#I like to think Pav calls her Mari

[itsmeeeeegelalay]

I didn't expect I'd get hooked to Termina right away cause I thought my fixation for F&H 1 (specifically D'arce) would stay a little longer but damn, it got overthrown quick-

Anyways, I saw that Swap Samarina fanart from Reddit, the Dream Team by biyaiyko here in Tumblr, and that Swap Levi and Pav fanart from Twitter (I refuse to call it X even if the URL has changed-) (thread carefully if you are not fond of pavlevi tho)

With those three combined, all I could think of is: "Hey, since Marina and Levi are close, why don't I make a Swap AU where it's Samarie and Pav are not just close but found siblings?". Now enjoy this drawing that I headcanon that Samarie drew when she was little-

[underhousearrestblog]

headcanons: Spider-Man characters as your best friends

(summary) Spider-Man: Across the Spider-verse characters as your best friends (headcanons)

(pairings) Miles Morales x reader, Gwen Stacy x reader, Hobie Brown x reader, Miguel O’Hara x reader, Peter B. Parker x reader, Jessica Drew x reader, Pavitr Prabhakar x reader, Earth-42!Miles Morales x reader

(genre) platonic friendship head canons

(also) this is all highly platonic as I am also including the kids and I don’t feel comfortable writing anything romantic for Gwen, Pav, Miles and Prowler!Miles

HAPPY READING!

Peter B. Parker

always taking his wife’s side even if she’s wrong just to piss him off

- But she told me that it doesn’t count as babysitting if I’m saving the city at the same time! – Peter was walking back and forth around your small apartment after a small spat with Mary.

- And she’s absolutely right, - you agreed while keeping an eye on Mayday who was hanging from your ceiling in one of her webs. – If the mask is on, babysitting duties are off...

getting blamed for teaching Mayday swear words, even though it was Hobie who taught her to say “fuck”

always being that friend that reminds him that his wife is way out of his league (even though you don’t actually think that and you do it just to tease him...)

constantly flirting with his wife just to annoy him

- I’m so sorry, babe, - Peter kissed Mary’s cheek. – I’ll make it for that date night. I promise.

- How about I take you out, Mary? I think you deserv-

- Y/N!! – you heard Peter yell from the other room. – STOP FLIRTING WITH MY WIFE!

You leaned closer to her and lowered your voice.

- I saw this cool new restaurant downtown-

Mary smiled at you, playfully shook her head and laughed.

- I’m married, - she flashed her ring.

You didn’t blink for a hot second before asking:

- Happily?

- Y/N!!! – you leaned back in your chair just in time to avoid a pillow that flew straight past your face.

regularly being woken up by Peter calling you up at night to pick him up from the other side of town because he didn’t feel like waking Mary up and had no problem ruining your sleep

his love language with you as his friend being quality time – after not spending a longer period of time with you because of his duties as Spider-Man or because he had only spent time with Mayday and his wife, he would randomly show up at your apartment and tag along while you were running errands (eating in your car with his feet on the dashboard, getting crumbs all over the seat while he’s telling you every little detail about the latest news in his life) – never ever forgetting that you’re his best friend

when Mayday’s old enough to go to school and she needs help with homework – both you and Peter constantly arguing about which answers are the correct ones and Mary ending up having to take Mayday to the other room because it devolves into an actual fight

Miguel O’Hara

him obviously having a soft spot for you that allowed you to get away with pretty much anything

- It was irresponsible, highly dangerous, reckless behavior that I cannot-

- It wasn’t us! – Gwen stepped in to defend her and Miles. – It was Y/N’s mission! We weren’t even there!

Miguel was silent for a second. Then he turned around to where you were sitting in his chair, calmly eating popcorn and enjoying the show. He brushed his palm over his face, as you watched in satisfaction him having an inner battle with himself.

- Anything to add? – you asked, smirking.

He shook his head in disappointment with one hand still on his hip as he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.

- Just... – he sighed, walked over and pushed your crossed ankles off his desk. – Just don’t do it again...

taking his clothes, especially because you know it annoys him

- So, I have this new hoodie-

- That’s MY hoodie.

- It WAS your hoodie. Any piece of clothing you haven’t worn for more than two months is officially up for grabs by your best friend. Best I can do now is name it “our” hoodie.

always using the best friend card in the workplace and getting away with essentially everything because you’re best friends with the boss

his love language being acts of service – mostly because he’s awkward with any words of affirmation so he would usually change a light bulb if he saw that one of yours was burnt out or change your tire when he saw that one was flat – and when you noticed it, he would just brush it off as if it was nothing, saying “that’s what friends are for”

you being kinda the only reason Miguel hasn’t died from overworking himself – you usually would force him to go home, take a shower and sleep at least eight hours – which he would object but then you would take his office key, lock him out and leave no room for arguments

having Lyla as your partner-in-crime – her giving you a lot of embarrassing material on Miguel and constantly snitching on where he is and what is he doing...

no man or woman that you’re dating is ever good enough for you – and ever if you end up in a serious relationship, Miguel’s loyalty always lies with you – his first priority is making sure that you’re safe and comfortable in any relationship

being drunk and calling Miguel up in the middle of the night (in one of the rare times he’s actually sleeping and not working himself into the ground)

- Hi? – he would sit up in his bed and stare at the phone where you were Face-timing him.

- Hi, - you said in all seriousness. – Ok. Bye.

Hobie Brown

accidentally developing a habit of not bringing your wallet with you when both of you went out to eat that resulted in him always paying for you

- I’ll get you next time, - you promised, still chewing on your burger.

- Uh-huh, - was all you heard before he pulled the check closer to his side of the table. – Just so you know – you’ll have to take out a loan to repay me for all this stuff, - he gestured towards the food with one of his fries.

- Well, who’s keeping count anyway-

- One thousand and fifteen dollars.

You had been friends for two years at that point so it wasn’t unbelievable or anything...

his love language being physical touch – Hobie wouldn’t be embarrassed or ashamed to hug you whenever you or him needed a hug...

making a habit of stealing his food which initially annoyed him but then he compromised by making his orders larger to accommodate you

having quite romantic nicknames for each other, even though you’re just friends (names like “love”, “darling” and “babe”) but also randomly calling each other “bro” and “dude”

Hobie’s an excellent long-distance friend if one of you is out of town – calling you every day to make sure you’re safe and sound

if you have a pet, Hobie would have the biggest annoyed-dad energy – meaning, he would constantly complain about how clingy your pet/ pets are to him but occasionally you would catch him snuggling with the animal as if it was his own pet

if you don’t like some of your own family members, he hates them too, and if you have great relationship with your family – he loves them, no questions asked

Miles Morales

constantly cock-blocking him with Gwen like the annoying sibling you were

You watched your best friend and his crush sit on the balcony of the apartment building. At that point, Gwen had lightly touched his shoulder and you could’ve sworn you saw Miles melt into a puddle.

