Notes - I'm so glad to be done with this chapter, but mainly because of my keyboard. My PC's keyboard is great, and I love it, but it keeps adding an extra space between words, and I don't always catch it. Hopefully, it doesn't bother you as much as it does me, but still. It's horrendously frustrating on my end. Anyway, I hope you're alright with me ending it where I did instead of cutting back to another scene and trucking on. Today's my first day back to the school year schedule and I really want to dive into my stories with fresh docs and an open mind. I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless!
Unlike the typically overcast early spring weather that graced the New England region of the United States, Florida was typically dry in late winter and early spring. As there was no snow in the area to wash away with heavy rain and thick rolls of fog, the state was usually at its most tolerable in April. However, that Tuesday, the state seemed to revolt against its historic dry spell, and thick clouds seemed to blanket the state, keeping a touch of winter’s chill in the breeze.
Despite residing in the tropical state his entire life, Butchy wasn’t one for overcast days, and not just because that meant his wife and sister would forbid him from riding his bike to work. Granted, that played a big part in it, but it wasn’t the main reason for his distaste toward the lingering gloomy sky. His main reason was his boss, Joe - a seventy-year-old man who had served in both world wars and refused to retire despite half-heartedly passing his company on to his son. Joe had issues with loud noises like fireworks and thunder, and although the guys Butchy worked with were understanding that the man’s time in the service was the cause, it was still frustrating that the man closed up shop any time the forecast said they had even the smallest chance of rain.
It was easier to deal with in the summer. Joe and his wife would fly up to New York and stay with their daughter’s family in Long Island while their son, Caleb, took over the shop. Thankfully, the change in management over the summer meant they avoided closures and missed pay due to the thunderstorms that frequented the area during the warmer months. However, from October to May, Joe’s control of the company reigned supreme, and they were occasionally woken by 5 am phone calls from Joe’s wife. Marlene was a sweet woman and always made sure to write out checks to each of the workers on the roster if they missed a day due to Joe’s post-traumatic response to the weather.
That was why, when she called Butchy to let him know to take the day off, he didn’t mind it so much.
According to Marlene, she and Joe had listened to the weather report on the radio while having their morning tea with their dog, Guinness. A storm coming in from the Gulf of Mexico had forced Joe to close the shop until it passed, but Butchy was fine with it regardless. Having the day off gave him time to drive up to the Italian market in the Ponce de Leon neighborhood. With a promise of a paycheck regardless of whether or not they stepped foot into the store during the week, Butchy chatted with Marlene for a while before wishing her and her husband a good day and returning to his still-sleeping wife.
If she wasn’t too sore to move by the time she got up, Mick would be spending her day at Big Momma’s, waiting tables until the local vocational high school let out at noon and the teenage staff could take over for the afternoon, but being able to stay with her just a little while longer was an opportunity Butchy refused to pass up. Sadly, their time together didn’t last nearly as long as they wanted it to, as the phone rang once more a little over an hour later, and Butchy was forced to answer.
“Hello,” he spoke into the phone. “Bandoni residence.”
“Butch, it’s me,” a soft, somewhat groggy voice spoke on the other end of the line.
Sitting up and smiling apologetically at his wife, Butchy swung his legs over the side of the bed and asked, “Something wrong, Miles? You never call this early. Is Ben alright?”
“Oh, no, he’s fine, man. Thanks, though. It’s just…” A heavy metal clang rattled on the other end of the call, and Miles sighed heavily, “This piece of shit won’t start and I’m supposed to bring Vivien to the school today. I was supposed to fill out paperwork for her to be able to attend this week.”
Taking in a breath, Butchy turned slightly toward Mick who had slowly sat up upon his mentioning of who was on the other end of the line. Raising an eyebrow in confusion as he met his wife’s curious gaze, Butchy slowly asked, “Let me get this straight. Vivien came all this way for spring break, only to ask to go to school?”
Mick let out a soft snort, not surprised in the slightest. Sending his wife an amused grin, Butchy shook his head fondly. With a sigh, Miles replied, “Yeah, I was confused too, but she wants to meet the boys’ friends and thinks it’ll be fun. Is there any way you can swing by and pick us up? We have to be there for seven. I’ll give you-”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Butchy cut off, his tone daring Miles to offer gas money. “I’ll be there. Make sure you have everything they told you to bring, and double check that the little rugrat isn’t sick before you bring her to school. I’d hate for everyone else to suddenly get the great idea that going to school is more fun than spring break.”
“I can hear you, you dick!” Vivien called with a laugh, letting Butchy know she wasn’t bothered by his remark.
Laughing over the line, Butchy remarked, “Love you too, piccola.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m not a fucking flute!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a piccol-o, but-” Miles let out a laugh he poorly disguised as a cough, “She’s, uh, she’s flipping you off, Butch.”
“I’m shakin’ in my boots,” Butchy teased, earning him a dramatic scoff from the young brunette on the other end as he envisioned her rolling her eyes, that half-tilted grin of hers plastered on her face as she walked away. “Anyway, I’ll be there. See you guys in a few.”
“Thanks, man,” Miles breathed.
“Always.”
As her husband set the phone back on the hook, Mick slid out from under the blankets and wrapped her arms around Butchy’s waist, pressing her front to his back with a sigh. “So much for that massage you promised me last night,” she huffed as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
Placing his larger hands atop the ones on his abdomen, Butchy lightly kissed her cheek and offered, “Rain check?” Seeing her dejected pout as he turned slightly in her arms, Butchy cupped her face in his hand and suggested, “Lela’s going to Cheech’s tonight. The second you get off of work, I’ll make it up to you; I promise.”
With a reluctant nod, Mick allowed him to stand as she knelt on the bed, peering up at him with a look in her eyes that he knew all too well. Pulling him into a kiss, she breathed against his lips, “Me and my new babydoll will be waiting.”
Groaning huskily, Butchy allowed her to pull him in once more, sealing her promise with a kiss that had him debating whether or not he had the time to give her something, anything before he had to leave. Then, to his dismay, she pulled away, sitting back on her feet with a smug grin as she drank in his expression. Coming back to his senses, Butchy pointed a finger at her and lightly tapped the tip of her nose as he let out a breathy chuckle, “Not fair.”
Licking her lips, Mick smirked, “Consider us even. I’ll be looking forward to seeing how you manage to make this up to me.”
Leaning back down to her height, Butchy braced himself on the mattress and asked, “Have I ever told you how grateful I am that I married you?”
“A few times,” Mick replied in a breath. Lightly kissing him once more, she carded her fingers through his hair and said, “Now get going. Our siblings need you.”
Butchy let out a grumbling complaint before grabbing a pair of jeans from the laundry basket he had tossed onto the dresser the night before and a shirt from the closet, quickly getting dressed while his mind was occupied with anything other than the woman wearing nothing but a smile and one of his old shirts, sitting in his bed, waiting for him to return. No… it was their bed now, not just his. It was nice to finally be able to say that.
After kissing his wife goodbye, Butchy left the room, closing the door behind him. Stepping over a shirt that he knew Mick would be upset had stayed in a crumpled mess on the floor all night, he realized just how quickly things had gotten heated the night before. There was no rhyme or reason to it, either, as far as he could remember. They made tiramisu after dinner, she sprayed him with whipped cream, and, well… everything else was a bit of a blur. Not that he was complaining, but still, he would have to clean up the mess they had left when he got home.
Grabbing his keys from the hook by the garage door, Butchy tugged open the door and stepped into the garage, sliding in behind the wheel of his pickup. Pressing the button Mick’s dad had clipped to his visor after helping him install a remote-controlled door opener, Butchy slid the key into the ignition and allowed the truck to rumble to life. As soon as the door behind the tailgate was open, he backed out of the driveway and onto the street. With a yawn, Butchy grabbed the crank on his door and rolled the window down, grateful for the cold slap of early-morning air that shocked his systems awake.
With the humanized version of a caffeine crackhead getting into the seat next to him, he would need all the focus he could get. Downshifting as he rolled to a stop at the edge of the Murphy family’s driveway, Butchy felt his eyebrows knit together in concern as he saw Vivien sitting on the front steps, silent as a church mouse. He’d half expected her to be standing by the end of the yard, dancing to some 80s song or teasing Miles about something. Instead, Miles was nowhere to be seen, and Vivien simply sat there, staring into space.
In all the years he had known Vivien - a grand total of nearly three years - he had never seen her sit still for more than maybe two minutes without shifting around to find a new position. However, it appeared as though she was lost in thought, her backpack perched on her legs as she stared at the sandy grass before her. Butchy didn’t like it one bit. Vivien was like a shot of espresso injected directly into the veins of the people who cared about her. If she were feeling off in any way, those around her would be dragged down, too.
Deciding he didn’t want to see her like that any longer than he already had, Butchy pressed his hand to the center of the steering wheel and muttered an apology under his breath before digging the heel of his palm into the horn. Vivien jumped, her green eyes jolting from the ground to the truck as she scrambled to catch her bag before it hit the ground. As Vivien pushed herself to her feet, Butchy was surprised she didn’t send him a purple-tipped bird as she jogged up to the truck. Pressing the button into the handle and popping open the door, Vivien climbed onto the bench seat, closed the door, and slid into the middle seat, holding her backpack close as she muttered a greeting under her breath.
“Hey, piccola,” Butchy greeted with a smile, only to be met with a tiny grin that quickly disappeared. Butchy waited a moment for the girl to settle in her seat, half-expecting her to begin prattling off about her adventures from the day before. However, even after Vivien had settled, silence permeated the cab like a thick fog. Glancing toward the closed garage, Butchy eyed Vivien carefully and asked, “Is Miles coming?”
Vivien nodded and murmured, “He was fighting with the garage door and had to find Binx before we left.”
Eyeing the shorter brunette, Butchy took in a breath and reached up, tucking his hand under the girl’s bangs to feel her forehead. Instead of pushing him away, Vivien seemed to lean into his hand, her eyes closing behind her glasses as Butchy softly asked, “You feeling alright, nocciolina? You seem quiet.”
“Just tired,” Vivien replied, her tone a stark contrast to the jovial, snippy tone she had used with him on the phone just minutes prior. As Butchy’s hand slipped out from under her bangs and his fingers brushed through the strands to fix her hair, she turned to him and asked, “Butchy, am… am I too much to handle in the morning?”
Butchy had just barely uttered a disbelieving, “What?” When Vivien let out a deep sigh and cut him off.
“Like, I know I can be a bit much sometimes, but should I tone it down in the mornings?” she asked as she turned to stare out the windshield, not giving him a chance to breathe a word before she continued. “I know I’m loud because everyone tells me I am, but I don’t always realize it until I’m being told off. And, when I get up in the mornings, I’m always go-go-go, and I don’t stop unless I have to, which I guess can be annoying to some people, but I’m just a morning person, and that sort of energy gets my day started, so it shouldn’t matter, right?” Again, not giving Butchy a second to answer, she continued rambling, “I know I’m obnoxiously perky and overly optimistic sometimes, but is that really such a bad thing? I just-”
Butchy’s hand left the steering wheel to cover the girl’s mouth, forcing her to stop and catch her breath for a moment. When he was sure she had calmed enough to allow him a chance to speak, Butchy’s hand moved to her chin, turning her gaze back to him as his eyes narrowed and he asked, “Who the fuck put this nonsense in your head?”
Trying to make light of the situation, Vivien grinned and pushed his hand away as she let out a small, scoffed laugh, “The infamous swear jar owner knows how to cuss?! Where’s the press? We need to record this moment.”
“Quit evading the question, bambina,” Butchy said plainly. “Whoever told you that is going to end up maimed or, at the very least, seriously injured.”
“Nobody, I-” Vivien shook her head. Then, she grinned as she asked, “Wait, was that a Harry Potter reference?”
“Vivien,” Butchy ground out, an edge to his voice that reminded Vivien she was talking to a man who led a biker gang - a potentially dangerous one, if the protective tone of his voice told her anything - not just a guy her neighbor-slash-psuedo-sister had married. He had told her before that, since she was considered a family member by the Birches, she was his family now, too. However, until she saw the thinly veiled rage in his eyes at the idea of someone telling her to tone herself down, she hadn’t seen the older man as anything other than a kind, teasing older brother. Now, she saw the protective side of Butchy that Mick had told her stories of. Yanked from her reverie, Vivien’s eyes widened as Butchy asked, “Be honest with me; who do I need to kill for you?”
A hint of mild fear shone in Vivien’s eyes as she vehemently shook her head, “What? Nobody!”
“Look,” Butchy said, forcing a level tone as he took in a breath, “you don’t have to tell me, but I will find out eventually, and when I do, it-”
Putting her hands up in surrender, Vivien quickly interrupted, “It was me, okay?” Watching the anger in Butchy’s eyes slowly dissolve into confusion, she added, “I just… I get stuck in my head sometimes, and I feel like I’m going to fuck up this whole vacation. I mean, look at my housemates - Miles, who could sleep through a military-grade air show, and Bentley, who I’m pretty sure has earplugs built into his head that only work when he’s sleeping.”
Watching the girl’s eyes fall to the backpack on her lap, Butchy asked, “Have they said anything to you about you being too excited in the morning?”
With a subtle shake of her head, Vivien replied, “No.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” When Butchy’s simple statement gleaned nothing from the younger girl, he brought an arm around her shoulders and sighed, “I mean it, piccolina. Miles would tell you if he had an issue with you, and Bentley is terrible at hiding anything. If that boy was bothered by you in the slightest, you’d be able to tell.”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien allowed her head to fall onto Butchy’s shoulder, sighing as she asked, “What if they don’t want to hurt my feelings, so they don’t say anything at all to me?”
“Viv,” Butchy sighed, “they love you. They wouldn’t-”
Butchy’s sentence was interrupted as the passenger’s side door opened, and Vivien quickly sat up as Miles hauled himself into the truck. Butchy pulled his arm back, glancing past Vivien to Miles as the younger biker nodded tiredly, “Thanks again, Butch.”
Nodding in return, Butchy pulled the gearshift and pulled away from the sidewalk, thinking over his conversation with Vivien as Miles grumbled into his coffee cup about something Bentley said before they were picked up by Kona’s dad. Although Butchy couldn’t honestly say that he knew Vivien better than Miles probably did, he knew her well enough to know that her behavior wasn’t normal. If it hadn’t been for the way she kept silent despite Miles trying to get her to join the conversation, he could chalk it up to her just being anxious about attending a new school for the week. She would add her two cents here and there, but her normal energy seemed depleted, the light in her eyes flickering as her eyes flitted over scenery on the way to the school.
Vivien’s snappy comebacks and lightning-fast reactions to Butchy’s jabs had disappeared almost as soon as they left the house. To make things worse, Miles didn’t even seem to notice the difference in her demeanor as he chugged his coffee and spouted off about work. Butchy could easily presume that Miles’ lack of detective skills was due to the insufficient amount of coffee in his veins, but even so, he had hoped Miles had been paying the girl at least some mind. After all, they weren’t just friends. Miles and Vivien had always been close - attached at the hip during their first few summer vacations to New Hampshire. But now, Miles’ brother and Vivien’s boyfriend were the same person, and the two seemed to get along as well as siblings on a normal day. This… This didn’t feel like a normal day.
Clearly, something had happened in the five, maybe ten minutes between the phone call and Butchy arriving at their house. Now, he just had to figure out what that was.
Pulling into the school parking lot and stopping in one of the spots designated for visitors, Butchy stopped the truck and waited for Miles to get out of the vehicle before putting a hand on Vivien’s arm, stopping her from moving. “Hold on a second,” he told her as he reached for the glove box. Pulling out a small notebook and a pen, he scribbled out his home phone number before tearing out the page and handing it to Vivien. “If you need anything - someone to talk to, a ride home in the middle of the day, bail money, anything - call. After I drop Miles off at work, I’ll be home. Call if you need me.”
Scanning over the hastily-scribbled number, Vivien nodded, offering Butchy a small smile as she pocketed the paper. “Thanks, big guy,” she said, patting the Firefly sticker on the dash as she slid over to the door.
Butchy offered the girl a final wave as Miles began leading her up the concrete pathways to the front door. Taking in how her eyes scanned her surroundings while Miles simply continued onward, Butchy wondered if something had happened between them. Either that, or the lack of caffeine in Miles’ system had made him less attentive. Regardless, as soon as Miles was back in the truck, they would be discussing everything Butchy had noticed in the short time he had been out of bed that day.
Holding the door open for Vivien, Miles took in a long sip of his coffee and stepped into the school’s office, the door slowly closing behind them. It had been a long morning. It had all started when he quite literally fell out of bed when the phone rang - a call from his boss telling him to pick up an order from the local parts retailer before coming in. Then, halfway through chugging down his first cup of coffee, Binx chose to attack, jumping onto Miles’ shoulder and making him wear the rest of his coffee. On top of all the running around he had done, his piece of shit Jeep refused to start, and, well… it was an all-around rough day from the start. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the rest of it.
Stepping up to the front desk as Vivien looked at the corkboard covered in half-assed posters about upcoming events and after-school activities, Miles watched as the crotchety old woman behind the desk waved off a girl with ginger hair. Inwardly, he hoped the old woman would give him some reprieve from his awful morning and send the young volunteer to handle him, but he knew the chances were slim. Mrs Burton was a nosy old bat who had her eyes on everyone else’s business. Watching the redheaded girl turn, Miles felt both joy and agitation as he found himself staring at Royce’s friend, Cassandra.
Sandy wasn’t a horrible kid by any means, but she was far from Miles’ favorite of his brothers’ friends. The girl was a speak-without-thinking loudmouth who seemed to respect a select few authority figures, but she actually seemed to like Miles and adhered to the rules at their house, so he was cordial with her whenever he saw her. Offering the girl a small smile, Miles stifled a yawn and said, “Cass.”
The girl’s blue eyes glistened as she smiled, dropping her stack of folders onto an empty desk before approaching the counter. “Miles,” she replied. Crossing her arms over the counter, she asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure of your greasy-assed company?”
The older woman huffed, figuratively clutching her pearls on her way past Sandy. She muttered something about disrespectful teenagers as she wandered down the hall to a teacher’s office, slamming the door behind her. Miles shook his head and chuckled, “I’m just here to sign Vivien in.”
Aquamarine eyes flitted past Miles to Vivien as Sandy’s head tipped to the side. Glancing back at Miles, she whispered, “Is that her?” Miles hummed in confirmation, and Sandy’s eyes widened slightly as they scanned over Vivien’s form. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Allowing the redhead a chance to observe Vivien for a moment, Miles glanced over the counter and reached for a packet with both his and Vivien’s names on it, pulling it onto the top of the counter and opening it. “Is this all I need to fill out?”
Pulled from her careful observations, Sandy glanced at Miles and the packet in his hands before brushing him off, “Yeah, but just the first page, both sides. The rest is just bullshit. Now, back to her,” she said, pointing discretely at Vivien as the brunette scanned over the bulletin board with a small smile. “How on earth did Royce convince her to go out with him?”
“I don’t know,” Miles chuckled softly, pulling out the thin stack of pages from the manilla folder. “Ask him at lunch.”
Instead of waiting, Sandy placed a pen on the counter for Miles and glanced around to make sure the other office ladies were busy before stepping through the swinging half door and making her way to where Vivien stood. Sticking her hand out to Vivien as the girl turned toward her, Sandy spoke, “Nice to finally meet you, Vivien. Royce has told us a lot about you.”
Cautiously slipping her hand into the redhead’s, Vivien said, “Hopefully, good things.”
“Of course,” Sandy said before releasing Vivien. Smiling at the slightly taller girl, she said, “I’m Cassandra, but my friends call me Sandy. I work here in the office until third period since I don’t need my homeroom or study block.”
“Lucky,” Vivien breathed, a smirk tugging at her lips. “My dad’s the principal at my school, so I don’t get to do anything like that.”
“That’s one hell of an advantage,” Sandy laughed, tucking her hand into the crook of Vivien’s elbow as she stood beside her. “I bet you get out of trouble easier than anyone else.”
“Pft, hardly!” Vivien scoffed with a laugh. “If anything, it makes the teachers harder on me.”
Sandy let out a heavy sigh and shook her head, “That’s fucked up.”
Appreciating Sandy’s direct, “no bullshit” demeanor, Vivien shrugged, “It is what it is. My dad is pretty good at making sure the teachers are fair, but most of the older teachers are on massive power trips because of tenure.”
“Same shit, different place, I suppose,” Sandy sighed before gesturing toward the corkboard on the wall. “Do you guys at least have nice teachers for after-school clubs? The only cool teacher we really have is Mr. Rusiecki, and he’s our mechanics teacher and archery coach.”
Sending her new friend a raised brow, Vivien said, “That’s a big jump in careers.”
“He took the shop teacher job first, but then the principal found out that he was a state champion for archery, I guess, so he took over that after our old coach got shot by a freshman,” Sandy shrugged. “Anyway, Sieck’s pretty laid back. Last year, I helped the seniors take his car apart and rebuild it inside the gym for their end-of-year prank, and he thought it was great because those morons made his car run better than it did when he first bought it.”
As the girls shared a laugh, Miles turned toward them and spoke up, “Kiddo, I need you to come sign this so I can get my ass to work and you can get to class.”
Turning toward her boyfriend’s older brother, Vivien opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Sandy as the redhead guided her toward the front desk, “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“I’ll twist my panties however I like,” Miles shot back, sliding the papers across the counter to Vivien and handing her a pen. Pointing to a few lines, his tone shifted to a gentler one as his focus turned to Vivien. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Just those, but you need to sign with Mick’s last name.”
“Why?” Vivien asked.
“She was your proof of residency in the state,” Miles muttered as Sandy called a teacher to send a student to the office. “To prove you’re related to her and staying with her for the time being, I thought it would be for the best.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Vivien sighed softly. Scribbling her signature on the lines Miles had pointed out, Vivien made sure her pretend last name was correctly spelled before handing the papers over to Sandy as she hung up the phone on the desk.
Using a stamp to mark that someone on the staff list had approved the paperwork, Sandy tucked the papers away in the filing cabinet before offering Vivien a smile. “You can sit by the bulletin board until your guide shows up,” she informed Vivien before smirking at Miles and shooing him away with a hand. “Leave now, grease monkey. Your oily presence is needed elsewhere.”
Vivien let out a snort, which she quickly disguised as a cough. Miles shook his head, clearly not bothered by the girl’s remarks. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, patting the desk with a hand. Turning toward Vivien, Miles reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hoping his half-hug gave her some form of comfort as he prepared himself to abandon her in an unfamiliar environment. Walking with her toward the chairs on the opposite wall, he softly asked, “You sure you want to go through with this, kiddo?”
“Yeah,” Vivien confirmed, leaning into him briefly before stepping away to face him. Seeing the borderline apprehension in his gaze, Vivien’s head ticked to the side, and her eyebrow lifted as she asked, “Are you?”
Hoping he didn’t appear half as nervous about the situation as he felt, Miles confessed, “Not particularly. I don’t like the idea of abandoning you with people you don’t know, in a place you don’t know.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “In a time you aren’t familiar with.”
Reaching out to lightly thump her fist to Miles’ chest directly above his heart, Vivien offered him a smile and said, “You worry too much.”
“Always,” Miles agreed. “But still, my point stands. Just say the word, and we can leave. No questions asked.”
Closing the gap between them and wrapping her arms around Miles with a comforting squeeze, Vivien rested her head against Miles’ shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be fine, Miles. It’s just school.” Allowing him to return her small embrace for a moment, Vivien stepped back and grinned, “Besides, I’m only going here for four days; how much trouble could I possibly cause?”
Though her rhetorical question was enough for Miles to want to say “to hell with it” and drag her back out to Butchy’s truck as he knew exactly how much havoc the young brunette could wreak, Miles found himself trusting her to at least keep her mayhem to a minimum, if not for her own sake or his, but for his brothers. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize them.
Sighing, Miles nodded, relenting to the girl’s smile as he hoped she wouldn’t get into too much trouble during her only week in the school. “Fine,” he breathed. “But call me if you need me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Vivien breathed, offering Miles a small smile. “I’ll try not to blow up the chem lab or anything.”
With a shake of his head, Miles sighed to himself, “Que le ciel m'aide.” Focusing his attention on Vivien again, he grinned and said, “Try not to do anything stupid.”
“I make no promises,” Vivien replied with a mischievous smirk. “But it should be pretty easy… considering you’re taking all the stupid with you.”
Miles heaved a heavy sigh, but Vivien could hear the undercurrent of fondness in his tone as he grinned down at her. Reaching for Vivien’s shoulder, he pulled her to his side and held her there momentarily before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and stepping away. “I love you, kiddo. Be good.”
“I will,” Vivien said, watching Miles give her a final nod before his departure.
Sandy stood from her chair as the office door closed, waiting for Miles to disappear in the hallway before calling out in a hushed voice, “Psst, Vivien.”
Turning to the redhead, Vivien grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder before crossing the room again, “Yeah?”
“First of all, here,” Sandy began, sliding a piece of paper across the counter to the brunette. “This is your schedule. I mixed some of the classes so that you’ll be with either Royce or one of our mutual friends for the rest of the week, but sadly, you have to stay with your tour guide today.”
“Cool,” Vivien said as she examined the listing. Each class had a symbol beside it with a letter inside of it - a heart with an R for Royce, a crown with an S for Sandy, a star with a K, and a fish with an L. “Who are K and L?”
“Katrina and Laken Dubois,” Sandy replied. “Everyone calls them Kit and Lake, but you’ll probably only meet them in passing until we meet up for lunch.”
Looking up from the paper, Vivien felt a sense of unease in her stomach as she asked, “Neither one of them is my tour guide?”
“Sadly, no,” Sandy sighed. “None of us are. Usually, the student council takes care of the touring stuff. If you had come last year, I probably would’ve been your guide, but I dropped out of that crock of bullshit this year when they tried to get us to do a fundraiser for new cheerleading uniforms. Anyway - back to the tour thing. That’s sort of the second thing I wanted to tell you about.”
Nodding, Vivien murmured, “Okay. Is it someone you know?”
Sandy scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Sadly. Everyone knows her. She’s a bit… much. Her name is-”
The door to the office swung open and slammed against the wall, cutting Sandy off and knocking the bulletin board off the wall as a sing-songy voice called out, “Where’s my newbie?”
