Perpetual Revolutions

It was the day of the county fair. She was ten. It was September. Her mother had been dead for one month and twenty days. And it was hot. 

The last hot day before the winds cooled and the leaves changed. The smell of fall was already in the air, blending together with the smells of funnel cakes and corn dogs and cow shit. The sounds of laughs and screams blurred together with the vibrant colors of the surrounding rides and fair games, beyond the rim of a spinning teacup.

She wasn’t sure if it was she or Trev who kept the teacup spinning after the ride was over, even after the ride operator called apathetically to “Please exit the teacup”, so that he tsked, shaking his head, and started up the ride again. And again. And again.

They worked their hands around the spinning wheel without pause, each blaming the other for keeping it spinning while their own hands were simply following along, as your fingers might follow along the little triangular block as it seemingly slid itself over the letters of a Ouija board. Perhaps it was a combination of mutually involuntary muscle exertions that kept the teacup spinning. Perhaps it was a ghost.

Little Nicky’s voice whined from beside her, smelling of cotton candy, “Can we do something else, Natty? I’m sick of this ride.”

“Who invited you, anyway?”

Their heads spun as fast as the teacup, their arms aching, their stomachs churning and their eyes burning into each other’s from across the spinning wheel. Lights and shadows passed over Trev’s determined face, illuminating the fresh bruises on his left cheek, deepening his contours, giving his young face flashes of something ghoulish, and sinister.

“Please Natty,” Nick whined, a hint of fear in his tone. “Let’s go!”

“As soon as he, ‘lets go’.”

Round and round and round they went, faster and faster, the sounds and colors of the fair blurring together beyond the realm of their teacup, as if they were in their own alternate, spinning dimension.

“This isn’t even fun.”

“He’ll let go, soon.”

“Why can’t you just let go?”

“I can win this.”

“Natty, you’re bleeding.”

Blood drifted from her nose, floating behind her in ribbons, leaving a twisted, spiraling trail in their wake, glowing scarlet beneath the ride’s flashing lights. The pressure of their accelerated revolutions squeezed against her stomach, compressing her lungs, crushing her ribcage.

“Natty the ride’s breaking!”

“I can win this!”

“It’s all breaking, Natty, you gotta get off!”

“YOU GET OFF!” She turned to whack him, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Nicky?” she called nervously, still working her hands around the spinning wheel. Her long ponytail whipped around her as she tried to scan the blurring fairgrounds for her little brother. “NICOLAS? Oh my God, Trevor, where’s Nick!”

“We ditched him, remember? He wouldn’t quit whining, it’s always more fun when it’s just you and me.”

“Oh crap! We gotta find him! Dad’s gonna kill me!” 

“That mean you give up?”

“What? No–!”

She turned back to face Trev, only to find his seat vacant. A snicker came from above and her gaze rose to find his giant, grinning face, spinning in the sky above, his fingertips striking against the outside of the teacup over and over again to keep it spinning. 

“Ha!” she yelled, pointing up at him. “Ya lose, dicksneeze!”

His grin widened. “Do not.”

“Do so! You let go!”

“No I didn’t.” His fingertips smacked around the teacup, bringing the spinning to a jerking halt and she slammed forward onto the spinning wheel with an, “Umph!”

“Game over, Natty,” he smirked.

“Nuh uh!” she yelled, slapping her hands atop the spinning wheel. “I haven’t let go, either!”

“Not yet…” His face grew larger as the teacup rose towards it. “But you’re gonna.”

“That’s cheating, Trevor!”

“Yeah? So?” His mouth opened wide and she grabbed tightly to the spinning wheel as the teacup tilted upside down towards it. She dangled from her hands over his gaping maw and he snickered, wiggling the teacup. “Let go, stupid ass.” 

“Get bent, Trevor!” she yelled, struggling to keep her grasp on the violently jolting teacup as his other hand whacked lightly against its side to knock her loose. “You cheated! You lose!”

He laughed. “If you say so.” And with one final whack she lost her grip and fell from the teacup, plummeting down his gullet, plummeting down, down, down.