- HI! – you leaned out of your window that was right next to your best friend’s balcony. – HAVE WE MET? YOU’RE GWEN, RIGHT?

You saw Miles shake his head at you to go back inside your apartment. That only gave you more courage.

- Oh my god! – you grinned and reached out your hand over the space between your window and Miles’ balcony for Gwen to shake. – I’m Miles’ friend, Y/N. It’s such an honor to finally put a face to a name so talked about!

Gwen reached over to shake your hand.

- Really? – she looked unconvinced. – You’re talking about me to your friends, Miles?

He needed some time to find words, so instead your smile widened and you faked surprise:

- Is she the same girl whose hair you ripped out?

Gwen threw annoyed look at Miles who looked just as guilty as when it first happened.

- I have to say though, you can’t even see any difference, - you said when it was very clear that you could definitely see the shaved side of her head.

his love language being words of affirmation – especially after you found out he was Spider-Man and supported him no questions asked, he always let you know how much he appreciated you as his friend

when you first found out he’s Spider-Man, you got him a Spider-Man Halloween costume for his birthday and gifted it to him in front of his parents with a note attached just for him (and watched with satisfaction as Miles read “in case you ever need a backup” written on the paper)

if you’re taller than him – constantly testing his patience by reminding him by how much exactly he’s shorter than you – even though he’s a superhero and all that...

getting a driver’s licence before Miles – him being a very nervous driver so you take it upon yourself to teach him (and his dad being impressed by how much better he seems to get every time he’s driving with his son)

at one point, Miles’ dad to would catch you after you had thrown up some graffiti of your own but since you refused to call your folks because you knew they would be very, very mad, he would just sigh in annoyance and let you go with a warning

- If I catch you bragging about this to Miles, you’ll be right back here!

you making and selling Spider-Man merch but putting the most embarrassing photos of Miles on it just to annoy him

- Is that... Is that a photo of me with two birds glued to my hands?

- I believe that real life situations create the most amazing art, dude!

Jessica Drew

being constantly worried for her safety when she’s both pregnant and saving the city every day

You had developed a habit of becoming her designated driver so she wouldn’t swing back home on her webs.

- Hey, - you called out to your friend as soon as she had given her statement about the robbery to the police. – Get in!

You opened the passenger side door of your car.

Jessica had to take a double look when she saw you just casually waiting to pick her up after a fight.

- Y/N? – she looked around surprised. – What are you doing here?

- Apparently, I’m giving a ride home to a reckless pregnant lady, - you yawned and pointed to the passenger seat. – In.

She walked around and got in – really no point in refusing a free ride home when you’re already here.

- Are you in your pajamas? – she looked you over when you started the car.

- It’s one in the morning, - you pulled out of the parking lot. – Of course, I’m wearing pajamas.

- How did you even know where I was?

- I have a Spidey-sense of my own that’s called “my best friend is back on some bullshit that police could’ve sorted out themselves”, - you yawned again and then pointed towards her. – I have tracker in your boot’s heel.

Jessica’s love language being acts of service – which was matching to yours; essentially both of you doing little things for one another (you always dropping her off and picking her back up for any and all pregnancy-related appointments, her making more food so it’s enough for you too, her texting you where there’s less traffic while going about her day as Spider-Woman so you can get to work easier, you later on becoming a godmother/ godfather for her baby and spoiling that child to no end)

saying goodbye to each other like a married couple

- Drive safe, honey! Text me when you’re home!

- I will, darling! Love ya!

Earth-42!Miles Morales

becoming friends after you accidentally caught him in one of your security system traps that you had been developing

- Oh so it works, - you muttered under your breath, as Miles watched you press some buttons on your tablet. – This prototype alone, if sold, could get me a nice apart-

- Hey! – you turned towards where the intruder was trapped in your artificial web trap. – I really don’t have time for this bullshi-

You knew the Prowler. Or, more specifically, you had heard of him. At that point, you had never actually seen him in person. And you weren’t actually seeing him now – he was still in his suit.

- You broke into my lab, - you clarified. – Do you think I have time for your bullshit?

Instead of panicking, calling the security or the police, you simply put down the tablet, kicked your feet up on the table in front of you and opened a juice box.

For a small moment, the intruder stopped struggling, as if too bewildered by your reaction.

You raised your eyebrows, awaiting some sort of a threat or question...

- How are you even here? – a low voice – no doubt changed by a voice modulator – asked. – It’s a national holiday. No one was supposed to be here!

- Oh yeah, - you threw your empty juice box over the lab, straight into trash. – My boss made me stay overnight. Apparently, the security system prototype was supposed to be ready yesterday but I had taken a sick day so...

- What an asshole, - your captive murmured under his breath.

- Ain’t that the truth, - you agreed. – So, what are you after, - you looked into your tablet one more time before adding, - Miles Morales.

He was definitely surprised. After the initial shock, he took off his mask.

- How did you know who I am?

- I didn’t, - you turned your tablet towards him. – Well, not until my webs touched you and pulled any and all DNA data they could from you. Then, the program ran diagnostics through all collected DNA data from all over the world and – boom – a genetics match found identical to Miles Morales!

getting along very well with his uncle – something that Miles says annoys him but secretly he enjoys having more people that resemble a family to him, especially since his dad is gone

his love language being gift giving – Earth-42!Miles getting you a particular part for your tech that you’ve been looking for all over the city but instead of saying something – anything – he would just awkwardly thrust it into your hands, murmur something along the lines of “I got this for you” and immediately leave

if you’re single on Valentine’s day, you would order a pizza and hang around with Miles – he would say it’s sad that you have to hang out with your best friend but would actually appreciate the company

Gwen Stacy

taking dozens of photos of Gwen’s hair after the-Miles-incident where she had some of her hair ripped out

- No, stop! – Gwen tried to slap your phone out of your hand. – This is humiliating enough without lasting evidence!

- This is gonna be my Christmas card this year!

to outsiders it looks like you don’t like each other at all – both of you constantly bickering like siblings and yelling like a married couple; and both of you being surprised and taken aback when somebody genuinely points out that you should be nicer to one another (and immediately laughing when anyone assumes you hate each other...)

·       you always rely on Gwen to tell you the truth – no matter how harsh it is

- I think it went over well, - you said, as soon as your crush had left your lunch table.

When she hadn’t said anything, you turned to see her watching you with a blank look on her face.

- Your kidding, right? – she raised an eyebrow. – It was so awkward to watch I would’ve chosen to watch paint dry! That guy’s a dick! How can you even like that moron?

essentially having lots of your stuff over at her place and lots of her things at yours – and it’s gotten to a point where both of you have freed some space up in your desks, closets and dressers for your friend to comfortably leave their things in

constantly staying over at the other’s place – both your and her parents no longer surprised when one of you emerge to eat breakfast with everybody else there

Gwen’s love language being physical touch – especially if she’s nervous or anxious, she would wrap her pinky finger around yours just to know that you’re there

Pavitr Prabhakar

forever and always saying “Chai tea” just to piss him off

- Let’s get some Chai tea!