Vivien turned, finding a girl with reddish-brown hair standing in the doorway. A smattering of freckles dotted her face, accenting her pasty skin. Contrasting her reddened hair was her hazel, borderline blue, eyes, and a purple-on-purple outfit that would put Daphne Blake from Scooby-Doo to shame. If Vivien hadn’t known better, she would’ve presumed the short redhead was cosplaying the cartoon character.
The short girl’s purple mod dress had lavender buttons that matched the scalloped hem and the sweater draped over her shoulders. Her long, pin-straight hair was almost identical to Lela’s signature style - a small bump with an accenting headband. To complete the look, the auburn-haired girl wore a pair of white tights with a sort of zigzag pattern and a pair of square-heeled, lavender shoes that only added an inch or two to her height.
All in all, Vivien had to admit, she was pretty. If she didn’t already have Royce and was, you know, in a decade where it would be socially acceptable, she might’ve approached the girl with the intention of asking her out. However, there was something about her - the fierceness in her eyes, or the magnetism of her smile, or perhaps the way she carried herself like nothing could bother her? - that reminded her too much of a certain past flame of hers that had burned through her life like a wildfire and decimated everything in her path. As she locked gazes with the girl, Vivien found herself looking into a pair of hazel eyes that held the same fiery passion that once destroyed her.
It was in that very moment she realized just how fortunate she had been to have found Royce and changed her “type” before it became a pattern.
As the girl crossed the office, her heels clicking delicately on the tile, Vivien found herself forcing a smile as she extended a hand to the girl who simply stared at her. “I’m Vivien,” she chose to say. “Vivien Birch.”
The girl eyed Vivien for a moment, her eyes raking over Vivien’s choice of outfit, before she finally plastered a smile on her face and latched onto the taller girl’s hand. Her voice, though soft-spoken, held a sense of authority as she said, “Serena Sullivan. Head cheerleader, vice president of the student council, and co-captain of the soccer team.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vivien said as the girl released her hand.
“Likewise,” Serena said, giving the girl a once-over before smirking and flicking her gaze onto Sandy, who had chosen to bite her tongue the second the cheerleader entered the room. “Cassandra.”
Forcing her voice to remain level for the sake of her new friend as the poor brunette would be stuck with the auburn-haired girl for the rest of the school day, Sandy spoke, “Serena.”
With a grin even Vivien could tell was forced, Serena nodded to the other redhead before turning her gaze back to Vivien and beaming brightly, looping her arm with her new classmate. “Ready to start your first day?”
Taking in a small breath as Serena began pulling her toward the door, Vivien nodded, “As I’ll ever be.”
Umber eyes drifted back and forth, following the pacing footsteps of a tall figure that had, upon returning home, blocked her sunlight. It wasn’t often that Mick had a bone to pick with her new husband. However, his persistent pacing was beginning to grate on what few nerves she had left. After a long night spent pinned in various positions, in different areas of the house, she had taken a sick day from work, and all she really wanted to do was rest on the couch with a book, her heating pad, and a cup of tea. However, it seemed Butchy had other plans.
When he arrived home from dropping Vivien at school and Miles at work, she had asked him how they were doing. That was her first mistake. Her second was presuming that he would allow her to return to her novel after basically word-vomiting to her about how worried he was for Vivien. Despite how the pair poked and prodded each other’s nerves, Mick knew the two cared deeply for each other. It was only natural. Vivien was a magnetic kid with a rough relationship with her mother, and Butchy had a thing for taking in strays.
He was protective of the younger brunette from the start, something he readily admitted to once Vivien left the cabin on the first day he met her. At first, she was just another Lela to him - a young girl who needed a big brother to look out for her - and he was more than willing to step up. In return, Vivien found herself drawn to the boy who had chosen to love the girl she saw as an older sister. The two had an odd bond from the start - teasing remarks about brains and brawn, jabs about height, and occasionally sweet moments filling their relationship from the start.
Now, Mick was beginning to wonder if she should just hand him some adoption papers and call it a day.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Mick tucked her bookmark between the two pages she had been unsuccessfully trying to read and set her book aside, her eyes following Butchy as he paced back across the expanse of the living room window. Kicking her blanket off and reluctantly moving her heating pad from her sore abdomen, she stood from the couch and moved into Butchy’s path as he turned around.
Jumping at the sight of his wife standing directly in front of him, Butchy sucked in a sharp breath before letting it out in a heavy sigh. With a soft chuckle, his hands fell to her shoulders as he breathed, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Mick replied. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands and gently rubbed his cheekbones as she asked, “You’re starting to drive me up the wall, you know.”
“Mi spiace, tesoro,” Butchy muttered softly, leaning into her hands as his fell to her waist. “I just… I’m worried for her.”
Sighing in a way that said, “Tell me something I don’t know,” Mick shook her head, “She’s a big girl, Biagio. Vivien doesn’t need a big brother interrogating her right now. When she needs us, she’ll tell us.”
An almost pained look flitted across Butchy’s face as he asked, “What if that was her asking? Like a cry for help? She looked so miserable this morning, Mickie. I can’t ignore that.”
“Smetti,” Mick said firmly, her gaze gentle. “You’ll worry yourself sick for no reason, thinking like that.”
“I’m already worried sick,” Butchy huffed, lowering his forehead to his wife’s shoulder as he pulled her close. “I’ve never heard Vivien talk bad about herself before. It scares me.”
“I have,” Makana whispers, a soft sigh passing her lips. “Back when she and Lexi were together. She would put herself down and talk Lexi up. When they broke up, it got better, but… she was in a bad place for a long time. This - her worrying if she’s too loud and obnoxious - that’s nothing in comparison.”
Butchy let out a long, heavy sigh, lightly shaking his head as he lifted Mick from the floor and carried her back to the couch. Laying down with her beneath him, he mumbled, “I don’t like it.”
Humming softly, Mick trailed her hands along Butchy’s back and breathed, “I know, caro mio. If you’re that worried, you can stop over once they get home from school and ask her if she wants to go for a ride, just the two of you. How’s that sound?”
After a moment of silent contemplation, Butchy nodded against Mick’s shoulder, kissing the side of her neck before whispering, “Better… but I’m still worried for her.”
Accepting her husband’s statement with a small nod, Mick said, “You could always show up at the school tomorrow and bring her lunch if you feel she needs a break. She’s pretending to be my cousin, so it wouldn’t be too outlandish for you to bring her something. Or you could go pick her up and bring her out for ice cream to celebrate her first day at school.”
Lifting his head from his wife’s shoulder, Butchy sent her a skeptical look and asked, “Don’t you think that’s crossing a line?”
With a small shrug, Mick smiled and said, “I doubt Viv will see it that way. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to offer.”
Heaving a sigh, Butchy glanced at the kitchen and pushed himself onto his knees as he said, “I guess I’d better think of something to make her for tomorrow, then. Something healthy, but filling that she might actually enjoy.” After pausing for a moment to think, he tentatively asked, “What about snacks? Does she like watermelon or nuts? I can pack those. Or maybe a granola bar. Do teenagers like granola bars?”
“You don’t need to go all almond mom on her,” Mick chuckled, smiling up at her husband as he rose from the couch. “She’s a laid back kind of kid. Whatever you make, just pack her some of the brownies we made. She loves sugar.”
“Okay,” Butchy said, nodding to himself. Leaning down, Butchy quickly kissed his wife’s cheek and muttered, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Mick said softly. “Now, go pack some brownies and check up on our girl.”
With a smile, Butchy took Mick’s hand and brought it to his lips before thanking her in Italian and making his way to the kitchen. Watching him leave the room, Mick let out a sigh of relief. Having calmed her husband and gotten herself some peace and quiet in the meantime, she grabbed her mug of cooled tea from the coffee table and sipped it a bit before grabbing her book and settling in with her heating pad once more. Hearing Butchy set out a tupperware container and pull the glass container of brownies from the refrigerator, she smiled and shook her head fondly.
Worrywart.
Being a temporary exchange student in the 60s had its perks, Vivien realized quickly. Teachers never called on her, students went out of their way to be nice to her when she bumped into them in the hall, and nobody seemed outright rude. Her tour guide, Serena Sullivan, was in mostly A.P. classes, which Vivien was grateful for, but she seemed more interested in writing notes back and forth than she was in actually learning.
In one class, Vivien had learned that Serena’s dog’s name was Bitsy, she was a cheerleader, had won homecoming queen twice by attending the dance with an upperclassman, and was in the running for prom queen. In exchange, Vivien shared basic information - her siblings’ names, her dog’s name, a few things about her family’s winery business, and a few bits of information about her favorite hobbies - but she kept almost everything else under wraps.
Serena seemed… different. She was sort of like a book with sprayed edges - pretty, expensive, and interesting, but a lot deeper on the inside. In the hallways between classes, she would rant about her stepfather and how horrible he was for breaking up her parents’ relationship. She talked about her mom and dad like they could have ruled the world together, but after seeing the photographs - one of Serena and her parents and the other with her, her mother, a young boy, and a very obviously cut out man - Vivien could see the way the happiness in her mom’s expression shifted from the older photo to the new. However, Vivien simply played along, letting her new companion vent to someone she probably wouldn’t spend much time with in the future.
Despite Serena’s constant need to chat, Vivien found herself enjoying the classes she attended. The only one she didn’t particularly care for was the cheerleading practice she was made to attend instead of the history class she saw on the schedule in Serena’s locker. The cheer coach - a woman who sort of reminded Vivien of Sue Sylvester from Glee - was nice enough to let her sit out when she explained she wasn’t on the team.
The girls on the team were nice enough to introduce themselves to her - the co-captain, Violet Hilton wrapping an arm around her shoulders and showing her who was who. Normally, names didn’t really stick in Vivien’s head all that well, but old-fashioned names like Claudia, Maude, and Patsy were easy enough to remember. Even though the girls had made her feel welcome and had invited her to joining them for practice, Vivien could see the hint of disappointment in their eyes as she jogged up the steps and perched herself a couple of rows up the bleachers that surrounded the track and football field, pulling out her journal to write.
‘I saw Ben in the halls, but he didn’t see me,’ she wrote as the girls began working on one of their final pyramids of the day. ‘He was with August, and they were running up the stairs between classes. August waved, but Bentley was too focused on forcing his way up the stairwell. I haven’t had the chance to see anyone else, that I know of. I’ll see them at lunch, I’m sure, but I wish Serena had classes with Royce. I miss him. Serena seems-’
Looking up as someone yelled, “LOOK OUT!” Vivien dropped her pencil and ducked between the bleachers, narrowly avoiding a rogue football. As the ball thunked the metal seat she vacated, Vivien looked over to the field to find a tall football player with wavy blond hair jogging toward her. Placing her notebook on the bleacher below where she had been sitting, Vivien grabbed the football from where it wobbled on the metal floorboards and stood, throwing it back onto the field. The blond football player stopped mid-step to watch the ball arc over his head toward one of his teammates, who ran to catch it.
Turning back to Vivien with wide, almost impressed eyes as his teammates began wolf-whistling at her and complimenting her throw, he jogged the remaining distance between the field and the bleachers as he called out, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” Vivien claimed, righting her outfit before picking up her abandoned pencil and sitting back down with her journal. Giving him a quick once-over, Vivien noted his blond hair was tinged with brown at the roots, he had greenish-gray eyes, his nose was slightly crooked, and his teeth were almost too white. His face reminded her of a model she had seen in various cologne ads back home, but he had the broad shoulders and musculature of an average meathead who spent all his free time in the gym. Brushing off her assessment of the taller boy, Vivien said, “No harm, no foul.”
Climbing over the railing of the bleachers, the blond chuckled, “It was almost all harm, all foul.”
Chuckling halfheartedly, Vivien’s gaze returned to the page before her as she said, “Well, it didn’t, so…”
Silence filled the air for a moment, and while Vivien was grateful for it as she returned to writing her thoughts down in her notebook, she knew it wouldn’t last long as the boy cleared his throat. Leaning against the metal railing, the blond ran a hand through his silky hair and said, “You know, you’ve got one hell of an arm.”
Humming in acknowledgment, Vivien forced herself to focus on her journal as she simply said, “Thanks.”
Clearly not one to give up despite being stonewalled, the football player chuckled, circling his finger in the air as he pointed toward Vivien, “I think I’d remember such a beautiful face. Are you new here?”
Discreetly rolling her eyes, Vivien calmly said, “Yes.”
“You can talk to me, you know,” the blond said with a grin, kneeling on the seat before Vivien and peering over her journal at her. “I don’t bite.”
Meeting the football player’s eyes, Vivien nudged her glasses up her nose and rhetorically asked, “How do you know I don’t?”
With a chuckle, the blond pressed a hand to his heart and said, “I’m sure you do. A pretty thing like you… you probably have a long line of guys looking to court you.”
Trying her best not to snort at the terminology, Vivien said, “Nope, just one.”
Although Vivien wasn’t surprised the older boy hadn’t entirely caught on to her obvious distaste for the conversation and his rather annoying presence, she hadn’t been prepared for him to say, “Maybe we could make it two.”
Vivien’s response came quickly and easily: “No, thanks. I’m happy with my guy.”
A hand appeared at the top of her journal as the football player tried to push it down and get a good look at her face. Tugging her journal away from him and scooting away on the bleacher until she was by the metal railing at the end of her row, Vivien watched as a flicker of something she didn’t like shone in his eyes. As though he enjoyed her trying to escape him, he followed her to her new seat and chuckled, ignoring her look of obvious disgust. The football player leaned in uncomfortably close, and Vivien recalled her promise to Miles about not causing a scene as she fought the urge to palm-heel strike the boy and run.
Ignoring the chill of unease that ran through her spine at the almost predatory look in his eyes, Vivien wondered how on earth women acted calm and ignorant of this behavior in the past. Though she wished she had pepper spray or something to get the point across that she wasn’t interested, it was surreal to experience what so many women had to endure without it in the past. How they managed, she’d never know, but she was immensely glad things had begun progressing in her time. The “game” of cat-and-mouse these morons seemed to enjoy was disgusting, and it sent an eerie wave of goosebumps over her arms as she realized that the boy before her seemed to get off on her discomfort.
Once he was close enough that Vivien could smell his minty gum and something akin to one of the old cologne bottles in her Grandpa George’s collection, the blond said, “Come on. What’s the harm? Maybe we could go dancing or something. Your other pursuit doesn’t need to know.”
Trying not to gag at his blatant suggestion of cheating, Vivien found herself immensely grateful for whoever was working in the office as the bell rang and signaled the end of the period. She quickly stood from her seat, ensured she had her belongings, and said, “No.”
“Hey, wait!” the blond called after her.
Rounding the railing, Vivien made her way down the bleachers, just barely making it to the edge of the track as a hand wrapped around her elbow, spinning her around. Getting a glimpse of blonde hair and the taller boy’s thinly veiled frustration, Vivien wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed away from him as she hissed, “Take a hint, dude!”
Before the football player could say anything to sway her, the coach blew his whistle and yelled, “Osborne! You can chase skirts when you’re off the field.”
“Yeah, Darren!” called one of the other players, his practice jersey bunched up around the chest piece of his shoulder pads. “Get your ass over here before we have to run laps ‘cause of you.”
A sense of recognition boiled in Vivien’s chest as the blond huffed and skulked away, his chest puffed out like a freshly-preened peacock despite her rejection. Rolling her eyes, Vivien turned her back on the football team and hurried to join the girls as they followed the gym teacher back to the school. He was probably the same Darren that Royce had decked not long ago and, if he was, she could understand why Royce had such a short fuse with him.
‘Darren Osborne,’ she thought to herself with an internal scoff, recalling the pretentious asshole at her school back home with the same last name. ‘Of course, he’s a fucking Osborne. As if it wasn't bad enough I had to deal with Preston back home. I guess asshole-ry must come with the territory of that last name.’
The school day had seemed to drag on forever for Royce. He had figured his time with Vivien would be short on her first day at school with them, but he hadn’t anticipated not sharing any classes with her in the first half of the day. By the time lunch had rolled around, he had realized Vivien must’ve been put with someone on the student council with whom he never shared classes, but he wasn’t sure who. Most of them were in advanced placement classes he didn’t qualify for due to his credits at his last school, so it wasn’t hard to figure he wouldn’t see Vivien, but still, the thought of having her in the same building, yet unable to find her was frustrating.
To put it plainly, he missed her.
Vivien was his shot of espresso. His sunrise. Just that morning, he woke up to her slipping into the room he shared with Bentley. Her oversized hoodie made her resemble a dementor from Harry Potter as she stepped into the room at one-thirty in the morning, and Royce had, in his sleep-deprived fear, thrown a pillow at her and shrieked, waking Miles and Bentley and startling poor Binx. After calming things down and telling Miles to “put his fucking baseball bat away and go back to bed,” Vivien sat with the younger two brothers, waiting for Bentley to pass out with Binx purring on his chest before laying down with Royce.
For a while, they just lay there together, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the other to say or do something. Then, Vivien turned onto her side and told Royce about her inability to sleep that night. After discussing what was on her mind - her nerves about meeting his friends - Royce reassured her that they would love her and encouraged her to sleep. She confessed in the morning that she liked waking up to him holding her close, and although he admitted the same, he didn’t tell her that he had slept better with her by his side.
Later in the morning, when Miles’ Jeep didn’t start, and he and Bentley had to ride their bikes to catch the bus at the community center, he had tried to get her to join, but Miles had made her stay back as he needed to sign her paperwork before she could attend classes. Vivien had argued that she could just sit outside and wait for him to show, but Miles was already stressed from waking up late and had simply told her to wait outside for Butchy to get there. After kissing her cheek, Royce grabbed his bike from the garage and followed Bentley away, waving to his girlfriend until she sat on the front steps with her backpack at her feet.
Vivien could take the worst possible day and turn it around for him by just being by his side. If he was being honest with himself, that was probably why he missed her so much.
As the bell rang for lunch, Royce was startled out of his thoughts and scrambled to grab his books, filing into the hall behind Connie-Jean and Bruce - the couple that sat in front of him and passed notes all through class. Ducking around them once there was a gap big enough, Royce wove through the growing crowd of hungry Juniors and Seniors toward his locker. Looking around the corridor for any sign of Vivien, Royce found his view obstructed by the back of an Earth Science book.
“Looking for someone?” a familiar voice asked.
Without turning, Royce snatched the book from Sandy’s hand and sighed, “Not helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to,” the redhead said as she unlocked the locker beside Royce’s and yanked her sweater from inside it. Taking her book back from her friend, she tossed it inside and slammed the clunky door shut once more. “You know she’s probably already at lunch, right?”
Slipping his books onto the shelf inside his locker and tucking his wallet into his back pocket, Royce sent her a lifted brow and asked, “How do you know that? Did you check her schedule?”
Sending Royce an apologetic look, Sandy sighed and explained, “She’s with Fire-Crotch.”
A look of frustration and worry settled on Royce’s face as he realized what that meant. Vivien was with Serena Sullivan all day. The same Serena who was once someone he went on a date with—one terrible, shitty, mind-numbingly stupid date, but a date nonetheless. Even though Royce knew Vivien wasn’t the jealous type, if she found out what had gone down on his date with Serena, he was sure there wouldn’t be much left of the redhead once Viv was through with her. As much as he couldn’t stand the girl, he didn’t want her to eventually pop up on some unsolved cold case show.
Thumping his head against the door of his locker, Royce muttered, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Wish I was,” Sandy sighed, patting Royce’s shoulder apologetically. “I called the student counsel meeting room and asked them to send down a tour guide for the day. My guess is Serena either volunteered or was the only one who wasn’t busy in their meeting.”
Groaning in frustration, Royce lifted his head and allowed Sandy to tug him toward the cafeteria as he huffed, “Something tells me this isn’t going to end well.”
Sandy grimaced, knowing all too well the damage Serena could do to a person. When they were younger, Serena was different. Her mom and dad had chosen to move in from Lafayette, Louisiana when Serena was seven, throwing her into second grade with a bunch of kids she didn’t know, in a city she didn’t know. Sandy and her friend, Violet Brinson, had befriended Sandy, choosing to eat lunch at the same table as her and making an effort to play on the playground with her during recess.
Middle school had changed things, of course, as it did to many friendships. They were fine at first - an unstoppable trio. Then, in fifth grade, after trying out for the junior cheerleading team, Violet and Serena seemed to grow closer, pulling away from Sandy more and more until, in sixth grade, their friendship was practically nonexistent.
Junior high didn’t help as Serena’s parents divorced when she was in seventh grade and her mom quickly got together with the high school football coach, David Price. All of Serena’s relationships took a hit those two years. Her dad moved away, her mom was now the devil for splitting up their family, she kept everyone at arm’s length, and, despite Sandy’s efforts to be there for her friend, the only person she let in was Violet.
After that, something changed. The Serena that Sandy knew was gone - replaced by who she was now. Using her stepfather’s money to buy a new wardrobe, and Violet’s advice to gain a new, bitchy exterior, Serena became a new girl entirely. Sadly, Sandy had seen it coming and managed to avoid being singled out by the new Serena, but as she surrounded herself with new friends and created a bubble of positivity in her life, Serena had tried to butt her way back in.
It was small at first - jabs at her choice of friend, remarks about downgrading, and general comments about abandonment. Then, she tore through Sandy’s first group of friends, spreading rumors and lies about Sandy’s past that spread like wildfire through the school - something Serena even confessed in a stairwell meeting wasn’t intentional. After that, however, nobody wanted to befriend her.
Nobody until freshman year, that is.
Having a school large enough to be a “school of choice” option for students in the area meant an influx of people nobody knew joining the enrollment list. Although most new people kept to themselves and found their way well enough throughout the first week of school, there was one person Sandy noticed who seemed to have a rough time - a coily-haired girl squished against the lockers in a crowded hall, trying to speak up and ask for help, but going unnoticed by the crowd.
Forcing her way across the hall to the girl with the curly hair, Sandy introduced herself, took the girl’s schedule, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her next class - one they shared, thankfully. After that class ended, she guided the girl - Katrina, she learned - to the cafeteria, where Sandy then met the girl’s twin brother, Laken. The trio got along swimmingly, and despite Serena’s various attempts to separate them, they stuck it out.
Then, about halfway into the school year, they were introduced to a new friend, Royce Murphy. Glad to have another guy to hang out with, Laken clung to the new boy like glue after he was introduced to him at lunch. Katrina was also welcoming, though she was a bit more reserved than her brother was. Even so, the three of them were practically inseparable at school, making Serena’s friendship seem like a distant memory to Sandy
After only a couple of weeks at the school, Royce announced to his friends that he was going on his first date - with someone from their school. Upon further questioning from Sandy and Kit, Royce confessed he had a date with Serena Sullivan, one of the girls on the cheerleading team. Sandy had warned him that Serena wasn’t any good, but Royce had been determined to see the date through as he was never one to go back on his word.
When he had Miles drive him to Sandy’s trailer the next day, an apology on his tongue and two cups of ice cream in his hands, she bit back the urge to say “I told you so.”
Now, he had Vivien, and Sandy was happy for him. He seemed genuinely happy with her. In their short talk this morning, Sandy felt like Vivien could be a good partner for Royce. Vivien seemed smart enough to be able to handle Serena and her, well, everything. She just hoped Serena would keep her mouth shut and her opinions to herself.
Turning into the cafeteria entrance, Sandy stalled as she spotted the cheer squad surrounding their usual table. Spotting a head of auburn hair in the midst of the fray, Sandy dropped Royce’s arm and sighed, “Something tells me you’re right.”
Peeking around his friend, Royce spotted Serena sitting atop their lunch table, a familiar brunette sat on the bench beside her feet. Vivien, surrounded by cheerleaders, seemed at ease despite her usual discomfort in large tight-knit groups of people. Though Royce was happy to finally see her, his face fell as he realized just how hard it would be to get her out of the ring of athletes. She was their new, shiny toy, and they were a pack of dogs, ready to pounce if given the chance.
As Vivien laughed at something one of the girls said, her eyes flickered around the group in a manner that Royce quickly pinned as something she did if she was making sure she was reacting properly in a new group of people. He had only seen her like that a handful of times, but knew the awkwardness in her eyes all too well. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the group, and Royce knew it.
As Vivien’s eyes flickered past him, he noticed the change in her demeanor, the subtle relaxation of her shoulders, the way her smile turned genuine, and her eyes sparkled. However, before Royce could find the courage to call across the room to her, Kit’s soft voice dragged his attention away and he found himself guided to the food line as Lake wrapped an arm around his shoulders. By the time he had gotten his food and made his way to the table where the rest of his friends were sitting, their usual table was clearing out and Vivien was dragged out of the room by a flock of giggling teenage girls.
Well, at least he got the chance to see her.
After eating lunch with a group of cheerleaders that were so surprisingly nice that Vivien pinched herself multiple times to remind herself she wasn’t in some sort of fever dream, she was led away to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, where they sat her down on a stiff but comfortable bench and began asking her questions about her life in New Hampshire. The more she told, the more the girls seemed intrigued by her, something Vivien just wasn’t used to.
As the ten-minute warning bell rang and a couple of the girls began filing back into the hall, Violet, Serena's best friend and fellow sophomore, began stuffing her makeup back into a bag as she asked, “Do you need to touch up your makeup before we go? I always carry extra.”
“Thanks, but that’s okay,” Vivien said with a wave of her hand, eyeing the variety of makeup spread across counters surrounding the bathroom sinks. “I’m not the greatest at doing makeup.”
Although her intention had been to rid herself of any extra attention from the girls who had seemingly flocked around her, Vivien’s answer to Violet’s question had done the exact opposite. The pastel pink bathroom fell silent at once, as though Vivien’s statement had quite literally made time stop. Almost on cue, the remaining cheerleaders turned to Vivien with wide, questioning eyes, pelting her with questions until Serena held up a hand and silenced the room without a word.
Stepping up to the new girl, Serena placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, “How come? Do you not wear makeup to school?”
“No,” Vivien said simply. Hoping to dispel the cheerleaders’ desire to question her more, she tacked on, “My parents don’t really like the idea of me wearing makeup.”
Gasps of horror filled the room as the remaining cheerleaders swarmed around Vivien, dragging her toward the sinks and standing her before the mirror. As compliments of her skin and comments about controlling parents surged, Serena called out, “Girls, let her breathe!”
