The Change

by Kirsten Miller

As an only child, she’d spent too much time in the company of adults to be properly intimidated by them.

“You must do whatever you can to rid yourself of bad luck.” Amber chuckled politely, imagining it was some kind of old-person joke. “If it finds you, it will stick to you.” The old lady was dead serious, Amber realized, and she believed her advice was urgently needed. “Should that happen, you must not be afraid. You’ll need to fight back with all your strength. Do whatever is necessary to free yourself quickly, or else you will never escape.”

“You’re the light that holds back the darkness,” Harriett said. “Women like you have always existed. Without you, the world would be thrown out of balance.”

Nessa said. “One where there’s fire and brimstone and another filled with rich white people. And I don’t want you beating up the first person who asks me to get them a drink.”

“The truth of it is, I don’t think most of them really question our intelligence or abilities—though they don’t mind us believing they do,” Harriett continued. “We’re just turds in the punchbowl. We spoil their party. They don’t want us hanging around.”

“When someone calls you attractive, it means you draw people to you,” Harriett said. “You think a tiny waist and wrinkle-free skin are the only things that can do that?” “Yes, I know. I have a lovely personality.” “I’m not joking. Do you know how beautiful it is to be alive? Do you have any idea how few people really are? You’ve got a spark. And even now, after everything you’ve been through, it’s as strong as ever.

side. At the bottom of the hole, a biodegradable cardboard casket lay with a linen shroud on top of it. Harriett hadn’t wanted a casket at all. Burial was meant to return a person to nature, she’d argued passionately. Wrapping the girl’s body in a toxic cocoon of plastic and chemicals would defeat the purpose. The ecofriendly solution was the compromise they’d arrived at.

“Get your fucking hands off my kid,” she growled.

“Do you feel this?” The heat flowed through her arms like molten lava. She put her hand on his face and heard his skin sizzle. “I’m marking you. Because when they let you out—and I know they will—I’m going to find you and kill you,”

It’s my job to make him suffer,” she said. “But I assume you got a few good licks in?” “Yeah. I hurt him.” “Badly?” Harriett sounded hopeful. “Very,” Jo said. “I don’t think he’ll be using his face for a while.” “How did it feel?” Jo hesitated. “Better than sex.” “Excellent.” Harriett flashed the gap between her teeth. “It’s important that Harding gets the message.” “The message?” Jo asked. “That we’re not going to take his bullshit,”

had gotten up early each morning to make her coffee. And he’d greeted her with a drink every night when she got home. They may have been small things, but Jo could have listed a thousand such gestures. Maybe Art hadn’t found success the way she had. Maybe he hadn’t mastered the arts of housecleaning or lawn care. But throughout their marriage, he had given Jo the support she’d needed to grow. She knew that as strong as she was, she would have crumbled without him. If Jo was going to survive, she needed him back.

“Perhaps, but I’m an adult, and this is my house. I can grow what I like in my garden. Wear what I choose. What difference does it make what you or anyone else thinks is normal? Why the fuck should I care if you approve?”

This was the generation that would finally turn the tables. Maybe when their own daughters were born, they wouldn’t need to spend their days fighting fear.

“Eve’s the hero of this story. And that’s the first thing the snake told her. ‘You are the best of God’s creations,’ he said. ‘First came the animals, then Adam, then you. God kept getting better as he went along. He would have made you stronger, too. But he ran out of material. So you’re just gonna have to stay on your toes.’”