- Say it right and we might.

- I got you some Chai tea!

- I’m not drinking it if you keep saying it wrong!

- You know what I’m craving? Ch-

- I swear to god-

one of you constantly finding and perfecting some sort of a “talent” or “skill” – like juggling or doing a headstand – and the other one always trying to ruin the performance by knocking out one of the balls while juggling or making the other fall while doing a headstand

Pav’s love language being giving gifts – especially food; with him being Spider-Man, you would often text him while he was running errands and keeping peace all over the city to ask him to get you a particular snack (at some point, he had memorized your favorite places and would just get you something even before you asked – especially if he needed a favour from you and wanted to butter you up before asking...)

fighting for the sake of fighting

- YOU’RE SO WRONG! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW WRONG YOU ARE!?

- ACTUALLY, I REALIZED I WAS WRONG, LIKE, TEN MINUTES AGO! BUT THEN YOU SAID SOME DUMB SHIT AND I DECIDED THAT I COULDN’T LET YOU WIN!

him accidentally pushing you out of the first story window when his crush unexpectedly came over and you were asleep on his couch (insert: Cameron Diaz’s character in The Other Woman being pushed out of the window) and you bringing it up any time you need a favor from him

- I can’t just do that! That’s borderline a crime!

- So is throwing your friend out of a window, Pav!

[apollohears]

Hi! I’m super excited for this IF and as incredibly interested/invested in what you’ve shown so far.

I was wondering if there was any specific meanings behind the ROs names? I think they are all really lovely so I was wondering on why you chose them!

(It’s fine if there’s not a specific answer! I’m just a bit curious and I tend to overthink names for my own characters so it makes me wonder if other authors have the same habit haha. I hope you have a wonderful day all the same 😊)

I am such an overthinker. omg, you should have seen my first draft for the story. I actually had place-order names, and S and P had to switchhh.

Pavlos just sounds like such a pretty royal name, he was firstly named Silas, but I just felt like Pav really just makes sense for a prince. He really likes when people call him by nicknames. Give him an ounce of distance away from his family title and help him realize that he is his own person. 

Annette, whose name was actually supposed to be Phai, just got changed because I didn't want the RO's to share the same first letter. I really, REALLY wanted her to have a long first name, something like Mary-Katherine or Angelus-Moues, something just so unique. Given how much detail her parents put into her existence, they would be the type to want to morph her into the perfect child they could put on a shelf. I feel the name is just very pretty, and it truly fits her soft personality. 

Silas/Sophia, Silas will always be the text book bad boy type name, and I am so sorry, but I love cliches and tropes (you'll see when the demo comes out), but Sophia is the gender-bent verse that my best friend Ms. Alexa Echo Dot came up with when I asked her for names that would rhyme, so hats off to her!

Rune, now this one was a scrap and edited many times over since objects are rarely given names.

[ficdirectory]

The Crossing: Deleted Scene: Jesus’s Meeting

Deleted Scene: Jesus’s Meeting

At 6 PM, Jesus puts on his headphones.  He has the bathroom fan on, and his white noise machine going in the living room.  The door is closed.

He logs into Skype.  Taps Pearl’s name.  Then Mari’s.  Then Char’s.

Their faces each fill a quarter of the screen.  Jesus smiles, feels Dudley under the desk, a warm weight on Jesus’s feet.

“Hey guys,” he smiles.

“Hey,” Pearl waves, smiling.  She has Cleo in her lap.  In the years since he’s seen Pearl in person, she seems both sadder and stronger.  Losing Gracie a couple years ago had been tough and it had taken her a long time to come around to being rematched.  But having Cleo’s been good for her.  According to Pearl, dogs earn trust faster than humans.

Mariana waves, too.  She’s on her bed, headphones on.  

“Hey.  Where’s Francesca?” Jesus wonders.

“Some big sleepover with all the girls in her class.  I bet she won’t get any sleep.”

“So, when can I come crash the Adams Foster House of Horrors, Mariana?” Char asks.

Mariana makes a face.  “Ew.  No.  That would make things so much worse.”

“Well, I am available if you need backup,” Char offers.

“Jesus is my backup.”

“Well, of course, I meant if like you both needed me?  I can be there.”

“I still wish I lived closer to all of you,” Pearl sighs.

“I know.” Jesus nods.  “It was so awesome meeting Char, but we all wished you could be there.”

“So, how are things going this week?” Pearl wonders, skillfully dodging any mention of travel.  Ever since she’d run into her attacker at the local post office, she’d had a much harder time going out.  Trusting people.  Traveling’s still not a thing she’s big on.

“Eh,” Char offers, and somehow, that single word communicates a lot.

There’s a knocking sound effect and Pav joins them.  Jesus and Mariana have never met her in person, but they like her.  Can trust her.  

“Hey, guys.  Sorry, I’m late, I just got Sammy down.”

“Aw, how is he?” Pearl wonders, her face softening into a smile.

“He’s fine.  Happy to stay up til all hours and have me read to him.  But Mama needs some time with her people.”

“Well we were just talking about how we’ve been this week.  Char’s ‘eh’” Pearl intones, catching Pav up.

“Ah, okay.  All makes sense now.” Pav smiles.  Wraps a blanket around her shoulders.

Char’s one of the best people Jesus has met this year, but she’s also one of the saddest.  She covers it with jokes.  With making other people happy.  Maybe because that helps her feel happy.

They’re deep into conversation.  Mariana’s sharing, which is rare, but Jesus just glances at his phone and sees he has a text.  Habit has him checking it.  He’d always rather know what’s going on.  It’s from Dominique who has been on pretty hardcore radio silence lately.  He checks it quietly under the desk.  The timestamp says she sent it hours ago.

Converting your baby sis into a Potterhead.  Sorry not sorry.

The picture is of Francesca’s hand holding one of Dominique’s costume props - a wand - one of the Harry Potter books is visible in the background.

“Earth to Jesus,” Mariana says.  “Are you even listening?”

“Sorry.  It’s Dominique.  Looks like Francesca went rogue from the epic sleepover.”

“Is she okay?” Mariana insists.  Pearl, Char and Pav are equally quiet, listening.

Jesus aims his phone at the camera so they can see the text and the picture.  “Looks fine to me. Let me just text back to make sure.”

Is that Frankie? What’s she doing there? he sends.

Dominique texts back in seconds:

I guess she thought you knowing how bad she wanted to spend the night would be enough for you to change your plans?  She showed up at the apartment and said no one answered her call at your place.

Jesus checks his missed calls.  One, from the apartments, just after he turned his phone volume down hours ago.  From the front doors.

She didn’t leave a message.  I had no idea it was her.

Dominique:

She called me.  She told me you told her to if you ever weren’t there.

Jesus:

So sorry.  I won’t be home for a bit yet.  Are you fine w/ her?

Dominique:

I am.  Text when you’re back, don’t knock.

