"Look inside my heart and find a perilous ravine.

Carved within the beauty, the darkness in between.

Standing in the balance of complete and incomplete.

I identify the echo of what is and what will be."

[Song: "Creature" - half•alive ]

(After researching about the song, it's actually a metaphor of Christianity. I'm not Christian but it's a beautiful song. I wanted to inform you just in case you would appreciate knowing beforehand if you decide to listen to the song.)

RECAP:

Our four characters are now suspended for a week after their fight with Raymond and his goons. Having met some parents (and one secretary), the four also got invited to Naomi's home for a dinner party.

Bennett and Naomi are planning on meeting up to work on their group research project and "talk". But there is one errand that has to be taken care of first.

Trigger Warning: A brief discussion about religion (in case you're uncomfortable reading about religion. It will not be the only discussion of it and is not a holistic view/perspective/commentary of religion because it will be built up later in the story). Also, a conversation with a racist.

~

I can't go back to sleep.

Humans spend one-third of their lives sleeping. Koalas sleep 18-22 hours a day. Doing some math to make it comparable... 24 hours a day and 365 days a year... average lifespan of a koala is about 15 years... then koalas spend about eight-tenths of their life sleeping- give or take.

Why can't I be a koala?

It's seven in the morning on a Sunday and my biological clock won't let me go to sleep. The night before, I triple checked to make sure I didn't have any alarms that would accidentally wake me up like it was a school day. However, the effort was to no avail seeing that I'm wide awake. My mind tells me I'm tired but my body is being a bit of a stubborn brat. In conclusion, my circadian rhythms are not cooperating with me.

I squeezed my eyes shut before covering my eyes with my hands.

Sleep. Please body. Sleep. I beg of you. At least give me this. I got suspended for a week. I should be able to catch up on sleep.

I opened my eyes to glare at the ceiling.

"I hate you," I muttered to myself, to nothing, to everything.

Eventually, I willed myself to sit up from my bed. I stared blankly at nothing as I waited for my mind to accept the fact I'm not going back to sleep. I put my face in my hands and let out a heavy sigh.

Finding myself at my desk, I opened up my laptop. Cracking my knuckles and rolling my shoulder, I told myself, "Let's try to do some work today."

I decided to first organize and schedule out all of my work I have to do to make up for missing a week's worth of school. The suspension didn't sit well with me and was probably worse for my parents. For them to not regret accepting the transfers as my friends, I had to work hard and not let this week be the reason my grades slip. After outlining a decent work plan based on my classes' syllabus and schedules, I spent the next few hours studying physics through work problems.

When I was about to move onto another problem, I set my pencil down. Is this how I'm going to spend my one-week suspension? It seemed too depressing, even for me.

Well, there is one thing I can do just to get it over with. Seeing that it was almost ten in the morning now, I picked up my phone and sent out a text. I was about to put my phone back on my desk when I saw I already got a response back.

"Huh," I said, looking at my phone. I went back to my laptop to look at my calendar. I guess I'll change my schedule for the rest of the day.

I slipped on a black hoodie since it says it'll be a little chilly today, completing my outfit of a red tee from an old school event and loose high waisted jeans. As I tapped my sneakers against the ground to make sure it was worn fit, the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I frowned.

Declan was rolling one of the sleeves of his dark red button-down paired with dark jeans. When he saw that I had opened the door, he slightly nodded to me despite his attention still on his sleeves. "Hey. Sorry, I'm just fixing my sleeves up."

I scratched my head. "Was there a dress code today because I feel underdressed."

He cracked a small smile and shook his head. "No, I'm the one who's overdressed. But I'm going to change to something more casual right... now." After rolling up his sleeves, Declan unbuttoned his flannel to reveal a plain gray shirt underneath.

"See? Casual now. Two outfits in one go," Declan said. "I just came back from church which is why I had my shirt buttoned up like this."

Without thinking, I replied, "Church? Oh, that's nice I'm actually-" I stopped.

Two facts appeared in my mind: it's Sunday and I'm Catholic. I was raised Roman Catholic by my parents, but we gradually stopped attending then stopped altogether around my sophomore year. It may have been because my parents had to work on weekends and that I went whenever they did.

"You're... what?" Declan asked slowly.

"I'm..." What could I possibly say as an alternative that would still make sense in our conversation? I'm an idiot? I'm suspended for a week? I'm going to hell for not going to church? Eventually, I gave in and told him, "I'm Catholic."

He nodded slowly as he looked like he was trying to understand the point of this conversation. "That's nice. Me too."

"No, but..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry, I just said the first thing without thinking. I guess I feel bad since you went to mass and I haven't for... let's say for a while for my sake."

Declan frowned. "Why should you feel bad? You shouldn't feel pressured to go to church," he told me. "Anyway, I only went to play the piano because the usual guy got sick. I got your text right before the session."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse?" I asked in disbelief.

Now he was chuckling. "No, I'm trying to do the exact opposite. I don't always go, just whenever I can. I didn't want to go today because of this-" he said, pointing at his face with the bruise and scrapes still visible "-but they needed someone. Anyway, should we go already?"

Scattered, I said, "Yeah, of course." I double-checked myself for my phone, keys, and backpack. Over my shoulder I called out, "Dad, I'll be heading out to buy the ukuleles!"

With his eyes still on the screen watching football, he gave me a thumbs up. "Text me how much the ukuleles cost and we'll have your Uncle Joseph pay you back later. And be sure to take care of her, Declan." I shot him a glare for the last part.

Declan nodded. "Of course, sir."

Walking out of the front porch, Declan told me, "Your dad seems to have recovered from last night. And pretty okay with you hanging out with me today."

I shook my head, smiling to myself. "If it were Bennett, I think both of my parents would've given him a powerpoint presentation about why they should keep their jobs. Also, you probably seemed the most... normal out of the three of you with Jordan being Jordan and Bennett being Bennett."

"Huh, if you put it that way, that's kinda true."

"Thanks again for being free to let me pick up those ukuleles today," I told him.

"It's alright. It's not like I'm doing anything else today." Rubbing the back of his neck, Declan asked, "Have you eaten yet? I was planning on grabbing something quick after church but then I got your text."

"Right, lunch, that's a thing," I said. "No, I haven't eaten anything. I'm fine with whatever you want since you're the one driving."

We stopped right in front of a large dark red pickup truck and I noted the Chevrolet icon on the side. Although it looked like it was used for a couple of years, it seemed to be well taken care of.

"Nice pickup," I told Declan as I opened the door at the shotgun side.

"Thanks, it's actually my dad's. He got it for moving any musical instruments both for work and the store." He paused, then asked me, "Do you need help getting into the truck?"

I halted with one foot on the side step board of the truck. I put my foot back on the ground then slowly turned to look at Declan with a smile. "I don't think I heard you correctly because it seemed like you just offered to help me get into a car as an implication that I'm too short for it."

"Well, it's a pretty tall truck and you're a pretty short person so-" Declan laughed as he easily dodged the backpack that I swung at him.

"I'm 5'3"!" I yelled at him as he walked around the truck to open the door of the driver's side.

"Your dad told me to take care of you," Declan reminded me.

I got into the truck, with ease mind you, and said, "Yeah but not humiliate me. You're like, what, 5'8"?"

"5'10"," he corrected with a scoff. "Jordan's 5'8". Talk about humiliation, don't ever get that wrong again."

With a click of my seatbelt, I told him, "That's a difference of two inches. Is that also how much higher your ego is to his?"

"Ha!" Declan said with a smile. "I don't want to hear anything from someone seven inches shorter than me. Actually, I don't think I can. You should try talking louder so I can hear you."

I exhaled. "I don't care if it's a sin to murder someone because I swear-"

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "No more height jokes or else we're never going to get lunch. Truce?"

"For now."

"I'll take it," Declan told me. Tapping the wheel with his index finger, he said, "I think I saw a taco truck on my way here. You up for it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's been a while since I had some."

Declan smiled and started up his truck before driving the car onto the road. "Great! ¡C'mon vámonos!" He winced. "Sorry, that was so stupid. My sister's been watching Dora the Discoverer lately and it got to me."

"I won't tell Jordan if you sing that traveling song right now," I stated. It wasn't a question. Not even a request. It was a fact.

"I'm not going to give you a friend discount for those ukuleles anymore." That also seemed to be a fact.