And when she jerked awake with a squeal, grasping her chest, she was still plummeting, toppling over the ledge of a massive shoulder and careening down a steep, fleshy cliffside towards a huge open laptop in the valley below, before a hand appeared beneath her and she smacked into it with another squeal.

She lay sprawled on her back and gasping in the center of the palm, gaping up at a set of huge green eyes that grew even larger as she rose towards them. “You good?” 

She panted in confusion for another moment before the memory of the previous day crashed over her. “Agggh,” she wailed, smacking her arm over her face. “You’re still huge.”

Trev snickered lightly, stroking his finger over her head. “Well good morning to you, too, my cuddly little mouse.”

“Get off,” she snarled, swatting his finger away. She pushed herself to a sitting position in his palm, peering groggily around to get her bearings. He was sitting upright against the pillows, his computer open in his lap. The clock in the top right corner of the screen read 8:17 A.M. “Wow,” she grumbled dryly. “You let me sleep in.” He was always obnoxiously chipper in the mornings, bouncing her awake at the crack of dawn to hang out with him, even on weekends.

“Well, okay,” he said. “I did actually try to wake you an hour ago but you snuggled up with my finger and it might’ve been the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life so I let you keep sleeping a bit longer. Figured I’d get a jump on the shit ton of makeup work I have from skipping school yesterday.” He closed his laptop and reached over to set it on the desk beside the bed. “How’d ya sleep?” he asked brightly.

“Not great,” she sneered, mimicking his bright tone. “You decided to use me as a pillow at one point.”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned. “For being so little you’re surprisingly comfy. But I didn’t squish you, now did I?” 

“You didn’t crush me,” she amended. “You squished me all fucking night.”

“And how was that?”

“Hot.”

“Ooh, okay.”

“Not like that, perv. I mean your body is like a giant, sweating, flaming boa constrictor of constant movement and funny noises.”

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. Well I slept great. Only…” he lifted her closer to his face, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I could have sworn I woke up at some point to find a little mouse girl crawling around on my arm. You weren’t plotting another getaway, now were you?”

She smiled coldly. “Must’ve been a dream.”

He smiled back. “I assumed as much; you’re a good girl, you stay when told. And you certainly know better than to break a promise to me. Do I take this to mean you’ve accepted that you’re my toy, now?”

Her smile withered into a scowl.

“It’s perfectly fine if you haven’t,” he added. “I don’t have any plans today, I can spend the whole day playing with you. I’ll get you to admit it at some point.”

“What’s up your butt?” she grumbled. “You’re coming in hot this morning.”

“Nothing, I’m in a great mood. I’m certainly not irritated that a certain little mouse girl tried to break her promise to me, and then lied about it, even though I was kind hearted enough to let it slide because she looked so cute and cuddly and my desire to snuggle her overshadowed my desire to punish her. But, really, I’m not mad. I did warn you that I’d catch you if you tried to escape. You know why?”

“You’re an obnoxiously light sleeper?”

He smiled. “You can’t get away from me,” he said, poking her in the nose with the tip of his giant finger. “Not only because I’m astronomically bigger than you, and faster than you, and stronger than you, but also because it seems that fate has given me an uncanny intuition for when you’re trying to escape, strong enough to pull me from sleep, at the exact moment you’re about to make a run for it. It’s like you’re bound to me by some cosmic leash, trapped in my gravitational pull, stuck to me like an adorable little refrigerator magnet. If you’re going to go anywhere, it will be because I go there and you go where I go. That’s not to say I’ll never let you go home, but it will be because I brought you there, not because you escaped. In the meantime, stop trying to run from me. It irks me. It’s a big scary world out there for a little mouse girl, and I’d hate for you to have to keep learning that the hard way. Got it?”

She glared.

He tucked his finger under her chin, raising her face. “Got it?”

“You know, Trev,” she said cooly. “You’re starting to sound more and more like your dad.”