Jesus:

Will do.  Thank you so much for taking care of her.

Dominique:

Of course.

Jesus doesn’t know where the lie comes from - that he isn’t home - when he clearly is.  It’s a symptom of his trauma - one of the most annoying.  Lying that comes on out of nowhere.  Lying when he doesn’t need to lie.  Because back Then, feeling vulnerable meant lying.  He felt that way all the time.  So he lied all the time.

He sets his phone down and sighs.  “Sorry, Mari, what were you saying?”

“Just that it sucks to not have anybody to talk to about this...I know we never really did when you were here...but now...I really miss you.  I’m glad we get to do this, but I feel really alone without you.”

“I know,” he echoes, understanding.  “It’s not like it would ever feel safe talking about this stuff at home, but I can always come get you and we can talk about it here.”

“Will you come and get us, too?” Pearl asks, petting Cleo.

“Don’t I wish?” Jesus sighs.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Pav asks.  

“Who?” he asks looking around.

“You,” Pav says.  “You’re acting squirrely.”

Jesus raises his eyebrows.  He knows Pav probably the least out of their Skyport group, but she seems to have intense intuition and it’s usually right on.

He sighs again.  “I just lied to Dominique about where I was…” he admits softly.  “Told her I wasn’t home…”

“You don’t owe her your whereabouts, Jesus,” Pav comments quiet, but sure of herself.

“Why do you think you lied?” Pearl asks, trying a different approach.

“‘Cause talking about this stuff with you always makes me feel hella vulnerable and feeling vulnerable always meant I had to lie Before, so…  It’s just messed up ‘cause I almost didn’t even realize I did it til after.”

“What do you mean?” Mari asks.

“It was kinda automatic,” he admits.

“When any of us go on autopilot, disappear, whatever you wanna call it?” Char offers.  “That’s scary.  But it’s also a really human thing to do.  You ever drive home and have no idea how you got there?”

“Yes,” Pav says.  “Oh God, all the time.  Especially if Sammy’s not with me, keeping me on my toes.”

“It’s not really the same thing…” Jesus ventures.

“No.  Not this way.  This way it sneaks up on you,” Pav admits.  “But you’re surviving.  We get it.  And from what little you’ve said about Dominique?  She’d probably get it, too…Y’all still fighting?”

“I mean, we were, I thought,” Jesus considers.  “Now, I don’t know.”

“Don’t feel badly about this, Jesus.  It’s not a poor reflection on you.  It’s a reflection of your experience.  We revert to what we know.”

“You’re so reasonable,” he laughs, in spite of himself.

“Yeah, one of my many flaws…” Pearl ventures.

“Hey, we’re all flawed.  But being reasonable is not a flaw,” Char insists.

“More like a strength,” Pav nods.

“Yeah, Mari agrees.

They talk until late into the night.   Pav bailed early ‘cause she’s one the east coast and needs to be able to get up in the morning.  So, he, Mari, Char and Pearl talked until Mari nodded off in front of the screen.

“You guys, I should really go.  But I love seeing you.  I love hanging out.  Let’s do this again.”

“Same time next week?” Char asks.

“Yeah, works for me,” Jesus nods.  “Thank you.  Means the world to have you to talk to.”

“You, too,” Pearl nods, choking up.  “Okay, I have to go before I cry.”

“Mari, wake up and go to sleep,” Char insists.

“Mmm… I’m sleeping…” she murmurs.

“Bye,” Jesus says and signs off.  When he finally turns off his computer it’s  near 11 PM.  Checks his texts again, feeling a bit like the worst brother in the world.

Hey.  Sorry.  Back.  You can drop her off if you want.

Jesus waits a few minutes.  No response.  He gets up, urging Dudley out from under the desk.  He stands in the hall trying not to seem super creepy, whispering there:

“Dominique.  It’s me.  I’m here.  If you can hear me, I can take Francesca…” Jesus’s heart beats hard in his chest.  Can’t bring himself to knock.  For reasons he’s not entirely sure of, it brings up memories of the one Halloween he was allowed to Trick or Treat when he was There.  Where he tried to get secret messages to unsuspecting mothers with kids.

Jesus retreats and closes his door, locking it securely behind him.  Texts Dominique one more time:

Hey.  Stopped by for her but you both must’ve crashed.  I know you prob have to work in the AM.  I’m up early, so don’t worry abt waking me.  Drop her here anytime and thanks again.

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

On New Year’s Eve, Pearl wakes up early again.  3:45 AM.  That means she’s managed (somehow) to sleep in a little.  She has to spend several minutes convincing herself that the dream she had last night of Gracie eating so much food that she grew to the size of a service dinosaur would not come true.

Not her usual dream, but not a great one.  Her heart’s still beating a little fast, but she cuddles Gracie, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re not a dinosaur,” and Gracie stays in place, lying on Pearl’s chest until Pearl feels calm enough to get up.

She does some self-care, journaling about the dinosaur dream:

12-31-14

4:01 AM

So I just had this weirdly scary dream that Gracie was the size of a brontosaurus and I could not walk her or feed her or anything because she was so massive.  Every time she tried to calm me down, she ended up crushing me, or knocking me over or taking my whole arm into her mouth because she was trying to pull me somewhere I needed to go.

Do I think that knowing Jesus is a huge responsibility?  That knowing him is getting too intense?  I don’t feel overwhelmed by Gracie being here, but Jesus is the first major change I have had in my life since Gracie actually came into my life.  Maybe Char is right and I should watch how invested I get.  I do need to be sure I prioritize myself and not lose sight of my own mental health being there for him…  Still, I don’t FEEL like he is a huge responsibility or that he is too intense at all.  I feel like we get each other.  I feel ok around him and that’s rare.

I should be glad.  This really is a step up from dreaming about driving under threat of my life or constantly smelling the woods that i am not even in.  Still, I’d rather my dog be a normal size.

Pearl

Pearl closes her journal and swings for a bit. Checks Skype for Pav, but she’s not on today.  She’s getting breakfast together, around 8:00, when it occurs to her just how little is here.  Dread fills her.  She’s going to have to go shopping.  Not tomorrow.  Not next week.  (Because Pearl pushes these things if they can be pushed, for as long as they can possibly be pushed.)  Today.  She’s out of bread, milk, oatmeal, juice, and Gracie needs dog food.

Just the thought of going to the Super One in Crosby makes her mouth dry and her palms sweat.  Gracie’s at her side in no time, trying to distract her from the obnoxious hand tremors.

She needs to do this.  Gracie needs food.  Pearl had to scrape the bottom of the bin to get her enough for this morning.  She’s going to need more by tonight.  But just the thought has her pacing.  Tears forming in her eyes.

“I can’t do this.  I really can’t do this.  God.  I should have gone earlier, but now I don’t have a choice!’  Pearl curls up on the couch, and Gracie joins her, licking her face.

“Don’t!  I don’t deserve love right now!  I’m a horrible person!  I can’t even go to the store to buy you food without freaking out…” she exclaims.