Before I could blackmail him further, Declan quickly changed the subject when he told me, "Y'know, it was actually last night's dinner that got me craving for food that I haven't had in years. And by that food, I mean anything Hispanic- tacos, pupusas, tamales. Then I figured, let's start with the taco truck I just passed by."

I smiled at him. "Well then, I'm glad that lechon kawali and leche flan got you craving."

I noticed Declan tapping the wheel again. "It's weird because I feel excited about it. Like when you listen to an old song and that good nostalgia hits you? I just haven't had those foods for years."

"How come you haven't been able to?" I asked him.

"Oh, it's nothing bad," Declan assured me. "It's just that my mom's Kenyan-American and my dad's Black-American, so-" He stopped and glanced at me. "You look sort of confused. I was too until my parents sat down and explained it to me."

Tapping the wheel with an index finger in a steady beat, he explained, "My mom's parents immigrated from Kenya, so she identifies herself as Kenyan-American. But my dad's family has been in America for generations, so he identifies himself as Black-American. Calling themselves Black or African-American applies to them both, but that was how they want to be introduced. In the end, it's always up to the person on how they want to be identified."

I nodded to myself. "Thanks for explaining it to me." This was the first time hearing an explanation behind this. I only wished I was taught this in school instead of by chance through a friend.

He nodded. "No problem. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Because of them, I grew to really love eating the food they grew up eating. Then I realized I haven't eaten any food I grew up with before being adopted by them."

"What's the food your parents grew up with?"

He exhaled. "You're going to regret asking me that when we're about to grab completely different food," he warned me. "But here goes. My mom's from the Luo tribe, so we always have roasted fish like sardines and tilapia. There's ugali, maize flour porridge, it's a staple for every meal like rice is to Asians. Nothing can beat my mom's beef samosas. She also makes pastries for breakfast or dessert, like mandazi or mahamri. There's also a lot of vegetables like boiled or roasted maize, kale, or potatoes. As for my dad, the food he grew up with you'd call soul food so it's stuff like fried chicken, pork chops, mac and cheese, cornbread, collard greens, candied yams-"

"Okay, stop, you're right. I regret asking you that. Please stop listing food. I think I'm feeling dizzy out of hunger."

Declan chuckled to himself. "I promise the next time we go out, we'll eat those foods." He cleared his throat. "With Jordan and Bennett, of course."

"Speaking of them, do you know if they're free today?" I asked. "I mean, I think Jordan might not let us hear the end of it if he knew we hung out today, and I don't want them to feel left out."

"I think Bennett told us he had to go back home for something about his family. He wouldn't tell us what exactly though. As for Jordan, I think Sundays are laundry day and he has to help out his mom."

"Would that take up the whole day though?" I asked.

"His apartment has one of those stingy landlords that won't put up a laundry unit, so they have to go to a laundromat." He frowned. "Why? Am I already that boring?"

I rolled my eyes. "Calm down, Lynch. I just don't want to hear Jordan's whining later."

Declan smiled at that before slightly nodding in a direction. "I think that's the taco truck I saw earlier. Guac N' Grill."

Looking at my right, there was a block of an open parking lot that had a white truck parked on the street. The left side of the food truck had colorful painted artwork surrounding the name "Guac N' Grill: Taco Truck". When Declan parked the car, the other side of the taco truck had a retractable canopy to shade customers who spoke to the cashier through a window. The right side of the truck also had the same artwork designs as well as a large menu displayed next to the window. There was also two pop up canopy tents with foldable tables and chairs underneath.

"There's kind of a line," I told him, counting about seven people lined up with a couple of people standing around perhaps waiting for their order.

Declan looked over at the truck. "It's a good size, not big enough for some herd mentality. That means the place's good. C'mon-"

"¿Vámonos?" I asked with a grin.

"Let that go, please," Declan said in exasperation, before adding, "And you still sound like a gringa."

I gasped. "Low blow," I grumbled to him before quickly adding, "Don't you dare respond to that," as a warning when he looked like he was about to retort back.

As we stood in line, we both stared wordlessly at the large handwritten menu posted on the side of the truck. I ignored my stomach growling at me to stop reading words of food and to start eating the food instead.

"Can you see well?" Declan asked me. "Adrian broke your glasses, didn't he? Are you going to have them replaced soon?"

I sighed. "Yeah, and I have my old pair if I really need it. I'll be going to my optometrist later this week. I was due for new ones anyway." Noticing his confusion, I explained, "You have to every so often because your eyesight can change. Plus, new frames are always nice."

"You know what you're planning on getting? I can order for both of us if you want."

"That'll be great, thanks. And not yet. I said I wanted tacos but now the other stuff looks good."

"Yeah, me too," Declan said. "I was thinking of getting some... carne asada tacos and a lengua burrito. If they offer a combo, I'll get chips and a drink too."

I knew carne asada is beef, but I never heard of the other one. "Lengua?" I asked. "What's that?"

"Cow tongue," he answered before adding, "It's good. Trust me."

Despite the initial negative thought from hearing that, his recommendation made me interested in it. "I want to try it, but I don't know if I should order an entire item for it."

"You can try some of mine," Declan offered. "And if you like it, I can give you half the burrito. But only if you make a good trade."

I thought about it. "Alright. Then I want one carne asada taco, one chicken taco, and two sopes- one carnitas and the other whatever you want." I've only seen sopes, a thick tortilla with meat and vegetables placed on top, when walking past street vendors but never tried it myself.

Declan nodded. "Nice, you got one of everything: beef, chicken, and pork. You want a combo, too?" He asked me.

"I'm fine with just a drink. I've been craving for horchata the moment I saw it was on the menu."

When I noticed that we were almost to the front of the line, I took out my wallet and handed him two twenties. "Let me pay. In return for driving me here and also helping me buy the ukuleles."

Crossing his arms, Declan shook his head. "Don't worry, I'll pay for both of us. We're already going to get money from you," he told me.

"So it doesn't make sense if you pay for my lunch as well," I pointed out. "C'mon."

Declan plucked one twenty out of my hand. "Fine, then you'll pay for your lunch."

Before I could protest, he stepped up to the front of the line. After greeting the cashier, Declan gave our orders in Spanish. He handed the cashier some cash and received change and a receipt. Waiting for a bit, he was then given two plastic cups filled with drinks.

Walking back to me, Declan handed me one of the cups. I first swirled the cup to make sure the cinnamon didn't settle at the bottom. It only took one sip of the horchata and I was in heaven. My Asian tastebuds made me love anything with rice. So of course the first time I learned about horchata, made of rice, milk, vanilla, and cinnamon, I was going to be in love.

As we waited for our food, we went to the condiments and got an assortment of hot sauces, salsa, and vegetables such as cilantro, diced onion, sliced limes, and radishes. Once we got our orders, we found a table under one of the pop-up canopies.

"Here's your half of the burrito," Declan said as he placed it on a napkin. "And here's my pollo sope." When he saw that I had picked up the burrito and was studying it, he told me, "If you end up not liking the burrito, I can take it back, but I'm keeping the sope."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I'm fine with that." I looked at the burrito, looking for my line of attack for my first bite, then took it. I chewed slowly, then looked up at Declan who was studying my face.

After my first bite, I thought about it before concluding, "It tastes like beef."

Declan let out a short snort at that. "Well, you're not wrong there. So are you keeping it?" He asked as he took a sip of his drink.

"Yes, it's mine now," I told him firmly. I got a plastic container of some salsa then placed it on the burrito before taking another bite.

We ate in silence, the food too good to even take a break from eating. Once I finished my half of the burrito and was placing onions and salsa on my tacos, I nodded to him. "What did you order for your drink?"

"It's strawberry agua fresca," he explained to me. "It's a cold drink that can be made of any fruit. Want to give it a try?" He asked, holding out the drink.

My eyes darted to the straw he used then looked back at him with a smile. "No, it's ok. I have my drink. I'll try it next time." I then picked up my cup and took a sip from it.

He nodded, glancing away. We were now awkwardly drinking our beverages in silence. Just as I was about to say something to break the silence, Declan did as well and we stopped.

"Sorry, were you going to say something?" Declan asked.

"No, but you looked like you were about to talk," I told him.

"It wasn't anything really. I was thinking about what we talked about earlier. About church."

I winced. "And what? How I'm a terrible person too?"

