A parade of bar patrons circled them, cheering each other, their problems, their inability to give their fucks. There was a time not too long ago when Moxie was one of them. Probably too often, despite her complicated relationship with the drinking culture in the United States. The first time she met Stevie involved shenanigans of stealing champagne from a record label-sponsored party. They then proceeded to get drunk and make fools of themselves. (Mostly Stevie.) (Stevie was good at many things, but bowling was not one of them.)

Being back in that bar surrounded by friends reminded Moxie of all the times she used to show up to them by herself, just to pretend for one night that it was possible to escape from the rest of the world. Her favorite bar pastime was getting so wasted that she willingly allowed herself to get into arguments with men. Her least favorite memories were the ones she couldn't remember at all.

Moxie shot a stern glance around the table. "I need the four of us to promise that no matter what happens tonight, we will do everything we can to make sure those two do not get the entire bar to sing Defying Gravity. Okay?"

Eddie didn't hesitate. Not for a man, and especially not for Maverick. "Will punch out Mav if I need to. Stevie kind of scares me."

The dynamic duo weaved their way back from the bar with drinks in tow. Remnants of their hosting duties lingered through the pink glitter dusted on Maverick's cheekbones and green face paint around Stevie's ears.

"I think it's just the leftover green tinge to her skin."

"Fair enough," Eddie agreed.

Axel leaned back in his seat with his legs spread out. "Respectfully, I was scared of her before that."

"You should be scared of all women," Moxie replied.

"Oh, I am." Axel pointed at his face. The evidence of his participation in the Wicked Drag Show was far less flattering than the other two. Smudged eyeliner and fake fur left a lot to be desired. "Why do you think I didn't take this off? Scared to ask for a wipe."

"I thought you were just... doing something," Eddie said.

Moxie needed to have a talk with her about giving men wearing eyeliner too much power. The bar was in hell for the entire lot of them.

"Terrified," Axel said, shaking his head.

In her experience, Moxie learned that bisexuals were either stocked up on everything they could ever need or not prepared at all. Cruella proved where she fell on the spectrum by yanking out a pack of makeup wipes from her purse.

"Please use this before you rub your eyes or get fur stuck in your drink."

The black smudge on the side of his pointer finger did not go unnoticed. "I think I'm going to commit to the bit. Thank you."

Stevie burst through an opening in the crowd carrying two drinks in her hand, and Maverick pulled up behind her with the other four.

"Look!" she cried. "They had Swamp Waters!"

"Oh, fuck me," Axel groaned.

"Okay, you really need to stop saying that," said Eddie.

Moxie cleared her throat quietly. "You should probably take a sip of your Shrek's Piss."

Stevie's eyes widened. "His what?"

"It's a Massachusetts thing," Axel clarified. (A liar.)

Cruella gasped. "It is not."

Moxie turned to her, arm resting along the back of her chair. Her fingers danced along the ends of Blondie's hair. "How would you know? Aren't you from California?"

"Uh... yeah." Cruella snuck a quick glance across the table. "But I have... family from there. They don't say Shrek's Piss. Just him."

Absolutely no one at that table needed to be convinced that Axel was the sole user of the most bizarre naming conventions for his drinks. Everyone nodded in understanding. Except for Axel.

"And what would we say if I said my dead mom called it that?" he asked.

"I would say I missed out twice on having a dad. And my birth mom didn't want me," Maverick said.

"My parents fucked off," was what Eddie brought to the table.

And Stevie brought it home with a "Dead dad here, too."

The man with the question of the hour remained silent for a moment. "Drinks are on me."

Blondie was uncharacteristically quiet, which meant Moxie declared it her responsibility to keep the conversation rolling. Plus, she had both her parents around. Given the way Axel killed the mood with just one question, she figured she owed it to all of them.

"I think I'm kind of morally obligated to get the next round, actually."

"So true," Axel agreed quickly, "how dare you?"

"To answer your question, though, I would grab a Ouija board and tell your mom to stop calling it that."

Axel took it in stride. "500 Canterbury Street if you want to head over and say hi."

If Moxie had yet taken a sip of her Shrek's Piss—Swamp Water, fuck—the entire table would have turned into the swamp. "You're kidding me."

"I really wish I was."