Gracie doesn’t listen.  Stays close.  

Pearl glances out the window.  Jesus is out on the back step.  Scanning.  Waiting to see if she and Gracie will come out.  But she can’t come out, or she’ll probably start crying, and that’ll be embarrassing.  

...But he had said if she needed something this week to let him know...

Instead, she waits until he goes back inside and picks up her phone.  Dials Frank’s landline next door, and immediately regrets it.  

(They’re on vacation!  Like they want a phone call at 8:15 in the morning from a woman distraught about the prospect of grocery shopping!)

“Hey.  Pearl?” Jesus answers on the second ring.  

“Yeah, it’s me.  Listen, I have kind of a weird favor to ask…”

--

“What’s up?” Jesus wonders.  This is the first time Pearl has called.  The first time Grandpa’s phone has rung since they arrived.

“I have to go to the store,” Pearl says and Jesus can hear her voice shake a little.  “And that’s kind of stressful for me.  I was curious if you wanted to come with...keep me company?”

Jesus glances over his shoulder, where Mom’s reading a book at the table.  “I’d have to run it by Moms, but I’ll call you back.  I wanna be there.  And I’ll come if I can.  Okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good.  No pressure.”

Jesus hangs up, and turns to Mom.  He’s still angry at her, but she was talking about how well she knew Pearl last night.  Maybe she’s a safer bet than Mama because of that.  Still, he keeps his distance.  She hasn’t torn down the blankets from around the table, but that could just be because he hasn’t pissed her off yet.

“Pearl wanted to know if I could go into town with her.  She has to run to the store,” Jesus says in a rush.

“Yeah?  Well, I think this is something you should talk through a little more first,” she advises, setting her book aside.

“Is Mama up?” he asks.  (The more days go by, the later everyone is sleeping in.  It’s already 8:20 and breakfast isn’t even in progress yet.)

Oh.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he tells Mom, hurrying upstairs and knocking quietly on the girls’ door.  “Hey, Mari?  You up for being a human I-Pod for me?”

“Yeah, give me a second…” she yawns from behind the door.

It’s more than a second, but it gives Jesus time to pick out his clothes.  He goes with the most boring jeans and plain shirt he brought, because if he’s going into town he’ll see people, and people might recognize him.  Better to blend in.

Finally, Mariana comes out, blowing air through her lips and making her voice go up and down.  He smirks.

“What song is that?” he asks, smirking.

“I’m warming up, Jesus,” she says witheringly.  “Unless you want your song to sound like an old man is singing.”

“No.  I mean, do that.  Warm up,” he says.  He waits until she says she’s ready and offers to sing Tomorrow from Annie, as long as he’s not bothered by it.

“No.  It’s fine,” he nods.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.  You know me.  Never pass up an opportunity to perform.”  She smiles.

He knows the truth though:  Mariana likes to sleep and sleep late.  The fact that she’s been up before noon the past two days while on vacation is a pretty big sacrifice on her part.

Jesus showers and when he’s done (no problems today either), Mariana goes back to bed.  Downstairs, Mama and Mom are cooking breakfast.  “French toast?” he asks, his eyes going to the clock behind them.  8:30.

“That’s right,” Mama says,  flipping a piece.  “So, did I hear that Pearl called?”

“She did.  She has to go to the store and asked if I could come with her…” Jesus repeats.

“How do you feel about it?” Mama asks him.  (Mom gives him regular toast with peanut butter and jelly to eat while he waits.  It helps him relax just a little.)

“I feel...nervous about being recognized...and that it’s a store and I don’t really go shopping much...but she’s my friend and I wanna help,” Jesus tries to explain.  “What do you guys think?” he asks, trying for it to just be a question, nothing more.

Back Then, he used to ask Him what He thought of things on purpose, in order to get what he needed.  It was manipulative.  He doesn’t need to manipulate Moms.  To them, it can just be a question, because he does respect them and their opinions.

“To be honest, love, I’m nervous at the idea of you being in a car with her,” Mama admits.  “I don’t know her very well yet.  And I’d like to know your friends a bit better before I feel comfortable with you in a car with them.”

Jesus bites his lip.  “But other than that.  Do you think it’s possible?”

“Slow down,” Mama cautions gently.  “Help us think about this.  How would you feel most comfortable getting to the store?  I know vehicles aren’t your favorite thing.”

“Well...if you’re really that concerned about Pearl driving me, one of you guys could drive us.”

“Back up!” Frankie calls.  “I need some back up, please!”

“Hold that thought,” Jesus says, getting up from his chair and climbing the stairs to give Frankie a lift down them.

“Morning, buddy!” Frankie says cheerfully.

“Good morning, buddy,” Jesus grins.  “How are you?”

“Hungry,” Frankie says.  “And I heared Mariana sing Annie for you, so then I smelled all the good smells.”

“French toast,” he tells her, settling her in a chair near him.  “Moms and I are talking, okay?”

“I know.  I heared that, too,” Frankie nods.

“You know, I could drive them,” Mom volunteers.  “I mean, assuming it’s okay with Jesus.  I assume Pearl just goes up to the Super One.  It’s not far, and I can get some things, too.”

“To the grocery store?” Frankie asks, like they’re talking about the toy store.  

“Yes, my sweet.  Here, have some French toast,” Mama says, putting some on each of their plates.

“I love the grocery store,” Frankie sighs happily.  “‘Specially where it smells like bread.”

“That’s great, Frankie, but let’s hear from Jesus, okay?��� Mama says.

“I think it’s cool if Mom drives.  Are you cool with her dog in the rental?” he asks.

“Oh!  Your friend and the dog and the grocery store?” she exclaims all in one breath around bites of French toast.  “Can I come, please?  You said you asked her and she was thinking about me meeting the dog.  So can you please ask her if she’s done thinking now?”

Mom makes a face.  “Her dog?  Seriously?”

Jesus turns to Frankie because it’s easier to explain it to her than it is to Mom.  “Listen, buddy.  My friend, Pearl?  Her dog’s name is Gracie.   Gracie’s job is--”

“Silly!  Dogs don’t got jobs!” Frankie laughs a forced laugh.

“Gracie does have a job.  You know how we have things that help us calm down, like our blankets?”

“Yeah.  Night-Night’s the best at that.”

“Some people have animals that can help with that, too.  They’re called service animals, because they’re helping their people.  Gracie’s job is to help Pearl.  That means we can’t pet Gracie, okay?  So she can stay focused on doing her job,” Jesus explains.

He waits, eating some French toast while Frankie thinks this over.  

When she turns to him again, a light of recognition is in her eyes, and Jesus is sure she gets it.  But instead she says, confident and certain:  “Guys.  I have to tell you this:  I have a service blanket.”

Mama coughs to cover up a laugh and Mom whispers to Jesus.  “Her dog is welcome in the rental, love.  Why don’t you call her back and ask when she’d like us to pick her up?”