"No, of course not," he told me. "No, it actually reminded me of this video game I finished playing recently. It's this action-adventure game in a post-apocalyptic world called The Last of Us Two."

"That's... a jump," I told him with a chuckle. "What was the connection?"

Wiping his hands with a napkin, he took out his phone. "I think I can find the quote here. But for context, one of the characters is Jewish and she talks about her religion."

"I found the quote," Declan told me before reading off his phone. "When a different character asked if praying helps her, the Jewish character explained how she says little ones to herself. 'I think it calms me. Helps me put things in perspective. It's a way to deal with grief. A way to show respect. It's what I know.'" He looked back at me. "Even though we have different religions, we both have the same perspective about praying."

I took the words in, surprised how an adventure game could turn to a conversation about religion and how a meal over tacos could do the same thing. "I like that line," I told him. "People with different religions or practice the same religion differently can have the same reasons and ways to cope with different things."

Declan nodded as he pocketed his phone. "Sorry, that ended up being a heavy topic. Sometimes it's weird talking about religion with someone since it's such a personal thing."

"No, it's alright. I think talking about religion will always feel awkward since it's pretty personal and when people do talk about it, it can become politicized."

When I said that, I looked at Declan. "Was you bringing this up your way of making me feel better?" I asked.

"I don't know," Declan told me. "Did it work?"

I paused for a moment then smiled a bit to myself. "Yeah, it did," I admitted.

-

Opening the door, a small bell rang out. "Welcome to Strings!" Someone greeted me brightly. "We have anything musical at great prices- No strings attached."

The music store, No Strings Attached, was a small but stylish shop with musical instruments on full display on stands and hanging off the walls. The person who welcomed me was a store employee who was sitting behind the counter. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the store except for a couple standing by the counter.

"The store greeting never gets old," a man said with a smile, shaking his head to himself.

The woman next to him scoffed to herself. "Sometimes I think it's that very greeting that's keeping us from having more customers."

I recognized the woman to be Declan's mother who I first saw at the main office back at school. Next to her was a tall man with short afro hair and dark brown eyes that glinted as he smiled at Declan's mother. The two of them dressed as if they were going to a nice event as he wore a collared button-down and slacks while she wore a pretty yellow dress paired with white heels.

When I heard the same small bell, I knew Declan had come into the store after me. "Hey, the truck's out in front for you," he said before tossing the car keys towards the man who caught them easily.

Declan had walked past me and bent down to pick up his sister who was standing while tugging the end of her mother's dress. She wore a light blue dress and had her hair in a bun held by a blue flower tie. "Hey there, Delilah," Declan greeted her with a smile.

"You must be Naomi," Declan's mother said warmly, walking up to shake my hand. "I'm glad I got to meet you again after having seen me scold Declan before. I hope I didn't scare you but it's just one of the perks of being a mom."

"Not at all," I assured her. "My mom greeted me the exact same way and I got an earful when I got back home. If anything, you seemed nicer. Please don't tell my mom I said that because I don't need further evidence to prove it." We shared a chuckle at that.

"Declan and I would say otherwise," the man said, chuckling as his wife smacked his arm but was chuckling with him. He held out his hand for me to shake. "Hi there, I'm Declan's father."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch," I told them. When Declan walked up to us, carrying Delilah in his arms. Smiling, I waved my fingers lightly to greet her. "And you must be, Delilah. Hi, I'm Naomi. I'm your brother's friend. I love the dress you're wearing. You look so pretty in it."

Declan looked at Delilah and bounced her in his arms to grab her attention. "What do you say when someone says something nice to you?"

Delilah looked at me shyly, then glanced away to hug her brother, her cheek resting on his shoulder. "Tank you," she mumbled.

I bit my lip, holding back a squeal, and had to put my hand to my chest to steady my heart. I will do anything for this child. She owns my soul now and I regret nothing.

"Declan told me you wanted to buy some ukuleles," his father told me. "Thank you for choosing our store and for giving us your money."

Declan's mother shot him a glare. "Have some decorum, it's Sunday today," she told him before looking back at me. "Just look at who I have to deal with. And don't worry, we can give you a discount since you're one of Declan's friends."

"I really can't take it especially because I'm his friend," I told her. "Anyway, it's my uncle who's actually paying for the ukuleles. He didn't want to carry them from Hawaii and asked us to buy them locally."

"Well, if you won't accept a discount, you can at least hear our sales pitch," she said with a smile.

"Sales pitch?" I asked before assuring her, "Don't worry, as long as you have some ukuleles in stock, I'll buy-"

"No, it's a sales pitch of something more important," she told me. "Declan."

"What?" Declan and I asked in unison.

"Declan here has a good head on his shoulders," Declan's father told me, patting his son's back. "He's a smart and dependable young man who will always be there when you need him."

"What are you doing?" Declan asked him in disbelief. "This isn't funny."

Patting his shoulder, Declan's mother smiled and said, "He's also such a sweetheart and always looks out for others. You can never find someone more caring and kind-hearted than him."

"You're making her uncomfortable," he told her.

"See?" She said, having proven her point.

"And even though he has decent grades-" His father began before his wife cut in whispering, "Only good points, remember?"

Declan's mother looked at me. "Besides being a talented athlete, he's also a musical prodigy."

"A musical prodigy?" I repeated in amusement.

"They're exaggerating," Declan quickly told me.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not only do you have perfect pitch, can play by ear as you can play a piece without a music sheet, but you can play any instrument as if you've been playing it for years when you only learned the basics after a few days. You can take my chair in the orchestra as a violinist if you work on it for a couple more months."

"It's called luck," Declan corrected before he gave me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't know they were going to do this."

"Don't be. It's sweet," I admitted with a chuckle.

Declan's mother shook her head to herself. "The first time my son brings a girl and it's only to buy some instruments? I'm not passing this chance up." Her face lit up. "Oh, before I forget. He's also very loyal and has a great memory so he won't forget any anniversaries and-"

"You should go before you're late to your church," Declan interrupted, placing his baby sister into his mother's arms before pushing his parents towards the door. "I'll see you guys at home."

"Men don't stop growing until they're around 20!" His father called out to me. "He's 5'10"! He'll be over 6 feet in a few years!"

"He has such an amazing singing voice!" His mother added loudly. "Ask him to serenade you on one of your dates!"

"Goodbye!" Declan exclaimed, pushing his family out of the store and practically slamming the door behind them.

"Your parents are so adorable," I told him, my smile widening when I saw him frown to hide his embarrassment.

"Let's agree to never speak about this," Declan grumbled as he walked past me. "I'm going to check the back to get your ukuleles."

When Declan went into a different room, I took the time to peruse the store. I caught a large bulletin board organized to display musical events from small concerts for adults to music workshops for kids showing that this store was part of a musical community. Music played on speakers around the store. An instrumental song of a guitar playing had just ended and now it was an unknown artist singing- both the song and the artist I have never heard of before but enjoyed regardless. As I was studying the cabinet section of vinyls and music books, someone cleared their throat.

Turning, I saw it was the store employee from earlier, an older woman with a name tag that showed the name, Carol. She smiled at me. "Are you finding everything ok?"

"I ordered some ukuleles. I'm just browsing around," I told her. When I saw that she wasn't going back to the counter, I decided to be polite and add, "This is such a nice store. How long have you been working here?"

"For a few months now," she answered. "Margaret and Darius have been nothing but kind ever since I started here. You know, they opened this as a side project."

I was about to tell her that Declan had told me that, but she continued, "They're both very successful in the music industry with Darius co-head of his company and Margaret as first chair in her orchestra. It's always great when you see people like them succeed in those fields."

I was about to agree with her when I stopped at a phrase. "People like them?" I repeated in confusion.

"Oh, you know... the Blacks," she explained, her tone shifting making me feel uncomfortable. She chuckled to herself. "My niece has been explaining to me that it's all about this systemic racism, but I just can't believe that because those two are perfect examples that as long as you work hard you can achieve whatever you want." Ok, I don't just feel uncomfortable, I am uncomfortable.

Declan, where are you? Get me out of this conversation. This woman doesn't believe in systemic racism and seeing that her own niece can't get through to her, a halfie most certainly wouldn't do anything.

Systemic racism is a form of racism integrated into society, whether it be through an organization, an industry, or even a community, it can affect minorities academically, socially, and economically. From college acceptances, job employment, the criminal justice system, and even in medicine- minorities have been discriminated against because of prejudices and practices. You can't blame only the individual for not working hard enough to succeed in a system, in a society, that has been shaped to have obstacles for them.

