From the Cosmos. [gxg]

xxii. lessons in punk.

"Following the identification of Colette in the viral video of a witch assaulting law enforcement, protests have broken out on Capitol Hill," said the newscaster, looking into the camera, "The New York City police department demands that Colette Lamoureaux, and her accomplice, Marisol Reyes, turn themselves in."

Mrs. Schultz shook her head, "I'm no bootlicker. We'll keep you guys safe."

Marisol nodded. "Thank you so much, but I don't want to be a danger to you guys." She glanced over at Mr. Schultz, who refused to take his eyes off the news broadcast, "Mr. Schultz has been living here without being caught for so long, I don't want to ruin everything you guys have worked for."

Mrs. Schultz grabbed both of Marisol's hands, squeezing them. "Do you know the ideologies of punk?" she asked.

Marisol only furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head.

"Punk isn't just a genre of music, it's a culture," she said, "Punk is about rebellion, questioning authority, equality, and fighting back. Back when I performed with When Goblins Fly, I was deep in the scene. Not only did I attend countless protests, but I was also known to run from the cops a time or two."

Marisol's eyes widened. "Really?" she said, "I don't blame you, I don't feel any remorse for what I did, but wasn't it scary?"

Mrs. Schultz smiled, "I liked to pretend I was fearless, with my studded jackets and boots, but I was afraid every time. However, I knew I was doing the right thing. You did the right thing too."

"When Goblins Fly broke up a while back, and it still feels like things are the same."

Mrs. Schultz looked into Marisol's eyes. "Even if you don't see any change, you have to keep fighting. Every small step forward comes from countless battles."

Marisol, without knowing how to respond, could only lean forward and hug Mrs. Schultz, who hugged her back. She resisted crying, though she thought about if she'd ever get to hug her own mother like this again.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, "because I know that my life won't be normal again."

Mrs. Schultz hugged her tighter. "No matter what happens, we'll protect you."

Marisol, after several minutes, pulled herself away from Mrs. Schultz. The older woman gave her a sympathetic smile and then stood, going off to do work around the house. Meanwhile, the T.V. still played in the background, though it had changed to a talk show, the kinds that middle aged moms liked to watch.

At that time, Colette walked into the living room. She signaled with her hand for Marisol to follow her, and Marisol, not wanting to be alone, obliged. Together they walked up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. Colette took Marisol by the hand and led her to the side of the bed, where they both sat down. Colette's eyes were full of something Marisol had never seen before: guilt.

"How are you feeling?" Colette asked, withdrawing her hand.

Marisol leaned her head against Colette, staring blankly ahead. "I could be better," she said, "I'm scared."

Marisol could feel Colette slouch. "I'm so sorry," Colette said, "I saw you hugging Mrs. Schultz and I felt like I wasn't doing my job."

"Your job?"

"Comforting you, talking about my own feelings, and tackling this together."

Marisol sat up straight and looked at Colette, "I'm okay, you know. I'm holding up."

Colette looked back at her, her eyebrows furrowing and eyes getting glassy, "No you're not."

Marisol paused. Her heart tightened in her chest. She brought her hands to her eyes to catch the tears before they could even fall. "No," she repeated, "I'm not."

Colette wrapped her arms around Marisol, pulling the two of them flush against each other. It was a tight hug, as if Colette thought Marisol might fly away. Marisol couldn't bring her arms around to hug back, instead opting to let the palms of her hands become wet.

Time passed like this. Marisol cried into her own hands while Colette hugged her tight, neither of them saying a word. Marisol didn't know when she ran out of tears, but soon she was heaving out dry sobs.

A deafening sound cut through the sobs, a loud whirring filling the air. Colette's grip loosened and the two of them looked around, wincing at the way their ears seemed to cut in and cut out. Colette glanced towards the window, where the grass field around the house tousled violently.

Colette gasped. "A helicopter," she said, shooting up from the bed. She ran downstairs. Marisol followed close behind.

Mr. Schultz stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Stay hidden, you two," he said.

"Who is it?" asked Nevada, who had appeared behind Colette and Marisol.

"I don't know," he said, "But go back up. I'll handle it."

The three of them on the stairs stood still, unmoving. Mrs. Schultz looked at them, standing next to her husband. "You heard him," she said, "Go back upstairs."

Like a fire was lit under their feet, the three of them ran back upstairs. They rushed into the guest bedroom and closed the door. Nevada flicked the lock and then rushed to the window closing the blinds.

"Shit," Nevada said, "Shit."

Colette couldn't help but agree with the sentiment, adrenaline coursing through her body, her hands beginning to shake. The sound of blades slicing through the air got louder overhead. Nevada, still by the window, peeked through the blinds.

"It's landing," they said.

"Does it have any markings?" Marisol asked, "It's not the police, is it?"

"It's just black," they responded.

Marisol paced. Colette just sat on the bed, jittering her leg.

Colette spoke up. "Nevada, your father, if they find out about his powers—"

"I know," they interrupted, "He's strong though, I know he is. They'd need more than a helicopter to get him."

Nevada didn't give anybody a chance to respond before they yelled. "It landed!"

The helicopter's roar started to fade into a faint whir, before leaving the house in silence. Marisol stopped pacing, holding her breath. Colette stared at Nevada, desperately wanting to see through the blinds.

Nevada gasped.

"Who is it?" Marisol asked.

Nevada turned from the blinds so forcefully that they rattled.

"It's the president."