Eddie quietly patted his leg. A rare and intimate moment of comfort between the photographer and the boxer. Neither of them considered themselves fit for the spotlight, and yet Moxie couldn't help but read that small moment as clearly as if all the lights were right on them.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this," Cruella said.

"Respectfully, I need everyone to stop bumming me out right now," Stevie said before sliding her glass back toward her like a shield. "Drink the damn Shrek's Piss."

"Thanks for buying, Moxie." Axel downed his entire drink.

"Okay. But next round is on the straight man."

"Fair enough." For everyone's sake, Axel didn't argue against that logic, which was great for Moxie because she wouldn't have let him argue with her without consequence. "Hey, Mav, can I borrow—"

"Why—"

"Because I got three tickets—"

"Axel." Cruella looked at him all motherly and doting and concerned. Even though buying him a dining table was more than he needed, according to him."Didn't you just get paid?"

"Twice?" Eddie tacked on.

He looked around. "We do recognize it was almost $400 to get here and I'm a photographer, right?"

"Axel," Stevie shook her head. "I told you the flight was only $150."

"The train's eco-friendly."

"Not wallet-friendly," Eddie said.

Moxie asked him "What's your carbon footprint from getting pulled over in a rental car?"

"Zero because I turned the car off."

"Guess that makes up for the part where you were going 125," she countered. "You should produce a documentary."

"Can I stick to buying drinks with Maverick's money?"

Maverick was baffled by that statement. "I did not agree to pay for drinks."

"You're the worst boss ever," Axel said.

Stevie knew to strike when the iron was hot and glanced longingly back at the bar. "Get us some top-shelf stuff, Ax man."

"Stevie—"

If Moxie was on his side in anything, she might have pointed out that Stevie and her band were wrapping up the final stops of their record-breaking world tour and therefore could afford to pick up tonight's tab, but that would mean taking a man's side against a woman, so she obviously didn't say a word.

"Don't think you're not still paying the consequences of what was on your face earlier."

Maverick crossed his arms and raised his chin. "I can't wait for my album to come out. I hope you fucking cry."

Stevie crying over anything Maverick wrote was a given. Nobody needed a magic ball to predict that.

"It won't be as hard as how I'm sure Everleigh's been crying sleeping next to that thing."

"Should've taken the dog and left you with the new pet," Eddie said.

"Axel told me it was okay."

Axel looked gobsmacked. "You said do you want to get in the booth and I said okay. Don't twist that—"

"I'm paying for your round of drinks and you couldn't give me that?"

"I'm not being held responsible for you looking like Chick Hicks."

"I can't believe you'd let Lightning McQueen down like this," Stevie said. "I just know he's as disappointed in you as I am."

There were few moments in life when Maverick pulled out an upset over his best friend Stevie. Judging by the shit-eating smug look on his face, this would be one of those times, and Moxie braced herself for the fallout from the catastrophic event.

"You should call him and confirm that, Stev."

"Oh, I will."

Stevie grabbed her phone off the table and began typing away at something before putting the call on speaker. Because he was Brendon answering a call from his beloved, Brendon answered straight away. "Hey, babe. You're never gonna believe what happened earlier. I walked into the venue after Maverick and Eddie finally showed up three hours late, and he had a damn rodent on his face. Quite literally the worst thing I've ever seen. I just sent you the picture, did you get it?"

"Uh..." Bash trailed off. Oops. "I didn't get anything but I know what you're talking about."

"What do you mean?"

Maverick smiled to himself.

"Mav, well, sent me all his progress pics. I told him it looked good."

Maverick really smiled to himself.

"You told him what—" Brendon Ellis might as well have told his partner that he was no longer in love with her. It might have hurt less.

"Is he there? I don't think this phone call is a safe space right now."

"Present." Maverick damn near held up his hand while Stevie was on the verge of a heart attack. Or a mental breakdown. Possibly both. "You can go ahead."

"Did you accidentally tell her you let me listen to the album and so you used the mustache to deflect?" Brendon asked. "I thought you were gonna shave it before she found out."

"I—Um. About that."

"I'm gonna need someone to roll that back for me one more time," Stevie said.

Maverick shook his head. "I don't think you do."

"Brendon." Stevie spoke calmly. Too calmly. Eerily. "Do you have anything you would like to say?"

"What... what do you mean by that exactly?"