He sneered. “Believe me. I’m not. If I was, you would not be talking to me like that right now, because you would not be talking, period.”

“Ooh, cryptic.”

“Mhm… You know, Nat, I get the feeling you’re tryna grind my gears right now. You’re gonna wanna cut that shit out real quick, I don’t appreciate my toys tryna play with me.”

“Noted,” she smiled, shooting him a thumbs up. He smiled back, returning the thumbs up, then whacked his thumb against her forehead, knocking her to her back and she slapped her palms to her forehead with a groan.

“Mhm, remember that next time you give me lip.” He pivoted around to rise to his feet, tossing her aside. She plummeted into the crumpled comforter, then rolled down the slope to land on his bed in a sprawl while he stalked across the room to his dresser, pulling open the middle drawer. He rummaged through his tee-shirts, mumbling, “I’ma need to get some more shirts with pockets.”

Natalie pushed herself to a seated position, grumbling, “Or maybe you could just–”

“I can’t hear you over there,” he said, pulling a pocketless tee-shirt over his head. 

“I SAID, ‘OR MAYBE–!’” 

“Don’t gotta yell,” he said, opening the bottom drawer. “No response necessary; if I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.” He pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, then grabbed a pair of socks from the top drawer and walked back over to sit down beside her, his weight sinking into the mattress so that she had to quickly take hold of the fitted sheet to avoid tumbling into the crevice beneath his thigh. As he pulled on one of his socks, he grumbled, “What?”

“What?” she grumbled back.

“What!” he snapped, throwing up a hand and she hunched her shoulders. “What were you tryna say?”

She blinked, lowering her head, her heart picking up speed. He was clearly in a testy mood and she felt it wise to avoid further confrontation. “Nothing…”

Her reserved response did nothing to improve his irritation, however, as he yanked on his other sock, grumbling, “Fine, whatever.” He stomped his foot to the ground with a huff, leaning forward with his arms across his thighs. 

Natalie looked nervously up at him, contemplating whether she should apologize for basically everything she'd said since she’d woken up. She was particularly prickly in the mornings, while he was typically bubbly and boisterous and had the emotional wherewithal to recognize when she was in a sour mood and found it thoroughly entertaining to push her buttons. But that was the old Trev. This new, evil Trev was spiteful and unpredictable. She should apologize. She took a deep breath and called, “I’m sorry, Trevor.”

He didn’t respond right away, and she couldn’t see his expression from this angle, his gaze on the floor between his feet. Then he grumbled, “For what.”

“F-for, um,” she stammered. “For comparing you to your dad? It wasn’t cool.”

He turned his head, his eyes slowly falling to her and she recoiled under his sinister gaze. He glared at her for a moment before his face cracked into a grin. “Well aren’t you just the fucking sweetest.” And then his hand swept over to scoop her up, lifting her rabidly up his torso and dumping her onto his shoulder.

She stumbled for balance on her hands and knees on the slanting platform, looking nervously up at the side of his face. “Wh-what’re you–”

He leaned forward slightly and she squealed and latched onto the collar of his tee-shirt as he rose to his feet.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clawing her nails into the fabric of his tee-shirt, trying not to look down at the hard ground, a hundred feet below, and whined, “Aggh, Trevor I don’t like this I don’t like this I don’t–!”

“Well you better hold on tight, then,” he said as he turned around, leaning over to make his bed and she immediately toppled over the ledge of his shoulder with a squeal, hanging onto his shirt collar as she dangled from her hands over the bed, far below. He snickered, “Awe no, Nat, what happened? I told you to hold on tight!” He let her hang there, jostling her around as he continued making his bed, occasionally smacking against his collar bone. 

When he was done he stood up straight, standing still for a moment to allow her to climb back up onto his shoulder. “Come on,” he said in mock encouragement, poking her in the back. “Thought you were a good climb-er.”

She clenched her teeth, groaning as she attempted to pull herself up, kicking against his tee-shirt for leverage, but her arms were weak and shaky from lack of food and she could not lift herself.

