"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Cicada Days
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👀 (credit to Kotorikun)
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First floor and a window side seat made for a good day. Well, for Miss Latanna Beckstead. There were others not so eager to neatly drink down knowledge like she, whose throats weren’t so parched for want of accomplishment and personal glory. All else lay aside: dull protests of her body’s bloodshot eyes and exhausted heart, taunting siren call of a perfect spring day precipitated from thin air, atrociously shoddy dog-ears and scoliosis spines of the library’s selection.

Oh dear, oh dear. Latanna thumbed over a flaking and frayed corner of a European History text, dulled from its once proud sharpness. She’d told them at Council that funds from the fundraiser could be diverted into the honorable mission of returning Beale to the glory of its antiquity… or at least the lower bounds of modern academic standards! Instead of that they had themselves Sadie Hawkins 2014, replete with a quaint wild western theme. Hmph! Latanna wouldn’t waste political acumen contesting the masses their bread and circuses. They were owed it if they wanted it.

And honestly it was quite the fun dance! If sometimes the awkward sashay of two left feets, times one thousand.

She flipped the book’s cover over, though neither of her study partners had arrived yet. She’d keep an appraising eye towards the shelves for their familiar faces, but. It was her right to take the opening shots by herself. Second Amendment assured, and Latanna wouldn’t dare contest the founding fathers’ noble birthday wishes for America. Greater a chance that she’d rip her clothes off and go careening wantonly through the halls.

And of course, there was no chance of that. The optics would have been atrocious.

She counted in her willful possession a number of things at present, all held through informal laws of proximity and immediacy. A cozy table with four chairs, Latanna at the corner closest to the window that she could bask a bit in the warmth of a sun that, any stronger, liked softly caressing her to an itchy death. Books aplenty, of course, the standard weighty textbook issued for their history class. A number of personal selections whose historical views she favored. Degler, Moyar, Lind. Men of ideas, whose ideas would be valuable sources for her essay and would be likely ignored by her study partners.

Historical American foreign and domestic policy. Compare and contrast. Ah, yes. She’d have a field day with this one.

Hopefully she could say the same for her comrades in arms. Who would hopefully show up. Latanna was a stickler for timeliness, she was sure Kanuho knew that. Least of all her darling Olivia. A delicate band of satiny silver on her wrist told her it was a minute to a quarter ‘til. One minute remaining until it was officially time to get to work!

She flipped a few more pages to the relevant chapter and began to read. Being on time was great. Being early was glorious.
The Dies Before First Rolls Squad

The Nights
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Sometimes when we reach for the stars... · Memories from the Past