"I mean do you have any final words for Maverick before I end the call and murder him?"

Bless his heart for trying, but Maverick's pathetic attempt to escape was unsuccessful. Stevie grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled him back. The pain reflected in his eyes, but he slapped one hand over his hand to stop himself from alerting the entire bar to his dire circumstances.

"Good knowing you, man." A man of few words, but impressively succinct nonetheless.

Moxie leaned over the table to yell into the phone. "That was a great win last week, Bash."

He could barely be heard over the roar of the bar as he whispered back a thank you. Cleared this throat for good measure. "Gotta go now. Bye, love you."

"Love you—" Maverick declared, likely half to get on Stevie's nerves and half out of desperation in case these were his final moments on Earth.

Stevie ended the call. "Not get over here you little man-stealing fugly mustache-wearing, spork of a human being—"

It would be a night out with this crew if it didn't end with Maverick and Stevie trying to strangle each other. At that moment, Maverick almost fell flat on his face because he tried to run away from her. Moxie leaned back, ready to enjoy the show while Cruella debated if she ever wanted to agree to see these people again.

"I might have one on my phone don't touch me—"

"It's too late. You've already betrayed me."

Cruella raised her hand. "I'm down to listen to it if you survive the next five minutes."

He quickly tossed her his phone. "It's yours. Consider it my gift to you in my will. Passcode's 1212."

The deflection worked for a moment as Stevie temporarily disengaged from her attack on Maverick. "Hey, Cruella. Do you want to hear a new MARS song for the next album? We've already finished three of them and I have no one else to show them to."

Blondie perked up. "Oh my god, yes, of course!"

Maverick gasped. "I can't believe you."

Stevie grabbed him by the face and shoved him away. "Axel, you should listen too. I think you'd like these ones. Need a trustworthy man's opinion."

"Does that exist?" Moxie asked.

"Yeah," Maverick replied, "his name's Bash. And I'm going to send him the entire album when it's done months in advance."

Stevie was hot enough for steam to shoot out of her ears. "He won't listen to it when I tell him he's no longer getting any more blo—"

"Axel," Moxie interrupted. "Now's a good time to get that next round."

"You think adding more alcohol to this is a good idea?" he asked.

Adding alcohol to the equation was never about doing the smart thing. It was about how easily it distracted them from the disasters in their lives. Even if the disasters were just two bisexual theatre kids who defied everything in their lives that tried to pull them down. Who were any of them to stand in their way of being completely and utterly themselves? At least it was hilarious to watch.

"I don't think it's the worst idea," Eddie said.

Moxie appreciated the support, even if it came from someone who had the same unfortunate nicotine addiction.

"Yamaguchi. Can I borrow—"

"Oh my god." Eddie took a moment before handing her card over. "Go. Now."

Cruella jumped to her feet. "I'll help you carry them."

That left Moxie and Eddie to babysit the two August Leos. Not an easy feat. And also not fair considering Moxie already had to remove them from a stage in the middle of a Defying Gravity performance.

The tragic responsibility was made worse by all of them realizing that Cruella had left Maverick's phone unattended on the table. All eyes flew to it, and then to the two sticks of dynamite waiting to explode.

"Is that..." Stevie trailed off. Gulped. "Did she just..."

Maverick tried his best, but that was unfortunately not enough sometimes. "That's her phone. She has mine."

Aside from the fact that Cruella's phone case was pink, sparkly, and shiny enough for her to see her reflection, and the phone on the table was more scratch than cellular device? Sure, believable.

Eddie tapped the phone. "Why would Cruella's phone wallpaper be your girlfriend flipping her off—"

"Because Everleigh's pretty. Why don't you have her as your wallpaper?'

Stevie stepped forward. "Everleigh is actually my wallpaper, so I guess that's my phone. I should take it back—"

"Oh, wait, that is my phone."

Oh, yes, they both reached for the phone. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of a crowded bar, or that the other innocent bystanders at their table could get caught in the crossfire. Maverick beat Stevie to the punch, but that didn't stop her from crawling over him in an attempt to steal the phone.

"Get your grubby hands off it. It's mine—"

"This is like reading my diary—"

"I have legal rights to read your fuckin' diary you goddamn spoon. Get away from me or I'm shoving a dirty fuckin' sock jellybean up your nose."

