They were hanging out now. She couldn’t believe that only days after meeting this guy at that party, she was already hanging out with people of the highest social caliber in school. Mark was practically a school celebrity, with a substantial following on Instagram to make him a minor e-celeb. Fluorite held a high-up position in the student government, its chief communicator with the PTA, and her boyfriend Ethan Cowell was literally the captain of the school football team. Son had seen many American high school movies before, she just never expected to be within one of them. 

Gray smoke rose through the icy green pipe, the bluish liquid at the bottom bubbled in delight. Whelk’s inhalation was decisive and resolute, and so was the cough that followed, “God fuck!” She shouted amidst the coughing fit, “God… God… Fuck! Fuck! That’s… Cough Cough! Good shit! Good shit! Where’d you get this… Holy moly I’m already feeling it…” 

“You probably should take a break from those.” Said Joy. “That dab is no joke. Not some regulated dispensary stuff. It will kill you. You want a hit?” He offered Son, who politely declined, “Sobriety held dear. I respect that. Most straight-edge people are insufferable asshats but you are alright.”

“I have bad lungs.” Son simply said.   

“Goddamn it! That one was… too much!” Whelk roared out of her throat, “Fuck! Joy grab me some water… fuck me that’s a lot…” 

Whelk and Joy were no celebrity, yet they were childhood friends with Mark since birth, their positions within the friend group were incredibly solid and would remain so in the foreseeable future. Benefiting from Mark’s vast social capital, the two hopped around school like two zany vagabonds, utterly free of the worries peers of their kind -- a black girl and a femboy -- would face in their day-to-day lives; who would dare to pick on them and face the wrath of the socialites? 

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“How long have you been to this school?” Asked Lehmann. 

“A month and a half.” Answered Son. 

“Do you have any other associates outside of Mark’s friend group? Confidants, allies, anybody we could rely on when cooperation is needed?”

“None. I am too new. I met Mark the second week I was here,” Son thought for a moment, “Maybe one. Blue Copperfield. She was my classmate.”

“Maybe?” Lehmann gave a bemused snigger, “Damn, you really are in turmoil.” 

“That’s probably the reason why I’m on the table now. Why I'm the one they go after for Mark’s disappearance… I think some of the people on the top knew why he went missing, they might even know where he is…” As Son went on to explain her reasoning, she was progressively distracted by the other two persons in the room: a dark-skinned girl who looked exotically ethnic for this overwhelmingly white state sitting behind the only desk in the room, half-lit by the table lamp, writing something on a stack of papers with ferocious concentration; and a brown-skinned boy sitting by the windowsill, his angular face and half-worried expression lit blue by the laptop before him.

“You are speaking to me, Ms. Syun.” Lehmann drew her attention back with a smile. 

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Joy was really amicable. The boy fancied himself a “gender revolutionary,” though, in Son’s unsophisticated eyes, the intricate fashion choices and unorthodox mannerism essentially boiled down to a stereotypical white femboy appropriating early 2000s Goth aesthetic; at least it made him incredibly easy to recognize when he was dressed up. Whelk, on the other hand, was significantly less approachable. Since her introduction to the group, Whelk hadn’t even made a voluntary eye contact with her, let alone a conversation. 

“Hey, Fluorite is dropping by.” A boy popped his head through the foliage. Bulging eyeballs, retracted jawline, this should be Chris, another one of Mark’s associates, though this one was more so like a lackey than a friend. It was a Friday night, the meadow next to the Eastern classroom building cluster was always a hotly contested hang-out spot for the thirsting lovebirds and exclusionary cliques after sunset, and the group got themselves a cozy spot behind the treelines. “She said you had something of hers, Mark.”    

“Yeah, her notebook. I forgot I still had it.” Mark replied. 

“She also said something along the lines of you running for a position in the government and would be glad to help out? Is that true?” 

“You are doing WHAT?” Whelk snapped out of her cannabis-induced daze, “Get the fuck outta here! Are you running out of money, Mark? Spent them all on child p********** and crack cocaine, did ya? Your uncle is the police chief for crying out loud and you are about to whore yourself away to do, what, play pretend democracy?” 

