Unraveling the Threads of Fate

by Alice Winters

“I told her he was the mailman, but she doesn’t believe me. I never lie, though,” Alex says. “He showed up at the door, told our mom he had a package for her, and she was in the bedroom examining that package for hours.” “EW. Alex, you’re a monster,” Cali cries as she plugs her ears. “The whole trailer was rocking,” Alex says. “You are disgusting,” she says.

Alex glances back at Cali as he waits for the light to turn green. “Bishop is what you call a leech. He just rides along on the

coattails of others, clinging on for dear life. That’s why his hair has the swept-back look, from the breeze as he’s dragged along.”

I smile at him. “Trust me, it’ll be nice. It’ll be like one of those shows where a rich family switches children with an Amish family.”

“You think we’ve bonded?” Bishop asks, looking skeptical. “I have made fun of you, stared into your soul, smashed my forehead into yours, and laughed relentlessly, behind your back of course, when you got locked out of your house. If that’s not bonding, I’m not sure what is.”

“I can’t. Sing me a lullaby.” He hesitates but gives in for some reason. “Umm… Go the fuck to sleep… if you don’t… the chicken will be really cold,” he semi-sings. “That was godawful. I feel bad for your children.” This seems to amuse Bishop. “Good. I like it when my future children suffer.”

“Like… I’m numbering body parts best to worst? Do I start with the worst?” I ask, feeling like I need to feed into his jokes to keep going. “I’d prefer you start with the best, and hopefully get bored before you make it to the worst.” “Okay, I like the way your nose is attached to your face.” “Thank you.” “And how your ears can hear the ridiculous shit you say and still think it sounds right.” “I appreciate that.” “And how your mouth continues to say these words and think they’re normal,” I add. “It’s amazing how well you understand me, even after all these years,” Bishop says,

“Is this like Carrie? Are you going to befriend me only to make a fool out of me?” “Sounds fun. It’s like a social experiment. ‘Can the rich tame the poor?’” “Tame?” I ask with a grin. “Like I’m a feral animal.”

Students assume research papers are there just to torture them. What they don’t realize is that I then have to be absolutely tortured by reading all of their papers.

I pull up my sleeve to get a better look at the cut or possibly cover it in something as Bishop opens the car door, takes one look at my arm, and does this weird little maneuver where his body oozes down onto the floor of the car while his legs are still outside the car.

“I don’t know much about these fancy cars, but I don’t think that’s how you drive one,” I say, and when I get no reply from Bishop, I realize I’m going to be driving myself to the hospital. I get out of the car and come around to his side before giving him a nudge. “Bishop?” “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “I’m fine with blood. It’s just people I care about bleeding blood and…”

“I wanted to show you my awesome car.” “It drives very nicely.” I smile at him in the rearview mirror.

“And be like ‘look how rich and awesome I am,’” he mumbles. “Yeah? I even got to see your backside as you melted into it. It was very fun.”

By the time everything is stitched and wrapped, Bishop seems to be feeling better himself. “I’m so glad I could have been here to support you,” Bishop says with his charming smile like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour melting into a chair while choking back nausea. “My nurse fussed over you more than me.” “That’s just because of my money. They could smell it on me.”

“How the hell do you know how to fight?” “Gotta have mad skills to raise a kid,” I say with a shrug. “It takes a lot of work to wrestle them down to eat their peas.”

Then because everyone always wants to be like me, all the kids started doing it. There were kids falling everywhere. Bloody noses. One girl flipped off the top of the slide.”

“Can I take you out on a date?” he asks. My jaw drops. “I thought you were straight.” “Not exactly.”

“I think he’s smoldering,” Cali says. “He’s not smoldering,” I say. Cali lets out a noise to make sure I’m aware she doesn’t agree with that. “He knows we’re watching him, so he’s smoldering. Like who gets out of the car like that,” she says as she tries to mimic the suave way he exited the vehicle.

“What are you thinking about?” Bishop asks. “How bright your pants are.” “They’re all the rage in London right now,” he says with a grin. “Is that what you tell everyone? ‘Oh? I can’t use my oven? That’s because it’s all the rage in London right now,’” I say. He starts laughing as he nods. “Yes!” “That’s okay. I like your bright pants.”

As soon as the hostess is done getting the name for the reservation, I turn to Bishop. “Look at what I’m wearing. I’m sticking out and everyone probably thinks you just found me out on the street!” I whisper.

“Is there like a kids’ menu?” I ask. “I don’t think they allow kids in here.” “Of course not. Okay. Um… like… Bishop, I don’t think I can eat here,” I say quietly. “Do you have allergies? I’m so sorry, I should have asked!” “Yes, I’m allergic to how expensive this is,” I hiss. His expression turns to one of amusement. “I’m paying.”

asks, clearly teasing. “Someplace that there won’t be a valet.” “I’ll have to park my own car?” he asks, sounding aghast. “And there won’t be anyone there to feed you.” “I’ll have to use my own hands? What the hell, Alex?”

you down and out, all I’d have to do is show you my arm,” I say as I aim it toward him and start to pull my sleeve up. He nopes his way right out of the car, no longer fretting about being mugged as I laugh. Together, we walk into the little place where we seat ourselves.

“Where is my butler?” Bishop asks. “No, we had this talk in the car. You have to take care of yourself.” He stares at the silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. “Hmmm… so my silverware is inside?” he teases. “How do I get it out?” “You have to chew it out. That’s how the poor people do it,” I say. I watch as Bishop holds it up to his mouth and bites down on the napkin like he’s pretending to believe me. Of course, that’s the moment our waitress comes up and gives him an extremely confused look. “Don’t mind him, he gets easily confused when his butler isn’t around,” I explain with a smile.

