Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 1

The drive to Venice stays relatively quiet, other than Ryan's occasional humming to the radio. He confesses he's trying to learn some of Sasha's favorite music to be more hip, but that he doesn't understand some of it. "I guess she likes a lot of music from Korea, so I added Korean to my Duolingo." Gosh, he tries. He's honestly one of the only genuinely great guys she's met here in the city.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Barbie says, but really, she's not so sure, since Sasha seems to be in a funk where everything her parents do is "lame." If Barbie had parents like Ryan and Gloria, she doubts she would have ever acted up as a teenager.

Since Ryan can't exactly drive up to the beach, he stops about a block away. Even with the sun about to set, Venice is in its usual swing, surfers and skaters heading down to the sand for another night of fun. "You have your phone and wallet, right?" he asks, because yes, there have definitely been times she's forgotten them in a hurry or excitement.

Barbie nods, taking both out to confirm with Ryan before stuffing them back in the pockets of her jacket. "I may spend the night," she decides. Rest just comes to her easier in Barbie Land, dreaming basically nonexistent. No anxieties, no fears. Sure, Ken has kind of turned her old place into a bit of a Mojo Dojo Casa House, with its plentiful portraits of stallions and mares, but he's learned to cook for himself and keep the place clean for company. He even keeps nice pillows for the nights when she crashes, and every time she's there, she's grateful for their friendship, where they just talk about life and vent to each other, and everything just seems right. Mundane, but comfortable.

"Okay." Ryan grins, probably feeling assured that Barbie has her evening figured out. "You just text or call when you get back and we'll come get you."

It's in moments like these that Barbie wishes she could drive a real car. But real cars aren't Barbie Corvettes; they require pressure on pedals and knowing where all the right switches are. And in LA, everything looks like it should only take about twenty minutes to get around to any point of the county, but gridlock turns that twenty-minute drive into an hour. Gloria took Barbie around an empty parking lot once, and Barbie may have (did) gently tap a streetlight (okay, it caused a dent). They both quietly decided that maybe it'd be best to wait until Sasha got her permit, so they could learn at the same time. At least in the city proper, Barbie's Metro card works pretty reliably. At times like these, though, when the buses only run once an hour on the weekend, her own car sounds really nice. "I think I'll just grab an Uber; I don't want to inconvenience you all for everything you do to help me."

Ryan looks like he's about to rebuke her decision, but shrugs instead. "Barbie, you're part of the family now. I know how hard it is to get acclimated in this city—heck, without Gloria, I would probably still be running around like a chicken with its head cut off on Wilshire trying to find the Farmers Market. No one's expecting you to have it all together after only being here for just shy of a year. So still—whatever you need. We'll try and be there to help you out."

All this over a ride. Barbie grins, but really, she could cry for how wonderfully her new family treats her. "Well, thank you, again. I'll probably still get the Uber, but I'll text my route."

"That'll put us all at ease." Ryan leans over for a hug and Barbie melts into it, smelling the reassurance of home and lemon cleaner clinging to his jacket. "Have fun tonight, okay?"

"Always!" With that, Barbie steps out of the car (before someone starts honking at Ryan from behind), bounding toward the beach so she can change into her blades and make her way back to Barbie Land. There's something about Venice—the mix of sea salt and cannabis lingering in the air, the fun knockoff shops and vintage stores selling old boots for too much money. LA in Barbie World is simply glamor and Hollywood moviestardom, the LA Barbie imagines a lot of the world thinks it is. Really, it's diverse and colorful, people of all ages and walks of life trying to enjoy this west coast dream. She strides down the strip confidently now, not hesitant like when she and Ken first arrived on skates with insane expectations, and basks in the ocean breeze, grinning at the kid with tattoos decorating his entire chest. Sunsets, too, she'll never get over out here. Hues of pink and orange and yellow bleeding into purples as the sun descends into the ocean horizon.