“What? Are you fucking kidding—”

I sighed. “Look, just… sit down.”

“Sit… down?”

“Sit down and lean forward.”

There was silence on the other end. Quiet shuffling.

“It’s still aimed at my face,” said Wynezra. “Now what?”

“Um. You kind of have to just wait.”

“Wait?”

“And… will it down.”

“Will it down?” said Wynezra.

“Like, willpower.”

“What, with my mind? With my goddamn telekinesis?”

“Look, you just have to wait and concentrate, okay? That’s all I can tell you.”

“Oh god, I hate you. I hope my period comes early, you bastard.”

“What?” I felt a sudden wave of alarm.

“You heard me!” Wynezra screamed. “I wish the blood curse upon you and your stolen va-jim-jam!”

“Can you stop screaming?” I hissed. “Is my sister still home?”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I don’t think anyone else is here. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re late for school.”

I pulled the phone away and glanced at the time display. She was right. School was starting in five minutes.

“I have to peeeee-eeeeee-eeeeeeeeeee!” Wynezra cried.

I sighed again. “Okay. I give you permission to touch it.”

Wynezra stopped crying. “What?”

“You’re gonna have to bend it down. Muscle it down.”

“Are you kidding? This thing is pure bone! It’ll break before it bends.”

“I know it seems that way, but there’s a little bit of wiggle room. You’re not bending it so much as the axis.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Just lean forward, push it down, and aim for the top of the bowl. You should be able to get everything inside.”

“Oh boy, here we go.”

Even over the phone, I could hear the stream of pee hitting the porcelain full force.

“Ahhhhhhh,” said Wynezra, in a tone of low-key panic. And then it escalated. “AHHHHH.”

And then, relief.

“Ohhhhhhh,” said Wynezra. “Well, shit. Now it’s down. What is that all about?”

“Anatomy,” I said, like the punch line of a joke. “Am I right?”

I laughed uneasily. Wynonna did not reciprocate. The conversation plunged swiftly into a vacuum of silence. The impending anxiety attack I had so successfully been holding at bay was finally closing in, going straight for the jugular, choking me.

I took a deep breath.

“Aside from the riveting possibility that I’m a witch,” I said, “any other ideas why this is happening to us?”

I didn’t expect her to have an idea. Heck, I didn’t even expect her to have a response! Perhaps no one could ever know why something like this was happening to us. It defied logic. It defied science. This was purely in the realm of speculative fiction—somewhere between sci-fi and magic.

“You really don’t remember,” she said, “do you?”

“Remember what?” I said, exasperated.

She paused. Seemed to mull it over. “Can you drive a stick?”

“What?”

“We should talk about this in person. My car’s a stick. Can you drive it?”