“That isn’t walking normally.” Enough time spent in this town and you would hear the youths of it say these types of “policing” things quite often. Things that referred to what was supposed to be normal and what wasn’t. Whoever this preteen was, she had ideas about the way her friend should look while she walked down the street with her. Because, evidently, the totally acceptable gait she displayed wasn’t “normal” enough for this bitch. And Effie could definitely tell she was a bitch, bossing her so-called friend around like this, making her feel like shit just because she could sense that she was the “alpha” in the dynamic. Effie had seen so many girls like that in her own junior high and high school. Hell, even her elementary school. Likely the very same schools this duo attended, were attending and would attend.

Effie had been this girl, the one being told outright that what she was doing wasn’t “normal.” Of course she had been—because she, too, was once forced to grow up in this one-horse town. And yes, that latter phrase certainly applied to Cuesta, which still used such agricultural terms in daily life. They even had an “Old Cuesta” part of town that offered a stretch of business with generic storefronts emblazoned with such signs as “General Store.” It made Effie want to vomit.

It had also made her want to leave, all those years ago now. Thus, to end up right back where she had started was something she still couldn’t reconcile. Couldn’t fully believe. Every day, she told herself there might still be hope to escape again, but then the facts kept presenting themselves everywhere she turned: 1) she had no money 2) she had no job prospects and 3) her mother was in desperate need of her care, and couldn’t afford assisted living from a paid stranger. These were the facts, and there was no getting around them. Just like, for whoever this girl was that had been maligned for walking with a touch of whimsy, there was no getting around having to “cater” to the basic bitches of this town. Because if you stuck out too much, you really would find yourself totally on your own, ostracized until the end of high school. Effie knew from experience. Though sometimes she wondered if her social pariah fate had actually been a blessing, because she knew it could also be so much worse to feel alone even when you were (grudgingly) accepted. When you weren’t entirely cast out of the fold.

But the fold in Cuesta was surprisingly particular considering how little they had to offer. Especially in the personality department. In fact, Effie had almost lost her own personality by constantly trying to fit in, despite knowing she never would, during those tortured years of her adolescence. Effie could remember how much she had to literally “retrain her brain” when she moved to San Francisco. Which, even though it was only a four-hour drive from Cuesta, seemed like another planet to her upon initially “touching down.” And she did so alone, taking a Greyhound bus that was filled with expectedly “unseemly” people. For it was no secret that, in California, if you had to resort to taking public transportation of any kind, you really were a broke ass. For no matter how much people claimed they wanted to “do right by” the environment, they never seemed to want it badly enough to brave the “wilds” of the buses or trains on offer in the Golden State.

But, at that point in her life, Effie would have braved anything to get out of Cuesta. She had paid her dues and, most importantly, worked her minimum wage at Taco Bell for the past three years to save up enough to leave. Her mother and father (back when he was still alive) had both warned her that skipping some form of college altogether was an extremely bad idea. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that she didn’t actually care if she had to work menial jobs until her dying day. All she cared about was being somewhere that wasn’t Cuesta. She was absolutely certain that nothing else would ever be as important to her. And, up until recently, she had been correct in her assumption.

Unfortunately, as is Life’s way, a confluence of events conspired to make her lose her latest and most long-standing menial job to date as a “sales associate” at the Anthropologie in Union Square. It happened in the spring and now, here she was, in the winter (seemingly of her existence, in addition to the season itself). Back in Cuesta. The other part of the confluence was that, when her mother personally called her to tell her that she had seen on the news that a slew of businesses in Union Square were closing, she was also sure to add that now might be a good time to just “come on back home.” To her own surprise, Effie didn’t much try to fight it. She knew the reason why her mother wanted her back and didn’t want to directly address it in a way that would make her feel bad. As if she was putting Effie between a rock and a hard place. Which of course she was—and, as Effie kept reminding herself on the Greyhound back to Nowheresville, it was her prerogative to do so. After all, hadn’t Effie ruined her mother’s body only to end up as every American parent’s worst nightmare? Nothing. Nobody. Treading water at best. Close to drowning at worst.

So yes, she supposed she owed her mother at least this small token of recompense. This favor in return for her mother also taking care of Effie (to an extent) at the beginning of her life. It was all just too goddamn full circle for words. Including ending up back in Cuesta. But one thing that Effie vowed not to do this time around was sit idly by and watch a new generation of fellow “weird” girls get pushed around by self-important bitches like the one who commented on her friend’s walking style. Which is why, as said bitch walked by Effie as she sat on a planter in some godforsaken shopping center drinking from the last of her Peet’s coffee cup, she stuck her leg out and tripped her. An automatic reflex that couldn’t be controlled after hearing what she did as they approached her vicinity.

Feigning shock and apologeticness as the bitch quickly got up so that as few people as possible could see her in that state, Effie then saw that she was walking, well, “funny.” Seizing on the opportunity to pay her back for what she had just announced to her friend, Effie commented, “That isn’t walking normally.”