People don't believe in it for one of two reasons: they never experienced it themselves or they have seen minority individuals succeed. Just because you never experienced something doesn't mean that it doesn't exist if enough people have claimed to have gone through it. And yes, you will find individuals who have succeeded in certain fields, but if you see that there are large disparities of success against minorities, something is wrong.

Slowly backing away, I told her, "I'm going to go check to see if Declan was able to find those ukuleles so-"

"He should be able to find them," she assured me. "Declan is such a great young man. I was so touched when I heard his story and how he got adopted by Darius and Margaret. Usually, you don't see that."

"See what?" I asked slowly.

"Well, usually you see white people adopting kids like babies from China or Black and Mexican kids here because, of course, white people are more successful and financially stable to do so. Well, I don't really know the exact statistics, but I can imagine that's the case."

I nearly did a double-take at the comment. How long has she been working here? Does she tell this to everyone who strolls into this store? Although she may not intend to be explicitly racist, it's these off-comments that have no evident basis, this casual racism, that is just as dangerous. Casual racism from comments to body language can become normalized and accepted, making people feel invalidated.

"I don't know enough about this topic to really comment about this," I told her, hoping she would take the hint.

"Well, neither do I but that shouldn't stop us from talking about it," she told me. "It's important to talk about these kinds of things, right? My niece tells me that we need to be more comfortable about talking about race."

Yeah, but not like this.

Alright, let me play the student card. "My debate teacher always tells us that we should make sure to double-check our sources before using the information to support our conversations."

That means you should stop talking.

"That's so smart," she said brightly. "Of course, my source is my own knowledge and experience." Carol continued, "But then you see this successful Black couple adopting a Mexican child and you think it's almost ironic."

"He's not Mexican," I told her flatly. "He's Cuban-Venezuelan."

"Right, of course, I always forget that. But they're the same thing anyway with all of them around wherever Mexico is."

Give me a moment. Let me check my sources from my own knowledge. Let's see here: Mexico is in North America, Cuba is an island in the Caribbean, and Venezuela is in South America. No yeah, she's exactly correct. They're countries all next to each other that you can't tell them apart at all. You might as well say China, India, and the Philippines are the same thing too.

Although it seemed like a normal conversation, there was this underlying ignorance and passive-aggressiveness in her words and tone. She was praising Declan's family for their uniqueness and success, not because of their individual effort but simply because of their race and ethnicity.

Wait, is she...

"Anyway, you can admit that their whole family is so unique it's inspiring," Carol continued. "Did you know that they go to different churches? I mean, they're all under Christianity, but imagine being Catholic while the rest of your family is Protestant? It must be so hard to-"

"Ma'am, I don't believe you should be saying any of this," I told her, the waver in my voice betraying me. "You might mean well, but everything you're saying is inappropriate-"

She gasped, narrowing her eyes at me. "Are you saying I'm racist? How can I be racist? I've been working for Margaret and Darius and have only said good things about them." Why? To tell yourself that you're not racist? "Dear, you're overthinking it, and if anything, I believe you're the one being racist for that kind of thinking."

Yup, this is racial gaslighting.

Gaslighting is when a person manipulates information for a victim to question their experience and can be done in between family, friends, coworkers, or strangers. The most common gaslighting is sexist or racist when people don't believe they're not doing anything wrong or they play it off as a joke or a compliment to not be responsible for their words. Rather than actually understand and be an ally, they shut off the conversation to make them look like the victims.

They're microaggressions that can make someone's experience be invisible with "All Lives Matter and I don't see color", affect their self-esteem like "take the compliment that I said you're pretty for an Asian, it's not like get a lot of them anyway", or are actual attacks such as "immigrants scare me and should all be arrested then deported".

"Sorry that took so long," Declan said, walking back into the store carrying a few boxes. "We had the shipment last week but it wasn't processed into the database yet so it took-"

"That's great! Let's go over here to see them!" I said quickly, grabbing Declan's arm and dragging him to the other room.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked, setting the boxes on a table. "Was it Carol? She's really friendly and likes to talk. Hopefully, she didn't talk your ear off."

That was when I told him my entire conversation with Carol and I watched that smile vanish. His eyes widened and he exhaled sharply.

"Are you serious?" He demanded through gritted teeth. "She's been saying what about my family?"

"Yeah, and that stuff about you-"

"That doesn't matter," Declan told me sharply. He was pacing now, massaging his forehead. "Is that why we only have regulars and not new customers? No that can't be it..."

With a curse under his breath, Declan turned towards the door and said, "I want to hear this straight from her. She's been working for the store for this long and all this time she's been talking about that, like that?" There was a bitter chuckle. "I swear I'll-"

"Declan, hey," I said, moving to now stand between him and the door. "How about you wait until you can tell your parents about this? They would know how to better handle it, right? I don't think confronting her like this will do anything especially if she believes she didn't do anything wrong. And we're the only ones here. I don't want things to escalate into something bad." I glanced away. "I don't like this. I'm worried."

As I tried to reason him, he was looking past me and glaring at the door. But at the last part, he looked back at me with a pained expression. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Ok. I won't confront her. I'll wait."

"I'm sorry," I told him weakly, the guilt and shame rising up. "I wanted to... I wanted to argue back at her more but I knew it wasn't going to go anywhere- like arguing with someone on the internet." I scoffed to myself. "I can barely stand up to my classmates bullying me. How could I do the same against an adult? Especially if they pull the card that they're older which means they're right and need to be respected."

I was raised to respect my elders without question. It was difficult to shy away from that mentality for those older who don't deserve that respect.

"I hate that card," Declan grumbled. He paused then assured me, "You don't have to be sorry for anything. Thanks for telling me this. If it weren't for you, I don't know how we'd ever been able to learn about it."

When the two of us fell quiet, Declan asked hesitantly, "Do you still want to study for our calculus midterm? I get it if you don't want to stay here anymore. I can call you a lift since my family took the pickup if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay. You're planning on waiting for your family here. I don't want you to stay here alone." I forced out a smile. "And your dad did say you have only decent grades, so I might be your only hope..."

Declan looked at me incredulously then cracked a small smile. "Alright, Lorraine. I better get an A for my midterm then."

As we began to take out our things from our backpacks onto the table to set up for our study session, I took the chance to observe the room we were in. It was a medium-sized room that was half a recording studio and half a lounge room. As a recording studio, there was a large table of devices for recording facing a window to see a connected room with padded walls filled with sound equipment. As a lounge, there was a couch, table, TV, and a minifridge most likely for breaks.

"This is my favorite room," Declan told me. "All of the recording gear are old equipment from my dad's music production company. This room wasn't always here. My parents built it so small-time artists can use the studio for a fee or show kids how recording works."

"I noticed there was this bulletin board of a bunch of music events and figured there must be a music community here."

"Yeah, the store became the center of it over the years. That's why my parents opened up the store in the first place. They wanted more people to get easier access to music, especially minorities because they wished they had a community and resources like this when they decided to get into music." He was smiling to himself then suddenly looked up. "Oh right, your ukuleles."

Declan stood up, dug out a piece of paper and handed it to me before grabbing a box. As he opened up the box and pulled out a ukulele, I saw that the paper was the listing of the order along with the store's information for payment. I took a picture of the paper and sent it to my uncle before opening my bank app to pay for the order.

"Your store greeting is right," I told him. "You do have great prices with no strings attached."

"But our instruments do come with their strings attached. My dad wanted to make sure to have that pun ready for our items," Declan said with a chuckle.

I watched as Declan tuned the ukulele, plucking the string every so often proving the advertised trait of his musical talent. With a final strum, Declan nodded to himself. "It's all tuned up. Want to give it a try?" He asked as he held out the instrument to me.

I held my hands up to stop him. "Nope. I have no idea how to play that thing or anything musical. I don't have a musical bone in my body. Those ukuleles are for my family."

"Well," Declan said, looking down at the instrument. "I already tuned it up. I might as well show you that we only sell the finest of instruments here at Strings."

Declan began playing the ukulele and it only took a few chords for me to recognize it to be a classic ukulele song. Declan closed his eyes and hummed to himself, taking in the light strums of the instrument, before he began softly singing, "Wise men say... Only fools rush in... But I can't help falling in love with-"

He abruptly stopped and cleared his throat. As he worked to put the ukulele back into its box, he told me, "Anyway, see it works well. Let's start studying."

