, she quickly found the files containing Melina's story: "Hoping and Preying".

I sure hoped it wasn't a sermon based on the title. (Not that there was anything wrong with religion, but it wasn't my preferred topic to deal with in any capacity.)

Cherry said, "Scan through this. You'll be able to get an idea of what this is about without reading the draft just yet."

Cradling the cold metal in my arms, I moved it to my lap, chilling the skin left bare by my shorts. I cuddled with a thin blanket to not freeze within my snow cave.

As they burned my eyes, the bright lights on the monitor forced me to squint, so I removed my pair of glasses from the nightstand to filter out the blue hues and make it possible for me to read the small text.

It wasn't a particularly long document, but the crowded words made it seem that way. The feeling of taking the information in was akin to injecting each letter of it all at once—a woozy state that made it hard to extract any single idea from a plethora of intelligent concepts. The plot in front of me was rich with details, yes, but a preliminary scan wouldn't let me internalize any of them beyond the most cursory of thoughts!

After a few minutes, clicking the mousepad became fruitless, and I realized I hit the rock bottom of the file.

I craned my neck, nearly slamming the back of my skull on my desk as I sighed while sitting on the floor.

This was like a test I was completely unprepared for! The pop quiz was going to be hell!

And I was sure I was about to fail when Cherry teasingly grinned at me, having probably read the outline several times before I could even finish it once.

"Give it your best shot. Tell me anything you can."

In response, my mouth hung open as I stared at her wordlessly. Only a few croaking noises accompanied my gaping, and she crossed her arms in annoyance.

"Anything?" she asked to pry an answer from me.

Inhaling, exhaling, I closed my eyes in an attempt to process everything I saw.

Magic…

"It's a fantasy book."

"Good," she responded like a teacher tacitly approving of a student. "More like magical realism, though."

I bit my lip in thought, content with the fact I made a little progress.

Picking at my brain more, she inquired, "And the characters? Remember anything?"

She then placed the cap of a marker between her lips—probably dousing it in soft pink lipstick—and wrote down my statements on the whiteboard in her lap.

Tensing my brow, I continued thinking. I wanted to curse myself for only skimming over the premise when it was about to consume my heart and mind until the novel's completion.

(If Melina expected a sequel, I was toast.)

Hm…

Some of the details resonated with me as I struggled more to recall them. Vague words and plot points became lucid in my head.

"Nico is a sorcerer, Molly is a human, and they go on trips... or something," I spouted the first bits of the romantic plot with Cherry as the sole member of my audience.

"What's their conflict?" she questioned coldly.

Was this a fucking police investigation?

"Their conflict…"

What was it?

As I rested a finger under my chin, the information hit me. Perhaps my brain had finally sorted everything out in its short-term memory. It was a complete epiphany for me! If one character was a magician and the other a human, then it had to be...

"I remember now!" I clasped my hands together. "Molly's parents run a business that hunts magicians, and Molly doesn't want Nico to get hunted because she loves him. So she helps him assimilate into the nearby college and gives him tips on where to avoid to keep him safe until they can escape together. Am I getting the gist of it?"

"Yes, Ari! That's—"

Just then, something heavy smacked a wall—specifically, *my* wall—and it alarmed the two of us as Cherry nearly jumped from her spot on my bed and landed on me.

"Heyo!" the intruder shouted—full of amiability but lacking care.

Letting the initial surprise of the sound wear off, I glanced at a gaping hole in the wall that looked like it would lead to Narnia or some gritty alternate world.

"Zixin, what the fuck are you thinking?"