Fated

unable to keep a grin from slipping onto my face when the bouncer stamps my hand with the same stamp they used the first time I visited: a cartoon coyote with gleaming red eyes.
    El Coyote, it’s time to meet a new generation of Seeker.
    My bravado lasting all of ten seconds, until I step inside and the first thing I see is Lita and the rest of the Cruel Crew, as Xotichl called them, hovering just steps from the door.
    But instead of the usual sneers I expect, I’m met by three pairs of narrowed, interested eyes that carefully track my progress as I make my way past the bar, through a maze of crowded tables and chairs, all the way to the front of the stage where Xotichl stands with her eyes squeezed shut, palms pressed flat against one of the speakers, as Auden runs through a series of sound checks.
    “You made it.” She smiles, eyes still closed, head turning toward me.
    “I did indeed,” I say, wondering what it is that she’s doing, but she tells me well before I can ask.
    “I can see the music’s energy.” She opens her eyes, though her gaze remains unfocused, far away.
    “You can … see it?” I study her closely, taking in her cute denim miniskirt and black tee, the word EPITAPH scrawled in silver across the front. “But … how ?” I ask. I’ve never heard of such a thing.
    “Amazing—isn’t it?” She grins in a way that makes her whole face illuminate. “It’s probably not what you think. It’s not like actual images or anything. It’s more like bright, intense flashes of color. Music is energy—you know that, right? Well, actually, everything is energy, it’s been scientifically proven. But anyway, back to music—you see, each note contains its own energy, its own vibration, which in turn contains its own corresponding color. I’m not sure if Paloma told you, but this is how Auden and I met. I mean, not here at the Rabbit Hole, but because of the whole energy/music/color/connection thing. Actually, when you come right down to it, it’s all Paloma’s fault.” She laughs. “We’ve been working on this for about two years now—she’s the one who helped me discover it. Then when Auden agreed to help me fine-tune it, she put us together and it was love from the start! His music is amazing,” she gushes, her face soft and dreamy. “You should see how much color it radiates. It’s as vibrant as he is.”
    I stand beside her, having no idea what to say. Having never imagined I’d find myself jealous of a blind girl—or any girl, for that matter. I’ve always been more or less content with just being me, for better or worse. But Xotichl’s joy is so contagious I can’t help but wonder what it might be like to be her. To live in her skin. To be so filled with happiness and love it can’t be contained.
    To never face the burden of merging your energy with that of a cockroach in order to go vortex hunting.
    I wonder if she has any idea just how good she’s got it? But when I look at her again, I’m pretty certain she does.
    “Oh, and just so you know.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Word’s out about your Hollywood past.”
    I gape, overcome with the feeling of air rushing out of me.
    “Apparently you’re quite the cover girl.” She nods. And I can’t decide if her voice contained a hint of glee, or if I’m just crazy and paranoid, which is such a real possibility I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and move past it.
    “They saw it?” I close my eyes, wondering how this could’ve happened. It’s a weekly tabloid. It’s been off the shelves for a while now.
    “Apparently the hair salon has a copy,” she says, answering the question I hadn’t yet voiced. “And there was one laying around the Laundromat too. Oh, and just in case you haven’t heard, there’s this new thing called Google—apparently you can find it there too.”
    “Great. That’s just … great. ” I study my feet. “Nothing like going from really bad to way worse all in the course of a day.”
    “Maybe…” Xotichl bends toward me. “Then again, maybe not. For the first time in a long time—quite possibly ever—they’re hit with the kind of dilemma they’re not used to facing. Now they’re torn between hating you and admiring you, when before they just hated you. You should consider it progress.”
    I survey the room, and yep, sure enough, there they are—three sets of eyes keeping track of everything I do. Then I turn back to Xotichl and say,