Tara’s Ultraboost™ Supplements for Good Health and Good Times

Look, everyone knows there’s a difference between being a supportive friend and being a SUPPORTIVE FRIEND. And we, the women of the West Hidden Pines Phase II cul-de-sac, had vowed to be the latter.

What is it, truly, to be SUPPORTIVE? For us, it always came down to action. That meant not just sitting on Shay’s patio drinking wine and listening to her complain about her deadbeat ex who made plenty of money from his swanky restaurant but still refused to pay alimony. No, SUPPORT meant leaving one-star reviews for said restaurant all over the internet, replete with gruesome details of food poisoning and handsy waiters.

It meant attending Cadence’s jiu-jitsu competitions—which she said were the only way for her to release the tension of absolutely-fucking-nobody listening to her at her firm even though she was a fucking partner—and also sparring with her, timidly fending off kicks and grabs on her front lawn.

It meant offering to pick up my kids from school on days I needed to walk out of West Hidden Pines into the real pines lest I walk into traffic or, more likely, disappear to somewhere else and not come back. I get like that sometimes.

We did not know what it meant to workshop a vitamin.

But the one of us who needed the most SUPPORT, without a doubt, was Tara. She was prone to melancholy. Her parents had bought her a house in our subdivision after she finished grad school, where she’d lived alone ever since. From the confines of its well-appointed rooms she struggled to make meaning of her days. Or something like that. We went with her to the protests and blood drives. We’d been the online hype team for her many Etsy shops. We were the set-up and tear-down crew for her short-lived backyard concert series (apparently against the homeowners’ association rules). We read several drafts of her novel-in-progress.

So, when she said she was going to start selling supplements, we were not surprised. Like Herbalife? we asked. An MLM seemed a reasonable next step for Tara.

No, she said. This was her own recipe. She’d been working on it a long time, the perfect blend. A women’s vitamin for real women with real bodies. That’s the way she said it. Tara had no background in nutrition or anatomy or chemistry, as far as we knew. Her degrees were in English Literature. 

But we said FUCK YEAH. Because that’s what it means to be SUPPORTIVE. We said, what can we do to help?

Try them and tell me how you feel, Tara said.

*

Tara’s supplements came in mason jars, with the word ULTRABOOST sharpied on the lid. There were sixty in each jar. They were grayish with little flecks of darker gray, and about the size and shape of an adult’s pinkie toe. They smelled like vanilla almond milk. We were each supposed to take two pills every morning for a month. Tara said she would be taking them too.

Then we can workshop them! she said.

We did not know what it meant to workshop a vitamin.

*

The first morning, I sat down for cereal with my kids and shook two pills from the jar. Look, I said, holding them out. Mommy is taking her vitamins just like you guys!

Are yours shaped like Paw Patrol? my daughter asked.

I said they were not, and she shook her head. Those aren’t good then, she said.

I thought it best not to include this note in the workshop.

A few minutes later, I sent a text to Tara: Took my sups! Feeling great already—lots of energy! No coffee for me today!

I knew she had already received two other, similar texts. This was our plan.

But then, the funny thing was, I did feel great. I whirred through my day, and in the evening, I was all piggyback rides and wrestling matches and tap dances with the kids. There was a lightness, a buzzing like I was drunk, but also somehow totally clearheaded. I did not want the forest that day, only the tasks of my life and the people I was promised to.

*

But what’s in them? We whispered to each other over the phone. I cut one in half and learned nothing; it was the same inside as out.

We asked Tara, but she wouldn’t say, just wagged her finger. We’ll talk in a month. No cheating.

After a week, I asked Tara if I could place an order for more. I knew from her previous ventures that her attention span was often short. I felt it was important to strike while the iron was hot and not get stuck holding an empty bag—or mason jar, as it were.

*

Tara didn’t want us to talk about the vitamins until the workshop. So of course, when she wasn’t around, it was all we talked about.

I shared my feelings of newfound contentment, my boundless energy for all chores big and small.

Cadence said she suddenly felt seen at work, her opinions sought out and celebrated. Her kids seemed to notice something as well and had taken to calling her ma’am unironically.

