Thicker Than Water by Carla Jablonski

sensation of the throbbing just under Kia’s skin. She turned the volume up even higher, hoping to drown out the sound inside her with the crashing synthetic pulsing noise. She stood in the center of her temporary room and thudded a foot, getting the beat into her legs, letting it crawl up her body, wanting it to push out the need running the length of her arms. She threw back her head, raised her arms, and started to dance.
    â€œYou gave me the wrong idea,” she shouted along with the singer. “You made me think there was hope!” She danced hard, danced like a maniac, like a stripper, like a TV star, like a guy, like a Wiccan; she danced like Aaron, then Carol. She danced like she was never going to stop, never had to. She could feel her heart racing. It was working. She could dance it out, banish it; she didn’t have to turn to cutting.
    A pounding on the door. “Kia!” her dad shouted. “Turn that music down.”
    She flung her head side to side, thrusting her shoulders forward, then back, her spine rippling. “You gave me the way in, the way out!” she sang.
    â€œKia!”
    She turned her back to the door, too much competition, too many sounds, from the speakers, from beyond the door, from inside her.
    â€œKia! I mean it.”
    Kia kept singing. “But now I—”
    The door opened, her father walked in, and suddenly the only sound was Kia screeching, “Know I was a dope.”
    â€œKia,” her dad said. “Jesus. The walls are shaking.”
    Kia stared at him. She couldn’t hear him; her veins were screaming.
    He gave her a sheepish grin. “I get it. I played my music loud too. But crank it down to a reasonable level. I’m trying to work.”
    Kia gave her head a little shake. “Right. Sorry.”
    â€œSo we’re good here, right?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œGood.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
    Kia spun on her clunky heel, walked into the bathroom, and pulled out a razor.

FOUR
    Stop laughing!” Aaron ordered the next night, only it didn’t carry much weight since he was giggling. The sight of him in a turquoise kimono made for someone five inches shorter was really hard to take seriously. Kia and Carol fell laughing against each other, then onto the floor. They barely escaped landing on the pizza box with the remains of their dinner still in it.
    â€œWhere did you get that monstrosity?” Kia gasped, trying to stop laughing long enough to ask the question.
    â€œFrom the Drama Department,” Aaron said, striking a model’s hand-on-hip-head-thrown-back pose.
    â€œFrom last semester’s Mikado,” Carol added, rummaging through the leftover crusts in the pizza box.
    â€œI take it your costume has something to do with tonight’s festivities,” Kia said, crunching on pizza crust.
    â€œI got them for you too,” he said. He pulled two more kimonos out of his duffel bag and tossed them to Carol and Kia.
    â€œNo way!” Carol said, pulling the satin robe off her head, where it had landed. “I am not wearing this.”
    â€œMe either,” Kia chimed. She held the pink robe up to her long-sleeved black turtleneck. “Did you really think this was me?”
    â€œCome on, guys,” Aaron wheedled. “We need ceremonial robes to perform our first official coven ceremony.”
    Kia gaped at him. “Our what?”
    â€œI decided after that ceremony in the park that we are going to become witches,” Aaron said. “Cast spells. Do rituals.”
    Kia burst out laughing. “You are deeply, deeply twisted.”
    â€œThat’s why you love me,” Aaron countered.
    Carol shook her head, then grinned. “Okay, I’m game. But no pictures! Come on, Kia.” She stood and headed toward the bathrobe.
    Kia stood up, then stopped, her smile frozen on her face. The sleeves would only come down to her