Secret Text: A Story for Roxy
Imma be out of the office for the next week or so. Please don’t let that stop you from commenting or talking amongst yourselves.
In the meantime, here is an oldie from the Secretsverse. For the three of you who know what that means, this takes place on the Jungle Planet—the first one, before it gets destroyed and reconstituted—when the narrator is still a teenager, before they get recruited by the Ministry of Secrets. (So c. 3080 something.) It focuses on Roxy, who is only briefly mentioned in the first novel but plays a major role in the sixth book. I wrote this as a kind of teaser for that novel.
Hope you enjoy it. Be back soon!
Xoxo,
Ya-girl T
Roxy deserved better. At the very least, she deserved a last name.
“We don’t know who your parents are, sweetheart.” That’s Ms. Granola. They didn’t have orphanages or foster care in the 32nd Century. They had proximal parents. So it’s a proxy for Roxy.
“Yeah, Grans, I fuckin’ get it.” That’s Roxy. She’s kind of cranky. “Still, I want a last name.”
“Well, sweetheart, they say you can’t have one until you’re eighteen,” Ms. Granola said.
“Who’s they?”
“Why the Ministry, dear. You are technically no one’s child.”
“You’re damn fuckin’ straight about that, old woman.”
Ms. Granola blinked slowly. “That’s why they call you a fragmented citizen, which I feel is a dreadful name, but they didn’t ask me.”
“A frag, you mean.”
“Don’t say that, dear. Have some self respect.”
“What difference does it make? ‘S what everyone else calls me at school. You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?”
“Of course not, dear.”
“I know what it fuckin’ means. I found out when I was, like, twelve.”
Ms. Granola nodded.
Roxy popped up from her chair and threw her arms back. “I mean, who the fuck are they to tell me what kind of person I am? It’s not my fault my parents fucking sucked ass and dumped me in a goddam trashcan.”
“No, dear. Of course it’s not.”
Roxy couldn’t stand Ms. Granola. She couldn’t handle being that close to someone who wouldn’t push her away.
“Fuck this. I’m outta here.” Roxy grabbed her leather and stormed for the door.
“When will you be home, dear?” Ms. Granola moved toward her with her head but didn’t get up.
“Who knows? Who fuckin’ cares?”
“Call me if you need something, sweetheart.”
“Yeah right.”
I knew Roxy through Wendy and Mickie. They were the toughest fuckers I knew. It wasn’t much for them to get into a fight with six people, make out for a few minutes, then go roller-skating. I loved being around them, but it’s hard on me. I wasn’t wired the same way.
“Suck it,” Wendy said. “Like a cock.”
Roxy looked at me, then at Mickie.
Mickie’s staring back with a slightly open mouth, her large white teeth like a shark.
I felt nervous, but I was certain I looked fine. I’d spent hours with a mirror to make sure I would look fine.
Roxy smiled and put her lips to it.
“Yeah,” Wendy said. “That’s right.”
Roxy started coughing and blew smoke all over us.
“Fuck, bitch, watch out!” Mickie said and shoved Roxy.
“Chill out, Mick,” Wendy said. “You’re next.”
“So gimme the fuckin’ thing,” Mickie said.
Roxy offered the pipe to Wendy.
Wendy took it in her small hand and calmly wound it over to Mickie, passing it through the dissipating smoke. “Batter up, chica.”
“Whatever,” Mickie said.
I looked at Roxy. She looked different today.
“Everything okay, Rocks?”
“Yeah. My life’s fuckin’ perfect. How about yours?”
Mine was terrible. I guess it maybe only felt terrible, but I didn’t know that then. Then I thought it was fucking awful.
“No,” I said. “Mine sucks.”
“Well there ya go,” Roxy said.
I felt the hard smack of Mickie’s hand on my breastbone.
“Ow, fuck, Mickie,” I said.
“Your hit, bitch.”
“All right, shit.” I took the pipe and put it to my lips.
“Suck it, baby.” Wendy smiled at me from behind her sunny veil of hair, eyes dark and happy.
I took in as much as I could before my lungs went aflame, and I blew it all out. My reflexes and memory were good enough, though, to blow it away from Mickie.
“That’s right,” Mickie said. “You bitches are gonna fucking kill my eyes with this shit.”
Wendy slid her eyes over to Mickie. She crawled her index finger.
Mickie looked nervous. “What?” she asked.
Wendy kept her finger curling.
“What?” Mickie asked it again and shifted her weight to the other leg.
“Come ‘ere,” Wendy said.
Mickie leaned in slowly, like she’s expecting to be hit.
Wendy kept her finger going. “C’mon.”
Mickie stopped just outside of arm’s reach.
“C’mon.” Wendy’s smile widened, and she let a little laugh.
I looked over at Roxy, who’s reclined against the bathroom wall, legs flopped open in big boots, mouth kind of slack.
Mickie got just within Wendy’s reach, then stopped.
“C’mon. Closer.”
Mickie looked at me, like, she wanted some reassurance.
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen or what to tell her.
Mickie put her eyes back on Wendy and leaned in further, her balance going a bit then, and she stumbled forward to regain her footing, almost falling into Wendy.
Wendy laughed and caught her by the shoulders. She put the summoning hand on Mickie’s jaw, traced the line of it, then put her lips to Mickie’s.
Mickie’s eyes were open, but Wendy closed hers.
Mickie looked at me, then at Roxy.
I looked over at Roxy. She had the same sort of blank stare she had before.
Wendy stopped kissing Mickie and eased her back to her feet. “That wasn’t so bad, huh?”
