Page 10 of sWitch

Lennon raised an accusatory eyebrow, and Joss laughed. “Yes, I’ll split guacamole with you this time. Damn.”

I chimed in, readying my needle. “Hey, I never pass on chips and guac either. Lennon’s right to be skeptical.”

The corner of Len’s mouth twitched in a smile as I shot them a wink. My two bandmates waved goodbye, and the tattoo shop door jingled at their exit. Rollo inspected the purple marker dot I drew, marking where the orange diamond stud should go. I complained, but this shit was good practice. Afterwards, I’d take a photo for my portfolio and show the shop owner. It would earn me more cred, getting me closer to being a full-time piercer and, eventually, a tattoo artist.

It wasn’t a college degree or athletic achievements like my twin brother pursued— but it was mine. I built it myself, and I liked it.

Reaching into my drawer, I pulled out a dolphin-shaped stress ball for Rollo to hold. They appreciated it— and it spurred an idea that I should fill my station with more things like that for anxious folks. He loved his new helix adornments, and I snapped a photo before he and his boyfriend left and I closed up shop. When I was outside, securing my helmet for the sidewalk ride home, I checked my phone.

Three missed calls from Mary Jane.

I really needed to stop forgetting she existed unless she was physically in front of me. In fact, I needed to just face the music and break up with her.

Actually, that was exactly what I was going to do. No more waiting. Right then, right there.

I hit call.

She answered. “Hello there. Are you at the shop?”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah, look, we need to talk.”

“Sure. Want to talk on the way to the game?”

“What game?”

“It’s Trevor’s ACC game— if they win, they go on to the college cup. Did you forget?”

“Of course not.” I totally did. “Wait, how do you know about that?”

“Remy, I told you my kids are going to watch him play. All four of us had a big conversation about this in the car on the way to the movies a couple weeks ago. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I do.” Didn’t remember at all. “Hold up, all four of us?”

I could hear the eye roll through the phone. “You, me, Trevor, and his girlfriend. The very pink girl… What is her name again?—“

“Fauna Belrose,” I answered. “I mean, I think, I don’t know.” I knew. I only thought about her every moment of the goddamn day—so not much.

Mary Jane’s Escalade pulled up outside the shop—silver, so shiny, I could see my reflection. She rolled down the window, her hair still in a bun, dressed in a navy blazer and skirt set. “Hop in.”

Okay, I’d break up with herafterthe game Fauna would probably be at… I jumped in, and a small voice asked from the back, “What’s your name?”

I turned to see two little faces. I’d seen their photos at Mary Jane’s house but had never met them. Hell, I wasn’t serious enough about her to meet her kids. Internally, I started freaking out. What if she thought this was that serious, and that’s why I was meeting them now? Fuck.

“Hey, I’m Remy,” I answered, balancing my skateboard between my legs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Chloe, and this is my brother, Max.” The little girl bopped in her seat. “Are you my mom’s girlfriend or boyfriend? Why do you look just like Coach Monroe? What are your pronouns?”

I raised an amused eyebrow to Mary Jane.

She laughed in response. “I told you, Remy is just a friend, their pronouns are she, her, and they, them, and she’s Coach Monroe’s twin.”

“That’s actually not true,” I corrected. Mary Jane gave me a quizzical glance.

I turned and faced the kids. “I’m actually the original, most perfect sibling. Coach Monroe was made in a lab with my DNA. He’s like a less smart, less good-looking clone…but he did get infused with good sports-playing genes.”

The kids eyes got wide as they both said, “Ooooh,” like it all finally made sense. “Is that why he only drinks blue gatorade?”

“Exactly.”

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