He sighed. “You're gonna have to get better at this, Nat, I can’t do everything for you.” His palm pressed up beneath her feet to give her a boost, plopping her back up onto his shoulder and he immediately took off walking across his room, without giving her a chance to secure herself. With every step he took the platform of his shoulder rapidly rose up and forward, then crashed back down with a jolting tremor, and she clutched desperately to his collarbone to steady herself.

He walked into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, a gust of freezing wind blasting into her. She grasped to him as he leaned forward to peer around the fridge.

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin. “What do I want for breakfast…?” He took his time rummaging around the fridge, every movement of his arm sending Natalie lurching and pivoting and swinging around on his shoulder. He lifted the milk jug mumbling, “Cereal?” then shook his head and set it back down, “Nooo, I’m not in the mood for cereal.” He opened the freezer with an even colder blast of air, pulling out a box of Eggo Waffles. “Waffles?”

“SURE!” she screamed from his shoulder, attempting to wrap herself in his tee-shirt to shield her exposed skin from the arctic winds of the freezer. “WAFFLES! SOUNDS GOOD!”

“Mmmm,” he said, swaying his head in contemplation. “Nah, I don’t feel like waffles.”

“Can you put me down, please?” she whined loudly.

“Certainly. Once you concede to being my toy.”

She groaned, bonking her spinning head against his shoulder. “Fuck you, Trevor.” 

“Awe,” he laughed, patting her head. “Fuck you, too, Natalie.”

Finally he settled on what was likely the most complicated breakfast he could think of; eggs and bacon with a side of hash browns. He hummed cheerfully to himself as he collected the ingredients, then set to work grating the potato, working his arm up and down and up and down while Natalie bounced and smacked against his shoulder repeatedly, growing increasingly nauseous.

He kept her on his shoulder the whole time he puttered around the kitchen, preparing his breakfast. He was just about to crack an egg into the skillet with the frying bacon when there came a sudden loud buzzing from below. He set the egg on the counter to pull his phone from the pocket of his athletic shorts and went rigid. He stood still for a moment and Natalie took the opportunity to collapse onto his shoulder, relaxing her arms and panting to catch her breath. 

His hand rose up and clawed around her, plucking her from his shoulder and setting her gently on the counter by the egg. She scowled suspiciously up at him but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes on his buzzing phone, his brows furrowed. Then he swiped his finger across the screen and stuck it to his ear. His voice was quiet and gloomy as he muttered, “Hola Mami…”

Natalie’s scowl deepened as she heard the voice of Elena Dalton (or whatever her last name was these days) rabble cheerfully from the phone’s receiver. She’d only spoken to Elena a handful of times since she took off; and she’d been very cold towards her, never having forgiven her for up and abandoning Trev.

“Si, todo bien,” he muttered, picking up the spatula from the counter to flip the frying bacon, without a glance in Natalie’s direction. “Y tu?” 

Trev went back to cooking as he talked to his mom. Natalie understood bits of his side of the conversation, but not much, as her understanding of Spanish was mostly derived from the teachings of Trev and Diego, and therefore mostly consisted of insults and swear words. He talked about school, and his new art project, and what kinds of summer jobs he had started applying for. Natalie’s brows furrowed at this last part. 

Every summer since they were twelve, they’d both worked for Frank’s lawn service company, ‘Lawn Demand’, along with Nick and Danno and Diego and half the boys from the neighborhood, everyone always grumbling about the long hours and criminally low wages, but reaping the benefits of getting ripped and tan and making eyes with the Northside girls laying out by their pools. But apparently Trev was planning to work elsewhere that summer. She supposed it made sense, given that they were now mortal enemies (and also she was tiny and in no condition to be operating heavy machinery). Still, she couldn’t help feeling rather gloomy at the realization that they might never work together again.

Trev groaned a couple of times, in a childish way he only ever did in Spanish, when speaking to his mom, and Natalie gathered that he was adamantly refusing to talk about her, Natalie, while his mom kept pressing for information. It seemed that she was aware of their breakup and was aggressively trying to offer unsolicited advice.

