Deep in her gut, Magenta was awake, sliding, working, changing. Red slime would likely coat Bryant’s couch by morning, and unlike Doc’s bed, Yaya wouldn’t feel bad about it. She didn’t like him. Magenta wanted to stay, but did she understand why?

Yaya tossed away the blankets Bryant had taken out for her and sprang off the couch. An oven clock showed just past two in the morning.

You miss Doc? Magenta asked. She sounded sluggish.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yaya said. “You kind of canned that when you dragged us here. Now, she’s probably pissed. She might have reported us to ABP. It’s dangerous to go back.”

Pissed, Magenta repeated. Doc is angry at us.

“The parasite can learn.” Yaya pretended at surprise, but she knew better. If Magenta’s brain had grown from Yaya’s, then she would know every curse that Yaya’s mother had said since conception. Which was all of them.

She’ll eat, Magenta said. When we’re angry, we eat.

Yaya couldn’t deny that. Eating her feelings wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but she liked it more than her mother’s angry ranting. Yaya tip-toed toward the kitchen, flicked on a light, and poked around, hopeful that Bryant wouldn’t wake up. She didn’t want him to see her in top and underwear.

Peanut butter.

“I need fruits and veggies sometimes, you carnivore.” Yaya opened the pantry, where five bananas sat joined by their stems. She pulled them out and peeled.

Magenta squirmed. No sweet.

Yaya echoed her mother’s curses under her breath as she dug out a jar of peanut butter. Beneath the lid, a cardboard seal covered the opening. Yaya licked its underside, rolling brown butter onto her tongue, and chomped one banana’s tip.

Magenta’s displeasure melted. Peanut butter, she hummed.

The jar was the creamy kind, almost liquid, easy for dipping the banana inside and pulling out a coat of compromise. Yaya went through three bananas before she made herself stop. If Magenta wanted food, Doc’s place would’ve made more sense. No one else would accept Magenta. Had Yaya been interested in Bryant the way he liked, he would’ve changed his tune the moment he saw that cleft climbing her middle. How far now? She didn’t feel like checking, and she wouldn’t wait for his next proposition. She wanted out.

She hurried into her clothes, found her shoes, and grabbed Doc’s coat.

Don’t, Magenta warned, but she sounded groggy. Too soon.

Yaya grabbed the doorknob leading to the outer hallway. “What do you want? Tell me now.”

I don’t know. Never existed before.

“Maybe you’ll figure it out someday.” Yaya turned the knob and yanked.

Or tried to. The door was locked.

That wasn’t surprising in the middle of the night. Yaya rubbed her thumb at the flat of the doorknob, no lock, and then patted along the doorframe for deadbolts she couldn’t see. There was a keyhole, nothing more. Without a key, it

could not be opened from the inside.

A chill sank through her. Her heart began to drum.