As Crystal, a blonde began shepherding the others away so that Serena and Violet, their co-captains, could step up behind Vivien, Vivien turned, smiling tentatively at the two girls before her. Softly, she chuckled, “It’s okay, really.”
Taking Vivien’s chin in her hands, Violet grinned and said, “For a girl from the middle of nowhere, you do have good bone structure.”
“Thanks, I-”
“And a symmetrical face,” Serena said as Violet turned Vivien’s face toward her. “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important.”
Vivien’s emerald eyes glanced between the pair as she muttered, “And concerning.”
“We could work with this,” Violet said, more to Serena than to Vivien. “She could be our new project.”
Lifting her head from Violet’s grasp, Vivien offered the pair a small smile and said, “You really don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” Violet said with a grin, pressing a hand over her chest.
“That’s what makes us so nice,” Serena added, her almost pearlescent smile glittering in the fluorescent lights.
Then, the sound of something similar to a triangle being tapped echoes through the bathroom and Violet turned Vivien toward the mirror as she sang, “Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I, and let's face it, right? Who isn't less fortunate than I? My tender heart tends to start to bleed.”
Vivien fought the urge to roll her eyes as Serena took up the space on her left, gesturing in the mirror toward Vivien as she sang, “And when someone needs a makeover, I simply have to take over. I know, I know exactly what they need.”
“And even in your case,” Violet began, looking over Vivien for a moment as the brunette bit her tongue and forced a smile onto her face. Violet contemplated for a moment before she sang, “Though it's the toughest case we've yet to face-”
“Hey!” Vivien interrupted, taking offense to the lyrics as her eyes raked over her reflection.
Ignoring her and continuing with the song, Violet sang, “Don't worry, we’re determined to succeed.”
Serena beamed, wrapping an arm around Vivien’s back as she sang, “Follow our lead, and yes, indeed! You will be…”
“Popular!” the rest of the cheerleaders chimed in.
“You're gonna be popular,” Serena and Violet sang in unison.
One of the girls - a blonde named Poppy - twirled Vivien around to face her and looped her arm with Vivien’s as she began, “We'll teach you the proper ploys when you talk to boys. Little ways to flirt and flounce-”
“Ooh!” Claudia, a short brunette with her hair cut to her chin, cut in, stepping up and fluffing Vivien’s hair over her shoulders as she added, “We'll show you what shoes to wear, how to fix your hair.”
“Everything that really counts to be popular,” Serena sang as she circled the swarm of cheerleaders.
Violet nodded as she perched herself on the counter between the sinks, “We'll help you be popular.”
“You'll hang with the right cohorts,” Maude sang, gesturing to the group of girls who all seemed to nod in agreement.
“You'll be good at sports,” Beatrice added, twirling in her cheer uniform.
Stella spoke up, “And know the slang you've got to know.”
“So let's start,” Violet cut in, “'cause you've got an awfully long way to go.”
“Don't be offended by our frank analysis,” Serena sang, placing a hand on Vivien’s arm with a small smile. “Just think of it as personality dialysis.”
“Now that we've chosen to become your pals,” Poppy began.
Claudia excitedly interrupted, “Your sisters!”
“And advisers,” Violet sang, her legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the counter. “There's nobody wiser.”
Serena smiled and sang, “Not when it comes to-”
“Popular!” the rest of the team exclaimed.
“We know about popular,” Serena said, guiding Vivien in front of the mirror again. Pulling a compact hairbrush from Violet’s bag on the counter, she began brushing through Vivien’s ponytail, guiding the ends into a flipped curl. Smiling at the brunette’s reflection, she sang, “And with an assist from me to be who you'll be-”
“Instead of dreary who you were,” Violet said as she gestured to Vivien’s rather bland, plain outfit. “Well, are… There's nothing that can stop you from becoming popular.”
Glancing around at the girls that had begun picking her apart like vultures digging at roadkill, Vivien chuckled nervously, “What if I’m okay with not being popular?”
The girls laughed, and Serena chortled, “Who would think such a thing?”
Seeing that she was getting nowhere fast with the cheerleaders, Vivien sighed and allowed them to do with her as they pleased. After all, she was only here for a week. After that, her chances of spending any time in the popularity ladder that was high school would drop significantly. So, instead of arguing, she simply let them play with her like a new Barbie doll.
Vivien found herself staring into a pair of oceanic blue eyes as Violet grabbed her chin and turned Vivien’s head toward her, dabbing a faint layer of lipstick on Vivien’s lips with her finger. “When I see depressing creatures with unprepossessing features-” Vivien struggled to keep herself from rolling her eyes at that remark, “-I remind them on their own behalf to think of celebrated heads of state-”
“Or especially great communicators,” Serena interrupted.
“Did they have brains or knowledge?” Vivien’s mouth opened to speak, but Violet placed a finger over her lips and said, “Don't make me laugh!”
Serena began, “They were-”
Vivien quickly interrupted, grateful Violet moved her finger for her to speak, “Popular?”
Serena and Violet’s eyes gleamed as the room practically erupted with a shout of, “Right!”
“It's all about popular,” Violet confirmed, patting a light blush across VIvien’s cheeks as Serena finished working on Vivien’s hair.
Serena nodded, placing her hair tools on the counter as she sang, “It's not about aptitude, it's the way you're viewed.”
Turning Vivien around for the approval of the rest of the cheer team, Violet sang, “So it's very shrewd to be very, very popular…”
As Violet and Serena gestured for the girls to finish their captain’s lyrics, they called out in unison, “Like me!”
Overwhelmed and somewhat taken aback by the team’s insistent desire to change her appearance and “help” her fit in more, Vivien softly said, “Girls, this is really nice of you and all, but I’m fine with how I look.”
“And it’s great that you have the confidence to feel that way,” Serena said, placing a hand over her heart and offering Vivien a somewhat condescending smile - like a parent telling their child “That’s nice, sweetie.”
“But-”
Violet cut Vivien off with a wave of her hand, “And though you protest your disinterest…”
“We know clandestinely,” Serena continued.
As the two co-captains shared a beaming smile, they sang, “You're gonna grin and bear it, your newfound popularity!”
Violet turned to the other girls and declared, “Girls, we have one week to turn this rather plain duckling into a magnificent swan! This is a DEFCON 1. Start plotting!”
“Woo!” the other cheerleaders exclaimed, fawning over their new friend as their captains stepped back to allow them room.
As Vivien gradually grew accustomed to the gaggle of teenage girls swarming her on all sides, telling her various ideas for how they planned to skyrocket her popularity, Serena turned to Violet and said “We did well.”
“Mhm,” Violet hummed, smirking as a couple of the girls adjusted Vivien’s outfit, a few of them making an offer for her borrow their jewelry or sweater. “She’ll be popular, alright.”
Turning back to the mirrors, the two captains touched up their makeup before shoving their things in their bags and zipping them as they said under their breaths, “Just not quite as popular as me.”
As the school day came to a close, Vivien followed the horde of students out the front door, stumbling down the stairs as Serena pushed her way through the crowd. The warm Floridian air slapped her in the face as they abandoned the cool school hallways and forced their way outside. As Serena tugged her away from the crowd and over to the parking lot on the edge of the campus, Vivien watched the growing crowd for any sign of a familiar face when Serena chuckled, pulling her attention away from the school’s entrance.
“Bizarre how many people fit inside that building, isn’t it?” the redhead remarked as she placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“Yeah,” Vivien agreed, glancing back at the herd of teenagers on the front lawn, “it’s like a clown car or a can of sardines.”
Serena snickered, nodding slightly before saying, “Are you going home on the bus? They don’t come for another five, maybe ten minutes.”
Vivien shrugged. She hadn’t really thought to ask Miles as she was sure she’d be able to ask Royce at some point throughout the day. Sadly, she’d only had the chance to see him fleetingly at lunch. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “My cousin and her husband never said.”
“Do you want a ride home?” Serena offered. “My step-dick usually takes me home, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of company to keep him from talking to me the whole way back.”
“Step-dick?” Vivien echoed with a soft laugh. “Am I right in guessing that’s your step-dad?”
Serena rolled her eyes and huffed, “Sadly. He’s the football coach and a total asshole.”
Vivien grinned sympathetically, “I know the feeling. My mom can be a bit… bitchy.”
“Another thing we have in common,” Serena said with a somewhat grateful smile. “But, yeah, if you’d like a ride, just hop in and give him directions. He’s basically an unpaid chauffeur.”
“That’s alright,” Vivien chuckled. “I’ll just take a bus.”
Nodding, Serena glanced around the vicinity before lowering her voice and murmuring, “I’m sorry about the girls cornering you in the bathroom like that, by the way. I know they can be a bit pushy, but I swear, they have the best of intentions.”
For the first time since she’d met the redhead, Vivien felt as though she was starting to see the real Serena - the one underneath all of the glamour of being a captain of the cheerleading team. This Serena seemed friendlier, a bit more blunt, and more like an average girl. If Vivien was being honest, she could see herself spending more time with her like this. She didn’t seem so intimidating and theatrical like this. She seemed… normal, which felt odd to say about someone who literally sang a musical number about popularity in a high school girl’s bathroom earlier.
Offering Serena a genuine smile, Vivien smiled and said, “Thanks. It was… interesting, to say the least, but they seem nice.”
“They are,” Serena agreed quickly. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll invite you to one of our slumber parties. We usually go to Violet’s place because they have an indoor pool and a butler, but I can let you know in advance.”
Finding herself nodding before half of Serena’s words had registered in her head, Vivien said, “That sounds like fun.”
“Great,” Serena said before a horn cut her off, making her groan and roll her eyes. Turning to see a banana yellow Chevy Impala rolling toward them with the man from the football field sitting behind the wheel, Vivien asked, “Step-dick?”
“Step-dick,” Serena sighed in agreement. Hauling her backpack onto her shoulder, the redhead placed her hand on Vivien’s arm and said, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”
Vivien nodded, stepping back from the curb as Serena headed for the car, “Yeah, see you.”
Serena gave Vivien a quick hug goodbye before pulling open the door of the car and sliding into the passenger seat, sending her step-father a look that told Vivien that the ride was going to be a long, arduous one for both parties. As the car pulled away, Vivien waved, but her gesture went unnoticed by both parties as Serena began complaining to her step-father about something Vivien couldn’t make out.
With a snort, Vivien turned back toward the slowly dwindling crowd in front of the school, searching for any sign of her boyfriend and his friends. Spotting a pair of blond boys with a short blonde girl and a dark-skinned boy at a table, Vivien began making up the distance between them before the rev of an engine distracted her. Turning, she spotted a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot and smiled, tempted to pull out her phone and take a picture to show Miles later on.
However, as the bike grew closer, she spotted a familiar face under the helmet. Butchy’s brown hair was tucked neatly beneath the helmet, but his smirk was unmistakable as he rolled to a stop by the sidewalk. Digging into his saddlebag, Butchy held up a small Tupperware container with something in it that had slid around, smearing what looked like chocolate inside the tub. Making a face at the smudged chocolate, he muttered, “That doesn’t look appetizing, does it?”
With a smirk, Vivien made her way back to the curb and snickered as she teased, “Even if it did, I ordered lunch hours ago, big guy. You’re not getting a tip.”
“It was a brownie Mick and I made,” Butchy sighed. Slipping the Tupperware back into the saddlebag with a shake of his head, Butchy pulled out a helmet instead and held it out to Vivien. “Hop on, piccola. We’re going on a drive.”
Glancing back at her friends, Vivien asked, “But, what about them?”
“They can take the bus, half-pint,” Butchy said. Seeing Vivien’s expression falter as she thought about her friends being stuck on the bus while she got a ride home on a motorcycle, he nudged her with the helmet and said, “Really, Viv, it’s okay. I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t. Come on.”
Vivien’s mouth opened and closed for a moment as she glanced back and saw Bentley watching her. As he smiled and waved, Vivien waved back before turning to Butchy, ready to turn down his offer. However, seeing the reassurance in Butchy’s gaze, she found herself accepting the helmet from him. Turning toward Bentley and finding Royce standing beside him, she held up the helmet to show them she was leaving with Butchy.
Royce offered her a thumbs-up as Bentley nodded and guided the rest of their friends onto the bus. Heaving a sigh, Vivien turned to Butchy who had already gotten back onto his bike and was watching her expectantly, and asked, “What’s this all about, anyway? Couldn’t I just ride the bus?”
“You could,” Butchy shrugged as Vivien clipped her helmet into place and swung her leg over the back of the bike. Waiting to feel her arms around his middle, he started the engine and called over the noise, “But the bus doesn’t stop for ice cream on the way home.”
Smiling to herself, Vivien allowed him to pull away from the curb, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her skin. She had only ridden a motorcycle three times in her life - once with her Papa Angus and twice the day before with Miles. This time, without a jacket, it felt almost as though she was flying.
Butchy’s motorcycle, a blue Harley Davidson, roared loudly, the engine significantly louder than Miles’ Indian. As Butchy slowed to a stop at a red light, Vivian called out over the engine, “Why’d you come get me anyway, big guy?”
Glancing back at the younger brunette, Butchy raised a brow and asked, “Am I not allowed to pick up my wife’s little sister?”
Rolling her eyes, Vivien said, “Not without telling me why. I’m naturally curious, you know I won’t let this go.”
“I do,” Butchy chuckled, patting Vivien’s arm before he pulled away from the stop as the light turned green. Before the engine could overtake his voice, Butchy confessed, “You worried me this morning, piccola.”
Taken aback by his statement, Vivian took a moment to process it. After a while, she recalled that morning and how… broken she felt. Miles’ statement the day before about her being ‘atrociously perky’ she could be in the mornings had unintentionally gotten to her. He hadn’t meant it in a bad way, she was sure, but still… it had bothered her so much that she barely talked to him.
Even now, it was eating at her.
As Butchy pulled into a parking lot by a long pier, Vivien’s attention swayed away fromher thoughts and onto the snow-white sandy beach to her left and she asked, “Where are we?”
Parking the bike and cutting the engine, Butchy glanced back at Vivien and chuckled before tapping her leg and saying, “Other way, kid.”
Tearing her gaze from the ocean and the stray people wandering the sand, Vivien turned her gaze to the large building on her right and read aloud, “Astro Scoops?”
“Best ice cream and gelato on the Gulf Coast,” Butchy said with a somewhat hopeful grin. “Figured we could chat over ice cream if you want.”
Confused but not against the idea, Vivien softly asked, “About this morning?”
“Only if you want to,” Butchy shrugged. “I’d listen even if you only wanted to talk about the Titanic. I’m here for you regardless, piccolina.”
After a moment of hesitation, Vivien swung her leg over the back of the bike and stepped away, pulling her helmet off and offering Butchy a small smile as she said, “Only because I get free food out of it.”
“Fair enough,” Butchy said with a grin, dismounting his motorcycle and taking Vivien’s helmet from her. Shooing Vivien away, he said, “Go check out the menu. I’ll grab my wallet and put our helmets away first, then I’ll meet you over there.”
Nodding, Vivien wandered off, her smile never leaving her face as she headed toward the small building. The building was more of a long shed than anything - presumably a beachside hut turned into a shop of sorts. It looked almost like the shed in her grandparents’ backyard, long, but not overly wide. Maybe twelve feet wide and twice as long, if Vivien had to guess.
The whole thing had a space theme to it - lights in the shape of planets, rockets for signage, and a few lava lamps by the order and pick-up windows - but the building itself was a dark shade of navy blue with specks of white and gold paint splattered on it to represent stars. Off to the side were a few picnic tables as well as a few wooden patio swings with awnings covering them from the sun, but most were occupied by couples and high school students.
Stepping up to the menu list by the ordering window, but making sure she was far enough from the waiting line that others wouldn’t presume she was cutting in front of them, Vivien nudged her glasses higher up her nose and grinned as she read over the list of space-themed flavors. Midnight Moon, Caramel Comet, and Mercury Madness were among the fray, boasting flavors like triple chocolate, caramel crunch, and cherry swirl. It vaguely reminded Vivien of a dairy bar in her hometown that had some funky names of its own.
Hearing footsteps approach her from behind, Vivien remarked, “I think I might try the Cosmic Brownie flavor, big guy. Something to go with that slimy mush in the container you brought me.”
“Oh, so now you give me the time of day,” a gravelly voice said far too close to Vivien’s ear for comfort.
Feeling a chill of instinctual fear rocket up her spine, goosebumps flashing from the back of her neck down her arms, Vivien whirled around and stepped back, stepping closer to the menu board as she glared up at the tall blond before her. Scoffing as she took in his unnaturally white smile and piercing greenish-grey eyes, Vivien hissed, “What, are you stalking me now?”
Darren Osborne, the arrogant jock from the football field stood before her, a letterman jacket replacing his football uniform and a cocky smirk on his face. Vivien had to clench her fists at her side to keep herself from straight-up punching that smirk off of his face. He leaned closer, his overwhelmingly strong cologne invading the air between them and nearly gagging Vivien.
“We were rudely interrupted earlier,” Darren spoke, his smirk never leaving his face. “I never caught your name.”
“Good,” Vivien snapped in response. “I wasn’t planning on giving it to you.”
Darren chuckled, the sound forcing a chill up Vivien’s spine, “Feisty… I like a girl with some sass, but you should tone it down when you meet my father.”
Taken aback by his response, Vivien made a face and asked, “Why the fuck would I want to meet your father? If he’s anything like you, my first instinct will be to punch him in the dick to stop him from procreating.”
“Watch it, girl,” Darren hissed, his tone a soft snarl. “My father owns most of this town, and I’m his only son. I always get what I want - one way or another, and now, I want you.”
“I don’t care what you want,” Vivien said with a mocking laugh. “Get this through that thick skull of yours: I. Don’t. Like. You.”
A flicker of something Vivien could only label as pure rage flashed through Darren’s eyes as he surged forward and hissed, “Why you little-!”
As his hand gripped onto Vivien’s hair and yanked, she let out a pained gasp and reeled back her fist, punching him in the face. A sickening crack filled the air as Vivien swiftly kicked between his legs, making him release her hair as he let out a groat of pain. Butchy, who had chosen to let Vivien’s talk to the boy he presumed was a new friend she made at school, stormed over, meeting Vivien halfway as she ducked around Darren and jogged across the sandy grass to him.
“You alright?” Butchy pressed, turning to position himself between Vivien and Darren.
Rubbing at her scalp, VIvien muttered, “I’m fine. He’s just an asshole from school. Can we go?”
Butchy glanced back at Darren as a few of his football buddies scurried over from their car on the other side of the parking lot and began pulling him off the ground. “Not yet. I have something to say to him first. But, for your sake, stay close to me. Do you know if he’s eighteen?”
Shrugging, Vivien said, “I don’t know, but he’s the same guy Royce punched, so…”
“He is,” Butchy said, an almost excited grin tugging at his lips. As he turned toward Darren and his friends “I’ll handle him.”
Although Vivien sort of wanted to watch Darren get what was coming to him, she also didn’t want Butchy to potentially get arrested for beating the crap out of some random teenager. Reaching for his wrist, Vivien said, “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”
“Maybe not,” he replied with a small grin, “but you are. Besides, you’ve had a long day. You deserve some entertainment.”
Letting Butchy pull away from her, Vivien stepped back, leaning against his motorcycle as she watched him approach Darren. One of Darren’s friends, a younger-looking boy with near-black hair, looked up and stepped back at the sight of Butchy as he breathed, “Uh, guys?”
Darren looked up just in time for a fist to connect to his already once-broken, barely-healed nose, sending him to the sandy grass. When he looked up, grasping his bloody nose with a look of shock, Butchy loomed above him with a look in his eyes that made Darren shrink back slightly before asking, “What the hell, man?”
Butchy scowled down at the jock, grabbed him by the collar and lifted him just enough for them to make proper eye contact before Butchy hissed under his breath, “Leave my sister alone.”
Dropping the cocky boy, Butchy walked away, a grin spreading across his face as he saw Vivien nearly choking on her laughter. Vivien watched Darren and his friends scurry away, piling into a Chevy Bel Air that quickly sped off, kicking up a cloud of sandy dust. As Butchy let out a heavy breath and wrapped a paisley-patterned rag around Vivien’s slightly bleeding knuckles, he muttered, “Royce was right, that kid has a hard face.”
Finally letting out a soft laugh, Vivien said, “I’m surprised your knuckles aren’t broken.”
Butchy shrugged, watching Vivien’s face for any sign of pain as he tightened the rag around her hand. Even if they were, he was almost positive she wouldn’t have minded. It would’ve been worth it. “I could say the same about you, piccola. You decked him first.”
“He deserved it,” Vivien muttered softly, inspecting the back of her hand.
“He did,” Butchy agreed. Glancing at Vivien from the corner of his eyes, Butchy asked, “Did you, uh, did you get a chance to look at the ice cream flavors before that dickhead yanked your hair?”
Slowly nodding, Vivien sighed, “Yeah, I had one in mind, but I can’t remember which one.”
Glancing around the parking lot, Butchy nodded to himself and brought an arm around Vivien’s shoulders as he guided her toward the building. “Let’s go find it, then, kid.”
Once they had gotten their ice cream and a baggie of ice from the older man at the shop window who refused to let either of them pay, Butchy led Vivien to the sandy beach where they sat under a palm tree. Looking up at Butchy as she took in a spoonful of ice cream, Vivien leaned her head on his shoulder and said, “Thanks.”
With a small grin, Butchy hummed in acknowledgement and chose to divert her attention elsewhere as he asked, “How was your first day of school?”
“Alright,” Vivien said with a shrug, taking in a mouthful of ice cream. “I spent most of my time in classes with this girl from the cheer team. She wasn’t half bad.”
Butchy licked a melted stream of his ice cream from the waffle cone he’d chosen before asking, “Oh, yeah? What’s her name?”
Using her spoon to trace her brownie-flavored ice cream over her lips like lip gloss, Vivien replied, “Serena Sullivan.”
Butchy’s ice cream froze halfway to his mouth as he processed the name. Vivien had unknowingly spend her entire school day with the only other girl Royce had gone out with, and had actually enjoyed herself. Hurriedly licking melting ice cream from his hand, Butchy asked, “Did you… talk much?”
Vivien shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of brownie bites covered in rainbow sprinkles. “Between classes, yeah. She kind of looked like that redheaded girl from Scooby Doo, and she sort of invited me to their next sleepover.”
“She did?” Butchy wondered, mentally noting the information so he could relay the information to Mick and Miles later on. “Do you think you’ll go?”
“I might,” Vivien said with a smile. “Her cheerleader friends seem nice, and we had a bit in common, so it wouldn’t be too awkward if we hung out again.”
Trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible, Butchy remarked, “Nice.”
“Yeah,” Vivien grinned as she looked up at Butchy. “I can’t wait to tell the guys I made a friend at school. Do you know if they know her?”
Butchy swallowed a mouthful of ice cream before cautiously shrugging and saying, “Her name is definitely familiar, but I’d have to see her. They have friends over all the time.”
Nodding in understanding, Vivien sat up, scooped up some of her ice cream, and asked, “So, did you do anything fun today?” Glancing at Butchy’s face from the corner of her eyes, she waited until he had ice cream in his mouth before adding, “Other than your wife, I mean.”
Butchy’s eyes widened as he choked mid-swallow, Vivien’s question making his brain freeze. Coughing to clear his throat, his gaze snapped down toward the smirking girl and he croaked, “What?!”
Using her spoon to gesture in a chocolatey circle, Vivien’s grinned and said, “Looks like Mickie likes to leave love bites.”
Butchy’s hand flew to his neck, memories of Mick’s giggle flooding his brain as he covered where she’d nipped at his neck. “Vivien…” he began, unsure of what to say to the girl both he and his wife saw as a younger sibling. “I-It’s not-“
“It totally is,” Vivien’s said, stabbing her spoon into her ice cream. “And by the amount of bruises you’ve got, I’d say you both enjoyed yourselves.”
Swallowing his embarrassment, Butchy muttered, “I’m not sure Mick would like us talking about this.”
“Maybe not,” Vivien shrugged with a smirk, “but she’s not here, and I’ve heard more than enough about your sex life when we have sleepovers. She says you have a huge-”
“Vivien!” Butchy squawked, an almost affronted look flashing across his face as an almost unnoticeable redness burned under his skin.
“Heart,” Vivien finished with a grin. Giggling as Butchy glowered her way, Vivien elbowed him in the side and said, “Get your mind out of the gutter.” Taking another scoop of her ice cream, she wiggled her eyebrows and teased, “But, by your reaction, I’m not wrong in either regard.”
Sighing reluctantly as he shook his head, Butchy muttered, “I have half a mind to throw you in the ocean and let the undertow take you back to California.”
Making a face as she slowly pulled her spoon out of her mouth, Vivien slowly decided, “I think you need to go back to school and re-take geography, big guy. There’s a whole country called Mexico separating the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean.”
Moving past his prior mortification, Butchy let out a soft breath of a laugh and said, “No, I mean sending you back to the future.”
“That’s a great movie,” Vivien claimed in passing. “But what does it have to do with the ocean? How will that send me back to my world?”
The question gave Butchy pause. Did Vivien really not know about the original way Mack and Brady had traveled to their world? Surely, she had heard the story before. Mack and Brady were usually very detailed when they talked about their first trip to the movie realm. Maybe she just hadn’t been paying attention, but Butchy ruled that out pretty quickly. He knew from experience that Vivien was a very detail-oriented person, especially when it came to the people she cared for.
Shifting his gaze toward the water across from them, Butchy said, “When Mack and Brady first came here, they came on accident. A large wave took out their surfboard and, next thing they knew, they were here.”
Vivien’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, her scientific mind racing with probabilities and the confirmation of other universes that mirrored her own. Glancing out at the lapping waves, Vivien breathed, “Seriously? I… I didn’t know that.”
Both surprised and confused, Butchy asked, “How did you think they got here, piccola?”
“The machine,” Vivien said, picking at her ice cream a bit and digging out a bite of the brownie Butchy had brought from home for her that she had mixed into her dish. Fascinated with the idea of being able to practically swim into another world, she took a few spoonfuls of ice cream before chuckling, “I just thought Uncle Brady was really into science or something and created some kind of accidental portal.”