Eddie stared at the scene. "Stop the violence."

"I had to stop them from singing Defying Gravity," Moxie said, shaking her head, "so that's about about all the work I can complete today."

"They aren't—Some of those aren't done yet—You can't listen—"

"If they're done enough for the Piston Cup champ, they're done enough for me, you artichoke—"

"Everleigh hasn't even heard these, Stev, come on—"

It was poetry in motion to watch Stevie put Maverick in a headlock, reminiscent of their viral moment on the Grammys red carpet last year. "Ask me if I care while I use my court-appointed visitation rights to your phone."

"You're so nosey—" he said as if they wouldn't both love to get free rein inside of each other's heads. None of his efforts were working, and Stevie was moments away from getting her hands on the device. So, in some desperate attempt to keep his secrets to himself, Maverick took the plate of fries Stevie had been snacking on and slapped a huge dollop of ketchup onto them. If there was anything everyone needed to know about Stevie, it was that she hated ketchup with every fiber of her being.

"Oh, that's..." Moxie said.

Stevie gasped. "You traitorous, disgusting human being—" She didn't let that slide for one moment and took a handful of the ketchup-covered friends, slapping them straight into Maverick's face. "Choke."

"You—ugh. Stevie." There weren't enough napkins to save him, but Eddie was kind enough to try and help him out. "You fucking potato."

Moxie laughed. "I think that means you're the potato."

Since Stevie had facial ID rights on Maverick's cell, the phone unlocked for her. "If I'm an annoying rutabaga who wants to deprive my best friend of her rights, where would I—ah, yes, right here." Stevie's eyes widened. "Wait, is this the tracklist—"

Maverick looked panicked. "No."

"Obviously it is because no one else would title a song sparkling raspberry lemonade."

"That's my grocery list."

"Don't get the one from Trader Joe's," Moxie chimed in. "It takes like that drink they use to test for gestational diabetes."

Nobody could have said anything to steal Stevie's attention away from Maverick's phone. "I already know I'm going to punch you in the face for how to sign i love you." A few seconds later she narrowed her eyes. "What is fire signs about?"

"Everleigh. She's a Sagittarius. If you didn't know. What a terrible girlfriend you are."

"Oh, I guess you won't mind me listening to this file titled fire signs demo then—"

Every second that went by left Maverick looking more and more distraught, ready to launch himself into the nearest lane of traffic. Stevie's latest statement was by far the most damaging. "That's Bash's least favorite. You should listen to something better if you're going to listen."

"I'll provide notes then since you need them, apparently," Stevie said.

"I'll ask Moxie later. It's fine."

Once again, another man mistaking Moxie for someone who would help them out in a fight against another woman. Fools. "I happen to be free right now. Go for it."

"It's loud in here." Maverick's voice shook. "Don't want to drown it out to work on it."

It took all of three seconds for Moxie to dig a pair of earphones out of her fanny pack and toss it over to Stevie who caught it flawlessly. "Never leave the house without these. We can take turns."

Maverick sighed. "Why do lesbians always have everything, fucking christ—"

"I also have a tape measure in here in case we need to figure out how big that ketchup stain on your shirt is."

"You could spend so much time measuring stains on his shirt," Eddie said.

He turned to her as if he appeared out of nowhere. "Oh, welcome to the conversation."

"Fuck you. Stev, I'll hold him to the ground while you listen."

"Hey—"

"Kicking and screaming, Mav," Eddie threatened. "Try me."

Moxie nodded. "I kind of want to see this."

Stevie raised her hand. "I also vote yes on Eds kicking Maverick's ass."

"I—" He stared at the women surrounding him. "No."

"Sorry, men don't get to participate in this vote," Stevie said.

"I can't believe the suffragettes fought for this—" Maverick said.

"Too far, Mav," Eddie added.

Stevie moved behind Eddie, using her as a shield. "Pressing play. No one bother me."

"Stev—" Maverick warned. "I really wouldn't—"

"Don't bother her," Moxie said.

Depending on how they looked at it, that was either the best or worst moment for Cruella and Axel to re-enter the danger zone. It didn't even matter what drinks they ordered. Everyone around the table was in their debt for getting them something at all.

"Yeah, don't bother her," Cruella said before leaning over to Eddie. "What's going on?"