"Your mom's right, you do have an amazing-"

"Let's start studying," he said again.

I took off the hairband I wore next to my bracelet and tied my hair into a ponytail. I continued my work where I left off back in my room. As I went through my notes for review, I wrote down important formulas, rules, and notes as a reference sheet. I glanced at Declan and saw that he was going through the textbook as he listened to music from his laptop, noting the rhythmic bobbing of his head as he listened to a song through some headphones. I can't listen to music with lyrics while I study because I would much rather listen to the actual song than study. The two of us studied in silence as if we just happened to be studying in the same space with no actual connection. Although I was studying on my own like I was in my bedroom, it felt nice not actually being alone back in my room.

Suddenly, Declan let out an irritated sigh. "This pinche problem..." He muttered under his breath before suddenly looking at me, remembering I was there.

I awkwardly eyed his notebook. "Er... do you need any help?"

He pulled his headphones down to have them hang from his neck. "Yeah, I'm going through the review worksheet we got for the midterm and I'm not getting this one problem."

"Could I see your work?" I asked and thanked him when he slid his notebook to me. He had decent handwriting and I didn't have to stare at it long to decipher it.

I tucked some hair behind my ear as I looked through his work. "This looks right but... Here, at this step you missed differentiating this one variable," I said, turning the notebook to face him and tapping the letter with my pencil. "If you fix that, then your answer should be right."

"Seriously?" Declan asked in disbelief as he frowned at his notebook. "I swear I double checked this."

"Don't worry, I mess up with implicit differentiation too," I told him, resting my chin on my hand. "What really helps is separating your steps more. You combine your steps together and that can mess you up. You have to write more but then you can avoid these small mistakes."

"Alright, I'll try working on that, thanks," Declan said with a smile.

We continued to work in silence, but I figured Declan must have answered the work problem since he turned the worksheet packet to the next page. I was one more lecture away from finishing my review notes when I heard him let out another irritated sigh.

Without looking up from my notebook, I told him, "You can always ask for help if you need it."

"No, it's ok. I can finish this problem if I think about it some more." He paused for a moment. "Is it alright if I play music?"

That gave me a reason to tear my eyes off my notes. "Aren't you listening to music right now?" I asked, giving a pointed look at his headphones.

"It's kinda weird but sometimes I play music when I'm stuck on something. It helps me think." He gave me a slight shrug as a show that was the only way to explain it. "So can I?"

I rested my chin against my hand and looked at him. "That depends if your music is good."

Declan raised an eyebrow. "Is this how you want this to go, Lorraine?"

I chuckled. "I'm kidding. I'm fine as long as it's not too loud."

At that, Declan got up from his seat. I was trying to figure out how to reword a theorem and its definition into my reference sheet when Declan came back with a slick acoustic guitar. After tuning the guitar, he began to play it. It was lighthearted but upbeat music as he strummed a series of chords on his guitar that didn't seem to come from a particular song.

As he played, he stared at his notebook looking to be going through his work again. It was a wonder how he could do two things at once as he went over a calculus problem while he moved the fingers of his left hand against the neck of the guitar as he played. Although I don't like to study while listening to songs with lyrics, I didn't mind this background music.

The music suddenly stopped. "Got it," Declan suddenly said. He set the guitar on his lap then picked up his pencil and began to write down the work for his math problem.

"What kind of music do you like to listen to?" I asked him as I stretched my legs out for sitting down for so long.

"Well, any kind," Declan told me. "Before, I only knew rock- alternative and rock n' roll. Then my dad got me into jazz, funk, and hip hop while my mom had me learn all about classical and folk music. But my default will have to be anything indie." He smiled at me. "I always root for the underdogs." He nodded at me. "What about you?"

"I don't have an exact preference, I guess anything that sounds good," I told him as I turned a page on my notebook. "I don't actively look for the music. It could be something I heard from the radio or from a musical."

"Musical?"

"Yeah, one of my cousins got me into them. Some of it is Broadway soundtracks, but there's also movies and TV shows, animated or not, with good music."

"I never really pictured you as the show tunes type," Declan told me and when he saw my quizzical look he said, "You seem more of a... mainly instrumental stuff to relax or study to like lofi and math rock. If you want more upbeat stuff with lyrics, you'd turn to indie pop and indie rock.

I looked at him in disbelief, slightly leaning away from him. Declan frowned at that. "What?" He asked.

"Am I that easy to read?" I asked him. "Sometimes I listen to this indie or lofi radio on MeTube when I study or do chores. But I don't know what lofi exactly is as well as math rock. Is that actually real or are you just messing with me because we're studying calculus?"

Declan scoffed. "Yeah, of course, it's real. Well first, there's lofi and hifi, short for low fidelity and high fidelity. Hifi is high quality, crisp music straight from a professional recording studio, while lofi has some distortion or muffled sounds for aesthetic."

He paused and thought about it. "As for math rock, it's called that because of the timing of the music- some technical stuff on timing and rhythm. In the end, it sounds like... well it's a running joke that you can describe it as emo jazz. That's the best way I can explain it. You really can't tell the difference until you listen to enough of it."

That explanation just flew over my head telling me I made a good decision to not be a music major.

Scratching his head, Declan told me, "Anyway, I'll do my best not to look at you differently as some sort of Dizney fangirl-"

I shot him a glare. "Excuse me, first of all, that multinational company that has the whole world tied down in capitalistic reins held by a mouse is my childhood," I said firmly. "Second of all, I like musicals. There are great shows and movies with songs that fall into the story. Who doesn't like a story with music much less a piece of music that tells a story?"

"Don't ask me, Lorraine. I don't listen to any musicals."

I snorted to myself. "Stop kidding around. You have at least listened to Hamilton."

Declan clicked his tongue. "Nope."

"Blasphemy!" I exclaimed, my hand going up to my chest in shock.

"What?" Declan said with a laugh.

"Lin Manuel Miranda has blessed us with a two-hour show of how the United States was founded... through hip hop." I looked at him incredulously. "Who wouldn't want that?"

Declan chuckled to himself. "I've got my own music to deal with, so I'm not going to start listening to musicals, much less one that's going to be a history lesson."

Declan was about to go back to studying when I said nonchalantly, "Well, that's too bad. I can't help but pity sweet, adorable Delilah."

He stopped what he was doing and looked up with his eyes narrowed at me. "What are you talking about?"

With my head leaning against my hand, I stared out in front of me with a disinterested look on my face. "Oh, it's nothing. I just worry that Delilah won't have any good sources of musical entertainment to learn from."

"To learn from?" Declan repeated in confusion. "I don't know what you're getting on about but she has plenty of music like-"

"-jazz, hip hop, classical music, folk music, and rock n' roll?" I finished. "No, I know that, but I'm talking about shows that can give her life lessons and give her a perspective of the world with music and singing. "

"Like what? Mary Poppins?" Declan asked dryly.

"No," I said, shooting him a glare. "I mean... Steven Universe."

Before he could ask what it was, I abruptly stood up from my seat. Waving my hand out into the air, I began dramatically, "Steven Universe is the perfect animated series for people of all ages. Not only does it have a great storyline filled with action and adventure, amazing characters with in-depth character development, a brilliant art style and technical animation, but it's also a... musical," I finished with a smirk.

Declan crossed his arms. "How much money did they give you for the promotion?"

I frowned and sat back down then quickly added, "It also teaches topics like body positivity, gender roles, non-toxic femininity and masculinity, self-care and mental health, breaking stereotypes, toxic relationships and abuse, communication, guilt and forgiveness, violence and war, parenting and family relations, and normalizing queer people and relationships- just to name a few."

I waited for a moment then glanced at Declan. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he processed everything I told him. When he was about to look back at me, I turned away pretending to look bored.

Declan cleared his throat. "Well, Delilah's still kinda young now, but I'd think that if there was such a show that can teach all of these topics... I, as her older brother, should watch the show first to make sure it will be good for her."

I looked at him in surprise. "Wow, that's such a great idea, Declan. I can't believe you were able to come up with it all by yourself. Delilah is so lucky to have you as her big brother."

