Bark 2.4
I lay on my bed, trying to sleep. I'd gotten out of there as soon as I could, because I really didn't want to talk to Miss Militia about it, and Rachel had had to leave immediately, because while there was something like a truce, the longer she stuck around the more chance something would go wrong.
Which left me to just recover the three of them and wave off the damage. It wasn't that bad, really. Perhaps they could get Panacea to patch it all up? I wasn't sure, really, but either way, I got out of there.
I wasn't limping away, but I did have to move slowly because of how my back felt, and it took a long time to get home, because I stopped to rest a few times, just letting my bugs watch out for any trouble.
But the only trouble I had was getting in the house without waking up Dad, which I did by moving really, really slowly and hoping that nothing creaked too much. I really needed a hot shower, because my shoulder and that point on my back were still burning. It was a hot sort of pain, though it felt like if I focused hard enough on my bugs I could sort of drown it out, as if I were spreading myself thinner.
That only helped so much, and so I was staring up at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep. We'd won, that was for sure, and hopefully we'd captured most of the rest of them. I didn't know that, though, and I wished I had something to think about other than that.
And lo and behold, I did. I needed to look up about Rachel's actions. I hadn't seen anything about that online, though I knew that they usually kept too many details from hitting the net. It made it easier to recruit capes who might have made a few bad mistakes, here and there, though murder didn't really fall under it. But unless it was something that couldn't be covered up, there were often only rumors about the specific crimes they did, rather than a general pattern.
Unless that general pattern was murder, of course.
So all I could know was that Rachel was violent, and that she didn't make a habit of murdering people. But considering how dangerous her dogs were, it could be really easy for her to maul someone to death without realizing it, couldn't it? That'd be murder, though I was sure there was… some kind of degree? Second degree, maybe, when you killed someone without planning on doing it ahead of time.
But if I asked Bitch, what if she just shrugged and admitted she'd killed eight or nine people and would probably do so again? What would I do, what would I say?
It wasn't just my back that ached that night.
*******
In the morning, the pain had dulled a little, but was still there. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and just as luckily, nobody was going to give me shit if I didn't go out for a run. It was later than I expected, though, and I texted Rachel a quick apology as soon as I got up.
... actually, I probably should have started with a shower and taking stock of myself, but it seemed like it was more important. I knew it was stupid, because I really did need that shower. My back hurt, after all.
I didn't know what I was going to do about Rachel, and maybe I should back off for just a little bit, so that I could look it up online. Maybe someone somewhere had a hint of what had happened?
Then there was Tattletale, but I wasn't sure how much I wanted to rely on a villain. Would she lie to push me away from Rachel because she didn't want Rachel working with heroes? Not likely, though I was a little afraid of it anyways. The more likely option was that she'd make up a scenario where Rachel was totally innocent, because she wanted me to work with them to achieve whatever their goals were.
I thought about texting Rachel and saying that I couldn't show up until the afternoon, but thought better of it. Still, I needed to get to the library and use the computer there to see what everyone was saying about us. I was sure that Rachel didn't really care, but I did.
I wanted to see that I was doing something, that the pain was worth it, because that's the only way I could feel like I was really being a hero.
Finally, after way too long lingering in bed, thinking about Rachel, I got up and grabbed some clothes, and then made a beeline for the showers.
I tried to mix it up. First, a long, hot shower, and then, once my back was good and red, a nice, cold shower. It helped me focus, and by the end of it, I could almost imagine walking to Rachel's without regretting it. My shoulder still felt stiff and a little cramped, and my back was still sore, but hopefully that'd fade over time.
If it was feeling better this easily, then a few painkillers and it should be a non-issue, at least until I did something to make it hurt even more. Krieg had really done a number on me, and I was surprised that he'd been willing to kill me. Or perhaps it was a bluff?
It hadn't felt like one, I thought, finally dragging myself downstairs with my backpack.
Dad, at least, hadn't suspected anything. He was drinking coffee, hunched over a morning paper. "Morning, Taylor. You sleep alright?"
"Fine, had a little crick in my neck, though," I lied, "what about you?"
"Oh, pretty good. Went to bed a little early, thought I'd follow your example."
"Hope that didn't wind up with you waking up too early," I said, as I made my way for the bread. Maybe some toast before I left? I wasn't sure. I could always get food on the way to Rachel's, and I didn't feel that hungry.
