“You know those girls ain’t trying to be my friend.” Bugz laughed. “God, they are so in looove with you.” She accentuated the long vowel by batting her eyelashes and mimicking a cartoonish look of adoration.

“Get outta here,” Waawaate shot back with a smile.

“Omigod, you just love it, don’t you?”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re just using you to get to me and my money. That’s why not.” They both laughed. Bugz wished she could relax like this around other people. She raised her phone and studied the world around her. She called up her ’Versona and tweaked her eyelashes and hair to look more like Stormy’s.

Waawaate interrupted her. “Let’s go watch this drum group.”

Bugz kept her phone in front of her as she followed her brother to the crowd of people who’d gathered to watch a group of singers. Waawaate stood next to a woman, a stranger to them. Bugz glanced at her briefly, noting her complexion, doe-eyes, and expensive but understated clothing. Bugz turned to the drum and whispered from the corner of her mouth to her brother.

“Who’s that?”

“I think she’s the new doctor. Just moved here,” Waawaate said as he livestreamed the singers on his phone.

Their dad walked up to the crowd around the drum group just as the song finished. He nodded to Bugz and Waawaate.

“You guys want a ride home soon?”

“Sure,” Bugz replied.

“I think I’m going to hang out for a bit after my special.” Waawaate retied his head roach in preparation for his time to shine.

“Yeah, I think you better. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.” Bugz grinned.

“Fans? You internet famous now too?” their father asked.

“Fans, dad.” Bugz quickly gestured with her lips in the direction of the fancy shawl dancers clearing the arena. The young women failed to conceal their repeated glances at Waawaate.

“Oh.” Her dad laughed. “Well, they do say we’re supposed to dance for the people…and they are people, so…”

Bugz shot a look of embarrassment at her father. She noticed Waawaate rubbing his thigh.

“What’s the matter?”

“My leg hurts. I hope I can get through the song.”

“Probably tired from running through their heads all day.” Bugz’s father laughed at his own joke. Bugz rolled her eyes from behind her phone’s screen.

“No, never mind. Should be fine,” Waawaate grunted.

“Junior Men’s Grass special, you’re up next. Get ready.” The emcee’s voice rang out into the night.

“That’s me.” Waawaate walked out into the arbor.

The new doctor stepped in front of Bugz and her father.

“Hi, you must be Dr. Turukun.” Bugz’s dad extended a fist bump.

“Hi. I’m Liumei. How are you?”

“Pretty well, thanks for asking. I’m Frank Holiday, and this here is my daughter, Bugz. Pleased to meet you.”