“Sounds like something he would do.” Butchy gave a soft chuckle through his nose, grinning at the younger girl and her innocence when it came to his world. Shaking his head, his eyes drifted back to the crystalline shore as he began, “There’s a lot you don’t know about this world yet, but… it’s a strange and wonderful world that I know you’ll fit into perfectly.”
Vivien’s viridian eyes flickered up toward Butchy’s face, a smile gracing her lips as she followed his gaze toward the ocean. Shifting closer to the biker, she nudged her way under his arm and rested against his side, watching the waves crash on the sand. As they worked on finishing their ice creams in relative silence, Vivien found herself finally relaxing. Maybe this trip would be a lot more entertaining than she originally thought it would.
As the front door opened to the house perched at 6833 Bay Street, the warm, rich aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafted through the air, promising a fresh pan of hot lasagna within the hour. Hanging his leather jacket on the hook by the door and taking the time to pull off his work boots, Butchy followed the warmth and the sound of soft singing to the kitchen, where he found his wife spreading freshly made garlic butter across some slices of bread and setting them on a baking sheet. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the arch as he observed her in the midst of domesticity.
Despite her earlier efforts of putting on her coziest set of pajamas, she was now clad in little more than one of Butchy’s old shirts and a pair of fuzzy socks. Makana’s hair, despite her recent choice to cut it just past her shoulders, was clipped back to prevent it getting into the food, giving Butchy a full view of the small bruises he had nipped into her neck and shoulders. Her voice carried the melodic tones of Oh, Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison as it played over the radio on the counter. Her hands made quick work of the garlic spread, smearing the slices of bread with the homemade spread and quickly policing the sheet pan they were on into the oven to bake for a few minutes.
As she got to work cleaning up her area, Butchy pushed off from the wall and crossed over to stand behind her, joining in on the song as his arms wound around her middle, swaying with her to the song. One of Mick’s hands fell on top of Butchy’s as a smile spread across her lips. She leaned back against his chest and let him sway her from side to side as she swiped her wash cloth across the tile countertop, soaking up remnants of butter, garlic, and tomato sauce.
Once the song came to an end, Mick set her cloth on the counter, tipped her head back, and asked, “How was Viv?”
Butchy leaned down to kiss his wife’s forehead and murmured against her skin, “Alright. Some idiot football player harrassed her a bit, but she handled it.” As Mick turned in his arms, his hands splaying across the small of her back while she draped her arms over his shoulders, Butchy sighed, “Her tour guide was Serena.”
Mick’s eyes narrowed, “Serena? As in the girl who went out with Royce?”
“One and the same, yes,” Butchy replied, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. “Apparently, Vivien doesn’t know about the date. If anything, she seemed to like spending time with Serena.”
Mick let out a frustrated groan, her head tipping back in agitation as she grumbled, “Of course, she did. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle her talking Serena up or bringing her over after school.”
With a snort of irony, Butchy commented, “Y’know, for someone who constantly tells me off for disliking Carrie so much, you sound a lot like me.”
With a stern, no-nonsense glare, Mick silenced her husband and muttered, “That’s different. You have no real reason to dislike Carrie. You and I both have a very good reason for disliking Serena.”
“We do,” Butchy agreed, letting out a sigh, “but Vivien seems to like her, so we need to at least try to accommodate her if she comes around.” Holding up a hand as he realized Mick was going to call him out for contradicting his own behavior towards Carrie, he grinned and said, “I know. I know. I can already hear you chewing me out, but… maybe this is something we both need to work on as a team.”
Mick’s head tipped ever so slightly to the side as her mouth opened and closed in complete confusion. After a moment of silence while she stared up at Butchy, her lips closed in a tight line, she reached up and placed her wrist against his forehead, gauging his temperature as she muttered, “Are you catching a cold or something?”
With a shake of his head and a soft chuckle, Butchy reached up and gently pried her hand from his face, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss before pulling her to his side and guiding her away from the kitchen and toward the living room. “I’m fine, cara mia. I’m just thinking of trying to be the better person. You know… for the children.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mick let out a snort as she rounded the couch and took up her usual spot on the center cushion, “‘For the children’, my ass.”
Settling on the couch beside Mick, his hands already starting to wander under the hem of her shirt, Butchy leaned in, tucking his face into the crook of his wife’s neck. Humming against her collarbone, he smirked and breathed, “Finally, a topic I can get behind… or in front of.”
Carding her fingers into Butchy’s hair despite wanting to continue their conversation, Mick faintly argued, “You should know I still want to talk about… all of that.”
“And we will. In the morning.” Butchy confirmed as Mick felt his lips trail featherlight kisses up the column of her throat. Knowing her husband always tried his best to keep his word, Mick gradually relaxed and allowed him to continue, a soft sigh leaving her lips as he slowly eased her onto her back on the couch. “For now, however,” Butchy continued, lifting his head from her neck only enough to smirk longingly down at her, “I’m cashing in that rain check we agreed on this morning.”
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The first thing that registers in Royce’s mind is warmth. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell he is surrounded by heat. Reaching a hand up to rub at his tired, almost weighted eyes, Royce lets out a noise of disgust at the smell of gasoline in the air. Had he fallen asleep in the backyard while Miles was working on the Jeep again? The next thing he notes is that his back is sore, presumably due to falling asleep on the grass, and stiff from not having moved in a while, but he finds himself somewhat grateful that his skin won’t turn the same shade of lobster that he knew Bentley would. His baby brother would turn the same shade as a crab if he so much as looked at the sun, let alone fell asleep under it.
As he groans and rolls onto his side, his back stiff from lack of use, he finds himself registering the heat around him differently as his hand presses into something hard. Even the dirt patches that speckled their backyard would give way under his hand at least a little, but this… this was something solid. Solid and uncomfortably hot. It is nothing like the warmth of the sun heating the ground or one of the heated blankets he had fallen in love with while staying at the Birch family’s cabin over the winter. This heat is deep and fierce, overwhelming. Borderline impending. Something groans under his hand as he slowly peels open his weighted eyelids, and Royce lifts his hand from the concrete slabs beneath him to examine it, finding himself choking on air as he discovers his hand covered in a thin layer of sooty ashes.
Blinking in shock, Royce looks up and finds himself staring not at the sun, but rather at the charred, crackling beams of a flame-engulfed ceiling. Thick black clouds of smoke billow toward the steadily burning ceiling, forcing a cough from Royce’s throat as he breathes in the fumes of charring wood and spilled gasoline. Quickly looking around for a point of exit, Royce discovers a window pane with a single, circular hole through it, the dark sky outside giving him little hope of using the outside light to guide him to the exit.
Tugging the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose, Royce presses a hand to his aching forehead and struggles to force himself to remain calm, sucking in slow, shuddering breaths as he looks around. How did he get here? Where even was here?! Crawling across the concrete, Royce takes in his surroundings - old license plates from various states have fallen off of a nearby wall and settled in a heap on the floor; a heavy toolbox looks as though it had either fallen or been thrown as wrenches and various other tools had been scattered across the floor; a Castrol oil pump had been forcefully pushed over, the glass sign that had once been perched atop it now shattered on the floor; and a free-spinning car lift with what appeared to be the burning body of a Plymouth Belvedere is still looming in the air. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the burning building he finds himself trapped within is a car workshop.
A distorted male voice echoes over the roaring crackle of the fire engulfing the building, and Royce flinches at the faintly familiar voice, ducking behind a stack of tires in the hopes of staying hidden. Who was that? He had to have known the person to know their voice, but as he takes the time to listen to the person call out once more, yelling for someone they referred to as “little bitch” to come out, Royce feels confusion wash over him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline keeping him from recognizing it, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t place the voice. It wouldn’t be Miles or Butchy, as they would never call out to him - or anyone in their close circle, for that matter - like that, and he knew their voices well. In fact, most of their friend group could be easily ruled out. Could it have been a customer at Big Momma’s? Royce quickly shakes off the ideas as the person hisses another sharp command, their taunting tone sending chills through Royce’s spine as the man laughs about him finding and killing someone.
Okay. Yeah, no. Definitely not anyone he knew.
Royce’s train of thought sails off the rails as a heavy groan fills the air, forcing him to look up. A thick beam used to support the ceiling cries out as the fire crackles away its structure and, as it gives a sharp jolt, Royce moves from behind the tires, ducking into a nearby doorway just in time for the beam to crack under the fire’s fury and crash down onto the concrete. Panting as he realizes just how close he came to being trapped under part of the ceiling as dust billows into the small office he’s entered, Royce’s wide eyes scan the room for another way out. Making his way to another door, he finds a long hallway that seems to be filled with nothing but offices and other rooms that have been closed off, Royce makes a break for it, ducking into the first open door he finds.
Glancing at his new surroundings, Royce’s eyebrows furrow as he takes in the dark room. Within the room is a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling with a pull chain to turn it on, a folding metal chair in the center of the room, and a floor-to-ceiling metal cell with the door wide open and creaking softly. Inside the cell is a metal cot - cold and uncomfortable in the dark, damp-smelling room, Royce notes - with a single thin blanket and a pillowcase stuffed with newspapers. The lock on the door still has a key inside of it, a clump of various other keys and chains dangling from it. A few keys with car emblems catch Royce’s eye, and he realizes that whatever - or, rather, whoever - was once inside the cell must have either run or scared the person giving them freedom, so much so that they left the keys to their vehicle.
Hearing a loud crash followed by a scream that sounds far too much like his girlfriend telling someone to go fuck themselves for his liking, Royce whirls toward the door, ducking into the hallway and following the sound of the man’s taunting remarks. Running through the hallway as quietly as possible, Royce made his way to a large open area lined with various tools and equipment. Though he doesn’t get the chance to look around as the man’s voice grows frighteningly clear, Royce takes notice of a set of gigantic rolling metal doors - presumably to allow workers to perform repairs on bigger vehicles like big rigs or firetrucks - before ducking behind a relatively unharmed counter where he presumes people would pay for the services done to their vehicles.
Sparing a moment to think, Royce fights back another cough as smoke begins to settle in his lungs. The fire must have spread quickly due to all of the gasoline and oil in the building, but if the quick look around the room he got was anything to go by, it hadn’t gotten too bad in his area. If he could make it to the rolling bay doors, he could find one of the chains and roll it up, safely getting him out of the area. First things first, however, he needed Vivien. He wasn’t about to leave without her.
Sucking in a breath as he hears a hiss of liquid followed closely by the man letting out a grunt of pain and Vivien shouting at him to get fucked, Royce peeks around the counter and hones in on his girlfriend as she runs across the room toward his position. Her glasses are missing, her clothes are tattered and singed, soot coats her face and arms with dark purple marks that look startlingly similar to bruises, and she’s limping slightly as she runs. Still, as she ducks behind the counter with a huff and presses a hand to her chest, Royce finds he doesn’t really care what she looks like so long as he knows she’s safe with him.
“Viv,” he breathes into his makeshift mask, wishing nothing more than to reach out and hold her but refraining as he sees the wide-eyed fear on her face. “Viv, where are we?”
Although he would understand her not being able to clearly see him without her glasses, Royce finds his worry growing as she doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. Instead, she scans the area as the man hisses, “You can’t run forever, you bitch!”
“Viv,” Royce whispers, reaching out to touch her arm. To his horror, his hand refuses to come into contact with her soot-covered arm, instead passing through her skin. Jerking his hand back toward his body, Royce stares at the appendage with wide eyes as he breathes, “What the hell?”
Vivien turns, looking not at but rather through Royce as she scans the area. She pushes herself from the floor, grabbing a nearby four-way tire iron before bolting out from behind the counter, leaving Royce staring after her with wide, terrified eyes. Glancing down at his hand, Royce found himself taking in shuddered breaths as he examined his shaking hand. Had that really happened? Did his hand really go through her arm? Was any of this real? Before he can go too far down the rabbit hole, Royce jumps as the sound of glass shattering and metal clanging to the floor forces his attention back to the task at hand. Hearing the man cry out and Vivien let out a scream, Royce forces himself to ignore what had happened before pushing himself to his feet and running in the direction he had seen Vivien go.
Making his way through the heavy cloud of dust and smoke that has begun to fill the large room, Royce lets out a thick cough and looks around before lowering himself to the floor to get a better look around. Most of the room is hard to decipher with the smoke darkening the room, but as he spots a pair of frighteningly still bodies sprawled out on the floor of what had probably been a waiting area, Royce swallows his fear and pushes himself to his feet, propelling himself toward the bodies. Vivien’s long, coffee-colored hair is the first thing Royce takes note of, the messy braided ponytail resting limply across the concrete by her hands.
Vivien and the man are slumped on the floor, separated by a thick wooden table that had been tipped over. The tire iron Vivien had wielded was now discarded on the ground by her feet, and a hammer with a sharp pick on the other side now rested under one of the plush chairs near Vivien’s head, presumably the man’s weapon of choice. The man was on his stomach with blood leaking steadily from a gash on the back of his head whilst Vivien lay on her back, both of them passed out. Kneeling beside her, Royce looks Vivien over for injuries, and despite the bruises around her wrists, the bleeding cut across her cheek, and the limp he noticed earlier, he presumes she’s alright. His first instinct is to check her for a pulse, but despite paying enough attention in health class to pass, his inability to grasp her wrist forces a choked noise from his throat.
How is he meant to make sure she’s still alive, still breathing, if he can’t touch her?!
As his hand phases through her neck and lands on the concrete under Vivien’s head, Royce lets out a frustrated cry and thumps his fist on the ground as he feels himself choke on a breath. He’s useless. He can’t touch her. He can’t help her. She could die due to the smoke or the man with the hammer, and he would be forced to watch. Royce’s breath hitches as an idea fills his mind. What if she was already dead, and Royce just didn’t know it? He can’t roll her over to check her for any further injuries, and the man who was chasing her had been injured already, so it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She could be bleeding out before his very eyes, and he wouldn’t know until it was too late.
Choking on air, Royce feels his chest tighten in fear as he tries once more to pull Vivien to him, to no avail. Shaking hands reach for Vivien’s face, hovering just above the ash-covered cheeks he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel as Royce sucks in a sharp breath. “Wake up,” he manages to choke out. “C’mon, Viv, please. Please, you have to. Wake up!”
Feeling his lungs squeeze almost painfully as his breathing grows more labored, Royce feels tears burn tracks down his face as Vivien remains still and silent. Royce’s blurry eyes scan Vivien’s form, trying to find something - anything - that would signify she has life somewhere in her body. From what he can tell through tear-filled eyes, her chest remains unmoving, her breathing either shallow or nonexistent as Royce shakes his head, unwilling to believe she could be gone. They had only been together for four months; she couldn’t be taken from him this soon!
Then, as though he was watching something out of a horror movie, Royce turns as he hears the man on the floor groan, slowly coming to. Shaking his head as he glances over his shoulder and realizes Vivien is still unmoving, Royce turns his attention to the man and breathes, “No…”
Attempting to place himself between Vivien and the man - a sort of ghostly human shield - Royce hastily swipes at his eyes to rid them of tears. He watches as the man slowly pushes himself to his knees and coughs, pressing a hand to the back of his head and wincing at the sight of blood on his hand before looking around the burning garage and smirking as he looks through Royce to Vivien’s form on the floor. Royce’s eyebrows pinch together as he takes in the man’s deranged smile, his face coated in a thick golden liquid that looks like oil, but even without the fluid on him, Royce feels as though he wouldn’t recognize the man if he came across him in public. However, the thought of pinpointing the man flees his mind as the man’s leg swings back before sailing forward, passing through Royce and slamming into Vivien’s side as Royce yells, “No!”
Jolting upright with a gasp so sharp it burned his throat, Royce’s frantic eyes glanced around the room as an all too familiar throb stabbed at his forehead. Taking in a shuddering breath of relief as he spotted his younger brother’s face smushed against the folded pillow he was curled up with on the other side of the room, Royce placed a few icy fingertips on his forehead and forced himself to steady his breathing. Though Bentley’s obnoxious snoring wasn’t entirely reassuring, he tugged out the earbuds he had used to help him fall asleep earlier that night and listened to the steady breathing that lifted his baby brother’s chest and shoulders. After what he had just been through in his dream, he would take whatever small reassurance he could get.
It was just a dream… right? A horrible, twisted dream with an unknown villain made to torture him while his girlfriend was an entire world away, sleeping peacefully and oblivious to his struggle? It had to be. Although he didn’t have a way to communicate with her while they were in two separate worlds, he knew the time in hers was frozen while Mick and her parents visited. That was just the way things were. He would just have to live with it and move on with life. Besides, it wasn’t like he could steal the machine just to call her and check up on her.
Then, as he forced his eyes back open, Royce pushed himself out from under the tangled sheet that had wrapped around his legs. If he was going to have any chance of returning to sleep that night, he would need a drink or something to relax him. Quietly twisting the doorknob and pulling their bedroom door open, Royce spared a glance at Bentley to make sure he was still asleep before taking in a shaky breath and leaving the room, pulling the door closed once more before turning to the darkened hallway. Miles’ bedroom door was slightly open - a habit he kept from their old house that allowed him to hear if either of his brothers called out for him during the night - but if the deep, steady breaths coming from the room were anything to go by, the eldest of the Murphy brothers was fast asleep.
Allowing a ghost of a grin to tug at his lips, Royce headed for the stairs, rubbing his cool fingers against his forehead to ease his headache as his eyes slipped closed. By now, he was so used to wandering through the house that he could navigate nearly all of it with his eyes closed, but it was only on rare occasions that he dared test his abilities. Nearing the stairs, he gripped the railing with his free hand and opened his eyes, not feeling confident enough to test his luck with the staircase just yet. However, before he could round the banister and descend the carpeted steps, Royce froze as a pale white star danced across the floor before disappearing.
Taking a step back, Royce followed the dancing lights to the spare bedroom that Miles had been using for storage. The door was open as far as possible without putting a doorknob-sized hole in the wall, the wood propped open with a sneaker, and as Royce moved into the doorway, he discovered the source of light was a lamp shaped like an astronaut that was perched on the nightstand beside the bed. Stopping in the doorway, Royce froze as he found Vivien curled up in the blankets, Binx resting in a coil behind her back and one side of her black headphones pressed between her ear and the pillow while the other was more on her cheek than it was her ear.
Oh, right. She was staying with them for a while.
Allowing himself a moment to examine her, he found himself fighting back a twinge of fear as he realized she wasn’t moving. From where he was standing and the position she was in, he couldn’t see if she was breathing or not. She had to be breathing; she was the night before when she walked him through her entire day at the mall with the girls. Then again, Royce remembered, she had been breathing just moments before he saw her lying unconscious on the ground. Maybe she wasn’t breathing now, either.
Royce’s eyes slid closed as he shook his head, determined to rid himself of the leftover recurring nightmare that was the sight of Vivien lying dead before him. She was fine. She had to be. Slowly opening his eyes, Royce leaned into the room, hoping to see or hear something that would tell him that his girlfriend really was just sleeping. Despite everything in him telling him it was a bad idea, Royce inched further into the room, mentally apologizing to Vivien for entering without her permission as he crept across the floor.
Smiling down at Vivien as he approached her bed, he found himself admiring how peaceful she looked. Her hair was slumped in a pile against the pillow, a thick hair tie just barely keeping it all together, and her face was squished into the pillow she had wrapped her arms around, but Royce couldn’t think of a way she could have looked any cuter. Vivien’s soft breaths were followed by quiet mutterings, nonsensical comments, and occasional curses tumbling out of her without filter. Not that there typically was a filter when she was awake, but the way she called someone in her dreams a jackass under her breath made Royce smile nonetheless.
Reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her mouth, Royce held his breath as Vivien’s head shifted and her eyebrows scrunched together. Pulling his hand back as Vivien lifted a hand to her eyes and rubbed at them, he debated running for the door, but felt as though he was rooted in place as his girlfriend stretched against the mattress and yawned. Slowly, her eyes blinked open, and she squinted lazily at the bedside table, glaring at the clock for a moment. Then, as she relaxed against the pillow once more, Vivien’s tired eyes drifted to the shadow lingering in her peripherals, jumping and letting out a sharp gasp as she found her boyfriend looming beside her bed.
Pushing herself to sit up and leaning over to retrieve her glasses from the small table beside her bed, Vivien whipped her headphones off and whispered, “What the hell, Royce?”
“I’m so sorry, Vivien,” he immediately apologized. Realizing just how bad his lingering might have looked to his girlfriend, Royce took a step back and quietly apologized, “I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Really?” Vivien questioned softly, shoving her glasses on and turning to her boyfriend with a raised brow. “Because it looks like my boyfriend has resorted to Edward from Twilight levels of creepy stalking.” Letting out a yawn as she sat up, shaking her head to rid herself of some sleep, she asked, “Were you watching me sleep?”
“I-I was,” Royce hastily admitted, his fingers finding the tiny notch of skin around his fingernail that he tended to pick at when he was anxious, “but it wasn’t like that. I-I, uh… I was worried about you.”
Taking a moment to allow her sluggish brain to focus, Vivien scanned her boyfriend’s tentative gaze and the subtle shake of his hands before sucking in a slow breath and softly asking, “Worried about me? Why?”
Royce’s instinctual shake of his head was so tiny Vivien wouldn’t have noticed it had it not been for his curls bouncing with the movement. “It sounds stupid now that I think about it.”
Vivien reached out, tiny tingles dancing up her arm as she took one of Royce’s wrists in her hand and forced him to stop picking at his cuticles, shaking her head as she disputed his claim, “It can’t be stupid if it made you so worried you had to come in here to check on me in the middle of the night.”
Finding himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from the glimmering emeralds that made up Vivien’s eyes, Royce swallowed thickly and quietly admitted, “It was just a bad dream, that’s all.”
Letting out a noise of understanding, Vivien shifted, pushing the blankets away - much to the chagrin of Binx, who meowed in frustration as he wormed his way out from under the covers - and sitting on the edge of the bed before lightly tugging Royce to her. He didn’t need much convincing, stepping between her knees as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, trapping him in her arms. Allowing his arms to come around her, Royce breathed a sigh of relief as his hands no longer passed through her skin, instead landing on the soft cotton of her Laconia Bike Week shirt, the worn image of a motorcycle grazing his fingers as he felt Vivien rub circles along his spine.
“You feel like talking about it?” she asked, lifting her head just enough to meet his eyes.
Royce took a slow breath and shrugged, “Can we just stay like this for a minute? It’s comforting.”
Vivien grinned but eased out of Royce’s embrace, taking hold of his hands as she did, “I have a better idea. Stay here.” Giving Royce’s hands a final squeeze, she released him and turned to her bed, picking up a disgruntled Binx and handing him to Royce before sliding back and pushing herself to the opposite side of the mattress. Leaving enough room for the both of them, Vivien pushed the blankets down and patted the space she had filled minutes prior.
Tentatively eyeing the bed with a raised brow, he ran a hand over Binx’s fur and asked, “Isn’t that sort of inappropriate?”
Vivien rolled her eyes and sent him a look as she pulled her hair down from the elastic and slipped the tie around her wrist, “It’s not like we’re going to be having sex, Royce.”
Almost instantly, Royce’s face flushed a shade of pink, and he shook his head, “N-No, I know.”
“At least, not until I have a proper ring on my finger,” Vivien teased, smirking proudly as the blood rushing to Royce’s face burned brighter.
Royce glanced toward the bedroom door before finding Vivien’s eyes once again, “What if my brothers come in?”
“So what? We’re just laying in bed together,” Vivien shrugged. Chuckling softly as Royce slowly nodded, she patted the bed again and said, “Now come on; you need to talk through whatever happened in your dream, and I want you to be my human body pillow for a while before we have to face the real world again.”
Chuckling, Royce relented, handing Binx back to Vivien before taking up the space she had vacated for him. Allowing Binx to wander down the bed and settle by the footboard, Vivien took the blankets and pulled them up over herself and Royce before settling in beside him, encouraging him to follow suit. As his head hit the pillow Vivien offered him, Royce stared up at the ceiling, watching stars and planets dance across the white paint. Smiling, Royce softly asked, “How on earth can you sleep with that on?”
A twinge of apprehension settled in Vivien’s skin before she shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. I just do.”
Royce chuckled through his nose, “I’d be watching this all night instead of sleeping.”
“You get used to it.” Vivien watched the shapes shift across the ceiling for a moment, simply enjoying the peace her room offered before tilting her head to look at her boyfriend, the sight of his cheesy smile forcing warmth through her veins. Determined to shift the subject away from her nightlight, Vivien turned to lie on her side and placed a hand on Royce’s cheek, turning his head toward her as she said, “Alright, come on, enough distractions. This is about you, Rolls; talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
Curiously, Royce raised an eyebrow. “What I need?”
Vivien hummed softly as she nodded, “Do you need to talk? Do you want to hold me or have me hold you? Do you need to borrow my headphones and block out the world? Tell me what you need to make you feel comfortable again.”
Unable to find the words to express how grateful he is for his girlfriend’s ability to completely rid him of the negativity that had been lingering in his mind, Royce placed a hand on top of the one on his cheek and smiled as he soaked in the calmness that seems to emanate from her. He briefly weighed his options before breathing, “Even this is enough for me.”
“Royce,” Vivien sighed, the ease with which he dismissed her, making her all the more determined to help.
“Seriously, Viv,” Royce began, rubbing circles into the back of her hand. “I mean it. In my dream-”
“Nightmare,” Vivien corrected.
“Nightmare,” Royce relented with a nod. “In my nightmare, I couldn’t touch you, so just being able to feel you is enough for me.”
Vivien felt a slight smile tug at the corners of her lips as she asked, “I was in your dream?”
Taking the opportunity to tease her with her own correction, Royce smirked, “Nightmare.”
“Right.” Allowing his prior admission to sink into her sleep-deprived mind, Vivien pushed herself onto her elbow and peered down at him, his glimmering brown eyes doing nothing to sway her from asking, “How come you couldn’t touch me?”
“I don’t know,” Royce shrugged. “I just… When I tried, my hand went right through you.”
“Like that part in Casper where his hand goes through Kat’s arm?” Vivien made a face as she realized her boyfriend probably hadn’t seen that movie yet, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to think of another analogy. Admitting defeat, she sighs, “You see, Casper is a ghost, and Kat is a girl who moves into the house he and his uncles haunt, and-”
“I know,” Royce snickered, “Mick made us watch that for movie night on Halloween. Besides, we have Casper the Friendly Ghost as a cartoon.”