"Maverick has a song definitely not about Stevie."

"Oh. That explains the..." She stared at Maverick's red-stained face. "... blood bath.'

Axel almost threw up just staring at him. "It's really tomatoey over here."

"That's what you took from that?" Eddie placed a hand on Axel's leg. "Is it nice in your world?"

"Um—I—Yeah." Only Eddie could render Axel this incapacitated so effectively with such a simple move. If Moxie didn't know it would send both of them running for the hills, she would have pointed it out and laughed.

Not a sound escaped Stevie's mouth as she listened to the track, which could only mean one of two things. Either it was the worst song she had ever heard in her life and had no idea how to break it to him, or it was devastating in a way that only someone who knew her better than anyone else in the world could accomplish. Given that Maverick was incapable of writing bad music, that only realistically left the latter option.

Moxie stole the phone from Stevie and flicked through his self-proclaimed diary while Stevie seemingly continued to spiral. She angled the phone to the side, allowing Eddie to take a peek if she wanted. While they couldn't listen to the track themselves, Maverick had typed out the lyrics on his phone and allowed their imagination to fill in the blank space. No matter what they came up with, the lyrics themselves were already enough on their own.

Met my soulmate / at a stalemate / at the bottom of my life

Thought I'd sailed straight / into the wake / I was fighting to survive

Couldn't breathe / I clenched my teeth / clawed my way up the coastline

Aloha to the sea / Smoking signal heath / it was my twin fire sign

Moxie and Eddie exchanged a look before turning to watch as Stevie quietly removed the earphones and placed them back in Moxie's hands.

"So. Does anyone have any last words for Maverick?"

Who knew one night out in Chicago would end with everyone having to say their last goodbyes to Maverick?"

"Do the rest of us get to listen to it?" Cruella asked the important question.

"To be fair, Stevie wasn't supposed to listen to it until my—until it dropped." Maverick sighed, deflated. "Go ahead, but I literally don't want to hear what you think about it, it's a fucking demo it's not done yet."

"But it's Bash's least favorite," Moxie teased. "Gotta give our two cents."

"Maybe I'll just cut it—"

Stevie sniffled and wiped away her tears. "Do you want me to die and find a way to resurrect myself just so I can make sure to take you with me because I will—"

He held up his nose, crossing his arms. "I told you not to listen, Stev."

"And you thought that would work?" Eddie asked.

"She deserves to cry in a public place. Nosey."

The tears dried almost immediately. "I'm about to make you cry so hard you won't even be able to read the headlines all about it tomorrow—"

Recognizing that someone needed to take charge before those two went at it again, Cruella distributed the drinks before standing up. "Here's your drinks. I'll be right back, okay?"

The drink in Moxie's hand was only about a quarter empty. "Are we that doomed that we're already getting more drinks? At a time like this?"

"I'm doing the Lord's work, okay, babe?" Cruella tapped her on the chin before disappearing back into the crowd.

Everyone watched her go.

"Mox, should we be scared?" Maverick asked.

She shook her head. "How many times do I have to tell men they should always be scared of women?"

"God, Mav," Axel chided, "learn the lesson."

"I'm bisexual I'm scared of men, too—"

"Character flaw," Moxie said.

Eddie poked Maverick's upper lip. Still a bit red from earlier. "At least you don't have to be scared of a mirror anymore."

"Not to be alarming," Stevie said, "but I think I actually just died."

"Quick questions," Maverick held up his hand, "how many fingers, Stev?"

He might have asked a question, but she didn't answer him. Not the way he wanted her to. Instead of a number, Stevie smacked his face.

"Ow. Yeah, you're fine. Fuck you," he said, rubbing his cheek.

"Fuck you."

Cruella waltzed back to the table with a beaming smile. If there was ever an image to perfectly portray the Queen, it was seeing her bask in the glow of her ability to command the world to do her bidding. And though Moxie had no idea what she had done, she knew it was whatever she wanted.

"Stevie, baby, I think I know just what you need to feel better."

Few things were more reliable than a woman's intuition. Moxie didn't a hint as to what was about to unfold because there was only one solution to pull Stevie out of a funk. (As beloved of a funk as it was to listen to a song written about her by her best friend.) And it was exactly what they had all agreed they would prevent from happening.