I knew that was just the pain and my distraction speaking and that I'd be ravenous the moment I started eating, but still.
"No, it's fine. Surprised I woke up before you. You're usually up and gone running before then."
"I know," I said, "but it's a Saturday. I should be sleeping in, like any other teenager."
"Not much of a sleep-in, really. It's not even close to noon," Dad said.
"I got in the habit of waking early," I said, flushing.
"I don't get why you started running, but I'm glad. It's good for your health," Dad said.
Well. Yes, yes it was. "Sure," I said. "If you ever wanted to jog with me, you could."
"Pretty busy," Dad said, and it felt like we were talking around each other, like two dogs in a scrap who were just staring at each other and hadn't yet worked up the nerve to pounce.
I wondered, would he eventually search my room, which had some sketches and designs, or the basement? It seemed like things were going downhill, but in a slow, quiet sort of way. But I knew that Dad could blow up, and I needed to defuse it. But how?
That, I didn't know. So I just said, "Sure, but…"
"Maybe," he said.
Well, that was something.
*******
On the way there, I had an idea. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it in general. Yes, Rachel was wanted, including in her civilian identity, but how many people actually knew who she was? She was able to go to and from wherever the base was without being noticed, which meant that there was something else she'd probably be able to do as well.
Celebrate.
I knocked on the door, hearing the familiar and comfortable sounds of the dogs barking, and feeling their positions. Everything was like normal, and that was comforting. All of this felt like it was part of something I could get used to, a life I could live and not regret it: which was odd, because if she really was a murderer, then, what?
Plus, I knew that I was being unrealistic, and indulging in silly thoughts. Silly feelings, too.
She opened the door, looking just like normal. Again I looked for some cohesive whole that I was attracted to. Again, my face flushed and I felt warm just looking at her. It didn't make any sense. Silly thoughts, silly feelings, silly attractions.
"Hey, Rachel," I said, "wanna go out for a victory breakfast?"
"What?" she asked, her face scrunching up adorably. Or at least, it felt cute to me.
"Once we have your dogs watched for the moment, we could go out, there's a diner nearby. I have money for breakfast if you don't, and we could eat our fill. We did something important last night, together. Even if it was dangerous. Even if my back hurts. So we celebrate like we're champions. With greasy spoon pancakes."
Rachel was looking at me, and then she tilted her head and let out a bark of laughter, short and sharp, and yet, a moment later, she nodded. "Sure."
"Is that weird?" I asked.
"Nah, let's do it. Do I need to get dressed up or something?"
"Yes. The official wardrobe for a victory breakfast is a skimpy black dress."
Her eyes narrowed, and at least she actually suspected sarcasm. She could be pretty blunt.
"No, you're fine. You look great just like you are," I said, and then added, "I mean, for eating."
For… eating.
I wasn't exactly the best at talking, especially today.
"Sure," she said, with a shrug, just going along with my weirdness.
Which I liked. She could be judgmental and harsh in her own way, but if she was in a decent mood, she'd go along with a lot, or at least not object. Maybe that was just me, though, though I didn't know what 'just me' involved. I didn't know anything about her, well, romantically. What did she act like around someone she was attracted to?
How much of that was that, and how much was friendship, and where was the line anyways?
Best not to think about it.
Hal's Diner was a pretty good place, if you wanted cheap, but tasty food that probably fulfilled your calorie count for the day. It had waitresses in old-fashioned outfits that were somewhere between iconic and a little lame, and a huge breakfast menu mostly composed of variations on usual themes, but with a few exceptions. They had Johnnycake, they had baked beans, they had fish cakes. It was a New England greasy spoon, which meant the grease was a little different.
I had pancakes, eggs, and for the meat, a few fishcakes, while Rachel, who seemed to intimidate the pretty brunette waitress, ordered a Meat Lovers Breakfast, and at my urging, got a few Johnnycakes to try.
"You really should," I'd said, tempting her to the dark side. "They're really not bad."
The feast filled most of the table, especially what Rachel had gotten, which included four strips of bacon, four round sausages, and a thin side of breakfast steak, as well as eggs, toast, hash-browns and some beans.
"Wow," I said. "Breakfast of champions, like I said." I began to pour strawberry syrup on my pancakes, and then began dicing them up, adding butter as I did, watching Rachel the whole time.