The conversation didn’t last long before his mom had to go. Natalie heard her voice say through the receiver, “Te amo mijo.”

“Y tu tambien mami,” Trev mumbled and hung up.

He stood there for a moment, staring at his phone, before he threw it down on the counter with a BANG! and Natalie let out a squeal, ducking down. She panted for breath, hunched up with her arms over her head. She could hear Trev breathing heavily above, and through the cover of her arms she could see his giant hand before her, his fingers clasped tightly onto the edge of the countertop. She peeked up at him to see his face angled down, his free hand pressing into his forehead, staring at the phone. He dragged his hand down to cover his eyes, groaning under his breath, “Fuuuck.” He spun the burners of the stove to turn off the flames, then stalked across the kitchen. Without turning to look back at her, he grumbled, “Stay right there.”

Natalie gaped after him, prickling with dread as he stormed into his bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. She listened intently, but couldn’t hear any noise coming from his bedroom and had no way of knowing what he was doing in there. She didn’t wait to find out. He was clearly upset by the conversation with his mom and was likely plotting some horrific torture to take it out on her. She scrambled over to the edge of the counter, peering over the ledge at the hardwood floor, far below. She’d never survive a fall from this height, and even if she did, she’d be too injured to make a run for it. She looked desperately around at the window over the kitchen counter. She might be able to climb up the tiled wall to get to it, but she’d never get it open. Then her eyes fell onto Trev’s phone, laying on the counter in the distance. 

She clambered to her feet and took off sprinting towards it, her ears alert for any movement from Trev’s bedroom behind her. When she reached the phone, she threw herself onto its screen, tapping madly against it to bring it to life, but it seemed her fingertips were too small for it to read. But there might be another way. When Trev got this phone after his old one had been stolen, he’d been too annoyed to bother setting up any of its settings. As a joke, Natalie had set up a bunch of the settings herself and Trev, finding this funny, never changed them back, so that he was always having to manually type in his password to unlock his phone unless she was around to use her face for facial recognition, her finger for fingerprint ID, or her voice for voice command.

She whispered, “Hey Siri…”

There was no response. She grimaced, looking out at the hallway, wondering if he’d finally changed his phone’s settings after their breakup or if her voice was just too quiet to recognize. She leaned towards the microphone and said, louder, “Hey Siri.”

Nothing. 

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and called, “Hey Siri!”

The phone’s screen lit up, a little circle popping up at the bottom of the screen, filled with little revolving waves of colors and Siri’s voice said, “Mhm?”

Natalie drew in breath, adrenaline rushing through her, and immediately burst out, “Call Frank!”

After a brief pause, Siri’s voice said, “I don’t see a 'Frank' in your contacts. Who would you like to call?”

She grimaced. She kept her eyes on the hallway to his bedroom as she tried again, “Call 'The Tank'.”

A list of businesses containing the word 'Tank' popped up as Siri started rambling loudly about the different options and Natalie jolted and snarled, “No! Stop! Shut up!” 

The phone finally went quiet again and Natalie sucked in breath, closing her eyes, cursing the entire Southside for everyone’s annoying ass habit of bestowing stupid nicknames on each other. Through clenched teeth she snarled, “Hey Siri?”

“Mhm?”

“Call Frank,” she spat. “The Tank.”

“Calling 'Frank the Tank', mobile,” said Siri, and the phone darkened to the call screen and Natalie’s heart lit up, then sputtered immediately, as booming footsteps came from Trev’s bedroom. 

The phone rang as she leapt off of it, darting behind the nearby carton of eggs. It rang again as she ducked down, peering through one of the triangular archways beneath it, down the hallway as Trev appeared from his bedroom door. His eyes went immediately to the spot where he’d left her and he huffed, rolling his eyes and called out, “You serious, Nat?” 

The phone rang again as he stalked into the kitchen, his booming footsteps rattling the countertop. “You really wanna play this game?” he hollered as he searched around the countertops, lifting canisters to check behind them, unaware that his phone was in the process of making a call.