Mickie didn’t answer.
“Kiss me,” Roxy said.
We all turned and looked at Roxy.
“What?” she asked. “I’m horny. I live by myself with a fucking old lady.”
Wendy smiled and scooted over to Roxy.
“I’ll kiss you, baby.” Then she did. Like, for a while.
I started to feel uncomfortable watching.
I looked at Mickie, who was rubbing the outside of her arms and staring at the floor.
“You okay, Mick?” I asked her as quietly as I could.
She looked up at me but didn’t say anything.
“She’s fine,” Wendy said. She didn’t look at me. “Why don’t you two get busy, too.”
Mickie shrugged. “Whatever.”
She walked over to me and pressed me against the wall, hard. My head bounced off the tile.
“Ow,” I said.
“Shut up,” she said. “Just fuckin’ kiss me.”
I did just that. I wanted so much for Mickie to like me. I liked her so much it hurt.
But it’s not about me and Mickie. It’s about Roxy.
After a few minutes of kissing, the chimes rang out.
Wendy pulled her head back from Roxy. She stood up and brushed her knees. “Later ladies.”
Mickie turned away from me, but she let her left hand trail a little down my face and chest. I hoped it meant something.
Roxy slapped my calf.
“Yeah?”
“Help me up,” she said. “I’m high as fuck.”
Roxy and I had the next class together. It’s drama.
We wandered in past all the uppies who’re casting cutting looks at us.
“On time today, are we?” Ms. Southernman asked.
“Eat me,” Roxy said.
Ms. Southernman frowned. “Not very polite, Roxy.”
“Sorry,” I said. “She’s having a rough day.”
Roxy slapped my arm, but my leather took most of it. “Don’t tell people my fuckin’ business.”
“Sorry,” I said to Roxy.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” she said. “Let’s sit in the back.”
“Your seats are there and there.” Ms. Southernman pointed to the ones she meant.
Roxy stopped and stared at each one, then at Ms. Southernman.
I watched their eyes, as did the rest of the class.
“Yeah, fuck that,” Roxy said.
“Then you can leave,” Ms. Southernman said.
Roxy sighed and looked down.
I waited.
“Fine,” she said. “I hate this fuckin’ place anyhow.”
She turned around and shuffled out.
Ms. Southernman looked at me with a questioning gaze.
“She’s my friend,” I said.
“You can do better,” Ms. Southernman said.
I was certain Roxy wasn’t out of earshot either.
“Yeah, well … she’s my friend.”
Ms. Southernman folded her arms and waited for me to choose, I guess.
I followed Roxy out.
I heard it from the hallway: “You two may as well go straight to Administration.”
I looked at Roxy.
“Yeah, right,” she said. “Let’s got get a fuckin’ taco.”
So we did. About three each, actually.
Roxy let out a satisfied burp.
“Gotta smoke, chica?” she asked.
I did. They were forever smoking all my fucking cigs.
“Yeah.” I put the pack on the table.
Roxy snatched it up and ripped it open. She pulled two out, put them between her dark lips and lit them. Then she plucked one, flipped it, and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
She just raised her eyebrows and took a drag.
We sat there in silence for a moment, smoke swirling around us.
“I want a last name.”
“What?” I wasn’t sure what she meant. Her last name was Purchase.
“I know I have the one the Ministry gave me. I want my own. Like my real name, you know?”
I got it then. “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. I’d want that too.”
She slid her eyes over to me, then sat up and leaned on the table. “Hey, you’re a writer.”
I was. “Yeah. I mean, sometimes …”
She frowned. “Oh shut the fuck up. I’ve read like fifty of your fucking stories.”
It was more like three.
“So?” I asked.
“So write me one. And give me a last name. A cool one. One I’ll like.”
You know, no pressure. “Um …”
Roxy’s eyes spelled it out for me. I was the only one who was going to do this, or it wasn’t getting done. Maybe ever.
“All right,” I said.
Her eyes brightened from dark circles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
She smiled and leaned back in the booth, pulling her boot up to the seat. She took a drag and let the smoke out. “Thanks. You’re a pal, gal.”
I still wrote on paper mostly in those days. Paper’s fucking expensive and rare. I wrote in ink, too, because I didn’t believe in censoring yourself as you write. So I was scared as hell about touching the paper. I felt too much responsibility, really. It wasn’t my story to tell. It wasn’t going to mean that much to Rocks anyway. But my nerves didn’t know that. My nerves thought I was staring down a fucking tiger.
But I went for it. I put it all down in black on white, etched into wood in tiny strokes.
“Roxy Rollins, huh?” She sounded disappointed, but she’s smiling. Smiling like I’d never seen her before.
“Yeah …” I put my hand on the back of my neck under my hair. “I thought, you know … like rock and roll.”
She looked at me like I was a fucking idiot. Then she looked back at the story. “No,” she said. “It’s great. Really. Thank you.”
I nodded and turned away.
She caught me by the arm.
“No,” she said. “Really. Thank you.”
I shrugged, still in her grasp. “You’re my friend, Rocks.”
She leaned in to kiss me.
“Roxy,” I said.
She stopped and looked at me.
“You’re my friend.”
She nodded. “Right.”
It’s awkward until she put her hand out.
I looked at the hand then at her.
She nodded at it.
I slapped it and made mine open.
She slapped mine and said, “All right.”
Then she threw her arm around me, and we started off to class. We wouldn’t make it there, but hey, we fuckin’ tried, right?
“Roxy fuckin’ Rollins comin’ down the hall, assholes,” she said. “Make fuckin’ way.”