“Oh,” Vivien breathed.
“Yeah,” Royce said with a hint of a smile. Reaching up, he gently straightened out her bangs before tucking some of her hair behind her ear, gliding his fingers through the messy, tangled strands. Meeting her eyes once more, he said, “Anyway, the point is that you were hurt, and I couldn’t touch you. I couldn’t tell if you were alive or not.”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien glanced down and watched Royce’s fingers loop the ends of her hair around his fingers before she asked, “Is that how it started; you thinking I was dead?”
“No,” Royce admitted. Thinking back on the things he had experienced, Royce found his gaze drifting back toward the ceiling as he recalled, “I was wandering through what I think was a car repair shop of some kind. It was massive, but the building was on fire. There was smoke everywhere, and I couldn’t find my way out. A part of the ceiling nearly fell on me, but I ducked into an office.”
“Holy shit,” Vivien breathed.
Royce hummed, his attention falling back onto Vivien as her voice lulled him back to reality. Offering her a grin that she tried to return, he continued, “There were a lot of office rooms, maybe six or seven bay doors, and then there was this one room that gave me the creeps. It, uh, it was about the size of the walk-in freezer at Big Momma’s.”
Guessing the restaurant’s walk-in had to be about the same size as the one in the dining hall kitchen at her grandparents’ summer camp, Vivien slowly rolled onto her stomach and asked, “What was in it that freaked you out?”
“There was a huge cage that went from the floor to the ceiling,” Royce said, recalling the room as he watched Vivien move beside him. “And there was a bed inside that looked like it could fit a person, but the door was open like someone had escaped. I was going to check it out, but then I heard you tell someone to go fuck themselves, so I left.”
Despite herself, Vivien snorted softly as she placed a hand on Royce’s chest and rested her chin atop it, “Yeah, that sounds pretty on-brand.”
Royce grinned, peering down at her with a soft chuckle as he brought an arm around her back, his fingers gliding across the printed motorcycle on her shirt. “Even in my dreams, you cuss like a sailor.”
“I prefer truckers to sailors,” Vivien remarked with a sigh. “Truck drivers have more creative curses. But, anyway, it’s good to know that even your nightmares portray me accurately.”
“True,” Royce said with a smirk.
After a moment of relaxing in each other’s presence, Vivien asked, “So, what happened? How did I go from cussing someone out to you thinking I was dead?”
“I’m not entirely sure, honestly,” Royce sighed. “This guy was chasing you around, and I tried following you guys, but the smoke was too thick. Then I heard you scream, and I found you and the other guy on the floor. I couldn’t tell if you were breathing, I couldn’t feel your pulse, and I couldn’t move you to check for injuries since my hands kept going right through you. It… it was-”
“Scary,” Vivien offered in a whisper.
“Terrifying,” Royce agreed. “I just… I think I realized just how lost I’d be if something actually happened to you and you were taken from me.”
Moving her hand from under her chin, Vivien slid her arm around Royce’s middle, tucking it under his arm and squeezing him tight as she turned her head, resting her cheek against his t-shirt. As Royce’s arms come around her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other presses between her shoulder blades, Vivien’s eyes clamp shut, her fingers clenched into a fist, taking hold of his shirt, and she took in a breath before slowly letting it out and allowing her body to relax against Royce’s. “Never.”
Having been caught up in the feeling of his girlfriend holding him close, her silent reassurances being more than enough to anchor him to the real world, Royce glanced down at the top of her head as he caught a whisper of her voice. Unable to make out what was said, he asked, “What was that?”
“That’s never going to happen,” Vivien promised softly. Hoping to lighten both Royce’s mood and her own, Vivien tilted her head back to find his eyes and added, “I’m too badass to be taken out by some asshole in a repair shop.”
Royce smiled - his first genuine smile of the morning, Vivien noted - and let out a breath of a laugh as the hand on her back squeezed her close, “I know, Viv. I watched you pick up your brother and throw him into the snow when we went sledding; I have no doubt that you could beat anyone to a pulp if you wanted to.”
Grinning appreciatively, Vivien pushed herself up the bed and pulled her glasses back off, tossing them onto the pillow she had vacated so that she could press her forehead to Royce’s without them falling off and hitting him in the face. Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, the scent of her bubblegum-flavored toothpaste fanning across his face as she closed her eyes, she lowered her voice to a gentle whisper and said, “Then believe me when I say nothing in any world - yours, mine, or otherwise - could ever take me from you.”
Feeling his breath catch in his throat as he takes in her appearance closer than he ever had the chance to before - the dimples in her cheeks as she grins, the hint of purple under her eyes from lack of sleep, the makeup she couldn’t entirely scrub off the night before, the slightly raised scar that makes up the slit in her eyebrow - Royce wondered how he had gotten so lucky. Love may be a strong word, especially only four months into a relationship, but what other word was there for what he felt toward her? The sheer adoration he had for the girl whose forehead was pressed to his, who had taken the time to sit with him and talk him through his nightmare, the girl who cared for him so openly, he wondered why he waited so long to confess to her in the first place. She was surreal - like something out of a novel that he refused to put down.
Taking in a slow breath, Royce allowed his eyes to slip closed and enjoyed his girlfriend’s presence as he muttered, “And nothing will take me from you.”
“Good.”
They stayed like that for what felt like seconds and hours all at once. All the thoughts in the universe seemed to flee Royce’s mind as Vivien’s soft humming filled the air, forcing him to draw all his attention onto her. He couldn’t make out any song in particular, just a soft, nonsensical hum, but the feeling was more than enough. If he was being completely honest, he could stay like that for hours and never be tired of her. It must have been only a minute or so in actuality, but Royce couldn’t help but want more as Vivien slowly moved away. Then, before he could think of anything to say to draw her back in, she took his face in her hands and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead.
He relished in the sensation of warmth gently fluttering across his skin from where her lips touched him, waiting for her to pull back and meet his eyes before he asked, “A-Are we allowed to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Vivien asked in return, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips.
Royce shrugged, the remnant feeling of her lips on his skin sending warmth across his face as he slowly said, “We’ve never kissed each other before.”
“Not on the lips, no, but I’m not quite ready for that just yet,” Vivien admitted, twisting one of Royce’s curls around her finger before letting it spring back into place. Meeting his gaze as he nodded in agreement, she said, “But, in my opinion, there’s something sweet about little kisses like those. Like a sort of gentle serenity.”
“Gentle serenity,” Royce echoed curiously, the words rolling easily off his tongue as he attached them to the girl before him. “That’s a great way to explain it.”
“I mean, sure, it’s typically seen as a romantic gesture,” Vivien stated, “but if our families can do it to us, I don’t see why there would be a reason as to why we can’t do it to each other.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Royce muttered. Meeting Vivien’s gaze despite her squinting slightly back at him to see him clearly, Royce couldn’t resist returning her smile as he stretched up to press a kiss to her cheek. “Is that okay?”
Feeling happiness bubble up in her chest as she beamed down at him, Vivien nodded. As Royce gently nudged her bangs out of the way and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, she closed her eyes and let a wave of fuzzy warmth course through her skin. Once more, as Royce laid back against the pillow, her hand reached up and looped a few stray curls around her fingers before rubbing her thumb across his forehead and saying, “You know, in my Nonna’s tribe, the forehead is believed to be where your soul is.”
“Really?” Royce asked softly. When Vivien nodded silently, he hummed, “I like that idea.”
His words spread a grin across Vivien’s face, and soft giggles fell from her lips as she muttered, “We just kissed each other’s souls.”
“I guess we did,” Royce breathed, returning Vivien’s smile with one of his own. Running his hand through her hair and watching her close her eyes, he leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead once more before pulling away and leaning his forehead against hers. As a yawn pulled its way out of her despite her efforts to contain it, Royce grinned and used the hand in her hair to pull her head back down to his chest as he lay back against his pillow and said, “Get some sleep.”
“You too,” she sighed, allowing her eyes to close.
“I’ll try,” he replied, placing a hand on her arm as she made herself comfortable beside him. Royce held his breath as she shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder as her arm locked around his waist and one of her legs slid between his. As she finally relaxed, her body weight pressing into him like a weighted blanket, he smiled and kissed the top of her head, squeezing her close. Over time, her breathing began to even out, comforting Royce in a way he didn’t know he needed as he stared up at the ceiling, the dancing stars and planets luring him into relaxing.
After what felt like only a few minutes, Royce’s eyelids peeled open, his eyelashes fluttering as he was slowly pulled from the land of dreams. Blinking blearily as his eyes adjust to the golden light emanating from the window beside his bed, Royce took in a deep breath and yawned, his eyebrows scrunching together as the soft mixture of apples, pomegranates, and strawberry cream fills his senses.
Vivien.
It was a sweet, fruity mix that was just her. It was a combination of her perfume, shampoo, and favorite lotion. Her perfume - something a pop star with a signature high ponytail had come up with - was the only scent she had found that didn’t give her a migraine. Royce had bought her a bottle on a whim while shopping with the Birch family in their world and sent it to her for Valentine’s Day, along with a few other gifts he had picked.
Her Burt’s Bees shampoo was pomegranate and honey scented, but Royce and Bentley argued about which one they smelled more of any time Vivien brought up needing more. Bentley could only smell the honey, while Royce could only smell pomegranate, but Vivien argued that they both were crazy as she could smell both. In a way, Royce loved their little arguments about nonsensical things like that. Things that hardly mattered in the long run.
Then, there was the smell of her lotion. Royce’s first run-in with it had been the same day as their figure skating adventure when Bentley fell through the ice. After settling in by the fireplace and talking while Bentley warmed up, Vivien dug through her backpack full of skating equipment until she found a bottle of strawberry lotion she constantly used to keep her skin from getting dry and cracked while skating, pouring some into her hands and warming it before rubbing it into Bentley’s chilled hands and arms.
Royce had taken some of the excess lotion from her that afternoon, not thinking much of it until Bentley pointed out later that evening that he had been sniffing his hands like a lunatic for hours. He had brushed Bentley off initially, but after realizing it himself, Royce found himself smiling like a fool at the idea that he smelled like Vivien. They weren’t even dating at that point, but the thought of having something that smelled like her was already far more appealing than it should have been.
Hell, even then, as he smiled tiredly, Royce closed his eyes again and took another breath, not wanting whatever lingering dream he’d had that night to drift away, taking her signature scent with it. He could never tire of that scent. If he could bottle it up, he would, but the closest he would get was her perfume. Maybe he would have to buy himself a bottle of it to keep in his room for whenever he missed her, which, sadly, was often as of late.
Sighing through his nose, Royce forced his eyes open and allowed himself to adjust to the thought of another day, his eyes catching on a silvery line in the shape of the Little Dipper… or maybe it was the Big Dipper. Either way, Royce couldn’t tell. Blinking in confusion at the tiny stars and the silky purple material they decorated, Royce made an attempt to roll over, only to find himself anchored in place.
His first thought was that Bentley climbed into bed with him sometime during the night, but then his attention was brought to the leg between his and the thought of the person in bed with him being Bentley went out the window. Looking down, Royce found a tangled mass of caramel hair spread across himself, the bed, and his girlfriend’s back. The sun’s rays highlighted the strands of natural red and gold littered throughout her hair, something Royce always found himself admiring when he saw her in the sun.
All at once, memories of his overnight trip to his girlfriend’s temporary bedroom flooded back to him, forcing the remnants of his nightmare to the front of his mind as it went. Taking in a deep breath and pushing his fears aside, Royce forced himself to focus on the warmth his girlfriend radiated. For once, he didn’t feel the need to pull his blankets up to his chin and hunker down for a few minutes until he was warmer. Vivien was plenty warm enough for both of them.
Slowly lifting his hand from her head, Royce gently pulled her hair away from her face and settled it all on her back. As he moved to place his hand back where it had initially been, Vivien shifted, the arm around his waist tightening as she grumbled nonsensically. As Vivien finally relaxed again, Royce got a good look at her face. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping. The faint dark circles under her eyes were more a shade of lavender than true purple, her mouth was open slightly as she breathed unintelligible nonsense in her dreams, and her eyes moved behind her eyelids, the subtle flicker of her eyelashes moving being the only sign of movement.
Smiling at her slumbering form, Royce lifted his head from the pillow and glanced at the clock, wincing at the time. Vivien was, for a good reason, always up before six. From what he had learned of her daily schedule, she usually had to be ready and out the door for figure skating practice by no later than a quarter of six to get to the ice rink just before seven. Now that it was half an hour after her average out-the-door time, he wondered how her body would react. She had told him that she rarely slept in, so he had to wonder if he should be concerned.
Determined to let her rest while she had the opportunity, Royce gently pried her arm from his waist and lifted her head, sliding his leg out from under hers before getting up from the bed and lowering her limbs to the sheets. Thankfully, instead of waking up, Vivien rolled over, grabbed her pillow, and curled into it, narrowly avoiding dragging Binx from his spot on the edge of the bed as she did. Smiling proudly, Royce inched his way out of the room, leaving her door open and making his way down the hall to the room he knew Miles would still be fast asleep in.
Miles’ alarm clock had stopped working around the same time his Jeep had. For a good reason, Miles was more concerned with fixing up his Jeep than he was replacing his alarm clock, and he tossed the useless clock in the trash before the idea of asking Mick to fix it for him had even crossed his mind. Instead, he had spent enough money on his Jeep to replace most of the necessities and began relying on Royce to wake him up instead. Seeing as Royce was almost always awake by the time Miles’ alarm clock went off - if it even bothered to go off in the first place - he had become a no-snooze-allowed replacement for Miles’ alarm clock long before the clunky twin-bell clock chose death.
Being woken up by his little brother had been a far better experience for Miles than snoozing his alarm clock until the point where he was running through the house like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get everything together for work and making sure his brothers had everything ready for school. Royce’s approach was simple and effective - wake him up, shake him if needed, and bribe him with coffee. This morning, however, there was no coffee prepared and, thus, nothing to bribe with.
Slipping into Miles’ bedroom was easy as the door was always left open a crack just in case one of the boys called for him during the night. Waking Miles up, on the other hand, was never easy. Far from it, to be honest. Royce had determined years ago that Miles could sleep through World War III, but it wasn’t always that way.
Miles went through a lot when they lived with their dad, especially when it came to sleep. At first - when their mom had only recently passed - nothing really changed; he could sleep until noon without much issue unless it was during the school year. Then, as their dad took up drinking - and other substances, Royce was sure - Miles was constantly on edge and rarely slept well. After a while in St. Pete Beach, Miles’ letters home told of how he could finally enjoy sleeping in again, letting Royce know in his own way that he had found a safe place to stay without the looming threat of their father’s tirades.
Now, as Royce stared down at his oldest brother, he was glad he had.
Since leaving Myrtle Beach, Miles had finally relaxed enough to find himself as well as a new family that Royce and Bentley now claimed as their own. Royce loved seeing the difference between Myrtle Beach Miles and St. Pete Beach Miles; they were practically night and day. In Myrtle Beach, Miles did what he could to avoid going home, but in St. Pete Beach, he had become something of a homebody. Well, apart from the few nights when his friend from Carrie’s work would steal him away, that is.
How on earth his brother - the image of a well-rounded, blue-collar worker - had befriended that stoner from the studio Carrie worked at, Royce would probably never know, but he knew Ethan made Miles happy the same way Lake and Sandy made him happy, so he chose not to say anything. After all, he was in the same boat. Their friends were reckless and irresponsible, completely clashing with the by-the-books lifestyle both Miles and Royce lived, but they needed a bit of reckless abandon now and then, right?
Pushing the thoughts of their questionable choices in friends from his mind, Royce leaned over Miles’ sleeping form, shaking his head at the faint grease lines streaking into his hairline from his late-night repair session in the garage. “Really, Miles?” Royce muttered under his breath, “Couldn’t be bothered to wash up after working on the mac ‘n cheese machine?”
Miles, of course, didn’t respond; his steady breathing was the only response Royce received. Like most mornings, Royce made his way to the windows on either side of Miles’ bed and pulled back the curtains to prevent his brother from rolling to either side to escape waking up early. Returning to Miles’ side as his brother shifted, rolling onto his stomach with a groan, Royce grinned and rolled his eyes. This was somewhat normal now - the cat-and-mouse game they played to get Miles out of bed - but Royce found it far more entertaining than Miles ever did.
Perching himself on the sliver of the mattress beside his brother, Royce placed a hand on Miles’ arm and softly spoke, “Miles.” When Miles simply groaned into his pillow, the muscles in his back flexing as his arms slid under the thick pillow and held it close, Royce shifted on the bed, his knee nearly digging into Miles’ hip as he raised his voice slightly, “Miles, you need to get up.”
As Miles’ head turned to the side, his bleary, sleep-addled eyes blinking open just a crack, he muttered, “Five more minutes,” and allowed his eyes to slide closed once more.
Sighing as Miles relaxed into the pillow once more, Royce decided to pull out the big guns, quietly clearing his throat before shaking Miles’ arm and pleading, “Come on, Miley, please.”
Like a shot of espresso had been pumped directly into Miles’ veins, he rolled onto his side, blinking rapidly in an effort to keep himself awake as a yawn pulled from him. Finally, his gaze landed on Royce, and after shifting to sit up, he reached out and placed a hand on Royce’s cheek, examining him as best he could whilst still half-asleep. His voice still thick with exhaustion, Miles asked, “What’s wrong? You alright?”
“I’m fine, Miles,” Royce claimed, allowing Miles to take in a deep breath and nod slowly.
“What about Benny?” Miles asked. “He’s not sick again, is he?”
“No, he’s alright.” Royce glanced toward the doorway, just barely able to see the door to his and Bentley’s room. “When I left, he was still sleeping.”
Bentley had been woken up by random stomach pains in the middle of the night over the last few weeks, something that had scared everyone in their immediate circle whenever it had happened. It had been a few weeks since the last time it happened, but Butchy and Lela’s uncle had made it clear that if anything were to happen again, they could bring Bentley right to his house, and he’d check him over free of charge. The man’s best guess had been either gallstones or pancreatitis, but regardless, all three Murphy boys had been grateful he had answered their late-night call after getting his home number from Butchy. Without him, they would have spent the night in the emergency room twice already and been in some kind of debt with the hospital due to their shitty health insurance.
Miles let out a sigh of relief and yawned once more before asking, “And Vivien? Is she okay?”
“She’s good,” Royce said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sleeping. And, before you ask, Binx is good too. He’s in with Viv.”
Miles nodded, glaring at the blinding light that penetrated his typically dark room before meeting Royce’s eyes with a tipped, tired smile and guiding his curly-haired brother’s head onto his shoulder, “So, was this a wake-up call, or did you just want company?”
Lazily bringing an arm around Miles’ middle, Royce breathed, “It’s quarter after six.”
With a hum and a disgusted look that he was glad his brother didn’t see, Miles sighed, “Guess that means we have to get up and out the door, huh?”
Nodding, Royce agreed, “It does.”
Bringing his arms around Royce’s middle, Miles lifted his brother and dropped him onto the mattress beside him as he collapsed back into bed. Curling an arm around Royce’s shoulders, Miles pulled him close and grumbled, “I don’t wanna.”
Royce snorted, lifting his head just enough to see Miles’ face, “You sound like Benny when he gets all whiny before school.”
“I am not whiny,” Miles argued.
“That’s debatable.”
Feigning shock at his brother’s quiet jab, Miles made a face and gasped, “How dare you?”
“Oh, I dare,” Royce chuckled. “You two are horrible in the mornings - all dramatic and crap. I swear, you two are worse than any of the actors in that show with the talking horse.”
“Did you seriously just bash Mister Ed?” When Royce grinned and nodded, Miles scoffed playfully, wriggling his fingers into Royce’s side to get a proper laugh out of him as he teased, “And here I was going to call into your school and get you two the day off.”
All too ready to call Miles’ bluff, Royce beamed, “No, you weren’t.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Miles relented, letting his head fall back into his pillow as he sighed deeply. “But it sure sounded good, didn’t it, baby?”
“It did,” Royce agreed in a breath, allowing himself to relax with Miles for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he pushed himself to sit up before taking Miles’ arm and pulling him up beside him. Standing from the bed and leaving Miles to his own devices, Royce took a few steps away and said, “Now, come on. I have to go get Benny up, and you have to get ready before Vivien comes in here with a bucket of ice water like she did back at the cabin.”
“Don’t remind me,” Miles grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with a groan. “I don’t know how she can be so atrociously perky so early every morning. I mean, I get she’s always up early, but damn. Sometimes, I wonder if she keeps an IV of coffee under her pillow or something.”
Royce laughed softly, shaking his head as he backed toward the door, “Nah, that’s just how she is.”
“Just another thing about that child I will never understand,” Miles shrugged, pushing himself from the bed with a sigh. Waving Royce away with a hand, he yawned and stepped over to his dresser, saying, “Go wake Ben and try to get him to eat something before school. I’ve got to pick out some leather for Vivien to wear on the ride to work.”
“I thought she was coming with us to school this week,” Royce said.
“I never heard back from the school,” Miles sighed. “I guess, with your spring break being next week, they aren’t too concerned with temporary students. Either that, or they’re trying to find a record of her at the regional school in Tilton, which could be bad.”
“I doubt that’s the case.” Royce leaned against the doorframe and chuckled, “The office ladies don’t care that much about anything other than whatever new gossip they overhear. Chances are, they’ll call you sometime today.”
Miles sighed and shook his head, forcing his pessimism away, “Yeah, maybe. Either way, you two boys need to get a move on before Kona’s dad gets here.”
“Alright, alright,” Royce drawled, patting the doorframe before grabbing Miles’ doorknob and pulling it toward him, “I’m going.” Closing the door, Royce chuckled and turned back toward the hallway, only to jump as he came face-to-face with none other than his girlfriend. Placing a hand on his chest, Royce breathed a laugh, “Viv, you scared the shit out of me.”
Vivien gave him a small smile and breathed, “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Royce said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Vivien’s waist and pulling her into a hug. Out of habit, Vivien’s arms came around Royce’s shoulders, but she didn’t quite curl into his embrace the way she usually would. Running his fingers over the fabric of her shirt, Royce said, “Sorry I left you alone. I had to wake Miles for work.”
Vivien ran a hand through Royce’s tangled curls, “I thought you went back to your room, so I was just going to check on you before going downstairs to make breakfast. I, uh, I heard you guys talking.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Royce shrugged. “Did you hear Miles? He’s going to let you borrow a leather jacket or something so you’re safe on his bike.”
“I did hear that, yeah,” Vivien nodded. Swallowing, she stepped back from Royce’s arms and said, “I’ll go make up some coffee for him. Maybe that’ll get him in a good mood before work.”
“Good luck with that,” Royce snorted as he watched Vivien make her way back toward her room.
“Thanks,” Vivien called over her shoulder before disappearing from his sight. As Royce chuckled softly to himself and headed toward the room he shared with Bentley, Vivien peeked around the corner, making sure he made it into the room before sighing and making her way to the top of the stairs.
Glancing toward Miles’ bedroom door as the light flicked on, illuminating the gaps around the frame, Vivien sucked in a breath and made her way downstairs. Was she really as annoying in the morning as he had said she was? Vivien knew the answer; she was abhorrently energetic every morning and she knew it, but that came with the territory of having early-morning skating practices for the last - what was it now? - twelve or so years.
Vivien knew she was like the Energizer Bunny on crack every morning, but hearing anyone other than her mother complain about it had hit something deep that Vivien didn’t know existed. She had no real reason to be upset about Miles’ statement as she knew it to be true, but normally, the only person to give her any biting remarks about it was her mother. Hearing Miles say her morning energy was atrocious had struck a chord within her. Brushing off her mother’s snippy remarks was one thing, but trying to ignore the dull, knife-twisting feeling in her chest from Miles’ statement was another. It hurt.
To make things worse, Vivien realized as she filled the percolator with coffee grounds that Royce hadn’t even bothered defending her. Granted, he had no reason to do so as all Miles had said was true, but still. He had laughed it off and continued with the conversation. While she wasn’t going to hold it against him as she knew how hard it was to stand up to the people you love, even a little rebuttal on her behalf would have felt nice. But did she even need that from him? She could stand up for herself if need be, and they both knew it. Besides, it wasn’t like Miles was spreading shitty rumors like some high school mean girl; his statement was factual - Vivien was energetic and bubbly every morning.
Pausing as she poured water into the machine, Vivien sighed and shook her head. Why was it bothering her so much? It shouldn’t. Miles wasn’t being rude; he was stating the obvious. She had no reason to be upset when he was simply talking with his brother. He didn’t even know that she was outside the room at the time. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He just… did.
Setting the percolator on the stove and putting the coffee away, she took in a breath and calmed herself before making her way back up the stairs to her bedroom. Gently combing her fingers through Binx’s fur, she made her way to her closet and pulled out some shorts and a shirt she didn’t mind getting dirty before quickly getting dressed. Tugging on a pair of sneakers Lela had gotten her as a surprise during their trip to the mall, Vivien grabbed her phone, charger, and headphones, tucking them into her pocket before leaving her room.
With Binx slinking along by her heels, Vivien made her way to Miles’ room and hesitated for only a moment before knocking on the door, determined not to make him any more frustrated by her typical Kool-Aid man entrance. “It’s just me,” she said.
After a second, the door swung open, and Miles’ confused face came into view. “Since when do you knock?” he asked.
“Since I now reside in a house full of boys,” Vivien shrugged. “I started your coffee.”
“Thanks,” Miles said with a grin. Stepping aside, he gestured toward the room and said, “Come in for a second. I need to see if you’ll fit in my old leathers.”
Reluctantly following him into the room, Vivien glanced around the room and asked, “Why? I’m already dressed.”
Pulling some hangers down from his closet, Miles looked her over briefly before snorting, “Yeah, no. You need more protection than that, kid. If we get into an accident, you’ll look like roadkill.”
“Do you plan on getting into an accident?” Vivien pressed as she stood by the end of his bed, watching him deposit various pieces of clothing on his duvet.
“No, but I’ve been in and seen more than enough accidents to know how awful they can be if you aren’t prepared,” Miles sighed, placing his hands on his hips.
