you first
Adelaide didn’t have a lot of things to take from the Cuddly Rockfish. Since destroying everything she owned by burning down her childhood home, her efforts had focused primarily on rebuilding her wardrobe: sundresses and miniskirts and ruffly shirts and stylish handbags and enough pairs of shoes she could afford to lose them to her new monster hunting pastime. She had her toiletries too, of course, and enough makeup and skincare products to fill one of the cardboard boxes Gwendolynn had been oh so generous enough to give her, but her temporary domicile was light on personal effects. What, after all, was the point of building anything permanent when she was just biding her time until she burned her way out of town?
She had always known that her stay at the Cuddly Rockfish was a temporary one. She just hadn’t expected these to be the circumstances of her leaving.
She had just packed up her last box when Gwendolynn appeared in the door again, her expression cold and stony.
“I’d like that lock of hair back now.”
Adelaide briefly toyed with the idea of keeping the token Gwendolynn had given her— and the additional magical hold that came with it. But she didn’t want to fight Gwendolynn, not really, so she reached into her purse and held out the small bundle of dark hair.
“Of course. As a token of goodwill, or something.”
Nothing in Gwendolynn’s countenance spoke to any glimmer of appreciation or gratitude.
Then again, that would require that Gwendolynn was capable of showing anything.
“You don’t have to worry about Moony,” Adelaide called out as Gwendolynn turned away again. “I’d never do anything to hurt him.”
“I’m not worried about you wanting to hurt him.” Gwendolynn shot a glare at her over her shoulder. “I’m worried you won’t be able to stop yourself if he gets in your way.”
“He won’t.”
Moony was on her side. Moony had chosen her over Gwendolynn. Moony was helping her. She wouldn’t need to hurt him because he wouldn’t get in her way.
She couldn’t say the same for Gwendolynn.
With a huff, the other woman left.
Adelaide took a moment to scoop up all her boxes, balancing them precariously on top of one another, and slammed the door on her way out. Eager to avoid the tea shop on the ground floor, she took the back staircase and made her way out to the curb, where Moony was idling in front of his car. He straightened as she approached with a grimace.
“I guess I’ll be needing a new place to crash.”
“You can stay with me as long as you need, Adelaide,” Moony assured her with that smile so much softer than any kindness Adelaide had been shown in years.
Fuck, she was glad he had sided with her.
He moved to open the back door of the car, and Adelaide set her boxes down on the ground to make it easier to move them into the seat, but before she put them away, she gave Moony a sidelong glance, recalling how tired and sad he had sounded pleading with Gwendolynn to take care of herself and be more forthcoming. She remembered what he had said when she came back downstairs: “I can’t do this anymore.”
“How are you doing, after all that?” she murmured.
He shrugged helplessly. “I… I’m still worried about Gwen, but I don’t think there’s much more we can do for her.”
“Y’know, it’s funny,” Adelaide said hollowly. “Given how sanctimonious she is, she’d make a great preacher’s kid.”
Or, indeed, a great preacher, but that was not a thought that Adelaide cared to draw to its natural conclusion. It hurt enough to have implied it during her conversation with Gwendolynn, to have told her I know this kind of care and worry, and it is not founded in understanding or respect or dignity. It is possessive, and it’s a killing thing and to have had it fall on deaf ears.
“I…” Moony grimaced. “Gwen’s a good person. I know a lot of hurtful things were said back there, but beneath it all, somewhere deep down, she’s a good kid, I know it.”
Maybe Adelaide deserved Gwendolynn’s goodness like she deserved her father’s.
“All my friends left me,” she whispered, throat tight and eyes burning and hands balled into fists inside of Nat’s flannel jacket. “I watched them all graduate and leave for college and never come back because who the hell would come back to this waste of a fuckin town?”
Her voice crackled like so many fires she had lit across Harborview, groaning and splitting like the support beams of the Dellouise Manor or the Yard and Sale greenhouse or the Madison’s farmhouse, the whimpers of something that could no longer hold its own weight.
“When I first met you and Gwendolynn, when we started hunting monsters and hanging out together, I thought…” She muffled a sob. “I thought that was all over… I just want it all to be over.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, the kind of thing she should’ve been able to repress with a mere swallow, but she hadn’t yet recovered her defenses since their conversation last night about her dad trapping her there. Every part of her was raw, a bleeding, picked-over wound exposed to saltwater and gnawing deeper. “I want to stop this,” the magic, the pain, the hurting others, the being hurt in return, all that latent monstrosity that Gwendolynn had condemned her for, she didn’t want to be like this, the kind of person who could not hold their power in check, “but I can’t… I can’t stop until I get out of here…”
“You will,” Moony replied with a conviction fit for a congregant of the First Church of Her Will. “We’ll get you out of here, I promise. Now, you need help with those boxes?”
Sniffling, Adelaide rubbed furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded.
“Yeah, thanks…”
Moony took care of putting everything in the backseat, and Adelaide shuffled around to the passenger seat. A minute later, he climbed in as well, but rather than turning the car on, he fidgeted with his keys for a moment before looking at Adelaide.
“Just… promise me something, yeah?”
Adelaide stared into the eyes of the one person in the whole wide world who knew what she had gone through over the last six years, the one person who had seen just how bad she was and still thought she deserved kindness.
“Anything.”
Moony frowned back, face drawn tight with worry— the real thing, not Gwendolynn looking at her like a ticking bomb, not her father looking at her like a broken doll.
“If someone tries to kill you… you kill them first.”
Adelaide’s mind flashed to the sleek barrel of a jet black, military-grade sniper rifle and a cold brown eye pressed to the scope.
“Yeah, I reckon I can do that.”
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No paywall version here.
"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...
In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.
Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.
But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.
I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.
In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.
For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.
And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.
Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.
[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]
And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.
The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.
I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.
To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.
The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.
Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.
I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."
-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.
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