She was oddly careful when she ate, cutting the food up, but eating fast, as if someone was going to steal it all away. "So, that went pretty well, I think," I said. "It could have gone worse, and we took them out."
"Yep. Damn nazi."
"Thanks for saving me, back there, with Krieg," I said, when I was sure that the waitress, Shawnee, wasn't listening.
The Johnny Cakes sat off to the side. Little round cornmeal cakes, usually eaten with butter or syrup, so a little like a pancake, though my Mom had actually liked them with applesauce, of all things.
Rachel shrugged, and picked up one of the cakes, eating it as if it were a muffin. Then she paused, and grabbed for the butter, to help make it taste better.
"Acquired taste, but it really isn't that different than pancakes. Just different," I said, smiling at her.
There were crumbs on her lips. I barely kept from smiling, covering my face with my hand to hide it.
"What?" she asked, suspiciously.
"Nothing. You have crumbs on your lips," I said, not sure why it mattered.
"Kay," she said, brushing them off. She kept on eating,even more carefully this time. But quickly. She demolished her food while I kept on switching from one to the other. A fish cake and then two bites of pancake and then more of my scrambled eggs. She took to the Johnnycakes.
"Never had them before?"
"Nah."
"Not from around here?"
Rachel frowned, and then leaned in a little. I could tell that she didn't want to answer, or at least, that her first instinct was always to clam up. It was a pretty normal one, really, and I completely understood it.
"Food's fuel," she said. "Though I like meat." But that wasn't all, after a moment, she nodded at me. "Down a little south, though spent most of my life north." She frowned, "Maine, and then coming on down here, bit by bit."
Ah, that fit what I'd read, at least, though I didn't detect anything more 'southerly' about her accent. Of course, people were bad at accents in general, but my guess is that she just wasn't in a situation where learning about local cuisine mattered.
"Moved a lot," she admitted with a shrug. "Did shit."
I frowned at her, and said, "Sorry, I've been a Brockton Bay girl all my life. So I don't really know about moving. What I know more about is staying in a place and watching it change. Maybe a better word is watching it rot. Go a little downhill," I said, trying to look at her and get a feel for what it must have been like. "I'd like to say I'm fighting for the city or something, but I'm not."
"It's okay. You fight for you," she said, with a shrug, "it's better than some place."
"Is it?" I asked, rhetorically.
"Yes. You're better than this shithole," she said, at the exact moment that Shawnee was passing by, which got her a glare that she ignored as if all of the barbs and arrows of the world couldn't, in that moment, hurt her. I knew she wasn't always like that, considering how Regent had gotten under her skin, but it still felt kinda impressive.
"I… thanks."
"Way better," she said, firmly.
At that moment, I felt this overpowering urge to kiss her. My throat actually felt dry as I stood up and said, "T-thanks." I was blushing. I was blushing so hard that steam was probably coming out of my ears.
I went to the bathroom and threw water on my face and tried to calm down. Then I went back, sat down and said, "Also, can we swing by the library, briefly? I want to check the news, but I didn't bring the newspaper."
She frowned, thinking for a moment, no doubt considering her dogs. "Okay."
"I promise I'll be fast."
*******
I was as fast as I could be, going to the news website and looking things up. The attack got a somewhat small story, which noted that noted E88 members Menja (oh, I got it wrong), Stormtiger, Cricket, Othala, Crusader, Krieg, and someone who was apparently a new member and hadn't received a name, had all been captured, along with 'sizeable quantities' of drugs, and many of the mid-level non-powered leaders.
If my math was right, that left Kaiser, Hookwolf, and Rune left out and about, which was pretty close to nobody at all. It'd have been better if Hookwolf was gone, since he was a beast to fight, but three people wasn't nearly enough to hold on.
Kaiser would have to do something tricky.
It wasn't the main story, actually. The main story was about the Mayor's niece, who had apparently been kidnapped last night. Everyone was waiting to hear the ransom demands, and the story was apparently updating every hour to basically say that nothing needed to be updated, the sure sign that this was catching a lot of attention.
I couldn't exactly feel annoyed that it rated higher than my bust, but I did shake my head at the fact that I wasn't even mentioned. I was, 'With help from local independent heroes.'
Which was true, yes, but still.
Hogging the credit kind of annoyed me, and I checked online about it. Maybe I should make an account to post about… something? Or at least introduce myself? I could do it, maybe. I looked up a few heroes, just did some general searching while Rachel was sitting and watching me, but there was nothing obvious that stood out that would tell me the details behind Rachel's story, except that it happened in Maine.