Vivien knew he was right, but before the instinct to tease him about being a mother hen could kick in, his words hit her, and she mused, “You never told me you’ve been in accidents before.”
“I’ve only been in one where I was injured, and it was a long time ago,” Miles shrugged. “Look, the point is, I don’t want anything like that to happen to you - especially not on my watch. Now, come here and pick out something to cover you up.”
With a dramatic sigh, Vivien sidled up beside Miles and looked over her options with a lopsided smirk. Picking up a leather jacket with ivy vines embroidered down the arms, she turned it over and looked at the back before scoffing, “What, no biker gang emblem?”
Miles quickly shook his head, “Definitely not.”
Put off by his instant dismissal, Vivien’s grin dissolved as she tentatively asked, “Why not?”
“Well, for starters, I can’t let you wear it if you aren’t in the group - Rodent rules,” Miles explained as he took the jacket from Vivien’s hand and pulled it off the hanger. Holding it out for her to try on, he added, “Besides, it’s basically a giant target to rival groups that you’re one of us, and I’m not willing to risk putting you in any danger.”
Slipping her arms into Miles’ jacket, Vivien sighed, “I guess that makes sense. Still, I think it would’ve been cool to pretend to be in a biker gang.”
Miles grinned, adjusting the jacket slightly before zipping Vivien into it. She would make an excellent Rodent if given the chance, but that wasn’t a call he could make. Until that day came, she looked just fine in his old jacket. “Maybe some other time, kiddo. For now, though, why don’t you find a pair of sweatpants to wear on the ride to work? We’ll hit the road as soon as Kona’s dad gets here to pick up the boys. They’re in the third drawer of my dresser.”
“Alright,” Vivien breathed as she stepped away from the bed and moved to the dresser that Miles had pressed against the wall. Tugging open the heavy drawer, she pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and tugged them on over her shorts before rolling up the legs to her ankles and tying the waistband. On her way out of the room, Vivien turned and asked, “What is Kona like, anyway?”
Miles hummed thoughtfully as he put away the extra jackets he had laid out, “Picture one of those nippy little chihuahuas, but with the sass of a husky and the protectiveness of a German shepherd.”
“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”
“As a whole, probably not, but she’d probably appreciate the analogy,” Miles grinned. He joined Vivien in the hallway and said, “Honestly, though, it suits her. She’s maybe five feet tall at most, exists on spite alone, loves picking fights with Zack for no reason, and doesn’t give a shit what people think about her. You’ll love her.”
“Okay,” Vivien drawled, following Miles to the top of the stairs. “So, who is Zack and why does Kona fight with him?”
“Kona, Zack, and August are Bentley’s friends,” Miles explained. “Zack is… well, he’s very headstrong, like Kona is. When the two of them butt heads, it’s like oil on fire, but they care about each other underneath it all. I think arguments are their love languages.”
Vivien let out a snort as she followed Miles downstairs, “Alright, good to know. So, what about August?”
“August is-”
“Bentley’s boyfriend,” Royce interrupted as he brought his bowl of cereal to the living room and took up a spot on the rug on one end of the coffee table.
“Shut up,” Bentley scoffed with a short laugh, kicking Royce’s thigh on his way back from turning the TV on.
As Bentley took his spot on the floor, Royce turned toward Vivien and explained, “He and Gus are practically attached at the hip. August was Bentley’s tour guide on our first day last year, but they’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“We’re just friends,” Bentley tacked on, swirling his bowl of milky cavities with his spoon before taking a mouthful of soggy marshmallows. “Just because we’re close doesn’t mean we’re dating. Besides, he’s a boy.”
“So?” Vivien questioned as she leaned against the back of the couch.
“Boys don’t date boys, Viv,” Bentley chuckled.
Raising a brow at her boyfriend’s younger brother, Vivien slowly asked, “You have met my brother, right, Beemer?”
Curiosity spread across Bentley’s face as he slowly replied, “Yeah, why?”
“He’s been with Markus for a while now,” Vivien admitted. Watching Bentley’s head tilt to the side as he tried to recall the dark-skinned boy, Vivien added, “The three of you talked about Bigfoot and Mothman for, like, two hours straight. He has two different colored eyes, has a bit of a limp ‘cause of his spine, and has his hair braided.”
Realization dawned on Bentley’s face as he nodded, “Oh, I remember him. I didn’t know they were together, though. They just seemed like good friends.”
“Nope,” Vivien said with a shake of her head. “They’ve been together a while, much to my mother’s disdain. But, the point is, anyone can date anyone.”
Bentley hummed softly, his gaze flicking back to his cereal as he breathed, “Guess I never thought of it that way.”
“Well, things are a lot different now than they are in the future, Ben,” Royce claimed as he scooped up some Honey Nutty O’s. “People in the future are a lot more easygoing with dating whoever they want in Viv’s time. Nowadays, people get harassed and beat up for acting that way in public.”
“Still,” Miles began as he entered the room with a half-eaten knock-off toaster pastry and a bowl of cereal he handed to Vivien, “so long as you love the person you’re with, what’s between their legs shouldn’t matter.”
“Exactly,” Vivien agreed, rounding the couch to sit with her boyfriend and his brothers on the floor as the intro song for The Jetsons began playing. Observing how quiet Bentley had gotten during their conversation, Vivien offered him a small smile and said, “Anyway, enough of that. What’s this August kid like, Beemer?”
Watching the blonde’s expression shift as his eyes practically glimmered, Vivien knew she had done the right thing. Allowing the boy to ramble as he shoveled cereal into his mouth, Vivien relaxed against the back of the couch and smiled as Bentley filled her in on all the observations he had made of his friend group. Though she was sure she would meet them in time, Bentley’s excitement was palpable. By the time they were done eating, Miles had left to find his work boots, and Royce had gotten up to give Binx a few treats before they left him for the day, but Bentley’s rambling had yet to cease as he followed Vivien into the kitchen and helped her wash up the dishes.
Following Bentley to the corner of the living room where he and Royce ditched their backpacks Friday afternoon, Vivien looked out the window as an olive green Ford Econoline van squealed to a stop at the end of the driveway. Raising a brow at the vehicle, she chuckled, “Someone should write ‘Free Candy’ on that thing.”
Zipping his backpack and moving to stand beside Vivien, Bentley asked, “Why? Do they have candy?”
“What? No,” Vivien laughed, gesturing to the windowless van sitting at the end of the drive, “it just- look at that thing!”
“Why do you think they should write ‘Free Candy’ on it, though?” Bentley wondered as he hefted his backpack onto one shoulder, leaning to see if he could look inside the vehicle. “Are you sure Kona’s dad doesn’t have candy in there? He always does.”
“Oh my gosh,” Vivien breathed in disbelief. “That’s your friend’s dad?”
“Yeah, why?” Bentley asked as he headed for the front door. Raising his voice, he called out, “RJ, Kona and Mr. Jon are here.”
“That van looks like something a creepy pedo would drive,” Vivien muttered as she followed Bentley to the door. As Bentley tugged the door dagger from the wood and tossed it onto the table beside the door, she peeked around the red, flaky door and said, “Thank God you guys don’t live in the eighties.”
“Why?” Royce asked as he jogged into the hallway.
“Because she thinks Kona’s dad’s car looks like a pedo van,” Bentley claimed with a shrug.
“It does!” Vivien whisper-yelled as she turned to Royce. “It looks like a stereotypical eighties pedophile van, for crying out loud! I swear, if it had a ‘Free Candy’ sign on the side of it, it would look straight out of some true crime show or something.”
Royce chuckled, shaking his head as he hauled his backpack onto his shoulders, “Well, Kona’s dad is far from a pedophile, but he does keep candy in the car for us to snack on when we get out of school.”
Turning back toward the outside world, Vivien muttered, “You’re not helping.”
Prying Vivien’s hand from the door as Bentley headed outside, Royce leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as he squeezed her fingers. “It’s alright, Viv,” he assured her. “Why don’t you come meet them real quick? You can see for yourself that Mr. Jon isn’t some creep.”
Somewhat taken aback by her boyfriend’s featherlight kiss, Vivien nodded, allowing him to guide her outside before stepping aside so that he could close the door. Once her hand was captured by his once again, Vivien found herself glued to Royce’s side as he led her to the van that rumbled loudly on the side of the street. As the passenger’s side window cranked down, a girl with John-Lennon-esque pink sunglasses and shoulder-length blonde hair that was braided into two pigtails turned toward Vivien and Royce, lowered her glasses just enough for Vivien to make out her chartreuse eyes, and asked, “What happened to your imaginary girlfriend from New Hampshire, Roycey-poo?”
Royce rolled his eyes at the girl, but before he could offer her a snippy remark in return, Vivien raised her free hand and gave her a small wave, “That would be me. I’m Vivien, the imaginary girlfriend, but I’m afraid I’m not as imaginary as everyone assumes I am.”
Green eyes scanned Vivien’s frame for a moment before the door popped open, and the short girl jumped down, stepping up in front of Vivien with a level expression. All at once, Miles’ earlier analogy of a chaotic yet overprotective chihuahua flooded Vivien’s mind, and it took everything in her not to laugh at the short blonde. Examining Vivien once more, the blonde’s gaze locked on the stack of jumbled bracelets on Vivien’s wrist, and she pried the older girl’s hand from Royce’s grip, turning the girl’s wrist with a slight grin. Taking a step back and latching hands with Vivien, the blonde shook Vivien’s hand and said, “The sweatpants are definitely a choice, but I like your bracelets.”
Glancing down at her outfit, Vivien let out an awkward breath of a chuckle and said, “Thanks, I think.”
“I’m Kona Birr,” the girl introduced, perching her sunglasses atop her head. “I’m the smart one of our group.”
Bentley snorted as he tugged the back door open, “Whatever you say, Kone-head.”
“Dick,” Kona snapped in return without shifting her gaze from the older girl before her.
“Kona Elsie,” the man in the driver’s seat said warningly. “Be nice.”
Turning to her father, Kona sighed, “That was me being nice, Dad. I could have called him an imbecillic dickhead, but I didn’t. I was being nice.”
“Kona,” the man repeated. “If you keep this up, keiki, you and your friends won’t be allowed to hang out at the shop after school anymore.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” Kona sighed, lowering her sunglasses onto her nose once more so that her father couldn’t see her rolling her eyes as she turned back to Vivien. “Are you coming to school with us?” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she wiggled her eyebrows and added, “You can meet the rest of the dipshit squad.”
“Not today, she isn’t,” Miles called out as he pushed the garage door up. Turning toward the teenagers, he explained, “The school hasn’t cleared her to attend for the week, but she might be able to go tomorrow.”
Sighing, Kona shook her head, “Yet another day of me being stuck in a group full of dumbasses.”
“Kona!” Jonathan barked from the driver’s seat.
Turning toward the car with an innocent smile, the petite blonde asked, “What, Daddy?”
“Kona, you can’t just call them that. They-”
“It’s alright, Mr. Jon,” Bentley smirked from the backseat. “We’re used to it by now.”
Sighing, the man shook his head and said, “Just get in the car, keiki. We need to go pick up the other dumbass boys you call friends.”
With a snort at her dad’s resigned tone, Kona turned to Vivien and asked, “Will you be here when we come by to do homework?”
Vivien glanced over her shoulder at Miles as he walked his motorcycle out of the garage. Turning back to Kona and shrugging, Vivien said, “I don’t know. I’m going to work with Miles today and I have no clue what time he gets out.”
“She’ll be here, but we’ll probably see her if we swing by the record shop on the way back from school,” Royce stated. Finding Vivien’s gaze as Kona nodded and returned to her dad’s van, he explained, “Miles is usually back by four-thirty on Mondays if he’s not hitching a ride with the blonde she-devil he calls a girlfriend.”
“Hey,” Vivien complained, looking somewhat ready to argue. “That blonde she-devil happens to be my friend.”
“And I just don’t understand how.” Not wanting to argue with Vivien, Royce sighed, glancing away before squeezing her hand and meeting her eyes again with a small smile, “Have fun with Miles.”
Sliding her hand out of his, Vivien wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, “Have a good day at school.”
“I’ll try,” Royce breathed as he tucked his face into her shoulder, relishing in the soft smell of her perfume. As they slowly separated, he smiled and said, “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you more than anything.”
“As will I,” Vivien beamed. Gently pushing Royce toward the car as she began backing up the driveway toward Miles’ motorcycle, she said, “Now, go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you get home.”
Royce laughed softly, offering her a small wave as he climbed into the backseat alongside Bentley. Without letting his brother’s sappy goodbye last any longer, Bentley called out a quick goodbye and slammed the back door with a smile. As the van shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb, the radio began to blast the latest hits, and, with a beaming smile, Kona waved out the window with her armful of colorful bracelets and yelled, “See you later, Royce’s imaginary girlfriend!”
Laughing as she waved toward the retreating van, Vivien made her way to where Miles was leaning against his bike with a grin. “That was, by far, the weirdest introduction I’ve ever had.”
“It won’t be for long, believe me,” Miles chuckled. Holding out a half-helmet for Vivien to take, Miles pushed himself off of the Harley and asked, “Ready to ride, kiddo?”
Vivien attempted pulling the helmet on over her ponytail before reluctantly removing it and pulling her hair back down. “I guess so.”
Stopping Vivien before she could pull the helmet back on, Miles placed a hand on the helmet and lowered it, “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast.”
“What?”
Spinning his finger in a circle, Miles said, “Turn. I don’t want your hair lookin’ like a rat’s nest by the time we get to work.”
“It’s fine.” When Miles refused to budge, Vivien sighed and reluctantly turned as she rolled her eyes, “What are you going to do, then? Braid it?”
“Exactly,” Miles said as he combed her hair back with his fingers and began splitting it into sections. Making quick work of the braid as Vivien felt surprise seep through her veins, Miles said, “I don’t want you having to rip at your hair to get it straight again when I could easily just braid it and get it over with for you.”
Humming in understanding, Vivien allowed him to work in silence before muttering, “I didn’t know you could braid hair.”
Miles chuckled softly as he twisted the strands toward the bottom of her hair, “There’s a lot of things about me that you don’t know, kid. Elastic?”
Tugging the brown band off of her wrist, she held it out for him over her shoulder and said, “Thanks.”
“Mhm,” Miles hummed as he tied off her hair. Releasing her braid and patting her shoulders, Miles said, “All set.”
Pulling the braid over her shoulder, Vivien smiled at the neat plait before pulling her helmet on and clicking it into place under her chin. She watched as Miles swung a leg over his bike before offering her a hand as she stepped up beside him. Climbing onto the bike, Vivien waited for Miles to start the bike before bringing her arms around him, holding tight as he pulled out onto the street. As the motorcycle rolled down the street, Vivien looked around, leaning with the bike as Miles turned onto the main street and picked up speed, heading in the opposite direction from the way the girls had brought her to the mall the day before.
The wind picked up as Miles picked up speed, occasionally releasing one of his handlebars to place a hand atop Vivien’s - a subtle reassurance that she hadn’t let go for any reason. In return, she patted his leather jacket whenever she spotted a police officer lurking in the area. Emerald eyes scanned the city as blurry buildings flew by and palm trees danced in the early morning light. When Miles slowed to a stop at a red light, Vivien released him to stretch her arms and look around, gawking at the collection of vintage cars that stopped for the light. As the light turned green, her arms came back around Miles, and she smiled as she took in the city.
Maybe her day at his work wouldn’t be so boring after all.
If it hadn’t been for her brand-new Jeepers tapping repetitively on the sticky metal of the gymnasium bleachers, Kona would have lost her mind nearly an hour ago. Nobody in their right mind wanted to be there, listening to the principal and student council drone on and on about fundraisers and dances. Assemblies were stupid in general - wastes of time for students who actually gave a shit about their classes - but having an entire two-hour block of their school day set aside for some ridiculous pep rally that nobody other than the airheaded cheerleaders and pea-brained football players cared about, was idiotic at best.
The whole thing should have been optional for the junior high kids who didn’t even get a say in the senior high’s politics and dances, but alas, it wasn’t. Instead, Kona was stuck sitting with her homeroom class, fighting the urge to roll her eyes every time the redheaded co-captain of the cheerleading team spoke into the microphone. It was bad enough the cheer team and football players had to wear their uniforms once a week to “show school spirit” or whatever bullshit the school board had put in the student handbook, but having to listen to them at school-wide assemblies just made her hate them even more. It didn’t help that while the “star athletes” - if you could even call them that - were in the center of the gymnasium, standing on the relatively creepy-looking mascot that someone had painted on the hardwood years before Kona even arrived in Florida, the rest of the student body was forced to sit like sardines.
She did have to give some of the athletes credit, however. Not all of them were assholes. There was this one girl on the cheer team - Kathy, she believed her name was - who was incredibly kind and was a volunteer at a local soup kitchen. A few guys on the football team were regulars at her family’s record shop - namely Trent Bukowski, Leo Martinez, and Perry, some sophomore guy she only knew by the last name on his jersey - and they tended to just hang around, minding their business and chatting quietly in the back of the main room while listening to her dad’s radio station blare over the speakers. A majority of the drill team didn’t care much for drama and were genuinely nice in passing, but Kona only ever really ran into them in the bathrooms, listening to them gossip with their friends while they smoked.
As the microphone screeched with feedback, Kona’s hands lurched to cover her ears and her eyes rolled in frustration as the redheaded cheerleader tugged the microphone back toward her mouth and began spewing more nonsense about the upcoming prom. Honestly, the only thing that made listening to her bearable was the fact that she could pass notes to her friends in the next class over. It wasn’t exactly hard to pass notes undetected when they sat so close. She was practically shoulder-to-shoulder with Bentley, which gave her access to Gus in the next row down who, in turn, could pass messages along to Zack in the next class over.
Bentley’s knuckle nudged Kona’s knee and she flipped her hand over to receive his note, feeling him shove the paper into her palm as she grinned. Discretely opening the note, Kona fought a snort as she saw the drawing Bentley had made of the cheerleader as a dinosaur. Folding the paper back up, she tucked it under the hem of her shorts and scribbled out a quick note in return on a sticky note before passing it to Bentley, telling him she was going to frame his drawing later.
With a soft laugh under his breath, Bentley pocketed the paper and leaned forward to whisper something to August. Kona glanced at the giant clock on the wall above the gymnasium doors. If the attention whore with the microphone kept to schedule, the whole thing would be over in two minutes, but because Serena Sullivan was notorious for being anything but punctual, Kona highly doubted that would be the case. Sighing through her nose as the redhead began spieling off reasons for people to be excited about the dance that wasn’t even for another month, Kona felt her teacher tap her shoulder from behind her, silently telling her to stop putting up a fuss before returning to her conversation with another teacher.
Willing to sit for another few minutes, Kona spared a glance at her friends before making a face and crossing one leg over the other, resting her chin in her palm as she searched the other side of the gymnasium for the older half of their friend group. Arranged by grade rather than class, it was particularly easy for Kona to spot Royce’s gaggle of sophomores sitting against the back wall. Cassandra Wheaton - the oldest and worst behaved of the bunch, had plastic headphones over her ears, no doubt connected to her Luxtone transistor radio, as the redhead had stated multiple times that she would rather listen to dying cats screeching than have to listen to another assembly about stupid shit. Next to Sandy was Laken Dubois - the gangly idiot with an arm over his face who was probably too hungover from the weekend to know what was going on around him. After Lake was Royce - Bentley’s older brother, who had his nose so far into the book in his hands that it would be a miracle if he would even hear the bell ring. Then, on Royce’s other side was none other than Katrina - or Kit, as she preferred to be called - Dubois, the only one paying any attention to what was being said as her friend, Ellie Clark, the student council president, took the microphone back from Serena and began concluding the assembly with a strained smile.
As the lunch bell rang midway through Ellie’s concluding statement, the blonde hastily thanked everyone for attending before handing the microphone back to the principal with an apologetic look. Grateful to finally be done, Kona nudged Bentley and nodded toward the exit as the rest of the student body began to file out. “You coming?” she asked over the crowd’s jumbled conversations.
Bentley nodded as he tugged August away from a herd of seventh graders who shoved their way down the bleachers from the upper stands, “I just have to find Royce.”
“He’s heading outside with his friends,” Zack said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he shoved his way up the bleachers to join them.
“He is?” Bentley leaned around Zack, watching Lake sling an arm around Royce’s shoulders and pull him toward the back door of the gym as the girls held the doors open for them. “They’re probably going to get something from the grocery store or something.”
“Why don’t we go with them?” August offered. “It’s not like the cafeteria is going to have anything good today.”
“I think it’s supposed to be tuna surprise today,” Kona sighed as she headed down the bleachers. “I’d rather not find out what ‘surprise’ they expect us to choke down.”
“Gross,” Bentley muttered as his face twisted in disgust. Following his friends down the steps to the squeaky wooden floor, he asked, “Do you think they’ll mind us tagging along?”
Zack laughed, turning to walk backward across the basketball court as he spoke, “As if.”
“Yeah,” August chimed in. “That’s like asking Kona if she minds making us all matching keychains.”
Turning toward her friends, Kona pulled her sunglasses from where she had slotted them on her shirt and placed them on the bridge of her nose as she said, “And the answer for that will always be ‘no’.” Turning back around, the short blonde shoved open the door to the outside world and allowed her friends to exit after her before letting it swing shut. “Speaking of making things for people-“
“Seriously, Kone?” Zack chuckled, seeing the glimmer of anticipation in the blonde’s expression. “Don’t you have, like, eighty projects you’re already working on and complaining about?”
Kona’s eyes rolled behind her pink sunglasses lenses, “So? This one is going to take precedence.”
“What did you have in mind?” Bentley asked with a smirk, knowing that, after school, they would probably be dragged to the nearest craft store for her to find whatever it was she needed.
“Yeah,” August chipped in, “Are you making something for Teacher Appreciation Day?”
“Pfft,” Kona scoffed with a shake of her head, “no way. The only teacher I’ll ever appreciate enough to make them something is my hula instructor.”
“So what is it then?” Zack asked as they reached the sidewalk. “Gonna make up some bracelets for all the cheerleaders?”
“Bite me,” Kona snipped. Turning toward August and Bentley, she sighed, “I want to make something for Royce’s imaginary girlfriend.”
Bentley snorted a laugh as August made a face, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of how to respond to Kona’s statement. Instead, Zack spoke up, a laugh falling from his lips as he smacked a hand to Kona’s forehead, “You alright in there, Kone-head? You’re making less sense than normal.”
Shoving his hand from her face, Kona hissed, “Touch me again and you’ll lose your hand.”
Zack rolled his eyes, “As if.”
Seeing Kona tip her head to the side with a scoff, fire burning in her eyes as she readies herself for a fight, August took the chance to speak up and cut through the argument before it could become unbearable, “Why are you planning on making something for someone who’s imaginary?”
Kona turned toward her fellow blonds and replied, “Because I want to.”
With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Bentley explained, “As it turns out, his imaginary girlfriend is real.”
“Wait,” Zack said, stopping his friends in their tracks as he slowly turned to Bentley, “so you mean to tell me that pretty girl on his wall isn’t just some random girl from a magazine he claimed was his girl?”
Slowly nodding, Bentley smirked, “Yeah.” Letting out a laugh as Zack’s expression shifted into one of utter disbelief, he asked, “Did you guys seriously think he and I were lying about visiting her and stuff?”
Despite the somewhat apprehensive looks on his friends’ faces, they chose not to reply. However, Kona was never one to hold back. “Duh,” she replied. “Just look at your brother. He’s conventionally attractive, sure, but he has no interest in any girl at school despite them vying for his affection, and he’s got two girls with him everyday but neither one is interested. I think half the school thinks he just made her up to avoid being picked on or something.”
Bentley let out a chuckle, “You guys really thought she was fake!”
August offered him a nervous smile and softly muttered, “Well…”
“Kona’s not wrong,” Zack slowly agreed. Glancing at the cockily smirking blonde, he rolled his eyes and quickly added, “Not this time, at least.”
Glancing between his friends, Bentley barked out a laugh and continued walking toward the edge of the school’s property line, “I can’t believe it! Guys, I showed you pictures of us in her hometown.”
The trio followed behind Bentley, muttering excuses that turned into a jumbled mess as they reached the crosswalk at the edge of the sidewalk. “Honestly,” Kona began, “I didn’t think she was real until I saw her in the driveway.”
“Hang on, you actually saw her?” August asked, a smile spreading across his face as he placed a hand on Kona’s arm. “What does she look like?”
“Does she look like the pictures?” Zack asked before Kona could speak.
“Yeah, but-”
“Did you get to talk to her?” August interrupted. “Is she nice?”
“Guys,” Bentley chuckled, checking to make sure traffic had stopped before stepping into the crosswalk. “Viv is staying at our house; you’ll probably meet her after school.”
As the trio jogged into the crosswalk to catch up with Bentley, August thanked the stopped drivers with a slight wave as he said, “I can’t believe Miles is letting her stay with you guys. Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”
“Not really,” Bentley shrugged. “She couldn’t really stay anywhere else. Mick and Butchy have a full house right now with her parents staying over, Carrie’s still fixing up her apartment, and it was either our house or a hotel.”
“I could see her staying with Carrie,” Kona claimed thoughtfully as they reached the other side of the street. “But why would she stay with Mick and Butchy?”
Scouring his brain for something to work with, Bentley turned to his friends and explained, “Mick and Vivien are cousins.”
Although Zack and August easily accepted Bentley’s statement, heading into the Winn Dixie and sighing as the building’s air conditioner blasted them in the face, Kona didn’t seem convinced. Walking alongside Bentley as she watched August retrieve a basket to carry through the store, she crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “Mick doesn’t have a lot of pictures of Vivien at her house, does she?”
Bentley shrugged, “She has a ton at her family’s cabin in New Hampshire. I guess she just hasn’t brought any into Butchy and Lela’s place yet.”
“That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” Bentley muttered as he ventured into the potato chips and soda aisle behind August. “When Royce and I moved in with Miley, we didn’t have much for decorations. Maybe Mick is just waiting until they finish renovating before she puts anything up.”
“Maybe,” Kona sighed. Despite the urge to press for more, the pleading look in Bentley’s eyes makes her drop the subject. “So, what’s she like anyway?”
“Did you not listen to Royce ramble on and on about her when we got back from vacation?” Bentley asked, placing a can of Pringles into the basket August held.