--

Pearl has tried swinging.  She’s tried calming self-talk.  Music.  More journaling.  But all she can really do is watch the hours tick by and wonder if Jesus has forgotten all about her call.

Almost an hour later, her phone rings, and Pearl picks it up after half a ring, never happier to see the name Frank Cooper on the screen.

“Hello?” she asks, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Hey, it’s Jesus.  My moms said it’s okay for me to go with you, but they’re not comfortable with me in a car with you.  Is it okay if Stef drives us?”

Pearl’s distracted by a little voice in the background: “Ask her, Jesus, please!”

“And, my little sis is really wondering if you’re done thinking about whether or not she can meet Gracie.  I know it’s a lot.”  He waits.  “You can say no.”

“No, it’s fine, and actually Stef driving will really help.  That’s part of what makes shopping stressful,” she confides.

“Okay.  Well, when did you wanna go?  I’m ready, but we might need a few minutes for Mom and Frankie.”

“Wait.  Frankie?” Pearl asks, the name breaking through her panic.  “Your little sister’s name is Frankie.”

“Yeah.  Why?” Jesus wonders, a little amused.

“Is she named after Frank?” Pearl asks.

Jesus laughs.  “Yeah, she is.”

“Nice.  I’d like to go as soon as we can.  When you’re ready, you wanna just give me a call, and we’ll walk over?”

“Yeah.  No problem.  Hey Pearl?”

“Mmm-hmm?” she asks, still too shaky for comfort.

“Breathe.  It’s gonna be okay.  I’ll be with you.  Mom’s got her own shopping to do, and Frankie needs to smell the bread, so...you know...just you, me and Gracie.”

Pearl takes a deep breath.  “Thanks.”

“I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to go.”

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

At 2:13 AM, Jesus jerks awake, as the shower upstairs goes on.  Under the table, he holds absolutely still.  Waits.  His head still hurts.  He feels in the dark for his backpack.  Pulls it closer.  Puts his head under his blanket.

His heart’s racing.

Somebody’s awake.

--

Callie’s eyes open and she squints.  The door’s open, and it wasn’t when they went to bed.  She flips on the bedside lamp.  Frankie’s snoring, totally asleep.  But the air mattress across the room is empty.

Where’s Mariana?

Soundlessly, Callie gets out of bed and walks out on the landing.  Right away, she sees the crack of light under the bathroom door.  She knocks softly.  Listens.  Hears Mari crying and the shower running.

Maybe Mariana didn’t hear.  Whatever the reason she didn’t answer, something’s obviously wrong.  It’s walking back into their room when it hits her.  She gets down beside the air mattress and lets out a sympathetic “Oh…”  

The sheets are wet.

Wordlessly, Callie gathers them in her arms. She cracks the bathroom door and takes Mariana’s pajamas to wash, spying her overnight bag already in there with her.  

“Mariana?” Callie calls softly.  “I’m in here, too.”

“Why?” Mariana insists, still crying.

“Because you obviously need somebody,” Callie says.  

In the closet, she finds a small tub, and a bottle of detergent.  She adds the sheets and PJs to the tub.  Then, she fills the tub with lukewarm water and adds a little of the detergent.  Callie’s not about to let Moms discover this when it’s a week old and leave Mariana without pajamas in the process.

Mariana steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her.  She stares at Callie.  “What are you doing?”

“Laundry…” Callie says, because obviously.

“Why are you doing it like a pioneer?” Mariana quips, drying her hair.

“Because, Grandpa lives like a pioneer and doesn’t have a washing machine.”

Callie lets the clothes and sheets soak and returns to the bedroom with a can of Lysol to make sure the air mattress is clean.

That can dry while she waits for the clothes.  Mariana comes out, dressed in tomorrow’s clothes, because she only brought enough for the week.  Twenty minutes later, they both return to the bathroom and Callie swishes the clothes in the sudsy water for a couple minutes before she replaces the water with no detergent, and presses it to the bottom of the container, to rinse it.  Once no suds show up, she takes everything and wrings it out.  Mariana helps drape everything over the shower curtain rod to dry.

“Come to bed with us…” Callie whispers, watching her sister curl up on the bare mattress.

“No.  I don’t want to ruin Grandpa’s mattress.  I did enough damage to this one…”

“Okay…” Callie drags out the word and then opens the bedroom closet for a couple blankets.  She still has a pillow.  She covers Mariana and then drops onto the mattress next to her.  “Moms don’t have to know…” she whispers, putting an arm around Mariana.

“I think they’ll get the idea when they find sheets hanging in the bathroom with my pajamas…” Mariana mumbles darkly.

“So, we’ll move them before they wake up...as long as they’re not really drippy, it should be fine to keep them here with the door closed.”

Mariana shrugs.  One tear escapes.  Then another.  “I haven’t done this since Jesus first went missing.  It’s humiliating.”

Callie holds her close.  She keeps it together so amazingly.  But after last night, all of them are shaken up.  “Well, we just thought he was again…” she points out.  “It makes sense.”

Mariana cries for a little longer, and then, Callie whips out her secret weapon:  “My dear,” she says, like her alter-ego, an elderly British woman, Mrs. Georgina Feathersby-Longbottom, “Please come sleep in the queen bed with us.  You are a queen, after all…”

“I’m not.”

“Why, of course you are,” Callie continues, in full British accent, draping a blanket around Mariana’s shoulders.  “Your robe, Queen Mariana.”

“Stop…” Mariana giggles.  

“No, I  simply will not.  Not until you come and experience the softness of this bed...and the love of your sisters who will never judge you…” Callie stares at Mariana until she caves, crawling into bed on one side of Frankie, while Callie gets in on the other.  She turns out the light.

“I love you, Callie.” Mariana says.  (Because you never know, Callie knows.)

“Love you, too,” she says back.  No accent.  “I’ll set an alarm to grab the sheets before Moms get up.”

“Um...you don’t have a phone…” Mariana points out.

“Crap.  You’re right.  Maybe you should set an alarm.”

How could Callie forget her interminable grounding from her phone for having absolutely no tact or respect and taking pictures of Jesus without asking him first.  Her project is coming along, but it’s very different than she first imagined it.

“Stooop taaalking…” Frankie whines.  Callie dodges her flailing arm and narrowly avoids being smacked in the face.

“Got it.” Mariana whispers.

Finally, it’s quiet.  But Callie finds herself awake, thinking, long into the night.

--

Pearl’s up at 3:30, but not hoarse for the first time in a long time.  That’s because this is the first night in she doesn’t know how long that she hasn’t woken up screaming.  She still was up half a dozen times, breathless and hyper.  Her dreams were still unsettling, but not terrifying.

She journals some and then turns her laptop on and sees Pav online:

“Hey.  Morning.” Pearl greets.

“Morning,” Pav says back.  

Pearl studies her friend.  Dark circles are under her eyes.  She seems stressed.  “You okay?  Need to talk?” Pearl checks.