“No, Whelk, I’m not running out of money. I’m running out of things to do and I think I could really do some good for the school. Get us some benefits.” Mark then turned to Son, “Forgive us, Whelk’s sense of humor is… an acquired taste. For the record, we do not spend money on child p********** and crack cocaine.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause we get them for free!” Whelk laughed uproariously, and the others cackled with her. Son let out some noise to indicate she was in on the joke.

A blondie showed up; Son did not doubt that it was Fluorite because although Fluorite’s attire indicated very little of her identity, the fact that Son’s stomach was churning in arousal was already enough of a sign. Fluorite came with a few friends with whom she share a few discreet words before parting, to which Whelk commented: “Look at them goons. You think the people working in the government really believe in the shit they say? The whole bullcrap about preparing the next generation for the future of this country’s democracy and whatnot…”

“Ugh, no,” Joy replied. “The only reason the student government exists in its current form is that the state governor loosened its child labor law years back, so the school can pay students dirt to do administrative work for them… also, please never ever use the word ‘goon’ again, it invokes memories of terror, and a cave…”

“Fluorite!” Mark greeted the newly entered, “Haven’t seen you since the party. Busy lately?” 

“Like hell.” Fluorite replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “I used to cheer at the thought of weekends but now all there is for me on a Sunday afternoon is a bunch of paperwork due next week for the PTA justifying our budget plan this quarter… God! I could use a drink.” She looked around and gave a cordial nod to other members of the group. 

Chris greeted her with sycophantic passion, Joy greeted her with genuine pleasantry; Whelk greeted her with general disinterest. When she turned around and saw Son sitting in the corner, however, she tilted her head and gave her a toothful smile, “Hi, Son!” She said, almost gleefully.

“Hi… hi Fluorite.” Son mumbled. 

“Can I sit here?” Fluorite asked, pointing to the patch of dry grass next to Son. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Son answered, moving herself a little to make space. When Fluorite sat down, she became painfully aware of the fact that their thighs were touching; even between two layers of cloth, she could still feel the tenderness within. 

“Reefer?” Whelk offered Fluorite a joint. 

“Do you have rolling papers on you?” 

“What? My joints are not good enough for you, high and mighty?”

“No.” Facing outward provocation, Fluorite returned a graceful smile, “I’m just used to rolling one for my own.” 

In swift and lily motion, she cut out a portion of the rolling paper and put a heaping spoonful of hemp onto its middle, all with a certain kind of concentrated precision Son could only imagine coming from a renowned architect drawing on a blueprint. Perplexingly she held the joint between her middle and index finger. Mark lit it up for her, and two ruby lips clamped tight shut, there rose a puff of green smoke, obscuring her face amidst the surrounding darkness of the wild. 

“Want a hit?” Fluorite asked. A head tilt, a subtle smile, her eyes curved into the new moon. Son nodded. Her finger brushed onto hers as she took over the marijuana joint.

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“Briefly describe the people in that circle of friends.” Said Lehmann, looking at her notepad, “Obviously we know who Mark Corrigan and Fluorite Tanning are, but say we want to look for someone like Chris, a nobody, we need more than just their name to go off on.”

“I don’t know much about them… I don’t even know what class they were in” Son said. 

“How about their looks? What do they look like?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Son said. 

“Well, Ms. Syun, we really do need your fullest cooperation for us to perform the function you need us to perform. I believe our advertisement on the forum has made that readily clear. Trust us more than you trust your lawyer, and we can save you from hiring a layer in the first place…” 

“That’s not it.” Son interrupted, “I physically can’t do that… I… I’m very bad with faces. Facial blindness.” 

“Really?” The boy sitting on the windowsill chimed in, “That’s interesting. What’s it like? I have heard about it before but I never met one actually living with it. Can you not see people’s faces or what’s going on? Do you see a blur? Can’t make out the nose from the eyes?” 

“It’s more like every face I come across looks like one I have never seen before,” Son answered. “I just focus on other aspects of their looks… hair color, how they dress, their voice, etc…” 

“Damn! How severe is it?”

“Very. I had a hard time recognizing my parents as a kid. They had to dress in the same clothes every day picking me up from school so I could tell them apart from other kids’ parents.”

“Conroy, that paper of yours is due tomorrow. I would like you to focus on that instead of whatever you are currently focusing on.” The black girl behind the desk said without even raising her head from her paper, and the boy immediately turned back to his computer. 

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