He smiled to himself. "Yeah, she-"

"Anyway, we can watch one episode after our study session," I told him as I opened my laptop and typed into the show's wikia page. "I want to find a good episode as a good introduction to the series."

We eventually went back to studying. My pencil scratched against the paper, the sound being drowned out by the light chords of the guitar. I glanced up at Declan, his eyes had left his notebook, and were now focusing on the music from his guitar.

I lightly cleared my throat. "Hey, have you finished practice problem 20.1? It's from chapter 8, section 9."

The guitar immediately fell silent. "Yeah, why?" He asked, looking at me. "You can't figure it out?"

"Oh no, I thought you need help on it. It must get annoying for me to ask you that. Sorry, I'll stop."

I was about to go back to my work and expected Declan to return to his guitar, but instead, he told me, "I notice you do that a lot. For any of the hard questions, you check if I've done them or not. I've never really studied with anyone before but it's alright. You don't have to check in with me every time." He gave me a small smile. "I know I got decent grades, but I'm not a total lost cause."

I rubbed the back of my neck, my hand feeling the warmth rise up my neck from embarrassment. "I swear it's not because I'm undermining you or anything. I never studied with anyone either until Jordan. We have calc together but we don't actually study together either in or out of class. On the other hand, I'm Jordan's lab partner in physics, and sometimes we have free study periods." I looked down at my notebook. "I started picking up a habit of checking if he understood a problem if there aren't any examples in the chapter to show how to solve it."

Declan snorted to himself. "You should stop babying him. Honestly, most of the time he's either lazy or bored. I've studied with him a couple of times and he always manages to figure it out if you don't count the dumb mistakes he misses like writing a formula wrong or adding instead of subtracting then he just laughs it off."

I chuckled. "Yeah, he does that a lot..." I paused to think about it then waved the thought away. "Yeah, that's just Jordan being Jordan."

After a deep sigh, Declan flipped his notebook close. "That's enough math for me today. I need to work on my other project anyway," he said, standing up from his chair and walking to the couch with the guitar.

"What project?" I asked, curious about what he was doing.

Sitting down, he positioned the guitar on his lap before explaining, "I have Independent Music and the main project of the class is to make your own song." He exhaled. "I would have finished a project like this, but the theme is really vague: 'a song about you'. I have half a mind to just sing about strawberries."

Declan suddenly played another light melody on his guitar and sang out, "Strawberry."

Compared to earlier when he was on the ukulele, he sang too softly for me to distinguish his singing. But at that moment, with one word, I was able to hear his actual singing voice. It fit him, a clear and strong voice that came from his chest to display the honesty and passion in the note.

Declan looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry, that was pretty stupid. I've been stuck on this project for a while now and I'm getting desperate to write some-" He stopped and looked at me.

I blinked, admittedly stunned. "How... How did you make the word strawberry the best thing I ever heard?"

Declan used his hand to stifle a snicker. "I never heard someone say that before. But strawberries are the best, afterall."

He can play, sing, and write his own music. "Does that mean you have your own music? Can I listen to any of them?" I asked.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away in embarrassment. "Well, you're technically listening to one right now." Then, he suddenly pointed up

I frowned in confusion then looked up and around to see what he was pointing at until I saw an in-wall speaker. It then dawned on me. The music I was listening to earlier from the store's speakers.

"My parents wanted me to get used to hearing my songs be played and have people listen to them. It's all to train me as a musician." He paused. "Why are you looking at me like that? Is it that weird?"

"No, it isn't. It's just that... I'm happy for you," I said honestly. "I have a cousin who wanted to be a dancer, but now she's studying to be a nurse." I paused for a moment. "Speaking for Asians, we're usually discouraged from going into the arts, and instead go to majors like STEM, medicine, or law. Although it's to make us financially stable, it tears down some dreams in the process. So it's nice when I see someone following their dream and being supported by their parents," I said with a smile.

Declan was quiet and stared at his guitar. "It helps when your own parents are already in the industry. But even before I met them, and I knew I wanted to go into music, I was told that I should find something else. So I get that. I'm sorry about your cousin for not being able to go into dancing."

"Ok, but I have to ask," I began. "What is with you and strawberries?"

The question made a small smile appear on Declan's face. "It was actually because of one foster family I was with," Declan explained. "They were big on plants and gardening, their home was like a greenhouse. They had each foster kid take care of one plot of the garden and so I grew my own strawberries. And that's that."

"That's really... sweet, no pun intended," I said with a light laugh. "I'm glad you had a nice foster family that led to your strawberry obsession."

Declan nodded to himself. "Yeah, they were one of the nice ones. The foster system... it's a system that tries to help kids in tough situations, but it has its highs and lows."

"Well, I'm glad you're lucky enough to have found your parents who love music."

Declan paused and smiled to himself. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it luck."

He ignored the pain- the sting from the scrapes on his face and knees, the burning throb from the bruise on his cheek, the sharp ache on his knuckles. All he knew was that he had to run away. When he heard their yells of threats and curses, both in English and Spanish, he forced his legs to move faster.

Turning the corner, he went into the first building he saw. He slammed the door shut and practically dove behind some cardboard boxes. He realized it was some storefront shop with an open window to display whatever products they sold. When he saw them through the window, he pushed his back against the wall and silently prayed to not be seen.

They were freshmen in a neighboring high school. They heard the rumors about him and that he was close with Gio. They cornered him in some alley when he was walking back from school. They didn't listen when he told them that it was a while since he last saw Gio.

"Where the hell did he go? How did we lose him? He's just a middle schooler!"

"He probably ran ahead. No way he'd stay here. This is one of those rich neighborhoods."

"What if he didn't know that? He ran here, didn't he? He might be hiding somewhere."

"Let's do a quick search just in case. But we gotta be fast. Cops will grab us if they find us here."

When he heard their voices fade away, he exhaled and realized he was holding his breath to the point of nearly suffocating himself.

"Excuse me?" A voice asked. "May I help you?"

He looked up and nearly jumped when he saw a man standing there. Behind him was a woman. Glancing around, he tried to figure out where he was. There were instruments, expensive looking instruments, all around the room. He shouldn't be here.

"I'm not going to steal anything," he forced out. "I promise. Here I'll-" He fumbled to turn his pockets inside out- coins, lint, and one eraser dropped onto the ground. Then he removed the worn-out backpack off his shoulders and placed it on the ground.

When he looked back at the two adults, he saw them share a wary look at each other.

Knowing that it wasn't enough, he held up his hands over his head, palms facing them. "J-Just please let me stay here for a bit. 'Til they give up." He begged, hoping they heard the desperation in his voice if it didn't catch in his throat. "I'll stay like this the entire time."

The man slightly turned towards the woman and whispered something to her. Suddenly, the woman suddenly pushed past the man and walked towards him. When the woman reached a hand towards him, he flinched and closed his eyes to brace himself, expecting to be slapped, yelled at, and kicked out with cops waiting outside for him.

Instead, he felt a soft hand cup his cheek. Opening his eyes, he saw the woman was studying his face carefully. "Look at your poor face. Did those boys do this to you? Let me find something to treat your injuries, alright, honey?"

There was a flicker in his eyes when he heard those words, but he glanced away. Those words were too nice for someone like him. "N-No, it's ok. You don't have to. Just let me stay here. Only a few more minutes. I won't cause any more trouble. I promise. Please."

The woman grabbed the wrists of his hands still held up in defense and gently moved them down back to his sides. "You can stay until I finish treating your injuries. I can't let you go home like this."

"Where are your parents?" The man asked. "Let me give them a call." At an afterthought, he added, "Don't worry. You're not in any trouble."

He shook his head.

"Honey," the woman said gently, "we want to call your parents to tell them that you're safe and with us."

He shook his head again. "I don't have anyone. I'm a foster." He ignored the familiar silence. "Please, don't call anyone. I'll get in trouble with the group home again."

The man walked up and stretched his hand out to him. By reflex, by experience, by fear, he flinched. The hand hesitated then set on top of his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Okay, we won't call anyone," the man assured him. "But only on one condition."

His mind swirled with thoughts about what that could be. He gulped. "Yeah?"

"I'll drive you home and you have to contact us again to make sure you're alright. Is that a deal?"

He looked at the man then at the woman in disbelief. When he realized he needed to respond back, no words could come out. He managed to slightly nod his head.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Declan," he said. "My name's Declan... sir."