If she wasn't there, maybe I could look it up in more detail, but maybe not?
So I gave a mental shrug, still worrying about it, but not sure what to do, and decided just to enjoy my day with Rachel.
******
That evening, once I was back home, I wound up having two different conversations in the span of an hour. I was tired, sweaty, and smelled of dog, but the day had gone pretty well.
It had also been an exercise in frustration, because now I was just thinking about Rachel constantly, and her being right there meant that it was hard not to…
Well. I knew what people said about the kind of person that just did that kind of thing, just…
The words clung to me like barbs, and I couldn't tear them off.
So I didn't know what I was going to do. So I texted Lisa.
'Hey, can I talk to you?' I asked.
'Sr. Wht about
'
My eyelid twitched. I hated text talk, and yet here I was, texting her. But I wasn't sure if I was up for a phone conversation with her. She was a very persuasive person, from what I could tell, and text was a less dangerous medium.
'Rachel. I've heard that she's murdered people before.'
'Taylor. I Hv advce.'
'Yes?'
'Ask. Her. About. It.'
I sighed, and took time to text it. 'It isn't that easy. Especially with everything else going on.'
'Everything else? Your attraction?'
'Yes. Yes, I am attracted to her. Don't ask why, but, I mean, I can't do something like that.'
'I h8 to ask y, but?'
'Not that kind of person,' I typed, and hit send, and then sent another message quickly, 'Casual hookups.'
'Really?' she texted back.
I was glad it was text, and not the phone. Because she might have been able to charm more out of me that I didn't want to talk about. Or think about.
'Yes.'
'Just tlk 2 her. She lkes u.'
'Please stop the text talk' I typed, flushing.
'And yes, I know. She already said she wants to have sex with me, what more could she say?'
'You forgot a period.
'
A pause, and then she sent. 'Plus, she likes hanging out with you. I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, but…'
'But what? You're going to try to tell me how to live my life?'
'Maybe. You like her. You are attracted to her.'
'Yes.'
'She likes you. She is attracted to you.'
I typed in 'Yes.'
'So, do something. I'm the worst person to give this sorta advice, because I don't really care about dating.'
A moment's pause, and then another text. 'But I'd go for it if I were you.'
'It's not that simple.' It wasn't, it really wasn't. It shouldn't be, it couldn't be.
'Maybe. Talk to her. I certainly can't.'
Well, now wasn't that reassuring? I was getting ready to text her back with another message, probably something sarcastic, when I got a call.
I checked the caller ID and flopped back further on my bed, sprawling myself out as I took Greg's call.
"Hey, Greg, how's it going?" I asked, trying to sound breezy.
"Fine. Hey, there was a big card game tournament tomorrow. Divine: The Questing, and I was wondering if you could come for moral support I would really appreciate it I have a new deck and I'm not sure how well it'll do and if I win I could go to a city-wide tourney because they've set it up so that everyone who wins a local can--"
He talked fast. Very fast. He had already begun explaining his deck, which involved something called Power Token Rush or something, and which focused on small monsters or…
I wasn't a fan of card games, but I'd been around him enough to pick up a few terms here and there. "Greg!"
"Oh. Yes?" he asked, sounding out of breath.
"I… what time?"
"Oh, it's from ten to maybe three if I win, and that'd be really cool, though I'm not sure if I am up for it. I'm lacking a few of the Heroic Counters I need to make a dedicated Fire Blast deck mulligan away their burns."
"Well, that's bad," I said, trying to sound like I had any idea what he was talking about.
"So, can you come?"
I wanted to say no. He sometimes asked me to go along with him for moral support, whether to that fighting game tournament last year, or to various card game things. I usually said no, for all sorts of reasons, though last time he'd asked I had actually showed up for a little while after he lost to cheer him up.
But I thought about what my alternatives were, tomorrow. I could spend a lot of time with Rachel, which sounded good, really good. It also sounded like an exercise in frustration and staring and all sorts of other things.
So. "Sure? I'll need to talk to a few people first, but I should be able to do that."
Hopefully Rachel wouldn't mind too much.
********
"Yeah. Really?" she asked.