"Oh no—"

Cruella had the voice of an angel. Which only made it that much more frustrating and difficult to get mad at when she started singing. "Elphaba, why couldn't you have stayed calm for once?"

The normal bar music had stopped just before she started, and the opening chords of Defying Gravity eventually followed. Everyone except for the two non-theatre kids recognized the music straight away. Some of them were more thrilled than the others. Stevie wiped away tears through her smile. Maverick stopped moving out of shock as he processed what was happening. Moxie considered whether it was blasphemous to say she might never want to hear that song ever again.

"I hope you're happy—" Stevie started.

Maverick gasped. "Traitor."

"I hope you're proud how you would—" Stevie shoved him away by the face. Again. "—grovel in submission—"

"Oh, I'm cutting fire signs," Maverick declared, though the announcement went unnoticed by the one person who would have slapped him for even suggesting he remove the song from the line-up. "Throw it on the fucking floor."

"Elphie, listen to me, just say you're sorry—" Cruella looked at Maverick.

His eyes bugged out. "Why would I say I'm sorry?"

"Such a boy," Moxie said.

"I have apologized so many times when I was wrong—"

"Except this one," Eddie said.

Moxie crossed her arms and leaned back for the show. "Can't believe you're letting Axel of all people be the better man at this table."

Axel smiled at the compliment. Gross. "I was always the—"

"Something has changed within me—"

Eddie stopped him with one hand on his leg. "Quit while you're ahead."

"Uh—" He swallowed. "You got it."

"Eddie, before I forget," Moxie said, "did you know that Axel once won a national ballet competition?"

Neither of them was prepared for the information. Axel looked ready to crawl under the nearest rock. Eddie immediately stopped moving.

"Wait what?" She turned to Axel before punching him in the shoulder. At least no one would notice if she left a bruise behind because his beet-red face would be distracting enough. "You didn't tell me that."

"You didn't ask," he squeaked.

"How the fuck would I know to ask about that?"

Moxie giggled and took a sip of her drink. "Perhaps he can show you how to brisé volé."

"What the hell is that and can you explain by showing it to me?" Eddie asked.

Axel shook his head. "I can't do it now. I haven't danced consistently in, like, fourteen years."

"I think I'll try defying gravity—"

"You heard the lady," Moxie said, pointing at Stevie. "Defy gravity, Axel."

"Not the right shoes."

"An artist never blames their tools."

"Well," Axel said before proceeding to chassé right into her trap, "I'm the tool then."

"Sure are, buddy."

"Thanks, Mox." Axel blew her an air kiss.

A strangled noise of disgust erupted out of her as she smacked at the air. "Does someone have an extra bottle of ketchup that I can use?"

Cruella rejoined them, strategically placing herself between the lesbian and the imposter. "Hey, Axe man. You can read sheet music, right?"

"Yes, I can, Queen."

"Okay, need you to hold this." She handed him her phone. "You'll need it soon."

Moxie shook her head. "I can't believe you're trusting him with Defying Gravity."

"I can't believe she's trusting him to read," Eddie joked.

"I can read sheet music."

Moxie raised an eyebrow. "Can you read the lyrics, though?"

"Yes."

Once again, Cruella proved herself to be a goddamn mastermind. Stevie, now standing alone beside their table, let herself lock eyes with her soul mate. Overtaken by the power of Defying Gravity, a song that might as well have been written just for them. No one else sang it as beautifully together as they did. No other pair of singers compared. And it was all because nobody else in the world shared the kind of connection they did.

That did not, however, mean that Moxie was okay with another rendition of the song. She could only take so many of them in one day. And just because she technically didn't hear most of them earlier did not mean it was okay.

"Together, we're unlimited. Together we'll be the greatest team there's ever been—"

"We had one job," she said.

Eddie sighed. "Failed miserably."

Cruella clapped her hands, gleefully rejoicing at the sight of Maverick finally joining his rightful place beside Stevie Kealoha, as he was always welcome to. "Sorry, but us theatre kids take an oath."

"And what oath would that be?" Moxie asked. "Subject Chicago to a seventh performance of the same song in one night?"

"It's for the greater good."

"It's For Good," Maverick briefly joined in.