“No, I’d actually prefer if you did.  I’d like to think about anything else.”

“Okay...well...did I tell you what happened yesterday?”

“No.”

“My neighbor’s family is staying at his place for a week.  Turns out I met his grandson.”

“Is he cute?” Pav asks, a rare smile brightening her face.

“He’s sixteen…” Pearl reprimands, grossed out.  “Anyway, he came over for a while and we hung out.  Turns out we have a lot in common.”

“You sound happy,” Pav observes.

“Yeah, I guess I am.  It’s been awhile since I’ve had anybody here, like, actually in the cabin, here.  You know I love you and Char.”

“But part of why you love us is that it’s from afar,” Pav fills in, knowingly.

“Right.  With this kid, I mean...it wasn’t like that.  I guess at the time I wasn’t crazy about having him here, but once he left, I started running down the whole visit in my mind, you know?”

“Over-analyzing,” Pav smiles.  “Yeah, I know.”

“And I realized...he was here for several hours...just needed a break from his family, I think...but I realized...I wasn’t triggered once when he was here.”

“Wow.  That’s huge…” Pav says, impressed.  “Seem like he was comfortable there?  You mentioned he stayed a while.  You think he’ll be back?”

“It sounds ridiculous coming from me, but I kinda hope he does?  Because, honestly, after everything happened to me?  My friends kinda slowly drifted away.  I kept trying to hang out with them, but I couldn’t do big groups because it was too unpredictable...and then...even when I hung out with somebody one-on-one, inevitably, you know?  Somebody makes a rape joke.  Or laughs at one.  Or knows the guy and tells me how great he is and I just want to vomit.”

Gracie’s under the desk this morning.  She perks up at Pearl’s bouncing leg, and rests her head in Pearl’s lap.

“This is the first time I didn’t feel totally...insufficient...I guess...around somebody else.  I had something to offer.”

“I’m happy for you,” Pav says, and Pearl believes her.  They root for each other in the survivor’s world, not against each other.

When Pav has to go, Pearl watches out the window, peeking around her blackout shades.  It’s about the time Jesus came out on the back step yesterday.  Usually, Pearl would never walk Gracie at the same time, the same route two days in a row, but she just really wants to check on him.  Feels protective of him.

She doesn’t see him, but she gets an idea and rushes to the kitchen, finding a black Sharpie marker on the way.  This way, when she does see him, she’ll be ready.

--

Stef stumbles out of bed.  She’d gotten so little sleep last night, it was ridiculous.  One of the kids’ alarm kept going off on their phone at 5 AM and then they kept going in and out of the bathroom like elephants.  (To say nothing of the nightmares that kept waking her: dead kids, like the ones she ID’d over the four years Jesus was missing.  Only this time, it was his body on the table.

She’s on her way to the bathroom herself when something stops her.  A foot sticking out from blankets draped around the table.  It makes Stef feel like vomiting.  Or passing out.  She remembers her dream with sickening clarity.  Forces herself to pull back the blanket and look.

“Jesus…” she gasps.

He sits up abruptly, looking alarmed.

“What are you doing under there?  You can’t sleep under the dining room table, love.  It’s cold and it’s not sanitary.”

“I’ve lived worse…” he says, his voice flat.

“Yes, I understand that.  Please, come out of there, before Grandpa’s neighbor sees you and thinks we treat you like Harry Potter…”

“You don’t…” he offers, crawling out.  

She crosses her arms to ward off the impulse to offer him a hand.  She doesn’t want to scare him.

--

Jesus has a raging headache.  And Mom’s sneak-attack on him has his heart going a million miles an hour.  He feels his world coming down, as Stef takes all the blankets off the table and folds them roughly.

He darts back under the table for his backpack, his sweatshirt, his three waters and his blanket.  Before Mom rage-folds that, too.  

“You don’t need to go disappearing to the neighbor’s house either, for that matter.  Unless you’re invited.  Do you really think they’re okay with people just showing up, unannounced?” she rants as she folds.

His head aches.  Not again.  He can’t be in trouble already.  The day isn’t even started.

Before she can stop him, he stands up and goes for his coat.  Opens the back door and stands on the step.  He just needs to breathe.

Just like yesterday, he sees Pearl, but this time, Jesus is hugely embarrassed and turns his face away from her.  From Grace.

He hears her say “Morning, Jesus!” but doesn’t say anything back.  He’s tense, because Stef is still yelling inside, asking what he thinks he’s doing.

“Heads up,” Pearl calls, and something comes flying through the air at him.  He catches it.  Smiles against his will:

Swiss Miss hot chocolate.  And scrawled on the package?

FROM P & G

Next to the G is a paw print in black Sharpie.

Jesus tucks it in his pocket and walks back inside because Stef’s knocking on the window like they are nowhere near done.

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Monday doesn’t necessarily start well.  Pearl has been up every hour.  At 3:30 AM, she gives up.  Gets up.  Does some stretching and meditation.  Tries to journal, but it comes out like crap.  Since she can feel herself actively resisting the swing, she figures her body must need it.  She turns on the purple lights and hangs out in there while Gracie snores on the couch, exhausted from a night of keeping watch.

By 6:00 AM, she’s exhausted all of her early-morning to-dos and it’s still not light enough to walk Gracie.  (Besides, Gracie is still passed out on the couch.  Now she’s running in her sleep.)

“Yeah.  Live it up,” Pearl comments softly.  “At least one of us should have good dreams, right?”

She walks over to her laptop and switches it on.  Skype signs her in automatically and her heart leaps at the sight of Pav with a green check mark by her name.  She’s online!  Praise everything!

Before she can click Pav’s name, she’s getting a video call from her.  Pearl can’t click the answer button fast enough.

“Hey, you’re up.”

“Of course.  Couldn’t sleep at all.  You?”

“Sort of?  If you count up once screaming and seven more times just trying to get my breath...though that could have been the giant dog lying on top of me…”

“Aw, I love Gracie…” Pav’s face breaks into a smile.  She’s been stressed, too.  Winter’s not her favorite time of year.  Even though April is Pearl’s worst month, she gets anniversary reactions.  “I got your message.  How’s your neighbor’s family?”

“They seem okay so far.  Keeping to themselves.  So long as they keep that up, it should be fine.”

They talk a bit longer until Gracie decides she needs to go outside immediately.  Pearl hangs up with Pav and promises to be in touch.  Then, she gets bundled up and braces herself for the blast of cold air when she opens the door.  Even though the sun is shining and it looks gorgeous, Pearl knows that’s deceptive.

She’s out back when she catches a flash of orange in her peripheral vision.  It makes her heart speed up in her chest.  Orange Jacket’s out on Frank’s back step.

“Morning,” he calls.

She nods, cautious.

“Nice dog.”

“She is.  Are you Frank’s grandson?”

“Yeah.  Jesus,” he introduces.

“Pearl,” she nods back.

