Also by the time Zrinka and Pietro peaked, the latter and his sister had become close again, going for walks again, on speaking terms again. And just as the odd triangle dictated, Wanda and Zrinka grew less close, or perhaps only less reliant.

Wanda, at this point, had truly come into her better side, physically standing out more as she grew and with her personality not far behind. It made her happy to see her mother when she looked in the mirror, and with that in mind she stood for everything her mother had stood for. She spoke openly about her discontent with the state of the city, mostly to her brother and the girls at home, but occasionally with her coworkers at the restaurant she'd scored a job at in a much nicer part of town, where the other waitresses ate up her sob stories like candy. There, she blended in with the classy elites perfectly other than her history, with her modest behavior and undeniable but quiet beauty. She worked hard and was payed well.

Just as she had fallen away from Zrinka, she also was not particularly close with the waitresses. But she enjoyed being around them, learning the mannerisms of the higher social status and the gossip and politics of that higher-up sector.

"Wanda!" said a loud girl called Karina. "Guess what I heard?"

Wanda looked up from the hostess stand in acknowledgment. It was a slow day, and the girls all leaned on or sat at tables around the outdoor dining area, sleepily chatting in the afternoon sun.

"They're talking about increasing security control even more, putting a lot of officers all around town, like in your area too, especially, to combat disturbances."

"Really?" Wanda wondered, knowing full well that more government control wasn't what anyone on her side- or most sides- wanted. In her head, she scoffed at Karina's naivety from being raised in the only part of the city still considered particularly desirable, the only part that was in control rather than being controlled, the only part that was safe.

"Yeah! They're gonna make it safer, they said."

"One has to wonder how true that is," Wanda alluded. "Some people will fight the officers. They don't like being belittled and controlled like that. Or they say. Maybe they're just scared though."

The group all laughed at the girl's wry joke before a comment from a slender brunette, Natalia, who was known for being as philosophical as her father was tyrannical as one of the more radical control-advocate politicians in the city. "We can't control their fear, though. Only our own. What I mean is I agree. I think everyone's acting out of fear."

Wanda nodded fervently. "That's what makes it dangerous."

All of them were nodding and humming their agreement when a customer appeared and they snapped to attention.

That night, Wanda played to the fear of the city, glancing around with paranoia at everything that moved in the dark streets walking the long way home. Home was now in the approximate city center, which was a hub of culture but, as mentioned, not of development. That was left to the heavily protected northern rim.

In the exact city center was the absolute prime of trade and sale and barter and, perhaps above all, noise. The city center never slept. But on top of that, the people who filled it constantly shouted their dissent at what the officials were- or weren't- doing. Wanda sighed and shook her head as she recalled the new mandate for officers stationed permanently in her streets. It would be mayhem. Or would it work?

She reached the tables of vendors as they closed up, transitioning towards barrels of fire and stoops and small patches of green to play and talk and commune. Wanda, as she liked to sometimes do after a long day of work, visited one of the carts still open and bought something to eat while she wandered the circle searching for familiar faces.

Milla, who was now well out of her teens, the first by-the-book adult of their group, was dancing with some other local women, all of them dressed in elaborately died dresses and clanking jewelry, waving their hips and circumnavigating their small cage within a circle of musicians. Wanda stepped close enough so that Milla began to beg her to join them, earning a squeamish no, which ended up short-lived. Pietro entered the circle at a virtual sprint, taking his sister with him, pulling her reluctantly into the dance. Wanda laughed, first with nerves and then, as she began to move her body more freely and comfortably, blending with the rhythm, she laughed from joy.