"Yep, he asked me, and I felt like I had to go. He's a friend, and I need to have his back, even if it's just some card game." I tried to make my voice sound casual, though even talking to her over the phone felt too intimate, too close. I was afraid of my own feelings, but I had the right to be.
"I guess."
"I can see you in the morning, so I'll help you deal with the dogs, and then I can see you after that for an hour or two, if you want. I need to do some homework, but I could also read a little, and if you needed any help…"
"Makes sense," she said. I had a feeling she was a little put out, but at least she wasn't angry or anything. Though why would she? Just because she was attracted to me didn't mean she was making a big deal about any of this. In fact, she seemed remarkably casual. She'd offered, and for all I knew, the offer had been taken off the table while I'd been hemming and hawing.
Not that that was a bad thing, since I wasn't going to accept anyways. But it was a thing. It could be a thing, if that's what had happened.
"So, see you in the morning."
"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious.
********
The game store was actually packed with people. This was a bigger deal than I thought it'd be, and I hung back a little, looking at dozens and dozens of people, to the point where they were spilling out into the food court, where at least some of the games would take place.
Yes, we were back at the mall, and I'd come not knowing what to expect. Most of the players were guys, though there were a few girls here and there, and the youngest were kids, while the oldest looked like they were in their forties.
Most were in their teens or twenties, from what I could tell, and they came in all shapes and sizes. Stereotype only described some of them, and I waited to see if Greg noticed me. He was standing in a corner, flipping through his deck, which were all in black sleeves to preserve them, or something like that.
When he looked up and noticed me, he hurried over. "Heya!"
"Hey, Greg. You feeling ready to kick some butt?" I asked.
"Uh, maybe. I mean, a lot of these guys are really good. What if I just choke or whatever?" he asked, talking quickly, "what would I do then? I mean, I already spent all of my allowance on these things, so I'm not sure what else I could do to make the deck better."
"Just play well," I said, "with whatever deck you have. I mean, have you been planning and practicing hard?"
"Uh, yes…"
"Then you'll do fine," I said. "I'll be rooting for you. Though probably not cheering. I doubt they appreciate a yelling section."
Plus the idea of yelling cheers made me imagine crawling somewhere and hiding.
"You're right, but still. Just being there would be great! Thanks!" He hugged me, and I flushed, embarrassed, and gave him a pat on the back before pulling away as soon as he could.
I wondered about his motivations. Did he want me here because he was trying to… flirt with me or something? Still, either way, I watched his first match, which he won, and his second, which was a draw, trying to understand the rules of the game.
But I couldn't make heads or tails of some of it, and it was frustrating in a way that made me wonder about Rachel and reading and… a lot of other things. I knew I had it bad when watching someone else play a game could lead to me bringing it back around to Rachel, but I didn't know how I was supposed to stop myself from doing it.
It just happened.
Whore.
He won the third game, which put him up one rank. It was best out of three, after all, which meant I'd be here for a while.
Still, I gave him a thumbs up each time he won, and the blond boy seemed to really appreciate it, playing with more fervor each time he saw me there. Which didn't mean playing better, I suppose, since there was no time limit on moves as long as you weren't silly and didn't spend five minutes choosing which cards to play.
Things were going well, though, and the second win put him into into the final eight, which meant in theory as many as nine more games if he went all the way and yet always won in three. In other words, I could be here a while. Though they were going to have a break in a little bit for lunch.
********
He bought lunch, and then sat close to me, smiling as he ate his sandwich, being very careful to chew with his mouth closed, more careful than he usually was, and despite my expectations, he didn't monologue about the card games he'd won and lost.
Instead, Greg asked, "So, I was just wondering, how are things going with that friend of yours?"
He said friend very carefully, and I knew exactly what he thought, and so I understood why there was a little edge to his voice. If he did have a crush on me, then wasn't I--
I tried to shake off that feeling, that talking about this with him was a bad idea, and that I should just find a way to ask him if he had a crush, or even ask him on a date just because we were friends so maybe it'd work who knew?
It certainly felt like a more proper sort of thought than a crush on someone I'd known less than a month, and who wanted to have sex with me.
Or had wanted, I reminded myself.
"Well, I want to talk to her about something, but I don't know. It's something I heard about her," I said, "so I don't…"
"Know," Greg repeated. "I totally get that. What is it?"
"Just… a rumor. You know how those are? They get blown out of proportion, but I'm not sure. A friend just told me to take the plunge and ask her about it, but what if that ruins our friendship?"
