Banished Divinity: Learning to be Human

The day I brought home my first B, Mum framed it. Actually, framed it. Hung it on the wall next to the family photos, which included, I noted with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, the photograph of Dad crying while holding newborn Human Sera.

"That's excessive," I said.

"That's love," Mum corrected, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "There's a difference."

Dad nodded sagely. "She's right. Love is excessive. That's how you know it's real. Like putting hot sauce on ice cream. No one needs it, but here we are."

Mina – Tangled Menace stared at the framed B on the wall. Her left eye began its familiar twitch—the one that usually preceded either a sarcastic comment or a small kitchen fire. "You framed a B? I got straight A's all through high school and you put my report cards in the drawer. The drawer, Mum. Next to expired coupons and that one sad potato that's been there since 2019."

"Those were expected," Mum said. "This is a miracle."

"I HONORED THIS FAMILY WITH MY GRADES."

"You honored us with your consistency," Mum replied, patting Mina's cheek. "Sera honors us with her character growth. It's not the same. Consistency is so yesterday Mina. Growth is dramatic and I declare its an “In Thing” from this day forward. And you know how I love drama."

Mina opened her mouth. Her eye twitched furiously—like a tiny, angry gremlin (which Tangled Menace made me watch one night, and instead of being scared, I fairly enjoyed it, as the gremlins reminded me of a creature I had once fought in the Babbodens realm—where such creatures do, in fact, exist. Anyway, Tangled Menace was deeply disappointed by my lack of screams and fear, which she had hoped she could draw) I suspected she was having a seizure behind her eyelid. I braced for impact.

Then she exhaled—long, loud, and theatrical enough to win an award for best performance—and said, "Fine. Fine. Frame the B. Put it next to the banana drawings. Cover the whole wall in mediocre grades. I don't care. I'm moving out. I'm changing my name. I'm becoming a nun."

"You're not religious," Dad said.

"Then I'll start."

But as she walked past me, she muttered, so quietly only I could hear: "Good job, weirdo."

I blinked. "What?"

"I said good job, weirdo. Don't make me say it again. I have a reputation."

"Your reputation is 'person who loses bets about abalone.'"

"My reputation is older sister. Now shut up and enjoy your framed B before I take it down and beat you with it. Gently. With love."

She stomped up the stairs muttering something about "abalone was a mistake." But she was smiling. Just a little. Just enough for me to see.

A soft glow appeared beside me. Floating cross-legged in the air, with the same face as mine—same eyes, same nose, same annoying smirk—was her. Human Sera. Or rather, a ghost version of me. She looked exactly like me. Same age. Same height. Same chaotic energy compressed into a translucent package.

"She called you a weirdo," Human Sera said, grinning. "Classic Mina. She called me a weirdo too. Right before we watch “The Nun” cause I wanted to watch it but im so scared . Her exact words were 'you're a weirdo and I love you and if you die while watching, I'll kill you.' Very on brand."

"You're not supposed to be here," I whispered under my breath.

"I'm a ghost. I'm literally made of 'not supposed to be here.' It's my whole brand. Also, I go where I want. Perks of being dead. No one tells me what to do anymore. Not even Mum, and that woman once grounded me for a month because I drew a mustache on her wedding photo."

"You did that?"

"Yup, at age 10, I was very bored and It was a very nice mustache. Very distinguished. She looked like a fancy Victorian gentleman. I stand by my artistic choices."

"You're going to give me a headache."

"You're going to give Mum more framed items. Honestly, a B? I would have framed an F. Aim higher, current me."

"I am aiming higher. That's the point."

"Mmm." She twirled in the air like a tiny, annoying ballerina. "We'll see. Also, nice job on the whole 'not failing' thing. Proud of you. Even if you are a replacement."

"I'm not a replacement."

"You're literally me but with amnesia. That's the definition of a replacement. It's fine. I'm not bitter. Much. Only a little. Like, this much." She held up her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. "Anyway, carry on."

The test paper was pristine. The red letter sat at the top like a crown—a perfect, unambiguous, celestial-worthy A. The kind of grade that would make demons weep and angels high-five each other. The kind of grade that proved, beyond any mortal doubt, that I, Seraphyne, was not merely adequate but excellent. I was basically a genius. A genius who still occasionally put her shirt on backwards, but a genius, nonetheless. Of course, with the help of Moo Moo, and no one in this family still does not believe me.

I walked into the kitchen and placed it on the table.

Silence.

Mum picked it up. Her hands trembled. Her lips moved as she read the score, the comments, the beautiful, beautiful A at the top.

Then she burst into tears again. Loud, ugly, beautiful tears.

"MY DAUGHTER IS SMART! AGAIN!!" she wailed into the dish towel. "HER BRAIN IS AFTER ALL NOT A LOST CAUSE! THE HEAVENS HAVE HEARD US! THE GODS HAVE ANSWERED! OUR PRAYERS HAVE BEEN—"

"It's one A, Mum and she had brain damaged," Mina said flatly. But she was already walking toward the table, already reaching for the paper, already—was that pride in her eyes? No. Couldn't be. Tangled Menace didn't do pride. Tangled Menace did sarcasm, threats, and the occasional well-timed eye twitch like Mum, but mum’s is much more professional like she was born to make such gesture, the master of eye twitching.

