I smile at the woman in front of me, eyeing the pink letterman's jacket and black tank top with a yellow star in the middle. It looks like fan merch, which is kind of nice. "Oh... Uhm..."

I probably shouldn't take rides from strangers. It's going against the main thing my father taught me: stranger danger. He used to pull me away from old women with candy telling me how cute I was and whisper yell, "Steven, have you lost your mind?! You don't know who that is!" Every time I tried to tell him they were harmless or nice, he'd sigh and shake his head. "Well, Schtu-ball, some people aren't what they seem."

I hear an excited, "Mama!" from the backseat and crane my neck to see a cheerful toddler with a curly afro and tan skin not nearly as dark as his mothers. I can tell he's hers though, he has 90% of her features on his little face. He looks at me curiously and I'm about to tell her no, but then she takes off her jacket and I pause.

A trail of roses... Mr. D said maybe my mom would leave me a trail of roses ironically, but she has a rose trail leading up her arm in a kind of beauty I find cynical somehow.

I still my nerves and nod. "Sure, I'd love a ride if it's not a hassle but I don't have any money."

She smiles wanly. "Same. Get in loser, we're going to Fergus." Her hand pinches the bridge of her nose immediately after. "Sorry, I forget that doesn't work on people unless they've seen—,"

"Mean Girls!" I exclaim. "I freaking love that movie!"

Her chuckle of relief makes me happy, and as I start toward the car she frowns. "Aren't you gonna bring your dog?"

My what?

I look down at my left then immediately to my right as I spot the cutest damned thing I've ever seen in my life: a pig, small and fluffy with soft pink clashing against black cow spots. It's adorable, and I'm certain, very clear I've never seen this pig a single day of my pitiful existence. "Aw! I mean... Yeah, just a second."

I kneel and it bunts into my hand lovingly. I want to squeal and giggle like a little girl but I also don't want to scare it away. It oinks at me and my depression is cured instantly. It's got a collar though, so I check the tag.

Of course, today keeps getting weirder so I don't know why I don't see the collar having my name as owner on it. Its name is Kuné, and I'll be damned if I say that I don't pick it up like it's mine and slide into the cramped car. "Thanks, just had to make sure Kuné was ready."

She smirks and shifts to pull away. "'Kuné' means pig. I only mention that because I have a thing with naming stuffed animals a completely different kind of animal," She giggles, running hands through short and curly coarse hair. "And that's a dog so it just makes me giggle."

I'm about to correct her when from the backseat, her son pipes, "Piggy!"

I smile at his parroting but the woman quirks a brow. "Well, Taliesin says it's a pig so that's the 4-1-1, yo."

This is now very off-putting. She seems nice enough, but I glance back at the side mirror wondering if I just made a grave mistake.

A group of teens, the ones wearing purple shirts, race out the doors and one points to our car. A girl stomps her foot and a taller guy pats her head. The guy in black is with them too.

Oh, god, this car is a monster, isn't it? It's running smooth-ish as we turn onto a road but I can't help but notice the speedometer doesn't work.

"My name is Juanita by the way," She says, breaking the silence with one hand on her phone. She's not even looking at it; she scrolls three pages and the second to bottom app on the right side is clicked to pull out a speedometer. "Sorry, this car is trash. I got a two door without thinking and like, nothing fucking works." The car lurches suddenly and ice fills my veins. "Sorry, Montessa. You know I didn't mean it." Miraculously it continues to drive without a problem after that as Juanita whispers, "Swear to god this car is so emotionally sensitive. She used to be a boy."

Her talking puts me at a bit more ease. I don't feel dazed or charmed, she's got her own natural aura that feels a bit manic, but kind. "How's that?"

"Promise you're not a transphobe?" She teases, but the distinct seriousness in her voice makes me smile.

"Of course not. I just like when people are happy," I tell her to her delight.