The man gave him a warm smile. "Well, Declan. I'm Darius and this is my wife, Margaret. While you're here, I just have to ask. Do you like music?"

"I'd like to think it's more than that," Declan said quietly before giving a small shrug. "Being in the foster system, having nothing but praying to keep you going, when I finally met them I just want to believe that it wasn't just luck."

"Then it was more than that," I said, now sharing a smile.

As we went back to work, at one point I glanced at Declan to see he was looking through his notebook and absentmindedly grazed the bruise on his cheek.

I frowned, staring at my own notebook. "I'm glad Raymond didn't get to you. I thought you were going to punch him. And even though we all got the same punishment, if you got mad and punched him first, that meant he won." I hated it when he won.

I didn't think Declan was going to respond as his eyes were still on his notebook. I thought that would be the end of that and I just gave my two cents.

"I wanted to," he said, almost solemnly. "When he said my... that name, I froze because I hadn't heard that name in years. I was named after my... biological father. I have no good memories of him or that name." He paused and scoffed to himself. "And it's worse when you're religious and you were named after an angel..."

His eyes shifted to look at his guitar now. "So when Raymond said all of that, I wanted to make him shut up so badly. And I was mad at the fact that I wanted to and that after all of this time, I didn't change at all. But then I remembered that for once I wasn't on my own and that you guys had my back."

I hated that he was met with silence after telling me all of that. My mouth felt dry as I tried to find the right words.

"You don't have to say anything," Declan assured me. "You should have known anyway since you never asked when you first heard my name. And I owe you. During the fight, you had my back. So it's ok."

We each held a small smile to ourselves, knowing that was enough.

-

"Ok, are you sure I can't even tell Jordan?" I asked in exasperation. "It's not every day you have someone's parents advertise their son to you."

Declan glared at me. "He's the last person to ever know that."

"Fine," I huffed. "Just give me a second. I'm still trying to find the best episode to watch."

The two of us were sitting on the couch. I had set up my laptop to display the screen on the TV as I looked for a Steven Universe episode to introduce Declan to the series. The first episode would be the best, but I wanted to still check my options.

"I give up! We'll just watch the first episode," I said in defeat, clicking on the link.

As we watched the first episode, not the pilot, of Steven Universe "Gem Glow", I couldn't help but be hit with nostalgia. I remember when my older cousin showed me this series. I just hope Declan would like it enough to show it to Delilah when she was older.

"There are deeper songs than this, but this song is a classic," I told Declan, shaking his shoulder excitedly before singing along, "Cookie cat! He's a pet for your tummy! Cookie cat! He's super duper yummy!"

The two of us were laughing at my terrible excuse of singing as I was more of saying words into the beat of the song rather than actually singing. Declan had his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from laughing more. He was most likely thinking that it was good I didn't decide to major in music.

When I turned to look at Declan, I faltered from the song, the episode fading into the background. The boyish grin he wore as he laughed at me fangirling over the episode slowly disappeared, but not into a terrible thing. Instead, he looked serious, troubled even, when he stared back at me with a furrowed brow and a mouth a thin line. I realized he was leaning toward me, hesitant as he began, "Naomi I-"

Suddenly the door slammed open and Jordan burst into the room exclaiming at the top of his lungs, "Where are my gay space rocks?!"

He was met with silence as we all awkwardly looked at each other. I stifled a small snicker to myself.

"What's he doing here?" Declan asked slowly.

"Jordan had us trade watch lists when he found out I watch anime," I explained. "We then found out that we had watched Steven Universe before. I texted him that I was going to show you an episode of it and he wanted to join us."

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Jordan said cheerfully with a wide grin, patting Declan's back a bit roughly as it made Declan grunt from the force. The action earned Jordan a deadly glare from Declan. "It's not like I ruined any opportunity by showing up out of nowhere. It would be a shame if that were the case."

I gave him a quizzical look. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," Jordan said nonchalantly. "I'm just doing a... soliloquy."

Declan narrowed his eyes at Jordan. "You don't even know what soliloquy is."

"Of course I do," he defended.

"Spell it."

Jordan paused. "Anyway!" He exclaimed brightly. "Let's watch that episode! You better rewind it to the beginning for me!"

Jordan walked over to the couch then moved to sit between the small space between me and Declan. Declan and I scooted over to allow Jordan to sit between us. With a satisfied sigh, Jordan leaned back and rested his hands behind his head to relax.

"Comfy," he quipped.

As I rewinded the episode to the beginning, Jordan asked, "Aren't you going to meet up with Bennett tomorrow?"

I stopped from beginning the episode, my finger hovering over the mousepad. "I am. He said he'd be free to work on our project then."

"Just hurry up and be friends again," Jordan said with a sigh. "I mean it was pretty funny seeing you be petty against Bennett-"

"It was pretty funny," Declan chimed in with a slight shrug.

"- but we should hang out already especially since Operation I Can't Believe We Did That is over," Jordan said.

"What if we... don't reconcile?" I asked hesitantly.

I glanced at the two and saw them looking at me with a mixture of emotions that include but not limited to shock, disbelief, and worry.

"Maybe it's the optimist in me talking," Jordan began brightly, "but don't say that," he finished with an edge in his tone.

Declan sighed. "Just don't be closed off to him-"

"You're really saying that to me with Bennett?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just meet him halfway," Declan told me. "He might be late because he's walking his own pace, but he'll meet you there too."

"Isn't that too much to ask of me?" I pointed out. "I get that we do things differently, but why do I have to be the one waiting for him?"

"You're not wrong. It is asking a lot from you," Jordan told me. "But we're Bennett's friends too. And you have to trust us on that."

"He's also been trying when he talks to us about-" Declan abruptly stopped. "Anyway, just show up and talk to him."

"Without being passive-aggressive," Jordan added.

I stared at them, trying to figure them out before shaking my head. "Bennett's lucky to have you two as friends."

"You mean Bennett's lucky to have the three of us as friends," Jordan said with a grin. "Anyway, I'm ready for the nostalgia trip. Play that episode already. I've been listening to the intro song on repeat on my way here."

At that, I clicked play to start.

~

Yes. In one chapter there was a taco truck lunch scene, commentary of Black/African-American identity, the introduction of Black-American and Kenyan-Luo cuisine, a conversation about the practice of a religion, a parents' advertisement of their son, an adorable baby, a talk about systemic racism and example of racial gaslighting, a character singing, a discussion about music taste, praising Lin Manuel Miranda and Hamilton, a heartfelt flashback, and gay space rocks, I mean, Steven Universe. I hope you're wearing glasses or else you'd be blinded by my brilliance. This is pretty much BG- a balance of serious topics, entertaining banters, great references, and food.

If I respect and love a brand too much, I won't create an off brand version (i.e. Hamilton and Steven Universe).

This is why I love Broken Glasses because it picks up the shortcomings and missed opportunities for TGGBB. I have always decided this for Declan's background but realized it too late to properly be explained in TGGBB. This is how he and his parents met. This is the story behind him and his love of strawberries. This is how much he loves music and how talented he is in music.

Also, I fell in love with the idea of Declan's parents sitting him down and explaining themselves because they knew that questions would pop up since they look different and they wanted him to understand how to address it properly.

What did you think about the taco truck scene! There's this really nice Los Angeles Times article called "A beginner's guide to taco trucks". I know taco trucks but I never knew the actual "rules" and "names" of them, so it was honestly awesome learning it like this. If you ever see a taco truck, give it a go. Horchata and radishes are my favorites, and I like crunchy tacos the best. I have tried a lengua burrito once that my mom gave me as leftovers, but I haven't had the chance to see any other taco trucks offer them for me to try it again. There's always going to be dishes that are weird to you and that's alright since it isn't your culture, but you should just be respectful, or else you're degrading someone's culture and we don't want that. Also don't worry vegetarians and vegans (strict vegetarians who don't eat egg or dairy), people who eat Halal (Muslim preparation of meat) or Kosher (Jewish preparation of meat), I will be sure to introduce your food into this book as well.

I want to give a shoutout to marjic for taking the time to answer my questions about Kenyan-Luo culture, language, and cuisine. I found her through a Wattpad book "Writing POC 101", and saw her chapter on Kenyan characters. Thank you so much for all of the help and I hope to try some Kenyan cuisine when I find the chance. Here's also a picture of the foods mentioned in this chapter:

Ok, my favorite part had to be when Declan's parents tried to advertise him to Naomi. You can't top that.