Greg was looking rather uncomfortable, sweating in the kind of way I associated with nervousness, "Oh? Well, uh. I mean, um, you should totally just man up and say it to her! I mean, woman up, I mean--"
"I understand what you mean," I said, with a faint, toothless smile, "so your advice is the same as Lisa's?"
"Who is Lisa?"
"Friend of a friend," I said, trying to sound dismissive. The last thing I needed was someone digging into things and figuring something out. I mean, if he typed her name in and looked at the right places, he could probably figure out that she was Bitch. Though Rachel was a very common name. "So, it's just--"
"Listen, whatever you're doing, go for it. Full power, 100%, hot blooded," he said, his voice rising a little too high, "you should! I mean." He paused, "Maybe you're not brave enough for that, I get it, but it's the right advice. It's what Hero Law would do," he said, with a cheeky grin.
I didn't even ask who Hero Law was, because I probably would just get trapped in the thickets of pop culture.
"You want me to talk to her about this matter?"
"I don't even know what 'this matter' even is," Greg said, "but if you want to ask her about it, you should!"
He gave me a thumbs up, and a broad, goofy grin.
*******
In the end, he lost in the final round, two wins to one, which was a lot farther than I'd expected he'd get, and meant he got a bunch of card packs and some money as a prize. And an invitation to the City-wide. The top four all got in, and there were a few other games going on in other parts of town. There'd probably be sixteen in all? Or something like that. He explained the structure, and it was more than just a bracketed tournament.
It'd been kinda boring, but I'd been there for him, and I'd heard his advice. Maybe it wasn't even bad advice.
Maybe I should follow it.
********
Just ask her. Just ASK her.
How was it that impossible? Just being around her felt fraught with too many things at once.
If you want a good time, go and call her, she's desperate enough that she'd probably sleep with anyone who smiled at her."
I didn't ask her on Monday.
********
On Tuesday, I stayed home sick, not even sure why, just not wanting to go, stomach turning around and around.
Stress, I had to guess. Part of me wanted to just go and ask her about it anyways. I was looking up things about what people had done before, what murder meant, all on my slow computer, sitting there not sure what I was even doing with my life.
Murderers had been inducted into the Protectorate before, and some pretty brutal people sometimes wound up there. Shadow Stalker had a reputation online as a hard, vicious vigilante, and yet she was a hero now, helping people and all of that.
I was trying to convince myself that it'd be okay.
Finally, at around noon, I decided I was just going to woman up or whatever and be like Hero Law or whoever it was.
I got dressed and ran.
I just ran through the streets, my bugs stretching out like spider webs across farther than I'd ever been able to feel them, clustered up and strung out like trip-wires. They buzzed and moved, they reflected my emotional state and seemed to bleed me of my worry.
I ran until my legs ached until my heart was beating as hard as it did just the day before when Rachel had just leaned into me and I'd tried to read poetry.
She'd yawned, of course, poetry wasn't her thing, but I had thought it could be, because she was brief, and poetry at its best was far less verbose than novels. So maybe I hadn't found the right poems. And that thought, that maybe I just needed to find the right words, had seemed so hopeful and so hopeless, and I'd wanted so badly to be the sort of person who could do something.
Who could do anything at all. But I was so afraid it hurt, because it was one thing to have a crush, or even say 'I'm bisexual' but it was another to…
I didn't know. I felt weak, and that feeling wasn't all wrong, which made me wonder why she had even bothered?
I was sweating and tired when I reached her door, and so I took a moment to take a breath, pull a towel I'd stuffed into my backpack out and wipe myself down. I felt self-conscious about everything.
Not just the little things.
The dogs had started barking, and so when I knocked, Rachel was already moving that way. I kept one of my flies on her shoulder, and she seemed to recognize that the fly was mine.
She opened the door.
"Hey," she said, leaning a little against the doorway, surprisingly casual. She didn't care that I was home sick from school.
"Hey. Can I come in?" I asked.
"Sure." She shrugged, her broad shoulders going up and down, and then she turned.
I watched her walk away for a moment, and then followed her. Inside, the dogs were happy to greet me, but today I just did the minimum, rubbing their heads as I walked over to the pallet.
She stood, seeming to sense the tension, this time. Her stance was like someone ready for a fight, but she wasn't baring her teeth, so I had to think that I had a chance here.