“Yeah, that napkin was pretty dry, he could surely use something to drink,” I say, which makes Bishop shake his head at me. We each order and as soon as she’s gone, I give Bishop a grin. “I have made a fool of myself,” he declares. “Good thing none of the rich folk are around or they’d probably decide you’d been taken over by aliens,” I say.

“No, I was just considering a job as a drug lord and was wondering if you wanted in?” I ask.

He flips open his calendar and then shakes his head. “I already have a two o’clock with the other drug lord in the area.”

I head back to my office and pull out my phone. Me: I just adulted so hard, you’d be proud of me. Alex: Yeah? Did you learn how to turn on the oven? Me: … Me: Not yet. Alex: What about the washing machine? Tackle that bad boy yet? Me: How did this turn violent toward me? Alex: Did you unwrap your own silverware? Me: You are a monster. Alex: You like it and you know it. So? What’d you do?

landscaping costs and maybe the front door. Me: Okay, so I’m still slightly spoiled, but I’m also like… adulting. Now, I have a very important question to ask. Do you think you could come over tonight and show me how to tackle the oven? Alex: I will wrangle that oven for you. Me: I can’t wait. Six? Alex: Six it is.

Most people are so wowed by my money, I don’t even have to try. I just pull out my wallet and they’re all like ‘oooh.’” I slowly slide my wallet out of my pocket to see his reaction, but he looks unimpressed.

“Now this will get hot, okay? Ouchy burn burn if you touch, okay? Touch bad. Touch hot.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I get it.” “Burn hurts. Oven means hot.” “Alex means evil.” “Maybe,” he says with a grin.

“You are ridiculous but you’re also being

helpful so that’s all I can say about it,” I decide. “Well, you have now perfected the fine art of oven turning on. It’s the simplest part of making a meal. Next time we can have a...

“You sure you’re going to pay two hundred thousand for this place? I mean… aren’t you afraid it’s a bit of a rip-off with like the bowling alley, heated pool, five hundred bedrooms—” “Eight.” “What do you do with them all?” “I sleep in one, another is a guest bedroom, then I have one full of books, a dungeon of doom, storage, you know, that kind of stuff.” “One was not like the rest.” “Yeah, I guess I should call it a library instead of like book room or something.” “No, the other one.” “I didn’t mention another,” I say. “Just don’t go in the room with the red door.”

I sink down to the floor of the bathroom, curling into a ball on my side while hoping my heart will calm itself shortly. I see something emerge from under the door, a dark gray paw reaching for me until the door gets pushed inward and Pascal parades in like he has acquired the skill Door Opener.

He walks over and sits down before flicking his tail into my face. The hair goes up my nose, and when I try to complain about this, it drops into my mouth. I push his tail back and wrap my arms around the cat. “No tail. Your tail doesn’t make me feel better when I’m forced to eat it.”

“You are no longer my brother. I actually don’t know you,” she decides. “Where are you going to live then?” I ask. “My neighbor has an old doghouse that he climbs into to smoke weed when he’s hiding from his wife. She can stay in there,” Elijah helpfully supplies.

Bishop: What does “separate your whites” mean? Me: Don’t wash your white clothes with dark colors or it’ll discolor them. Bishop: Is that why my white button-down is now pink? Me: One hundred percent. Bishop: Shhhh I have money. Be amazed. Money. Wooo. Me: What are you doing? Trying to distract me?

a month.” “Then swim with hairy legs. I’m going to,” I say. “Trust me, you don’t need to shave on behalf of me or Bishop.”

“I didn’t say anything!” he protests. “I’m going to make you stand over by the wall and count bricks,” I say.

Alex’s eyebrows knit. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Smoldering. It’s all the rage in London right now,” I say, which makes him laugh. “Where do you get all these facts?” he asks in amusement. “Out of my ass,” I say, probably more proudly than I should have.

“I know, right? Like how could Alex even snag his attention?” Cali says. “Blackmail,” Nikki guesses. “You two can just sit on the edge of the pool while Bishop and I have fun then,” Alex announces. “I love you so much. You’re like the greatest human eva,” Cali says with extreme sarcasm, which makes Nikki giggle wildly.

“Don’t you need to go shave your legs or

something?” Alex asks. “I did at home!” she shouts back.

“How the hell are you able to get on this dumb thing?” she asks as Nikki laughs at the failed attempts. “Guess I’m just better at riding things,” Alex says. “Oh. My. God. Ew,” Cali says. “My ears.”

“I will not submit,” he declares as he holds tightly onto me, remaining upright as I come up for air. He smacks the back of my head with the blow-up sword. “Don’t you dare try to mess with me,” he warns. “Of course not, your majesty,” I say. “God, don’t let his head get too big. He can already barely fit it through doors,” Cali says as Nikki stabilizes the croc for her to get on. Once she’s seated, she holds her sword upright and starts kicking toward Alex. “To war!”

“Praise me, mere commoners. Who else would like to battle against Alexander the Demolisher?” he declares. “I would,” I say, feeling more than confident that I can do this. I climb up onto the crocodile and face my opponent. “Ah yes, Bishop King the Prosperous. Your money won’t save you here.”

He starts accidentally floating away so I try to chase after him while we wave our weapons wildly, but clearly, Alex has made some enemies along the way, which is proven by the way Cali and Nikki ambush his croc.

“Which looks nicer?” I ask as I hold up two different button-down shirts so my dad, who is sitting in a chair in my bedroom, can see. “Well… do you want to look like a starfish or a neon traffic cone?” Dad asks.

glower at the man. “Is this because I’m meeting Alex?” “No, it’s because one is so orange you could double as a traffic cone and the other makes you look like a starfish.” “You are literally the worst person to ask for fashion advice,” I growl. He waves at his nicely dressed self. “I look perfect.”