Cruella narrowed her eyes. "You're gonna miss your line, you dick—"

Ever the ultimate performer, Maverick jumped back into his role. "Just you and I—"

"Valiant effort," Moxie said, looking around the table. "From most of us, at least."

The song was nearing its final roaring moments, and as Cruella the theatre kid had said, there were oaths taken. And that meant she was not going to allow the grand finale to take flight without ensuring a thunderous applause afterward. She looked over at Axel, slightly panicked.

"Axel, are you following along? Promise me you were telling the truth that you can read—"

"Yes, I can read—You guys know I got into MIT right?"

Moxie ran her fingers through her hair. "That don't impress me much."

Stevie and Maverick proved that night why they were the superstars everyone admired and looked up to. The way they commanded the attention of the entire bar, blew everyone away, and still only found each other in the room. Best friends on top of the world. And despite how much Moxie groaned over having to hear the song again, even she couldn't deny the power of their talents molding together in one transformative and mind blowing entity. Swept away by the music, the lights, the way the woman next to her lit up in her own way. To exist so unapologetically was to deny the very restrictive expectations placed on all of them by the most boring people in society. And the idea of boring would simply never apply to them.

Right before the infamous battle cry, the rest of them joined in as the Ozians. Moxie and Cruella knew the words. Axel followed along with the lyrics on Cruella's phone. Eddie appeared to mumble under her breath, not quite loud enough for Moxie to hear if she was singing. But it didn't matter. She appeared to be having a good time, and that was all they needed.

Stevie and Maverick both belted the final note together. Everyone else harmonized together. Moxie felt goosebumps along her arms, a tingling feeling at the back of her neck. And it only grew as Cruella's fingers intertwined with hers.

***

hi everyone! there has been some discussion in online spaces recently that i've been thinking a lot about, even in relation to me writing this story, so i wanted to reflect on that in case you're interested!

if you aren't as familiar with me as a person, i am a queer & indigenous woc (specifically bisexual, native hawaiian, and chinese.) i don't discuss this as much, but i am also neurodivergent, non-thin/fat/mid or plus size (whatever term you prefer), and not considered "conventionally attractive" by euro-centric standards. (note: i am not highlighting any of this to disparage myself or invite pity but to point out reasons for which i have been discriminated against, and why i have often been pushed out of spaces, whether intentionally or otherwise.)

for those reasons, most of my stories are told from the pov of marginalized identities—typically ones i hold myself but i've explored other identities with caution and research. for a long time, i considered whether i wanted to tell this particular story as moxie, while queer, is still a white woman. however, i decided to move forward with it because i felt inspired to tell a certain story, and i've made a conscious effort to imbue intersectional awareness into her perspective, both for myself as a woc and for anyone else reading this story. while her queerness—and specifically her identity as a lesbian—is important to the story and her journey, she, again, is still a white women.

i point this out as a reminder to all queer people that while there are struggles attached to our queerness, white supremacy has always and will always be one of the most dangerous weapons of oppression in society, especially in the United States—the systemic oppression exhibited throughout history and in our current day proves that. and because of white supremacy, white privilege will always prevail, even in the presence of other marginalization. (as a woc, i also want to mention that colorism/anti-blackness is often why non-black poc perpetuate and uphold white supremacy due to a proximity to whiteness.) this requires white people of any background to analyze inherent privileges and biases, as well as continuously work on unlearning those biases.

and to be very clear, race plays a role in any discussion because of how white supremacy affects every facet of society—whether we are talking about sexuality, economics, class, disabilities, healthcare, education, housing, etc. (even when we discuss the patriarchy, for example, race is relevant.) and that is why white people will never have the right to separate race or their whiteness when part of a discussion. and they certainly do not get to separate race when specifically bringing up poc.

with overkill, i hope to tell a complex story in which moxie gets to explore her sexuality, gender, and trauma, while also acknowledging her privileges as a white woman. at the end of the day, she is simply not equipped to understand certain experiences because she is white and that can never be removed from her lived experiences or the way she navigates the world, however the continuous effort is important and necessary.

i am not a perfect writer and constantly question the choices i make with my writing—who i am showcasing, who i am writing for, the messages taken from my work and whether they are appropriate or if i am the right person to tell them, my trauma and experiences, improvements i can make and how to learn from my mistakes. i hope this is ultimately what all of us storytellers try to do, both in our work and in our personal lives.