"She totally cares," Human Sera whispered, hovering near the ceiling with her legs crossed. She looked exactly like me, which was deeply unsettling—like watching myself in a mirror that hated me. "Look at her face. That's the face of someone who is emotionally invested and mad about it. I've seen that face before. When I ate her last chocolate bar in 2015. She mourned that chocolate for three days."

"Shut up," I muttered.

"What?" Mina said.

"Not you. The—never mind."

Mina squinted at me. "You're talking to yourself again. It's weird. Like, weirder than usual. And your usual is already pretty weird."

"She's not wrong," Human Sera added helpfully, floating down to sit on the fridge. "You do look a little crazy. But like, endearing crazy. Like a puppy that chases its own tail. Pathetic but cute."

"IT'S AN ‘A’ FROM HER!" Mum sobbed, waving the paper like a flag of surrender. "YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS! THAT'S LIKE A NOBEL PRIZE FROM PEOPLE LIKE HER."

People like her? How rude? I thought

"People like her should be send to some unknown island and let her talk to imaginary friends and That's not how—" Mina rolled her eyes so hard I heard a click.

"DON'T CARE. DON'T CARE HOW GRADES WORK. DON'T CARE ABOUT LOGIC. MY BABY IS SMART AGAIN. And did you just call your sister 'Coo Coo'?"

I could hear the venom on Mum's tongue.

Mina just shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, "Yes, but just not right in front of you."

Mina picked up the test paper. She held it to the light. She turned it over. She examined the back like a detective looking for counterfeit money. "No cheating this time?" she asked me.

"My accomplice—whom I have told you many times is named Moo Moo—was sleeping. He didn't even wake up. Hard to cheat when your partner in crime is dreaming about worms."

Mina squinted. "Okay. Whatever you just said. Then how did you—"

"I studied, Mina. With my Celestial brain. The Celestial brain you said was 'cosmically challenged' and 'powered by a single hamster on a wheel that occasionally dies.'"

Mina snorted. "I stand by those assessments. The hamster is still on strike, by the way." She handed the paper back to me. "But... not bad, little sister. Not bad at all."

"That almost sounded like a compliment." I blinked in surprise.

"It was an observation. Observations are neutral. Compliments imply emotional investment, and I am not emotionally invested in your academic success. I have no feelings. I am a void."

"A void who just smiled," Human Sera observed from the fridge, kicking her translucent feet. "A very smiley void. Very void-like. Also, she used to say the exact same thing to me. 'I'm a void, Sera. I don't have feelings.' And then she'd cry at sad movies. Every time. Every. Single. Time. The notebook? Devastated. Marley and Me? Inconsolable. She's not a void. She and Dad are the same a marshmallow pretending to be a rock. They basically could be in the same boat together and row while singing “KumBahYa” towards the evening sun. So inspiring…”

"You literally just said 'not bad.'" I grinned.

"That's a neutral observation." Mina sighed like someone who had just been asked to explain colour to a mole.

"'Not bad' is two letters away from 'good.'" I grinned wider.

"Two letters is a lot. Ask anyone who's played Scrabble. Ask anyone who's been two letters away from winning a car. It's nothing."

I stared at her. She stared back. Her lip twitched—not the angry twitch, but the one that meant she was trying not to smile. The one that meant she was losing a battle with her own face.

Then she pulled something from her pocket. A small, folded piece of paper, worn at the edges like she'd been carrying it for days. She shoved it into my hands.

"What's this?"

"Open it. Don't make a big deal. It's nothing. It's garbage. I was going to throw it away."

"She definitely wasn't going to throw it away," Human Sera said, floating down to peek over my shoulder. Her face—my face—was inches from mine, which was deeply unsettling, as I said ghost has no understanding of personal space. "She's been carrying that thing around like a love letter. She did the same thing when I drew her a picture for her birthday. Kept it in her wallet for three years. Open it, open it!"

I unfolded it. Inside was a drawing—a cartoon version of me, floating above a textbook, surrounded by little glowing stars. My face was hilariously smug. A speech bubble above my head said: "I AM CELESTIALLY BRILLIANT AND ALSO HUMBLE. ESPECIALLY HUMBLE. THE HUMBLEST."

Beneath the drawing, in Mina's handwriting: "Congrats on your results. Don't let it go to your head. Your head is already too big. — Your favourite Sister"

"Aww," Human Sera cooed, pressing her ghost hands to her cheeks. "She does love you and me. That's adorable. She drew me once too. A picture of me riding a unicorn into battle. I still have it. Well, I had it. It's in a box somewhere. In the attic. Probably covered in dust. But emotionally, I am framing it."

"You are my only sister!" I said. "And you drew this?"

"That's right. And since I'm your only sister, I am by default your favourite too. Basic math. Also, no. A magical art fairy drew it and left it in my sketchbook. Obviously, I drew it. Who else would draw you with a face that stupid? Picasso? He's dead."

"She's not wrong about the face," Human Sera said. "You do look very stupid. Lovingly stupid, but still. Also, she called Picasso dead. I appreciate dark humour. Very on brand for Mina."

"It's a very accurate face."

"It's a very stupid face. That's why I drew it." Mina crossed her arms, her cheeks flushing pink. "Anyway. Don't get used to the praise. This is a one-time thing. When you get your next A, I'm going to pretend I don't care. Because I don't. Because I'm not emotionally invested."

"Of course not."

"I'm sarcastically invested. There's a difference. It's like regular investment, but with more eye-rolling and less money."

"Mina."

"What?"

I held the drawing to my chest like it was made of gold. "Thank you."