I had to take a break after writing the "Carol" conversation. When I write "bullying" scenes I have to turn off my empathy and attempt to understand the thinking behind bullies. For this chapter, I had to research how to be racist and examples of racism and how they justify themselves. It's tough writing scenes like this, but I know they're important to learn from. So, I hope you learned more about systemic racism and racial gaslighting. I would like to ask you to comment if you have ever heard stories or experienced them as well as comment on it- but you don't have to because it might be draining.

And don't worry, we'll learn more about things like racism, homophobia, transphobia- you know, the fun things. As uncomfortable as these topics are, it's important for us to still be able to learn them. For my books, I want you to be able to learn something new rather than "at least they're reading something". In the end, Broken Glasses is a book I wish I was able to read when I was younger so I can learn more about stuff that had happened.

Oh and also the discussion about religion. I want to give a shoutout to Lynch_rocks413 who I had a great time talking about religion although we have different religions. I love video games and watched The Last of Us 2 gameplay where I got the idea for Declan to talk about that character. Religion is a very heavy topic to talk about as well, but I think it's important for us to know the actual "humanity" of it that in the end, it's a personal matter that is often politicized when it shouldn't have to be. I'm Roman Catholic but I have friends are Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, and even Atheist, all who vary in being faithful or relaxed.

And I want to tell you something about myself in the chance you're also contemplating about what your religion means to you (if you have one). Like Naomi, I'm a Lapsed Catholic/non-religious so I don't go to church anymore but I still believe in God and pray at times. When I started my first year at university, I was in a program and a bunch of students went to church. I remember one Sunday I was wondering where everyone was and someone told me they went to church. I felt guilty and then the next week when they were discussing what church session to go to, I went with them. It was actually kind of nice being able to go to church with friends rather than your family. But in the end, I stopped going because I was going there out of guilt and not for myself. I think it's more important that by telling you this anecdote, you'll understand that your religion is your personal matter and how you choose to practice it is your choice in the end whether you follow it by the book, are relaxed with it, or stopped altogether.

And so I present to you that your religion is yours alone regardless of how and why you believe in it and you should be able to practice it however you want without any guilt or fear because that's your human right. I would have liked to have known this when I was younger, but I'm glad I know this now.

We'll have other introductions/conversations about religion, different types of religion, and different ways a religion can be practiced later in the book. I only want to be respectful and neutral when showcasing them.

[I feel this should be addressed although you're all smart enough to know this. I'm not telling you how to practice your religion. Who in their right mind would ever? I'm talking specifically to individuals like me who are currently contemplating what their religions means to them, just as I had. You can practice it how you were taught, but you can also practice it how it best makes you comfortable. This is me speaking as a lapsed Roman Catholic to which you have no obligation to take this advice if you don't want it. Just know that the mentality exists for some people not all and that I am comforted having learned it.]

Fun fact: Declan actually became more inspired by two people I know. The first is this guy I met when I did my Confirmation (a Catholic thing) when I was in high school. He's a musician and played the piano for the church, and he liked me but he was too nice for me so we didn't date. It's actually kind of funny because my classmates told me that he was the "angel" while I was the "devil" because I always came to class late and forgot the homework. Anyway, the other person is one of my friends I met in university and it was insane how similar he was to Declan. He plays soccer, he's a musician (doesn't sing though), and he's pretty religious too. When we study together, he would often take breaks and play music while I keep studying. And we have played some soccer together a bit as well as talked about religion.

So here's an update of Declan's character profile! I had actually planned from the beginning of this update. Haha.

____________________

Name: Declan Lynch / Rafael Navarro-Álvarez

Birthday: June 7

Height: 5'10" (178 cm)

Personality: ISFP-T

Ethnicity/Biological Parents: Venezuelan (Mother, Dayana) / Cuban (Father, Rafael)

Adoptive Parents: Kenyan-American, Luo (Mother, Margaret Atieno) / Black-American (Father, Darius)

Appearance: Messy medium length taper hairstyle brownish-black hair, Dark brown eyes, Almond skin tone, Has a chipped left eyebrow from a faded scar

Wardrobe: (Casual or Smart Street-Style) Leather jacket over a hoodie/Bomber jacket over plain shirt, Dark jeans/tapered sweatpants/joggers pants, Timberlands or leather sneakers

Likes: Strawberries, Red, Sports, Music

Dislikes: EDM, Swimming, Music Theory

Facts:

- Although he requested his parents to not use their positions and connections to give him an advantage in succeeding in the music industry, he still accepted their offer to teach him about music itself. His mother is his vocal coach and taught him several classical instruments such as the violin, cello, flute, and piano. His father taught him how to play the guitar, bass, saxophone, and drums as well as how to use music production software and understand how the music industry works, especially obstacles new artists minorities may face to not be taken advantage of.

- When he attended the first session of the church he usually goes to, he volunteered to substitute when the usual piano player got sick. Although he attends church every so often, he gets invited to play the piano when they need someone and would give pointers for the choir, but doesn't actively sing.

- Jordan once dared Declan into juggling a soccer ball while he sang Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, but didn't know that Jordan was videotaping him. We don't know why Jordan hasn't shared the video with anyone, but we know Declan is really good at threatening people.

____________________

Anywho, here are some end of the chapter bloopers and outtakes:

-

Let me show you the power of the comma:

It's a pretty tall truck and you're a pretty short person

It's a pretty, tall truck and you're a pretty, short person.

I was tempted to write that just to mess with Decomi readers

-

(Declan at home watching Dora the Discoverer with his sister, Delilah.)

Dora on TV: Do you know where the statue is?

Declan: (Sighs) This is so dumb.

Delilah: (Pointing) There! There!

Declan: (Pats her head) Good job, Delilah.

(Later...)

Dora on TV: Do you know where the boat is?

Declan: (Exclaiming) It's right there! Dios mio! Behind you! Oh my God! Are you blind? Turn around!

-

(At Declan's church)

Declan: (Clears throat) Hey, I'm here to fill in for the other guy to play the piano.

Church Music Director: (Sighs in relief) You're right on time, Declan. Thank you again for- (Turns around and does a doubletake when he sees the bruises and scrapes on Declan's face) Good heavens, what happened to your face?

Declan: Now you know why I didn't want to attend today.

Church Music Director: R-Right well, we'll just have you face away from the pews so everyone won't be distracted during the songs.

Declan: (Is about to turn off his phone when sees a text from Naomi. As he replies, he thinks) Maybe I can grab lunch with her.

-

(Declan glances up at Naomi as she's studying.)

Declan: (Thinking) Maybe I can make her a playlist of songs she can listen to while she's studying.

-

[Naomi singing Dizney songs offkey with her cousins, badly dancing, then throwing pillows at their other cousins who tried to videotape the entire mess.]

-

(Naomi and Jordan showing each other their anime watch lists.)

Naomi: (Reading off Jordan's phone) Yeah, I've heard of the anime but haven't watched it yet. What about this one?

Jordan: (Looks at her phone screen) Yeah I have. I really liked the art style and soundtrack. I hope they have a second season.

Naomi: Wait. We're just supposed to look at anime, right? Why did you put Steven Universe? I love that show.

Jordan: Oh, I think I just put both anime and animation on this list. (Stops) Wait you love that show too?

(The two of them stare at each other.)

Naomi: If you're evil and you're on the rise...

Jordan: You can count on the four of us taking you down.

Naomi: 'Cause we're good and evil never beats us

Jordan: We'll win the fight and then go out for pizzas

Jordan and Naomi: We are the Crystal Gems. We'll always save the day.

Naomi: And if you think we can't.

Jordan: We'll always find a way!

Naomi: That's why the people of this world believe in-

Jordan: Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl-

Jordan and Naomi: and Steven! (They high five)

-

[Jordan checking his phone while in the laundromat]

Jordan: (Does a doubletake) They're together watching what?!

Jordan: (Typing on his phone and reading his text out loud) You better wait for me-

Jordan's Mom: Jordan! You better fold those shirts correctly.

Jordan: (Sighs) Oui, maman.

-

[Bennett sitting at the dining table as people talk around him. It looked like an important dinner party with everyone well dressed and expensive-looking food on the table. He swirls the water in his glass absentmindedly.]

Bennett: (Thinking) I wonder what the others are doing right now.

----

Ciao.

Rubix