Shay, who was the oldest among us, had been complaining of being perimenopausal. Now, she said her symptoms had not only abated but reversed.

I feel adolescent, if you know what I mean, she said, gesturing to her genitalia. And my menstruation! It’s positively volcanic!

We suggested that volcanic menstruation was not desirable. Still, we understood what she meant, the sense of renewal and revitalization. But also power. And something about our anger. Not less of it, but a new purity, almost a fun-ness. A gleeful rage, we agreed.

Shay’s daughter, Kenzie, insisted it was GROSS GROSS GROSS when Shay spoke of the vitamins’ impact. We encircled the teen, who was eating toast at the kitchen table, and delivered unto her a lecture on the importance robust sexual health. We weren’t usually so forthcoming with the children, but we were feeling sage-like. We wanted to impart our wisdom. This too, we assumed, was due to the Ultraboost.

Kenzie made a show of plugging her ears while singing PLEASE. STOP. TALKING. to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”

*

I was torn between the desire to horde my stash of Ultraboost, and to spread its goodwill. Eventually, I did offer some to my husband. He declined.

Honestly, I can’t believe you’re taking those, he said. I mean, I know it’s important to you to support your friend—

SUPPORT! I shouted, so he could hear the difference.

He scrunched up his face. Yes, he said. That. You could be poisoning yourself for all you know. It seems dangerous.

I implored him to think of the potential benefits. When he asked what benefits, I admitted I could not promise specifics. That was the wonderful trick of it, I argued. Ultraboost seemed to affect everyone a little differently. Who knew what it might do for him. Weight loss? Better sleep? Stop burning the pancakes? Less farting? Actually listening when the kids talked to him?

After that he did not speak to me for the rest of the day. In the morning, I ground up Ultraboost and put it into his coffee. He caught me, but he was laughing, so I thought maybe he’d already drank enough of it to undergo an improvement.

*

I began to enjoy my sparring sessions with Cadence. I was no longer just weakly blocking her attacks but delivering my own. We met in the early evenings before dinner, while our kids played. It was warm and we were all in bare feet which made me feel like we might be feral if it weren’t for the perfect cool softness of the stupid lawn. One day, I got so revved up that I punched Cadence in the face. A haymaker, I think it’s called.

Cadence shouted THAT’S NOT JIU-JITSU then tackled me. We rolled around, grappling for a long time. When we finally stood up, Cadence’s lip was bleeding and my shirt was ripped mostly off. The kids stared at us from the play-fort windows. Her youngest, three years old, was holding his juice box upside-down, cran-apple dripping down his arm and tears in his eyes.

Oh no, I said, fearing we had traumatized them. What should we do?

Let’s kiss, Cadence said.

So we did. A big mouthy kiss with our hands on one another’s faces. The kids cheered.

Then we went next door to get Shay and make her fight and kiss with us too.

*

My husband continued to express misgivings, or at least conflictions. On the one hand, I was happier. He liked that. And he agreed the pills I continued putting in his coffee had made the skin on his hands softer, the sensitive spots on his teeth less sensitive, and the slight weird bend in his penis less apparent.

But wasn’t I concerned for my friends, he wanted to know? Had I noticed Shay’s eyes? They were like goats’ eyes now, square pupils. And why were Cadence’s children singing the entire Sound of Music songbook on the lawn each morning?

I reminded him that goat-shaming was a microaggression. And hadn’t he ever wished our own brood might emulate the von Trapp family? Isn’t that every suburbanite’s dream? Shouldn’t we applaud Cadence, and her offspring, for their success?

Neither of us had noted any change in Tara.

*

I admit I was becoming hungry for answers too. At first, I tried to quench this hunger by making whoopie pies and snickerdoodles with the kids. My domestic enthusiasm got out from under me, and we made way too many, the kids complaining of hand cramps and sweatshop-like conditions. I halted the assembly line and took the treats over to Tara’s house. Shay and Cadence were already there, having wine on the porch. They looked so beautiful under the soft glow of hanging bistro lights. They were laughing about something. I passed around the cookies and laughed for a while too. Then I said, Cut the crap Chuckleheads. Tara, it’s time to talk vitamins.