Pick up, Dad, she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at the phone, for it was just now occurring to her that it wasn’t even nine A.M. on a Saturday, and he was probably sleeping. Pick up the fucking phone.

The egg cartoon wrenched upwards and her eyes shot up to Trev’s as he scowled down at her, throwing his hand up. “What was the fucking point of that! God you suck at hide and–”

The phone rang again and his gaze shot to it, his brows furrowing, just as the call was finally picked up, not by Frank, but by Nick. “What up, bro?” his sleepy voice groaned through the receiver.

“NICKYYYYY!” Natalie screamed at the same moment the egg carton dropped to the countertop and Trev’s hand swatted towards her while he yelled over her, “WHAT UP BRO!”

She dove to the countertop, rolling out from under his hand, still screaming at the top of her lungs while Trev tried to cover up her screams, yelling, “ONE SEC, MAN, YOU’RE ON BLUETOOTH!”

His hand smacked down on top of her, knocking the wind from her and flattening her to the countertop while his other hand wrenched the phone up to his ear and he said casually, “Hey, yeah, um, whaddup?”

“Um,” Nick grumbled. “Nothin’ man, you good?”

“Yeah, man, I was just calling to see if, um,” Trev squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hand ever harder against Natalie to smother her desperate screams, struggling to come up with any kind of reason to have called this early on a Saturday morning. Only one thing came to mind. “You heard from Nat?”

Nick was quiet for a moment before he mumbled, “No, not yet.”

Before Trev could respond, another voice grumbled incoherently in the background and Nick responded, “It’s Trev.” 

There was a shuffling sound as the phone was passed around and Frank’s voice grumbled sleepily, “Heyya, kiddo. What’s up?”

Natalie went slack against the countertop at the sound of her Dad’s voice, knowing he was just there, but unaware of her presence in the apartment next door. 

“Yeah, hey,” said Trev stiffly. “Sorry to bother you, just looking for Nat.”

“Ah-ha,” Frank chuckled darkly. “Welcome to my life, kid. Guess I can rule out your place for once.”

“Ah-ha,” Trev grunted, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, okay, thanks anyway, talk to you later.” He hung up before Frank could respond. He lifted his hand from Natalie and she peered up at him. But he wasn’t looking at her, his attention on his phone as he clicked around, disabling voice command.

She stared up at him, her face blank, while on the inside her heart was performing a drum solo against her ribcage. Now was not the time to engage. She needed to stay calm. It was just Trevor, even if he was giant, and she knew him better than anyone. Diffuse. Make light of it. Banter. Make a joke, make him laugh. Just say something. Oh fuck, just say anything!

“I–”

He stalked off without a word. He flipped the burners back on and went back to preparing breakfast. Her eyes followed him anxiously as he stalked around the kitchen, blank-faced and tight-jawed. 

Fuck. He was mad. Like, really mad. Like, step-on-you mad. 

He grabbed the egg from the counter and cracked it into the same frying pan as the bacon, then grabbed another from the cartoon beside her, his gaze never falling to her.

Then again, maybe she was overreacting. Maybe he recognized his own anger and was simply avoiding confrontation while he calmed himself down.

He let the eggs cook while he set a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, then turned his attention back to the sizzling pan of eggs and bacon. She sat quietly the whole time he finished cooking his breakfast and fixed his plate with the eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. Then he smacked his plate down onto the counter beside her and she hunched her shoulders and looked nervously up at him, but he still wasn’t looking at her. He grabbed the salt grinder from behind her and gave it a couple of aggressive spins over his eggs and hash browns.

“Trevor?” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Are you mad?”

He didn’t respond, nor show any indication of having heard as he reached over her head with the salt to replace it on the counter, then grabbed the pepper grinder.

“Oh-kay,” she said as he peppered his plate. “You’re mad. Got it.” He reached over her to set it back and Natalie called, “Look, I was only–”

His arm came barreling back towards her, smacking into her and swiping her onto his breakfast plate.