“To be fair,” August began, “we all thought he was just making her up as he went.”
With a smirk and a shake of his head, Bentley sighed, “Well, Vivien’s the type of girl to stand up for what she believes is right, she’s insanely smart, she’s a figure skater, and, even though we all say she and Riven should be in the Olympics, she just enjoys it for fun.”
Tossing a soda can into the basket, Zack asked, “Who’s Riven?”
“Viv’s skating partner,” Bentley replied as he followed August into the next aisle. “He’s tall - like, Butchy tall - and, from what Viv says, he’s like an older brother to her. He’s also really nice. He bought me and Royce hot chocolates from Dunkins one time.”
“What’s a Dunkins?” Zack asked.
“It’s a coffee shop chain up in New England,” Bentley explained. “They’ve got this really cool drink called a coolatta, and I like the strawberry one, but Royce always gets the vanilla bean, and-
“Anyway,” Kona interrupted, dragging the spiraling conversation back onto the topic of the girl she had only just met that morning, “Does Vivien have a favorite color?”
“Purple,” Bentley replied. Then, as he thought for a second, his expression shifted, “Or was it green? No, wait, that’s the color of her eyes. Her favorite color has to be purple.”
“Whose favorite color is purple?”
Turning toward the new voice, Bentley smiled as Royce’s friend, Sandy, joined them, grabbing a box of fruit snacks from the bottom shelf as she stepped up beside Zack. “Royce’s girlfriend, Vivien.”
Sandy snorted, “Is he still rolling with that?”
“What do you mean?” August asked.
The ginger girl tucked her fruit snacks under her arm and shoved her hands into her pockets before sighing, “C’mon, guys, we all know he made her up.”
“Actually...” August drawled slowly.
“She’s real,” Kona finished plainly as she plucked a can of maraschino cherries from the shelf. “I met her this morning at their house.”
Sandy chuckled, shaking her head at the idea before meeting the girl’s eyes and allowing her smirk to fall. “Wait, seriously?”
Kona nodded, the tips of her braided pigtails bouncing against her collarbone. “She’s legit. I even shook her hand.”
Disbelief combined with excitement flashed across Sandy’s face as her eyes sparkled with delight. “No fucking way.”
“Way,” Bentley said with a grin.
Shoving her box of fruit snacks into Zack’s hands, the fourteen-year-old scrambling to catch them as he sputtered out confused noises, Sandy turned on her heel and ran out of the aisle, her hand-me-down sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as she raced to meet up with her friends once more. Turning to his friends with a raised brow as the redhead ran from sight, Zack asked, “Is she on crack or something?”
Bentley shrugged as Kona replied, “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
Zack inspected the box he had been tossed and held it up for his friends to see, “The hell am I supposed to do with this?”
“Put it on the shelf for her to find later?” August offered.
Bentley took the snacks and placed them in the basket tucked into the crook of August’s elbow with a sigh, “Chances are, we’ll see them before we leave the store.”
As the group continued onward, their basket slowly filling with snacks and things they could eat on the drive to Bentley and Royce’s house, Kona sighed, “So, what do you think Vivien’s doing right now?”
Bentley shrugged, “Miles’ boss never let me or Royce anywhere near the cars when we used to go with him to work, so she’s probably stuck sitting in the waiting room, bored out of her mind.”
‘If I have to be subjected to these morons singing Oh, Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison one more time, I’m going to burn this place to the ground.’ Glancing up from her phone, where she hastily typed out an entry in her notes folder, Vivien took a deep breath and tried not to roll her eyes as Miles and his bumbling band of baboons horsed around. Their boss for the day, Jeff Woodard, was a chill guy, which Vivien discovered when he brought sandwiches and coffee back for lunch earlier, but how on earth he tolerated them all day, she would never know.
Not much had happened so far that day. An elderly lady whose car smelled like a bag of cats had come in and chatted with her while she waited for her car to be fixed, but that was about the extent of her entertainment during her so-called “fun time with Miles” day. The lady needed to be convinced that her brake pads were as bad as the boys said they were, so Vivien put it into terms the elderly woman could understand, helping her decide to pay for the service so the guys wouldn’t have to struggle with her any longer. After the woman left, thanking Vivien graciously for her help and offering her some purse candies she had never seen before, she had been relocated from the waiting room to the shop floor, perching herself on a stack of tires the guys had fashioned into a chair. Thankfully, Jeff didn’t give a shit where she set up camp for the day so long as she didn’t constantly bug his workers like “tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum” had a few months back - whoever that was.
At first, Jeff and Miles’ coworkers for the day - Raymond and Joshua - had been a bit… well… standoffish toward her, but after netting them a good sale with the elderly lady and her cat-scented car, they warmed up to her presence. According to the brief run-down she’d gotten from Miles before the guys showed up, Jeff’s youngest daughter was about her age, and he was, despite the gruff exterior she had originally been met with, the definition of a girl dad. Raymond - the thirty-something-year-old, walking spaghetti noodle of a man who looked like a strong wind would blow him away - was apparently in a garage band that played hit songs for birthday parties and other events in the area. The youngest of the bunch, eighteen-year-old Joshua, looked like Simon from Bridgerton, but shorter, and had the crackheaded temperament of a husky. When Vivien offhandedly brought up the fact that he looked as though he walked off of a photo shoot for some ritzy cologne company - the kind in magazines that give anyone walking by a migraine - he had snorted a laugh and told her that he was sure he’d break any camera pointed in his direction. Eyeing him as he hefted two truck tires down from the upper racks on the wall with little to no effort, Vivien found herself immediately disagreeing.
It wasn’t long into her time there that Vivien found out why the waiting room door had a sign on it that told anyone who entered to close it afterward. She had figured the waiting room was soundproofed or something to keep the loud noises of their machinery from bothering customers while they waited, but as the radio was cranked up, she discovered the actual reasoning - the mechanics’ singing voices. Every time a new song came on the radio - whether over the speakers or in someone’s car - the gaggle of grease monkeys would sing along, allowing her a front-row seat to the next season of Hillbilly American Idol. From what she had heard of their rendition of Heat Wave by Martha and the Vandellas, Raymond had a decent singing voice so long as it wasn’t brought to his attention that he was, in fact, singing aloud; Joshua - or Joshy, as the guys called him - had the vocal range of an injured cat, but was very enthusiastic and unapologetic with his lack of singing talent; Miles refused to sing solo, but his underlying, unmistakable, southern twang underneath his friends’ voices was something Vivien had picked up on immediately.
Miles had a good singing voice, that much Vivien was sure of, hastily typing her thoughts on the matter into her notes folder to compile into her evening journal session when she got back to their house. Apart from humming along to the radio in the car and singing a few lyrics to get help remembering a song title, she had never heard him sing. It was a rare gift, she was sure, but why? He literally came from a world revolving around music. Wouldn’t it be easy for him to take to the stage?
Shaking her head as House of the Rising Sun began to play and Joshua began singing along in what she assumed was his signature, off-pitch-but-proud voice, Vivien pocketed her phone and watched as another car rolled to a stop outside. The car wasn’t parked in the shop’s immediate waiting lot - a subtle sign that the person wasn’t there for work on the car - but Vivien hoped more than anything that she would have enough time to sneak a quick walk around the car once the person left their vehicle. If the style of the vehicle was anything to go by, it was from the mid-to-late thirties, but it was the torpedo hood ornament glistening in the sun that caught her attention. Pushing herself from the admittedly quite comfortable seat she had made out of a stack of tires, Vivien hid her phone in the folded-up sweatpants she had taken off after dismounting Miles’ motorcycle and began walking toward the open garage bay door.
Ducking under equipment and hopping over the gasoline line Miles was using to fill up their last customer as the man driving the car got out and walked toward one of the shops to the left of the repair garage, Vivien edged her way to the exit, her eyes widening as a smile spread across her face. Taking in the pale, robin’s egg blue car and the little red circle on the bumper with LaS carved in silver on it, she felt the desire to reach out and touch it.
It was real.
Her great-grandfather’s fabled LaSalle. When her Grandpa George and Nonna had taken in her great-grandfather, Papa Angus, Vivien had clung to him like ivy on an abandoned building. Papa Angus was born in the midst of The Great Depression, but he was anything but the stereotype of his age range. One of Vivien’s greatest memories with the man was going to local car shows, examining them and listening to her Papa’s stories relating to each one he had owned in the past - which, because of his age, was a lot.
Her favorite thing to do was listen to his stories and his adventures, which he would describe in such detail that she felt as though she was there with him. But, of all the stories he would tell, the one that always stood out was about “his baby” - a 1937 LaSalle. The “poor man’s Cadillac,” as it was often called, was a cheaper version of a Cadillac, but, according to Papa Angus, it was actually built better and tougher than any Cadillac on the market.
Vivien had never gotten the chance to see one while her Papa was alive. At least, not in anything more than a picture. He had sold his long before her birth. She had never gotten the chance to buy him back his prized possession before he passed. Now, two years later, nearly fifteen hundred miles away, she was staring at an exact replica of her Papa’s baby. The only thing she was sure it was missing was the hand-embroidered details her great-grandmother had sewn into the seats. Everything else matched the black-and-white pictures she had been shown over the years, but now, it was sitting before her in vivid color, the paint shimmering in the Florida sun.
Whoever owned the car must have loved it, seeing as they had taken such impeccable care of it. The silver chrome of the hubcaps shone, the pale blue paint had few, if any, scratches or chips, and everything about the interior screamed immaculate despite her inability to see anything past the steering wheel. Even if the car had been sitting in some junkyard, rusting away for fifty-odd years, the tug in her chest drawing her to the car would have felt the same. After all, it was her Papa’s car.
Feeling her eyes burn slightly at the idea that, even in another universe, she had some form of a connection to her Papa Angus, her eyes raked over every curve of blue paint and flash of silver metal, wanting nothing more than to commit the car to memory. The paint shone in the sunlight, glittering specks of light dancing within the shades of blue as Vivien leaned against the open bay wall and drank it in. The bubbled wheel wells, the red and gold V8 emblem on the left side of the grille, the suicide doors, the silver line down the center of the windshield she recalled her grandfather saying was the only downside to the beautiful car, and, of course, the white wall tires that gleamed elegance as opposed to the dull black wall tires cars had resorted to over the years.
Smiling at the hood ornament - a silver torpedo that seemed to gleam back at her - Vivien fought the urge to dash across the concrete sidewalk to pat the colorful hood as she muttered to no one in particular, “Hey, Papa. Good to see you’re here too.”
Of course, the car had nothing to say in return.
Vivien stood in the doorway for a while, contemplating speaking to whoever owned the vehicle when they returned, but her thought process was halted as a hand landed between her shoulder blades. Glancing over her shoulder, she met a pair of concerned blue eyes that seemed to ask what Miles’ mouth refused to. Nodding to the older boy, Vivien turned back to the car and said, “I’m fine, Miles.”
“Talking to yourself while staring at a random car isn’t what I’d qualify as ‘fine’, kiddo,” Miles retorted softly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Vivien replied. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” Taking in a deep breath, she crossed her arms over her chest, nodding toward the old car as she spoke, “That’s my Papa’s car.”
“Your Papa?”
“Mhm.”
Raking through his limited memories of Vivien’s family tree, Miles faintly recalled visiting Vivien’s family’s house and searching everywhere for the then fourteen-year-old, only to find her crying in an old treehouse in the backyard, clutching an old flannel like it was her most prized possession. He sat with her, allowing her to curl into his side until she was ready to go back inside, but that wasn’t until long after her other relatives had left. After confiding in him that her great-grandfather, a man whom half the town - both related and not - referred to as Papa, had passed away, Miles encouraged her to cry as much as she needed to all while fighting back tears of his own at how distraught the younger girl was. He had only ever seen her as this strong, feisty little girl who handled everything with a strength even adults had yet to possess. Seeing her so broken and fragile was something he hoped he never had to see again.
Swallowing another question of her wellbeing, Miles brought his arm around her shoulders and instead asked, “Is that who you were talking to?”
“Yeah.” Vivien eyed the car for a while, grateful for the silence Miles offered her. He had never been one to push her to talk, and she was grateful for that more often than not. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed, “I think he’s proud of me for coming here and exploring his old stomping grounds.”
Glancing down at the top of Vivien’s head before allowing his gaze to flicker back onto the car, Miles asked, “Your Papa lived here?”
With a small nod, Vivien agreed, “He and Grammy Gloria were snowbirds - come for the winter and go back north in April after it’s done snowing. Even when they had kids, they came down here and would transfer their credits back and forth. Then, the kids got to high school, and they chose to settle up by where Nonna Dawn and Grandpa George’s summer camp is.”
Biting back a snort at the thought of the old stoner and his take-no-shit wife running a summer camp, Miles claimed, “I’ve never been there.”
Lifting her head from Miles’ shoulder and turning her widened emerald eyes onto him, she asked, “Seriously?” Nodding wordlessly, Miles found himself smirking as Vivien sputtered out a nonsensical string of disbelieving noises before her gaze leveled and she turned back into the shop, taking his wrist in her hands and dragging him behind her until she reached the stack of tires she had chosen as her throne of choice for the day. Releasing him just long enough to snatch her phone from its hiding spot and scroll through her photo albums, Vivien forced the phone into Miles’ hand and said, “Scroll through. You’ve gotta see it.”
“Viv,” Miles said in a low tone, placing his hand on hers and glancing around before shaking his head. “We can’t risk someone seeing this.”
Sending Miles a tilted look he could easily tell was a “you’re kidding, right?” stare, Vivien said, “Dude, I’ve been on that thing all day. Nobody gives a shit. Besides, two seconds isn’t going to kill us.”
Offering the girl a pleading look, Miles tried to shove the phone back into her hands just as Jeff called out from the front desk, “Miles.”
Tucking the phone into the pocket of his grease-stained coveralls, Miles whirled around and asked, “Yeah?”
“Take a twenty and get sandwiches for lunch, will ya,” Jeff responded, glancing away from the clock on the wall to his worker. “And get the girl something extra while you’re at it. Cookies, a brownie, somethin’ from that record shop all the teenyboppers hang out at - I don’t give a fuck.”
“Teenyboppers?” Vivien whispered as a bewildered grin tugged at her lips. “I’m a teenybopper now?”
Nudging the young brunette with his elbow in an effort to get her to shut up, Miles stepped up to the counter and took the money Jeff offered before joking, “Says the man who said he didn’t want another kid hanging around the shop.”
Glancing past Miles to where Vivien was softly snickering to herself, Jeff pointed in her general direction and met Miles’ gaze as he said, “That one, I like. She knows her shit and she put up with those two imbeciles you call coworkers for the last few hours without any fuss. Now go get her somethin’ special’ fore I change my mind.”
As Miles grabbed Vivien and guided her toward the door, he snorted as Josh teased their manager, “Adopted another one, eh, Jeff?”
“Fuck off,” came the man’s reply.
Making sure Vivien knew to duck under one of the lifted cars, Miles took her hand and led her through the shop, directing her over the oil hose Joshua had forgotten to hang up before leading her out of the shop and onto the sidewalk. Squinting as the sun glared down on him, Miles stepped into the fresh air and sucked in a breath before releasing Vivien’s hand. Pulling his wallet from the pocket that held Vivien’s phone, Miles slipped the twenty into the back pouch and took a ten out before holding it out for Vivien to take. “Here, teenybopper. Go waste some money at the record shop while I order lunch. You can take your sweet-ass time and just meet me back at the shop when you’re done, if you want.”
Pushing the money back toward Miles, she asked, “What even is a teenybopper?”
“Apparently, it’s a stubborn little shit who won’t take money when offered,” Miles quipped, pushing her hand down and offering her the money once more.
“I don’t need it,” Vivien shrugged, taking Miles’ hand in hers and shoving his fingers into a fist around the dollar. “If anything, I have far too much already. My dad and aunts gave me more money on top of the thousand bucks I already set aside for this trip, so…”
Although Miles could hear the sincerity in her voice and see the humor in her eyes, he couldn’t resist the feeling as though she had punched him in the gut. A literal child - someone just barely old enough to have a part-time job in her home state - had more money in her pocket than he probably earned in three, maybe four months, if not more with what her dad and aunts had given her. As she said, she felt she had too much for her vacation to their little pocket of Florida. He would kill to have that problem - too much money, not enough things to spend it on. Hoping Vivien couldn’t see through his almost nonexistent grin to the pit of wistfulness he had learned to cover over the years, Miles nodded and sighed, “You don’t want more.”
Almost wishing she had kept her mouth shut about how much money she had just sitting in her NASA wallet, Vivien watched Miles shove the bill back in his wallet and tuck the peeling leather wallet back into the pocket of his grease-stained coveralls before correcting his statement, “I don’t need more. Put it toward bills or groceries or claim it is as a portion of my rent or some shit.”
“You’re not paying rent while you’re living with us, kid,” Miles argued despite the desire to thank her for putting something toward the growing grocery list he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle once he cashed the check Jeff had shoved in his jacket upon his arrival that morning.
Eager to move away from the topic of money and the Murphy’s struggle to make ends meet, Vivien waved him off with a hand, “Whatever, Miles-per-gallon, just keep it. But… I’ll take a meatball grinder, if that makes you feel any better. With extra sauce and either mozzarella or parmesan shredded cheese, please.”
Grateful for the change in subject as the tension within him began to lessen, Miles nodded and glanced back at his workshop, knowing all too well that Jeff wouldn’t be pleased with her just wanting a sandwich. Jeff wasn’t one to show affection outright, but anyone who worked with him knew he liked to spoil his crew. His brothers hadn’t passed Jeff’s sit-still, shut-yer-yaps, and don’t-ask-questions test, but Vivien had unknowingly passed it and surpassed the man’s expectations the moment she sealed the deal with Miss Patsy - the cat lady who had come in earlier - thus earning her ‘something special’ on Jeff’s dime. He would make sure Vivien had something upon their return. Miles just had to figure out what that something was.
Miles ran a hand through his hair, smudging grease across his forehead in the process, and asked, “You want a brownie or something with it? Jeff’ll kill me if you don’t get something extra.”
Vivien had never really been a big fan of chocolates, but brownies were a soft spot in her book - right up there with hot cocoa and Ferrero Rochers - so she relented with another shrug. “Yeah, sure. Can I check out the record place while you get lunch?”
“I already said you could, kid.” Slowing to a stop outside the sandwich shop, Miles stepped aside to let a man with a bag of food leave the store before gesturing to a sign that was hung just beyond a pale yellow awning. “It’s right down there. Kona’s dad will be doing his broadcast right now, but her mom should be working. With any luck, you’ll meet Trixie and Loony.”
Jerking back slightly and sending Miles the most bewildered look she could muster, Vivien asked, “Who the hell names their kid Loony? Trixie I can kind of understand as a nickname, but Loony? That’s just torture.”
“I never said they were kids,” Miles said with an air of mystery lacing his words. However, before Vivien could question him further, he ducked into the sandwich shop, the bell above the door tinkling to signal his entrance.
Blinking at the place Miles had vacated, Vivien contemplated his words for a moment before rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she turned in the direction he had pointed her in. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t ask questions. After all, she’d find out soon enough. Passing a few small shops and other businesses on her way down the strip - a florist, a laundromat, a pharmacy, and a few coffee shops that, if the signs were anything to go by, were rivals - Vivien found herself peering in windows to see what each business had. It wasn’t until she found herself staring at the psychedelic designs drawn in chalk on the sidewalk that Vivien realized she had found the record shop.
From what she could see through the random advertisement posters in the window, a lava lamp glowed and flowed by the front of the shop, casting shades of oranges, yellows, and reds across the parts of exposed glass that weren’t plastered with papers. Pressing a hand against her forehead and leaning in to get a better look through the window, Vivien saw the shop was mostly empty, bar from maybe two or three shoppers and a woman with tanned skin and almost white blonde hair who sat behind the counter, reading what Vivien could only assume by the man on the front was a romance novel of some kind. The same kind her Nonna would read that Vivien’s parents insisted she never try reading. Now that she was old enough to understand what was going on between those pages, Vivien was glad she never picked up one of those books.
Shaking her head to rid herself of that train of thought, Vivien took a step back and looked at the storefront. Despite the rainbow array of records hung in the front window on the opposite side of the door, the front of the store didn’t really scream “record shop.” With the over-the-top swirls of white and black, the funky welcome mat with unusual stains on it, and the “Buy, Sell, Trade,” sign glowing in the window, it looked less like a record shop and more like a sketchy pawn shop on the wrong side of town that drug addicts would go to in order to borrow money for their next fix. In a best-case scenario, it sort of looked like a pot shop back in Sanbornton that was mostly frequented by the older generations of hippies who loved the fact that their favorite strains of Mary Jane were now perfectly legal.
Not that she knew any of those… or was related to one of them.
Willing to take her chances, Vivien made sure she had her wallet tucked into one pocket and her taser pen from Riven’s dad in the other before gripping the door handle, taking a deep breath, and pulling it open. Stepping into the shop, she instantly found the shop much more welcoming on the inside than it was on the outside. Music pumped from boxy speakers in the upper corners of the walls, and Vivien found herself easily bopping her head along to the beat of some song by The Kinks as she edged further into the shop, stepping around a relatively tall man with light brownish-blonde hair as he talked to the woman at the counter. Juicy watermelon and freshly cut cantaloupe wafted through the air, presumably coming from the fruit salad the woman behind the counter was halfheartedly jabbing her fork into as she discussed shipping options with the man before her.
His leather jacket had a small logo on the shoulders - orange and yellow streaks in a flashy circle with something written in gold in the center - and Vivien wanted to ask him about it, but seeing as the man’s jacket definitely wasn’t from the rat gang Butchy led, she steered clear. Miles’ warning from earlier about rival groups having it out for her if she mentioned any association with any specific gang rang through her head as she stepped around the man, following the funky fonts above the crates of records until she found herself stepping up to a crate full of foreign rock music.
The Beatles, The Animals, and The Kinks filled out most of the crate, but having only seen the records in their modern, remastered forms - or exceedingly overpriced on eBay - the price tags taped to each sleeve made Vivien feel as though she had found the motherlode. Scanning over various other genres, Vivien felt like a kid in a candy store. Three bucks for a Beatles record? Two for Etta James? Four for The Beach Boys? That was unheard of!
Grinning to herself as she realized she could probably buy one of every record she wanted and still have money left over, Vivien began pulling records from the crates and stacking them on her arm. Bob Dylan, Dionne Warwick, The Beatles, Leslie Gore, and The Shangri-Las all made it into her stack of choice records before her outstretched hand bumped another. Turning to see a man who seemed to embody the hippie movement, Vivien took a fleeting moment to take in the shorter man’s appearance as they both took a step back from the stack of records. He stood maybe two or three inches shorter than her and reeked of the same stench her grandfather did. He wore an oversized jean jacket, a psychedelic shirt that made Vivien’s eyes twitch, and a pair of faded, flared corduroys that Vivien swore she would have bought if she’d seen them on a rack at the thrift store. All in all, the man looked - and, frankly, smelled - like what she thought of when she envisioned Woodstock, but his dopey, laid-back smile and his bleary brown eyes sort of reminded her of her grandparents’ dog, Dopey Ding.
Gesturing to the vinyl they both had reached for, Vivien smiled and said, “All yours, my dude.”
Reaching wordlessly for the record, the man’s bloodshot eyes scanned Vivien’s form from head to toe before drifting back to her eyes as he cradled the record to his chest. As his weed-addled mind began to process and the gears in his head ground to life, he pointed at the tiny peace symbol dangling from her choker necklace - an accessory she had unknowingly received during her mall trip with the girls - swirling his finger in a circle toward the silver emblem on her collarbone with a soft chuckle, “Hell yeah, dudette.”
Both amused and intrigued by the short pothead, Vivien raised her free hand in a peace sign and said, “Peace, man.”
“Fuck yeah,” the almost comically stereotypical stoner drawled.
“Ethan!” a woman’s voice snapped, forcing Vivien to turn toward the woman at the counter who had seemingly been observing whilst talking with the biker. The weeded-out hippie - Ethan, she supposed - raised his hands in the form of surrender as the woman snipped, “It’s bad enough you come in here to harass my daughter’s cats on your lunch break every day. Quit bothering my customers.”
“He’s not bothering me,” Vivien insisted with a smile. “We’re just chatting about this new record from a rock band from England.”
The woman glanced between the two, scrutinizing the interaction before sighing and shaking her head, returning to the conversation at hand as the biker before her said something Vivien couldn’t quiter make out. Turning back to the shorter man, Vivien grinned as his bloodshot eyes met hers, a gleam of something between pride and amusement flickering underneath the obvious signs of his high. He leaned close enough to Vivien that she was sure she’d get a contact high and, in a not-so-quiet whisper, said, “The cats hate my disco ball.”
“You carry a disco ball with you?” Vivien asked, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly at the concept.
With a nod that bobbed the curtain of unmanaged curls surrounding his shoulders, Ethan pulled his keys from his jacket’s absurdly large inner pocket and allowed a tiny disco ball to dangle between them. “Loony hates it.”
Finally realizing why Miles was acting so mysterious about the names earlier, Vivien laughed and asked, “Is that the only reason you have it? To bug the cats?”
“‘Course not.” Ethan looked around as though someone might hear him before muttering, “Got it at a concert I snuck into. Teasing the cats is just an added perk.”
Vivien let out a breath of a laugh, but Ethan gestured for her to follow him before she could say anything. Glancing around, Vivien shrugged. What was the harm? Following the short stoner through the shop, Vivien looked around for the cats, checking under shelving units and inside empty crates before she was stopped, slamming into Ethan’s back and nearly toppling the unsuspecting pothead over. Waving off the girl’s quick apology, Ethan stepped to the side and gestured toward a fluffy cat tree in the same manner Vanna White would the board on Wheel of Fortune.
With a poorly contained snort, Vivien stepped up beside the shorter brunet and found two cats staring back at her - a ginger Maine Coon with piercing golden eyes and a slinky tortoiseshell with heterochromatic blue and green eyes and a half-black, half-orange face. Vivien’s grin grew as the tortoiseshell cat rose from its perch and stretched itself out before sitting on the tower's edge to observe her. Stretching out a hand, she said, “Hello, pretty kitty.”
“That’s Bellatrix,” Ethan stated. “The other one is… well, I’m not really sure.”