Shay and Cadence agreed.

For example, Shay said, is it possible I’m turning into a werewolf?

Lycanthropy, Cadence echoed. I’m wondering as well about auto-vampirism. I’m biting my fingertips, then sucking the blood and really enjoying it.

Tara shook her head. Has it been a month? she asked.

We admitted it had not.

Tara’s eyes filled with tears. She told us how much she needed us. Couldn’t we see that? Couldn’t we see how hard she was working to fix her life? Our lives were so perfect, she said. And hers was such shit. Maybe this could be her perfect thing too. But only if we all took this project seriously and did exactly as she asked. It was important. Couldn’t we see its importance?

We were surprised by this sudden turn toward emotion. We thought Ultraboost had insulated us against such vulnerabilities.

We didn’t want Tara or Shay to get in trouble. This was part of being a SUPPORTIVE friend.

We set down our cookies and wines and gathered around her. HUG is not strong enough a word. We were a cocoon from which she could emerge when ready.

When she finally did push out from us, our beautiful supplement-making butterfly, she was smiling, and I thought I noticed something about her teeth. Were they stronger like my husband’s? Or maybe more jagged, not like a wolf but a shark. Or nothing at all, and it was wishful thinking on my part—wanting that for her.

I’m not criticizing the werewolfing, Shay said. I like it.

Lycanthropy, Cadence said again. Then Shay kicked her in the shin and called her a nerd, and said, What are you a fucking werewolf lawyer? They fought for a while because by then we were all always looking to fight. Cadence won because Cadence always won.

After that we hugged Tara some more and pledged our ultimate loyalty and SUPPORT to her. We reiterated our agreement to her very good plan. We swore that when it was finally time for the vitamin workshop, it would be the best vitamin workshop there ever was. No more questions until then and no more doubt. We really meant it. After all, we loved Tara. And we loved Ultraboost. Loved it so much. To seal the deal, we spat in each other’s palms and ran through Phase II stomping everyone’s tulips and daffodils with our Chacos even though that sort of thing is prohibited by the homeowners’ association.

*

Things came to head later that week when Shay drove her Lexus into the lobby of her ex-husband’s restaurant. She rolled out of the car, fists up, insisting he had stolen not only her money but THE BEST YEARS of her life. She took all the cash from the register at the bar and was in the office opening the safe when the cops arrived. They had to drag her out. She kept screaming ULTRABOOST FOR LIFE, folding her hands up like U’s.

The same day, Kenzie got caught at school with her backpack full of Ultraboost. She’d been selling them to other kids at $10 per pill, calling them mommy-boner pills. She had made $7,000 in two weeks. Which gives you some idea the volume of Ultraboost Shay must have had in the house, that she didn’t even notice so much missing.

*

Look, obviously we knew things had gotten out of hand. Still, we didn’t want Tara or Shay to get in trouble. This was part of being a SUPPORTIVE friend. So, when two police officers approached us in Cadence’s yard as we were sparring, we gave each other a nod to say snitches get stitches. And when they recounted for us the details of Shay’s exploits, Cadence said, Oh it’s just because of her volcanic menstruation and werewolfism. Then we laughed so hard and for so long that one of the cops said if we didn’t stop we would be charged with obstruction of justice. That only made us laugh more. Maybe we should have been nervous. If they searched our homes, they would find Ultraboost there too; just as much as at Shay’s house, if we were being honest. But we knew they wouldn’t. Not in this neighborhood. Not in front of these bright children and these bright cars and all these nice furnishings.

*

Tara insisted to the police that the pills were nothing—just ground-up corn husks with oatmeal, cornstarch, and a little vanilla almond milk for flavor. And that’s all they found in her house.

Still, I continued taking them. I took every last pill I had, two each morning, until they were gone. I wanted to keep feeling whatever it was we’d been feeling—the contentment, the renewal, the rage, the sage-ness, the werewolfery, the vampireosity. I didn’t care how I got there. 

From Sinkhole, and Other Inexplicable Voids by Leyna Krow, to be published by Penguin Books, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025 by Leyna Krow.