She explains how said car used to have another transmission, and then it was replaced therefore making Monty a Montessa. "If that doesn't make a car trans I don't know what does," She quips lightly, digging into a pocket.

I want to laugh and tuck and roll out of the car at the same time. I'm 100% certain she's holding a little baggie of cocaine right now, like so sure. One of her nails dips into the bag and she ducks her head to take a sniff before checking the mirror to wipe at her face and nose. "Sorry about that. I'm extremely depressed and this keeps me going... Ah, the single life."

I can't help it, I laugh anyways. "No judgement. Everyone has their thing. Mine is crying." I feel comfortable enough to say it around her, she gives good vibes all around.

Juanita glances back at her kid. "He's my other thing. I don't know what I'd do without him. And it's good for boys, assuming you are one which sucks of me, to cry." She pauses. "It's good for boys to cry."

I glance out the window and then down at the pig snorting in their sleep on my lap. I'm not sure if it's a boy or a girl so I joke, "My pig is non-binary. They/Them."

I want to disappear down a toilet drain but she gives it a wary look. "Sometimes I think my son can see things I can't see."

"Piggy?" He asks again.

She reaches back to ruffle his hair as we turn onto a highway. "And that's okay. Good job, Taliesin!" He giggles and I can see from the way her face fills with love that she truly does want the best for him. I wouldn't call driving on cocaine "the best for him" but she's aware and hyper focused on the road. "I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do but MOVE GODDAMNIT! THIS ISN'T A FOUR WAY STOP ITS A HIGHWAY ENTRANCE RAMP YOU FUCKING CLOD!"

I burst out laughing as Taliesins voice joins her in babbling angrily. She's right, there's a car in front of us going stupid slow. "Road rage?"

"It's one of the only kinds of anger I have," She sighs, turning on a blinker. "Can I ask your name now?"

I blush my embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, it's Steven."

"Nice to meet you, Steven." She grabs her phone again without looking. "You like random genres of music in one car trip? It's an hours drive."

I nod and she starts playing music and singing along. She's a pretty good singer, she's hitting the right notes and seems to be having fun with it so I turn my attention to the pig.

I've been so full of adrenaline I haven't had time to properly freak out about this. A pig! A pig that is supposedly mine! I fill with joy and scratch at its ears like a puppy. They wiggle adorably and I instantly fall head over heels as they wake up to look at me with black eyes. "Look at you," I coo quietly as I pick it up. "You're so cute! I already love you!"

They squeal and Juanita laughs, making me giggle too. Their tongue is slimy and gross but when it licks me my eyes fill with tears. This lovely little creature seems to like me, maybe even love me. I inspect them closely next, first stopping to play with their soft ears with a little notch in it. They're so precious I could just explode about it, I can't stop smiling as I observe their left side and then their right.

Holy crap.

I turn to Juanita and try to pose it like a joke, "I almost named it Rose because of the birthmark."

She glances over and grins. "That's so totally a rose, oh my stars! What a cute little piggy."

They oink at her too, as friendly as can be. "They say thank you."

"I'm gonna pretend it snorted at me so," Juanita snorts right back. "I hope that means 'nice to meet you' and not 'burn in hell'," She chuckles. "I used to be good at making friends but during foster care they beat it out of me." She frowns and tosses me a sympathetic look. "Sorry. Trauma dumping."

She apologizes as much as I do and for some reason it makes a solid camaraderie between us in my mind. "I've always sucked at making friends," I admit bashfully. "I'm a loser, just a warning."

Juanita taps her phone to pause the music and starts singing accapella like we're in a TV show and I assure you, we are not. "You're a loser, baby
A loser goddamn, baby
You're a fucked up little whiny bitch
You're a loser just like me." She sighs in annoyance. "Dammit, now I just have to play it."

I love it! I actually love the song and find myself absolutely enamored with the showtune style, even though it's a little inappropriate at parts.

