Change 3–Day 203
“What the Charles Dickens were you thinking?” Touchstone Tracy, cooking up a bitter broth of panic and judgment, per her usual. “Protesting? Outing yourself? Outing US? Have you lost your mind?”
Tracy is pacing my room, paying me a home visit, courtesy of Turner the Lives Coach, who the minute he got wind of the RaChas action, dispatched every local Touchstone to dress down their designated Changer, before a dozen mini rebellions could ignite from a single protest, even if the initial action so far had little measurable consequence beyond the viral video of Destiny coldcocking Jason.
“Have you even thought about what this could mean for our kind?” Tracy whisper-talks, like we’re exchanging spy secrets in a dark parking garage.
“Yes. That’s why I did it,” I say. “Hiding in the shadows is bullshit.”
“You sound like that no-good Benedict Arnold,” she spits.
“It’s fine if you like being closeted, but I don’t.”
“We’re not hiding. We’re making calculated choices,” she says sharply, prompting Snoopy to jump off my bed.
“For whom?” I ask snottily.
“For everyone. For mankind. Mercy, Kim. Have you lost the plot entirely? I thought you’d grown more than this.”
I silently watch Snoopy nose the door ajar and slink out, not enjoying the tense energy swirling in the room between me and Tracy.
She presses on as if reading from an official statement: “Our very reason for being is to spread empathy and tolerance, to better ourselves so we can be examples, find Static partners, and make more Changers, so eventually there will be no one left to fear. Changers bleed all souls together, while preserving and honoring all of our differences. We are here to eliminate the concept of otherness.”
“Love and light, right?” I snap sarcastically.
“Don’t belittle the mission. You’re smarter than that.”
“Trace? Do you really believe the only way to make change is by flying under the radar? Going along to get along? Tricking people into discovering their better natures? I don’t know if you’ve looked around lately, but the world isn’t exactly brimming with better natures. Abiders are on the rise, becoming more violent, more brazen than ever. They’re networking, metastasizing.”
“Kim, when power is threatened, those in power act out. For our safety, we need to stick to the plan. Stay together. In the many we are one.”
“The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.”
At that Tracy’s eyes snap shut like she’s going to her happy place, a.k.a. a world without me in it. “Oh, for Christmas sake,” she says after a beat, eyes jerking back open.
I feel bad for her. In coming here she was trying to do her job, execute orders she believed were right. Tracy is a good soldier, for sure, but she is also a good person. And I am once again making her life a unique hell.
“I know you want the best for me,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“For three long years I have done everything I can do for you. Tried to show you the value of others, of your purpose. Our shared purpose. And you have chosen your own needs at every turn—”
“Wait a second, that’s not fair.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but Chase was right about you.”
“Keep his name out of your mouth!” I scream, surprised by the break in my voice.
“You don’t give a single hoot about anything but your own desires in the moment,” she continues.
“Enough.”
“You’re right, Kim. Enough. I’ve failed. You want to tell the world about us, put everyone and everything we stand for at risk, that’s on you. But I won’t be a part of it.”
And with that, Tracy marched out, chin forward, back rod-straight. I could practically smell her indignation as she passed by me.
* * *
I should be more invested, but in what’s becoming something of a theme in my life—I’m kind of not. I didn’t ask for any of this. Why is it my job to teach idiots that they should care about other people? News flash: dolts like Jason will never, ever care about freaks like me. Certain people will always hate “the gays” and “the blacks” and “the Jews” and “the Muslims” and “the foreigners” and “the feminists” and “the poor” and “the differently abled” and any other group that seems to pose a threat to their fragile house of dominance cards. Jason and his Abider-leaning goons are not going to wake up one day and realize they’ve been stunted zealots their whole lives and start driving for Meals on Wheels or working shifts on the LGBTQ suicide hotline.
If my year as Kim has shown me anything, it’s that the appetite for cruelty among certain people is never sated. Queen beyotch Chloe could never get past the way I appear. My size alone was enough for her to assign me to a box and duct-tape the lid shut. Okay, sure, being Kim helped me. I grew. (Ha ha, did I.) But so what? Was I such a jerk before? According to Tracy, I’m a bigger jerk today. So maybe, hear me out, this whole Changer thing is an epic, outdated fail, especially in these times. And if it is, then why in the hell would I stick with the program?
I don’t care if the Council is monitoring these Chronicles. I’m going rogue. Full stop. And the best part of that is that I am going to meet up with Audrey, and I am going to walk her through the whole twisted shebang, and I know—I know—she is going to finally see how she is my person.
What else could possibly happen?
Kim
Change 3–Day 205
I heard about the fire from Andy first. He showed up at the door of my house, duffel bag in hand, trying to act like he was still pissed at me, but so obviously scared and lost he couldn’t hold his bitch face.
“It’s gone,” he said.
“What?”
“The whole place, RaChas HQ. Torched to ash. Apocalypse-level stuff.”
“What? How?”
“Abiders, probably. Maybe they were tipped off after the coming-out march,” he said.
“Jesus. Was anybody hurt?” I asked, flashing on Benedict and some of my other RaChas roommates from when I lived at HQ during my depression.
“No. Benedict had pretty much cleared everybody out while he was ‘reestablishing healthy boundaries’ and ‘reinstituting his self-care regime.’”
Of course he was.
“Most of the RaChas were squatting with friends or in shelters, except me and Zeke and Layla. Layla