“Nice to meet you,” he says.  He seems so genuine.  Like a good kid.  But she doesn’t say more, just keeps walking.  She’s glad when he goes back inside.  Why on earth did she tell him her name?

--

Jesus heads back inside.  All he’s got is a coat.  No gloves.  No boots.  He really didn’t plan this well.  It’s ridiculously cold here.  But the day looked so bright, he couldn’t resist checking it out.  And the neighbor, Pearl, really did have a beautiful dog.

He hurries to gather all the blankets he used to drape the table with and refold them.  He puts them back where he found them, feeling the start of panic that threatened whenever he cleaned anything, even a minor mess he made himself.

Then, he gathers his sweatshirt, his own blanket and his backpack and creeps into the room Brandon and Jude are in.  He sits on the couch by the door for what feels like forever, listening to the hellacious sound of Jude grinding his teeth, until it seems like a respectable time to get up.  He leaves his bag there on the couch, covered by his blanket, so it looks like he slept there.  He doesn’t need Moms freaking out about him sleeping under a table.

He heads back down to the kitchen, and opens the fridge and all the cupboards.  Everything is stocked now.  He sees the coffee in the cupboard and starts making a pot without even thinking about it.  Moms need coffee to get going in the morning.  Callie likes it, too.  And he’s up anyway.

It’s hours until anybody else gets up.  Even Frankie is sleeping hard.  Mom’s the next one up.  Finds Jesus looking out the window.

“Smells good,” she says, still half asleep.

And that’s all it takes.  “I can make you something,” he offers.

This snaps her out of her half asleep daze.  “Jesus Foster,” she reprimands lightly.  “You are not in charge of coffee making.  That’s still true.  Yes?”

He shrugs before he can stop himself.

“Okay.  Porch Time,” she says, patting a chair beside her at the kitchen table.

“We’re inside...” he says softly, with a careful smile.

“Yes, well, if we went out on the actual porch this morning, I think we’d freeze.  Sit down please, love.” Stef prompts, more firmly.

(She’s still drinking the coffee.  So, he sits.)

He stares at the cup in her hands.  It’s dark green.  

“Jesus.  Can you get grounded for me, please?” she asks.

He knows what she’s referring to.  So he sits up in the chair.  Adjusts so he’s all the way back in it.  Presses his feet down.  Lifts his head.  Last, he meets her eyes.  He tries to keep breathing deliberately, but it’s hard.  He can’t let her figure out just how many things are wrong.  They can’t go back home until next Sunday.  Let her think they’re a little wrong.

When he nods to signal he’s ready to listen, she starts talking:

“It occurs to me that we haven’t been as clear as we should have been about what it means now that we are where we are.  So, I need you to know that even though we are on vacation, and we’re staying somewhere that is not home, your accommodations still apply.  And that includes that no one expects you to clean here.  That includes kitchen chores.  That includes cooking for us or making us coffee.  We are taking care of you, love, not vice versa.  You can trust that we will do that for you.  Can you tell me what you heard me say?”

“Not to clean or do anything in the kitchen, like cook or make coffee,” he recites.

“Yes.  Now is there anything else you need me to know?”

“I folded some blankets that got messed up last night...and I made coffee…”

“Okay.  How did you feel?” she asks.

“Making the coffee felt normal.  Hey, I saw this awesome dog out this morning,” he volunteers because it’s getting super hard not to just tell Mom everything that’s wrong.

“You know I love dogs, so I’d love to hear all about it.  But first I need you to tell me about how you felt with the blankets.  Folding them,” she prompts.

“Yeah...not so good.”

“Not so good, and what else?” she asks.

“Panicky,” he admits, glancing away.

“And that is why you are not responsible for cleaning chores.  Because we don’t want you feeling panicky.  We want you to feel calm and safe.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

“No, I’m sorry, Jesus.  I should have talked to you more about this.  It all happened pretty fast, but that’s no excuse.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her.

“It is never okay if you are unsafe.  No more cleaning while we are here.  Make sense?”

“It does,” he nods.

“Okay.  Now tell me about this dog…”

Jesus doesn’t get the chance to mention Pearl or her dog to Mom because Frankie’s up.  And then Mama.  And then everybody.

They have oatmeal for breakfast and Jesus almost loses it, because how is he gonna save that?  Luckily there’s toast, too, and he sneaks that upstairs to tuck it into his backpack.  Now all he has in it is the food, because he doesn’t want his blanket or headphones getting all crumby.

He doesn’t shower or change, but no one comments.  They get change is hard for him.  That afternoon, they all go outside together.  Soon enough, Frankie decides she hates the snow and goes back in with Mama.  Mari and Jude join her.  But Mom, Brandon and Callie are still out.

They build the most epic snowman, and then Brandon says the magic words to Mom:

“Didn’t you say Grandpa had snowmobiles?”

“That I did,” Mom smiles.

“No way!  Can we go on them?” Callie asks.

“Of course.  Jesus, are you coming, too?” Mom asks.

“Of course!” he echoes, a smile on his face.  

But when they get to the garage where Grandpa keeps the snowmobiles, it’s dark inside.  There are tools.  It reminds Jesus too much of the basement where he was kept in for months.  While everybody’s talking about which snowmobile they want, Jesus backs up.  They have to double up, and he is not comfortable with that either.

“Jesus, are you riding with me?” Mom asks, once the snowmobiles are outside.

“Actually, I think I changed my mind…” he hedges.

“Oh.  Okay, love.  You gonna head back inside with Mama?” she checks.

“I think so, yeah.” he nods.

Callie keeps revving her and Brandon’s snowmobile.  It’s making him nervous and he backs off even more.  “See you guys?”

“Yeah, see ya,” Callie calls, waving.

Jesus waits until they drive away.  Then he realizes he’s by himself.  Totally.  It’s cold enough to freeze out here, even with his jacket.  He stands for a while, trying to figure out what to do, but he just can’t move.  This kind of thing only used to happened when he knew something horrible was happening Then, or was gonna happen.  He has no idea what’s up with his body right now except that he’s alone, without his family, without his home.

All the things that are supposed to make him safe.

So maybe he just needs to wait until they come back.  They were here.  They’ll come back eventually.  He’s a long way from the cabin.  Just to test it out, Jesus tries to take a step.  He can’t move.

It’s not that the snow’s deep.  It’s that mentally, he just can’t make himself move.  He’s stuck.  He hates being stuck.  Because this time there is literally no one around who can help.  Mom, Callie and Brandon are off on snowmobiles.  Mama, Mari and Jude are inside, and he would not rely on Frankie to help him out with this.

Jesus tries to breathe. Squints in the sun.  He’s been cold before, for a long time, but nothing like this.

He’s almost too cold to think.  But he pulls his hood up.  Tucks his hands in his pockets.  Tries to keep breathing.  Minutes tick by, and they feel like hours.

And he’s not safe.

And he’s dangerously close to blanking out just to cope.

He calls out, but it doesn’t reach his mouth.  

Just in his head.  Just one word:

Somebody...