"Rachel. The other day, Armsmaster said you were a murderer. I… are you?"
"I guess," she said, with another shrug, her face knit up in confusion and annoyance. "Whatever."
"Whatever? Can you please tell me more about it?"
She looked at me, and I could see it, the plain refusal to deal with this. She was stubborn. But then she saw something, and I could see the shift in her eyes. "Foster mother was a shit."
"Go… on," I said, nervously, afraid.
She bit her lip, and said, "I'm not a fucking storyteller."
"I don't need you to be," I said.
"Fine. She was a shit. Some sort of fundie and she beat me and shit. I found this dog, Rollo, and I was keeping him. Taking care of him," she said, glaring at me as if I were going to judge her for this. "Foster mom had two others. Treated all of them like shit. Stole food from us if we talked while we were eating."
I listened, though already it felt like if Rachel had killed her, then that was bad but… I just couldn't imagine it. Or maybe I could and that was worse.
"And you had Rollo?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, fiercely. "I was a stupid kid, and I fucked up a lot in taking care of him, but I hid him, and that's what mattered. Cause when that bitch noticed him…"
She stopped, her fists clenching and unclenching, and I stood up, defying all reason to get closer to her. I could see her muscles spasming with this fury.
"What happened?"
"I took him off his leash, he was in the back yard, to go for a walk. He ran into the pool, and he couldn't swim. Then when I tried to get him, she just closed the pool cover. She stood there, watching me. I lashed out, I did something. He grew big, but he was scared and angry." Her eyes looked almost wet, and she stepped closer to me. "Killed the bitch. And her other children. They didn't deserve it," Rachel admitted, with a shrug as if it didn't matter. "They were alright, and she did the same bullshit to them that she did to me, I guess. I never really thought about them. I just ran."
I stared at her. That wasn't murder at all. I had no idea what the legal term for it was, but--
Had the police just not known? Or was the Protectorate lying to me to try to drive me apart. "It's okay, I'm sorry I made you tell all that. Uh… I have chocolate in my backpack somewhere."
I'd grabbed it the other day from a vending machine, stuck it in, and forgotten it.
"Fine."
She began rooting around in my backpack as I stepped away. The dogs could feel how frustrated she was.
"I'm sorry for asking you," I said. "I'm sorry that--"
"Sorries don't change nothing," Rachel spat.
"It's not your fault, and I know you know it's not your fault," I said. "Fuck," I said. "Fuck, this is so hard."
"What?" she asked, confused, as she munched on the chocolate bar, even though her mouth was full.
Stealing food from a child.
I wanted to make it better, with kisses or otherwise. But I knew that's not how it worked.
"I want…" I trailed off.
Dyke whore.
******
Sometimes when you're trapped and surrounded by filth, the answer isn't to scream, and it isn't to curl up in a ball.
It's dark, and you're not sure what's on the other side, or perhaps you are too sure.
I don't know. I was clearly not good at learning from my mistakes.
I wasn't anyone worth liking, let alone… anything else.
Who--
So what? Why not?
I kicked the locker door down.
********
"Yes," I said.
"What?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion, quickly finishing the chocolate bar.
I stepped forward. "If the offer is still on the table?"
"What?"
I stepped forward, and then said, low, as if someone would hear me and call me out on it, "Fuck."
Then I leaned in and tried kissing her on the lips. It felt warm and tasted like chocolate, and she didn't kiss me back at first.
My heart stopped. I felt warm and tingly all over, but what if she--
She reached out and grabbed my shoulder. "Yes."
"It is?" I asked.
"Yes."
"When?" I asked, every word feeling like it was being written in stone.
"Now?"
She had just been crying, or at least tearing up, a minute before. Now she looked triumphant, she was looking at me in a way I couldn't have ever imagined being looked at. She wanted me.
And the truth was, I wanted to be wanted.
"...Yes."
She pulled on me, and for a moment I was confused, and then I realized.
The dogs. They were huddling around, confused. And this wasn't the best place. Oh.
I was made of nerves now, and I didn't know what she knew.
I could have backed out at the last moment, but I didn't. "Okay," I said.
I followed her to the door, and she opened it, into the back room, where she kept the pillows and blankets.
I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
She closed the door behind her.
*******
A/N: And fade to black. Not the end of the arc, actually. One more. Thanks to
@NemoMarx.