My favorite part was: "There was a time I thought that no one could relate
To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged
But letting walls down
It can sometimes set you straight
We're all living in the same shit sandwich."

I couldn't agree more, but at this moment I'm glad to exist in the same shit sandwich as Juanita.

Juanita explains it's from a show she likes well enough and I hang on her every word. She's a rambler, I can tell, and I honestly love that. She's cool, but nerdy awkward cool, and I don't get to meet and interact with cool people ever. However she is distinctly different from anyone I've ever met. Maybe people are widely misinformed about drug addicts, because this one is really nice and super funny, I'm laughing half of the time she talks.

My eyes drop to her jacket and I clear my throat, catching her attention. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"

"I love personal questions from strangers!" She exclaims and the genuine tone sets me off into another laughing fit. "Ask away, Steven."

"You're wearing a trans pin," I point out shyly. "Is it for Montessa? Cause that's cool you support her like that."

She sighs and now I can see how doggedly tired she is. Like the Mist lifting, I can see the bags under her eyes and how dull they are. She takes three hits from a vape before answering, "It's for me. I'm just really early in my transition. I actually go by Adam but to strangers it's Juanita or Missy at the bars so you should use She/Her pronouns at this particular time. It's easier than explaining and ending up being shot for being black and queer."

My brows furrow. "But those are two wonderful things."

"Tell that to the Trump Administration and every gay bar shooter," She replies wryly. "I used to get people coming up to me after I had my son asking if I needed a new home for him because I was so young. Strangers touch my hair randomly, I got spit on at a gas station in Minneapolis a few months ago and called a slur—,"

"Gods, that's terrible!" I cry. "Why would they do that?!"

Her smirk falls away into blankness. "Because out here in the real world, being black and queer is the worst thing you can be. My sister's an immigrant, black, and queer."

"Horses! Mommy the horses!"

I glance out my window and gasp. There's a field of pegasi by a barn in the middle of North Dakota. Wait, I'm pretty sure we passed the sign for Minnesota earlier. It doesn't soften my surprise in the least, and Juanita sighs.

"I see cows," She murmurs in frustration. "We passed cows on our way here. He knows the word and what they are. He literally was screaming about them as we passed. I know he knows what they are." Juanita sounded so heartbroken and afraid as she glanced over at me. "You wouldn't happen to know if toddlers can have schizophrenia, right? It runs in the family but missed me."

I pull what's called a noob gamer move: I tell her a slant truth because I'm stupid and don't want her to think either she or her toddler are crazy. "I see them too, if that helps. But it's normal that you don't."

Juanita looks more than concerned by that but it's less concerned so I take it as a win. "He's only 2 1/2. He's also really big for his size too."

I wonder to myself if he can see through the Mist and come to terms with the possibility being high. That's two animals on point for him, and he seems pretty smart. He's in the back talking about trees being green and the moon. When Juanita starts singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider he starts singing too, he knows almost all of the words, which is adorable but strikes me as odd for a kid that age. It reminds me of Rachel Dare, and I make a mental note to Iris Message Chiron and ask a few questions.

She adjusts her mirror and I notice the car seat has its own mirror. They can see each other and she smiles at him. "My smart boy. I hope one day when you're older you'll tell Daddy what you can see so I can write about it."

He smiles big at her, matching her cheek bones and smile lines and it warms me from within. Kuné grunts and burrows into my lap, stomach up. Cautiously I scratch at them and they grunt in rapid succession with a little happy wiggle that steals my soul.

I take a second look at the golden collar and my eyes widen. Underneath my name is a rose engraved into the tag I must have had my thumb over last time. It's classy, and the collar is in fact pink with golden stitching.

Is this a gift from my mother? My heart threatens to climb up my throat as I choke up. A friend. I'd asked and she had delivered. When I shut my eyes and fall back blissfully, tears race down my cheeks.

"Thank you, Venus," I pray internally. "Thank you so much for sending me a friend."