Glancing over at the hippie as the cat ducked under her palm, Vivien’s eyebrow raised beyond the edge of her bangs as she asked, “I thought you come here every day?”
Ethan nodded in confirmation, his shaggy, loose curls bobbing at the action, “I do, but that cat’s got a lotta names, dudette.” Counting on his fingers, he said, “Luna, Loony the Maine Coony, Grand Larceny-”
“Grand Larceny?”
“It’s because she steals things from unsuspecting shoppers,” a man’s voice piped up from beyond the cat tree, making Vivien jump as her eyes snapped up to the wall. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as she looked around for the person to match the voice, but it wasn’t until a roller blind the same color as the walls around it moved that Vivien realized their conversation was overheard by the same man who had driven the creepy pedophile van from earlier in the morning. Kona’s dad - Jonathan, was it? - smiled at her startled expression and said, “Sorry to eavesdrop, kids. I was just checking on the cats now that I’ve got a new record on.”
Peering into the room as music thumped from within, Vivien grinned, “The guys said you run a radio show.”
“They’d be right.” Nodding as he hooked his clunky, oversized headset on a stand that seemed to teeter on the edge of the table in the center of the room, Jonathan crossed the room and opened a door a few feet away, leaving his studio room and offering Vivien a smile as he held out a hand in greeting. “I’m Jonathan, Kona’s dad. I was a bit preoccupied this morning, so I never introduced myself Are you related to the Murphy’s?”
“Vivien,” she replied, latching hands with the older man. “And, no, I’m dating Royce. I’m just staying with them for my spring break.”
“Ah,” Jonathan breathed, nodding to himself as he allowed Vivien to take her hand back. Jonathan’s hazel eyes flitted from the girl before him to the stoner behind her as Ethan dangled his disco ball keychain above his daughter’s cat, Luna. Sighing and shaking his head at the shorter brunet, Jonathan cleared his throat enough to drag Ethan’s attention away from the enthralled felines as he tapped his watch and spoke, “Shouldn’t you be back at the studio by now, Ethan?”
The pothead’s eyes widened, and he whipped around, bleary eyes scanning the wall for clocks before latching onto the one above the counter. Squinting at the clock for a moment, he slowly registered the time before breathing, “Oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” Jonathan chuckled. “Better get going, hoaloha.”
Turning back to the man, Ethan looked at the record sleeve he had tucked under his arm and glanced toward the front counter where Kona’s mom was sitting, still talking in a hushed voice with the biker Vivien had narrowly avoided slamming into earlier. He seemed to debate purchasing the record for a moment before reluctantly holding it out for Jonathan to take. The man took the record from Ethan and inspected it for a moment before grinning to himself - he knew it was only a matter of time before Ethan snatched up the record he had been eyeing since they got it in the week before.
Seeing the stoner’s reluctance as he turned to leave, Vivien turned to Jonathan and asked, “Can I buy it?”
Although she wasn’t looking at him, Vivien heard Ethan let out a noise similar to a wounded cat as she caught him whirl around through the corner of her eye. Jonathan glanced between the pair before lowering his gaze to the rock vinyl in his hands. While the genre of music wasn’t something he assumed a girl of her age - and rather innocent appearance - would be interested in, Jonathan was never one to judge, let alone when it meant a sale. Meeting the girl’s eyes, a pair of emerald pools that seemed to border on pleading, Jonathan’s eyebrow raised, and he asked, “You want it?”
Glancing over at Ethan and his kicked-puppy expression, Vivien shook her head, “No, but he does. And, if he’s not gonna buy it for himself, I’ll buy it for him.”
Examining the confused look on Ethan’s face, it was easy to see that he was either too high to comprehend the girl’s intentions or was simply trying to figure out why she was doing what she was when she didn’t even know him. Then, as Jonathan took in Vivien’s pleading smile, he nodded, handing Vivien the record and turning to Ethan with a grin, “I’ll have Nalani put it aside for you to pick up after your shift. For now, get going before they threaten to fire you. Again.”
Watching Jonathan walk between them on his way to speak with his wife, Vivien turned to Ethan and added his vinyl to her growing stack before telling him, “He’s right, you should go.”
As Vivien breezed by him, her fruity perfume masking his cloud of marijuana for a fleeting moment, Ethan jerked out of his stupor and sputtered, “You’re seriously buying me that?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t know me.” He paused for a moment, halfheartedly examining the girl before him as he muttered, “Or do you?”
Turning to the somewhat coherent stoner, hoping his moment of clarity was long enough to break through to him, Vivien said, “Your name is Ethan, you work at a studio nearby, you smoke some serious kush, and you must be nice if these guys haven’t kicked you from their store for harassing their cats.”
Half-giggling, Ethan smirked, “The cats love me.”
“I’m sure they do,” Vivien snickered, somewhat grateful that he ignored the rest of her statement as she stepped up to the register and slid her stack across to Jonathan. “Now, shouldn’t you get to the studio before they fire you?”
Dazed tawny eyes flitted to the clock once more as Ethan breathed, “Shit.”
As the cogs in his brain slowly rattled to life, steam figuratively bursting from his ears as they worked overtime to get his point across, Ethan stretched out a hand in a closed fist, his eyes expectant beneath the haze of weed. Tapping her fist against his, Vivien introduced herself, “Name’s Vivien, by the way.”
Ethan chuckled with a grin that told Vivien she was in for something straight from the caboose of the short pothead’s weeded-out train of thought, “You look like that thing from that song.”
“Song?” Vivien echoed. “What song?”
Ethan seemed to wrack his brain for a while, wrinkling parts of it that had long since been smoothed out by his weed usage. Finally, through the fog of his high, Vivien could see the light in his eyes flicker on like the electricity back home after a storm knocked the power lines down. Thoroughly proud of himself for remembering the Sheb Wooley song, Ethan snapped his fingers and pointed at Vivien’s outfit as he declared, “The Purple People Eater.”
Scrolling through the recesses of her mind for the song in question, Vivien let out a snorted laugh, shaking her head as she looked down at her outfit. Although unintentional, her ringer tee and sneakers were a light enough shade of purple that her jean shorts made them look the same hue of French lilac. She could see the reasoning behind his declaration, but as the woman behind the counter once again cleared her throat to gain the stoner’s attention, Vivien found herself withholding her approval of his comment.
“Ethan,” the woman - presumably Kona’s mom, Nalani - ground out in an exasperated sigh. “Go to work.”
Like a soldier given an order from his superior, Ethan snapped to attention, offering the woman a salute that looked more like a first-year boy scout than anything militaristic. He then turned toward the door and half-walked, half-stumbled toward it. The bell above the door jingled as the door opened, and with a crooked grin, Ethan turned toward Vivien as he stepped outside and waved, “Later, Purple People Eater.”
“See ya, Ethan.” As the pothead grinned, tucked his hands into his pockets, and wandered away, Vivien turned back to Jonathan, who was shaking his head despite his fond smile. Waiting for the man to manually input her purchase in the register while his wife talked with the leather-clad biker who now stood beside her, Vivien subtly examined the biker from the corner of her eyes, hoping her glasses didn’t betray her secret observances. Rocking back on her heels, Vivien took in the back of his jacket in clearer detail. Streaks of lightning that looked somewhat similar to the tattoo on the side of Riven’s ribs jolted across the back, but it was the giant letters written just under the collar and just above the bottom hem that Vivien took a while to process. Finally, after reading the words “Leader of the Pack,” Vivien decided to avoid talking to the man altogether.
He obviously wasn’t from Butchy’s gang - despite Vivien’s teasing remarks that he legitimately led the first Rat Pack - and she had no desire to get into any type of interaction with anyone outside of the small group of friends the people she cared about had introduced her to. That didn’t stop her from looking, though. She had seen far too many true crime documentaries and podcasts over the years for her to simply not. If the need arose, she would tell Miles about the man later, and she wanted her information to be as accurate as possible.
The first thing she noted was that he was tall, presumably landing somewhere between Miles and Butchy, if she had to guess. After that came his voice. He certainly wasn’t Corpse Husband - one of her favorite, deep-voiced Youtubers - but his voice alone was deep. If she had to equate it to something, he’d sound closer to her Papa Angus’ favorite singer - Johnny Cash. Then came the hair - not dirty blonde, but not quite brunet, with no visible tinges of red or black, and clearly not dyed. Next was the unopened pack of cigarettes in his pocket, the plastic seal line at the top untouched and the V-shaped label giving her practically nothing to go by, but she still made a mental note to ask Miles later on. Maybe he knew someone who smoked that brand. Then, as her eyes moved off of the man’s cigarettes, Vivien found his fingers subtly twirling the black and silver ring on his ring finger - a nervous tick or a habit of some kind, she was sure.
Glancing up at the man’s face, she found his expression almost blank, schooled, and stoic. Almost. The only thing that would give away his feelings to an untrained eye was his eyes, but Vivien could see more than that. They were hazel, from what she could tell, and were more expressive when his face wasn’t. He seemed frustrated. Whether that was to do with the conversation he was having with Kona’s mom or not, she couldn’t be sure, but the tensed muscle in his jaw, the slight squint of his eyes, and the way his head was tipped slightly down gave it away.
Returning her focus to Jonathan as she reached into her pocket for her wallet, Vivien tried to brush off the unease she felt around the man. For all she knew, he was just an average guy having a bad day. People had bad days all the time: who was she to judge whether or not a person was good just based on how they looked? Still, the lingering feeling that something about him just wasn’t right kept her on edge. Maybe it was the fact that he was a leader of a biker gang she didn’t know of or the way he carried himself, but whatever it was, Vivien fought down her unease and waited for Jonathan to tuck her stack of records - bar the one she purchased for Ethan - into a brown paper bag before telling her the total.
Pulling a couple of bills from the side pocket of her wallet, Vivien handed them to Jonathan and accepted her change before tossing her wallet and the change into the bag and taking it down from the counter. Thanking him and wishing him luck on his radio show, Vivien made her way to the door, only to hear the clang of a metal chain following her as she pushed the door open. The sunlight blinded her momentarily as she glanced around, her gaze landing on a cherry-red Indian parked just across from the door. To her dismay, it was parked facing the building, making it impossible for her to read the plate screwed into the back. Glancing over her shoulder to see if she needed to hold the door for the person behind her, Vivien got a quick look at the man who had been standing at the counter as he jogged up and held the door open with one hand and fished his pack of cigarettes from his pocket with the other.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she stepped away, ducking her head in a sort of nod.
“Sure thing, darlin’,” the man replied in an almost bored tone, a thick southern accent looping through every syllable as Vivien heard him peel the wrapper off of his cigarettes.
Despite the well of knowledge from her true crime shows telling her to wait for him to pull away, Vivien continued onward toward the safety of the mechanic shop, checking only briefly for Miles in the sandwich shop on her way by. Thumbing her taser pen as she heaved her bag of records onto her hip, she hoped the man wasn’t following her - or worse, waiting for her to get into a car so he could stalk her all the way home and kill her. She hoped her instincts were just going haywire since she was in an unfamiliar town that was, apparently, overrun with biker gangs, but she was never one to ignore her gut. And sadly, her gut was telling her to be on the lookout. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long before the engine of the motorcycle roared to life, and the bike rolled past, cherry paint glimmering with specks of gold as the sun danced across the metal.
Grateful for once that she had to wear glasses, Vivien squinted at the plate and whispered under her breath, “ALF 1943.” As she watched the bike pull out onto the main streets and peel off with a loud rumble, Vivien repeated the man’s license plate to seal it into her mind just in case she needed it later on. Once the bike was out of sight, she ducked into the shop through the open roller door and made her way through the bay to where the guys had congregated in the break room, setting her bag of records on a chair that had seen better days.
“Where you been, chica?” Raymond asked around a bite of a chicken bacon ranch sandwich so thick Vivien found it a miracle he could unhinge his jaw wide enough to take a bite.
“Yeah,” Josh began with a smirk that smudged the teriyaki sauce on his face into one of his dimples, “you get lost tryin’ to find The Beach Boys in there or somethin’?”
Attempting to appear as normal as possible, Vivien scoffed, “Yeah, right. I was looking for some new Kinks.”
Hacking on his half-swallowed bite of food, Jeff coughed before asking, “New what?”
“It’s a band, you old fucker,” Josh claimed as he thumped the older man’s back. “Part of that British Invasion shit all the girls are going apeshit for lately.”
Rising from his seat and setting his sandwich down on its wrapper as his coworkers bickered about music, Miles ventured over to the rolled-up bag on the counter by the microwave, pulling Vivien’s messy meatball grinder from it before making his way over to her to check out all that she had bought. With a small smile and a fond roll of his eyes as he stepped around Raymond’s chair, Miles watched Vivien’s eyes as they flickered up to meet his. Having known her as long as he had, it took about three seconds for him to clock on to the undercurrent of unease in her eyes, much to her dismay.
Holding the sandwich out for her to take, Miles softly asked, “You alright, Viv? You look pale. Do you need to check your blood pressure?”
“No, I’m fine. There was this guy at the record shop and I just…” With a pointed glance past Miles to his coworkers, who were still shooting remarks at each other from around the wobbly circle table they congregated at for lunch, Vivien offered Miles a small grin and pulled her sandwich from his hand as she said, “I’ll tell you later. But, seriously, I’m fine.”
Despite wishing the girl would say more, Miles nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the table. Shoving Raymond’s feet off of the chair he had set aside for Vivien, Miles gestured for her to sit before making his way to the refrigerator to get her something to drink. As he expected, it didn’t take long for Vivien to fall into conversation with the guys - the kid could make friends with a brick wall if she wanted to - but Miles allowed the conversation to continue without adding his two cents unless prompted to, his attention directed solely at the brunette who somehow managed to end up the cleanest of everyone at the table despite her sloppy, marinara bathed grinder. Glancing at the clock above the open doorway, Miles wished time would move faster.
He needed to know what on earth happened.
Boca Ciega High School prided itself on being one of the best schools in all of Pinellas County. With its state-of-the-art labs, flourishing extracurriculars, and impeccable sports teams, it was known in the community as a great place to send students who could someday go on to be great. Parents, teachers, and administrators always spoke highly of the school, but anyone who looked for more than a second at most of the children in the pictures plastered around the school’s lengthy, winding hallways could tell the soul had been sucked out of them.
The thing was, if you were pretty, popular, or had some connection to either one of the sports teams or a teacher, the school was as great as it was rumored to be. The classes weren’t too hard if you had the right teacher, the other students would leave you alone for the most part, and the lunches weren’t half bad if you could afford the premium meal card. Teachers smiled at you in the hallways and people congratulated you on being a model student, ready to take America by storm when the time came. People looked at you like you were something to be adored.
However, if you were a nobody and had no way to climb the social ladder, you were - for lack of a better term - fucked. For the lowest rung on the ladder - the freshman with no known status in the hierarchy, the school was a prison. Lunches sucked and were usually cold by the time they got to the cafeteria, teachers were typically either really good or really bad, and if you didn’t have an older sibling with some notoriety, nobody cared about you. To make things worse, most of their classes were either on the top floor or in the basement with nothing in between, making it damn near impossible to get from one class to the other between bells.
The one thing every student had in common, regardless of status, was the love they shared for the dismissal bell. Every school day, 2:15 pm was like a grand exodus. The final bell of the day would chime - a wheezing, scratching melody that signified the sweet sound of freedom - and within moments, the building would go from relative peace to chaos at every corner. All at once, classrooms were abandoned as students scurried into the hallway to meet their friends, leaving teachers scrambling to assign homework as their pupils fled the room like it had been set ablaze.
The junior high kids - the poor souls in seventh and eighth grade who were forced to share space with the senior high kids in their final four years of school - would run from the building as fast as their legs would carry them, hoping to somehow make it out before the older, larger kids got there and started shoving their way through to the front yard. Then there were the senior high kids, the ninth through twelfth graders who needed to escape the grueling monotony of the school most of them had been trapped in since they were little twelve-year-olds wandering into seventh grade for the first time. On their way through the gaggles of younger kids, they would talk with their friends about pretty much anything, finally able to discuss the ups and downs of their days as they gathered in the halls and on the front lawn. The lucky ones who could drive would take off instantly, whilst the unfortunate majority was stuck waiting on the lawn to hitch a ride on one of the bright yellow buses that shuttled students somewhere in the general vicinity of their homes.
Although some things changed with time, the reckless abandon and freedom of speech that came with the final bell of the day never did.
“Y’know what, Mr. Campbell can suck a big bag of hairy dicks for all I care,” Kona hissed as she pushed open the front door of the school, shoving her detention slip into the front pocket of her backpack as she began pushing her way through the group of seventh-grade students that had begun gathering on the front steps. “Who the hell gives out Saturday detentions when they know they’re wrong?! It’s such bullshit.”
“I mean, you did call him an asshole to his face,” Bentley argued lightly, despite knowing how justified the blonde’s insult was. “Technically, he has the right to give you detention for that.”
“Technically, he’s an asshole.” Shoving a path through the crowd until they could make their way to a stone bench by where the school buses would soon line up, Kona dropped her backpack onto the table and sat on one of the seats around the table as she scoffed, “I mean, my Uncle Calvin was on the beaches of Normandy and never shuts up about it when we visit him, I think I’d know what day it happened on.”
Although August chose to remain silent for most of the conversation while they were still in the school building, he took the opportunity to finally declare, “He’s just upset that you called him out for being wrong. He hates being told he’s wrong.”
Huffing as he sat on the opposite side of the table, Zack grumbled, “He’s also a racist piece of shit. I heard him call Christie Kim ‘Ching Chong’ in the hall today.”
“Isn’t she Korean?” Kona asked.
“I don’t think he cares,” Bentley sighed as he reached into his backpack for some leftover Pringles from lunch. “He hates anyone who isn’t white.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Zack scoffed, reaching into Bentley’s canister and tugging out a few potato chips. “I bet he wishes everything was still segregated.”
“I don’t doubt it,” August sighed, unzipping his bag to pull out some leftover candy from lunch. “It’s a miracle the school hasn’t fired him yet.”
“I doubt it’ll be long.” Kona smirked, leaning over the table and lowering her voice as she said, “My mom said the PTA has reported him to the admins and superintendent a few times already, so chances aree he won’t be here next year.”
Brushing chip crumbs and salt from his fingers onto the concrete bench, Zack rolled his eyes, “By then, we’ll be Sophomores. We won’t have to put up with his shit anymore.”
Licking the residue of his caramel cream bullseyes from his thumb, August cut in before Kona could say anything, “Yeah, but that means the kids after us won’t either. Even though it doesn’t help the people in our year, it’ll keep people later on from being tormented.”
“I guess you’re right,” Zack huffed, reaching for another handful of chips as Bentley slowly inched the tube of Pringles away from his grabby hands. “It just sucks that we’re stuck dealing with him and his shit until the end of next month.”
Before anyone around the table had the opportunity to say anything, a backpack was tossed onto the concrete table, and a head of fiery red hair flopped dramatically over the top of the bag, a muffled scream coming from the person as they knelt in the gap between Kona and August. Looking up from the redhead, Bentley found the rest of Royce’s friend group approaching, his brother tucking a folder of papers under his arm as he rounded the table and ran his hand through Bentley’s hair. Looking up at Royce, Bentley asked, “What’s up with Sandy?”
“Her class had to run the mile because of Serena,” Kit admitted as she reached over August’s shoulder for a caramel cream. “They didn’t even get time for showers before the bell.”
“The hell did fire crotch do this time?” Kona asked as she halfheartedly patted Sandy’s back.
Lifting her head from the backpack she had shoved her face into, Sandy’s expression seemed to be toeing the line of rage as she hissed, “She called Coach Sidur a forty-year-old virgin dyke when we were in the locker room. Someone told Sidur who, of course, got pissed, and said that, because of Serena’s shit, all the junior girls were going to run the mile. Then, Serena and Violet started making comments while running, and they got held back after class, but the rest of us had to run until ten minutes before the bell.”
“I still don’t get why teachers punish everyone just because one person acted out,” August said with a shake of his head.
“Because teachers just don’t give a fuck,” Lake said, reaching into his bag taking a sip out of a labeless bottle. “Never have, never will.”
“Laken,” Kit hissed, batting at his hand, “is that alcohol?”
Sending his twin sister a somewhat amused grin, Lake replied, “On a Monday? Fuck no. It’s just that drink I nabbed from the store earlier.”
“You stole that?” Kona asked.
“If I did, are you gonna tell on me like this one did?” Lake asked in return, jerking his thumb toward his sister as he lifted the drink back to his lips.
Kona raised a brow at him and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as Kit turned to her twin and snipped, “You’re the one who came home blasted and broke Aunt Bonnie’s lamp.”
“Buzzkill,” Lake retorted with a grin.
“Dipshit.”
“Narc.”
Kit turned to her brother incredulously, ready to defend her actions despite her brother’s teasing smirk, but as a handful of buses began pulling into the school’s parking lot, Royce cut off the one-sided argument and declared, “Time to go, guys.”
Chuckling to himself, Lake capped his drink and tossed it back into his backpack before hauling it onto his shoulder and sauntering off. Kit turned to the others with disbelieving eyes as she breathed, “Please tell me you guys think he’s leaning a bit too far into this ‘badass’ shtick too.”
Despite the nods from the younger teens sitting at the table, it was Sandy’s statement that reassured Kit the most. Pushing herself from the table, the redhead linked arms with her best friend and said, “He’s probably just spending too much time at the wharf, showing off for those jackasses with big boats and even bigger wallets.”
“Probably,” Kit sighed as she allowed Sandy to guide her toward the bus Lake had boarded.
As his friends began making up the distance between the table and the bus, Bentley fell into step on Royce’s right and waited for the others to jog ahead before nudging his brother with his elbow and softly saying, “You’re awfully quiet, RJ.”
Heaving a sigh, Royce glanced around before saying, “It’s been a long day.”
“Why?” Bentley pressed. “Missing Viv that much?”
Rolling his eyes at his baby brother, Royce grinned, “I mean, yeah, but that’s not the whole reason.”
After a few steps of silence, Bentley stepped up at the end of the line of students waiting to board the bus before asking, “Then what is?”
“Well,” Royce began, “I had three pop quizzes, almost all of my teachers sent home enough homework to keep me up for the next month, and I had to run drills with Coach Calahan since Coach Martinez was out sick today.”
Coach Martinez was a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer who used his old military training to help push kids to be good with physical education. Typically, he was a calm and kind yet firm man, a good opposite of Coach Calahan. Calahan was the football coach - a big, burly man with enough facial hair to make a Viking jealous. He wasn’t a particularly mean man, but he never went easy on anyone, especially if he thought they had some kind of potential. Since starting ninth grade, Bentley had only the misfortune of Calahan’s gym class three times, each one seemingly worse than the next. Wincing at the thought, Bentley shuddered as he boarded the bus, “‘Nuff said.”
Dropping into the seat Kit blocked off for him, Royce moved his bag from his shoulder to his lap and sighed as the bus began to fill. Thinking it would be a relatively quiet ride, seeing as Sandy and Lake were busy talking in the seat behind them, he watched others pile into the remaining empty seats and relaxed as he realized Bentley had filled the gap next to August in the row diagonal from his. A tap on his arm made Royce turn, and he smiled as he accepted the stick of bubble gum Kit offered.
As Royce unwrapped the gum, Kit pushed the rest of her packet into her backpack and asked, “So, what’s your girlfriend like?”
Royce grinned, “She’s incredible.”
Rolling her eyes at her friend’s head-over-heels adoration for his girlfriend, Kit chuckled, “I kinda figured that much out myself, idiot. I mean, what’s her personality like; what’s she into?”
Royce let out a breath of a chuckle as he dug into his backpack and tugged out his wallet, flipping it open and proudly showing Kit the picture of himself and Vivien that he kept in the clear fold intended for his ID. The picture was taken in the photo booth at the mall - his first trip there with just her and the other members of Blissful Chaos. They weren’t yet a couple, but Vivien had invited him along to explore with her while the other members of her band talked with the mall’s director about performing there for the annual winter showcase. After the meeting with the director had been successful, the band took turns in the photo booth just outside the food court, taking pictures as a group before Riven pushed Erica and Jade into the booth, paying to let them take a strip of pictures together. Then, once they were done, they swapped out for Royce and Vivien, insisting that they do some together as Royce claimed he had never even seen a photo booth before.
After they split their photo strip in half, he tucked one picture into his wallet and pinned the other image to his bedroom wall, insisting to Bentley that it was just to commemorate the day he’d spent with Vivien and her friends. Even though he knew it was a pack of lies, Bentley had let it slide with minimal teasing, simply happy to see his brother fawning over something other than books and schoolwork. Royce had her picture in his wallet before they were a couple, but now that they were together and had taken many pictures together since, the cleanly cut photo booth picture felt irreplaceable.
“For starters, Vivien’s briliant. And, I mean, not just because she’s got high grades,” Royce claimed as Kit pried his wallet away and smirked at the picture. “She’s kind and welcoming to everyone she meets, she’s constantly standing up for what she believes in, and she’s probably one of the bravest people I know.”
Tracing her thumb over Vivien’s image, Kit grinned, “She’s pretty.”
“Yeah,” Royce breathed as he peered over her shoulder at Vivien’s photo. “She’s got the most insanely beautiful green eyes, and a smile that outshines all the stars in the sky, and don’t even get me started on her hair. It’s long and majestic, and she sits on it all the time, but she’s scared to cut it, so she finds ways to keep it up. Sometimes, when we’re just hanging out, she’ll leave it down and I just want to sit there and play with it while she does other stuff, and-”
Kit lets out a snort of laughter, cutting Royce off as she turns to him with a knowing gleam in her eyes. She holds out his wallet for him to take and grins, “You are so in love with her.”
“I’m not in love with Viv, I just-” Royce shook his head, “-we’re just dating. That’s it.”
“Let me guess, you’ve already got the wedding planned too?”
“We’ve been together for almost four months, that’s not-”
“Love doesn’t have a time frame, Royce,” Kit cut in, rolling her eyes at the somewhat dumbfounded look on his face. “Gosh, and here I thought you were the smart one in your family.”
“Hey!” Royce laughed, shoving her toward the window. “What makes you think I’m not?”
Kit let out a soft snort, shaking her head, “Says the boy who didn’t know he was in love with his girlfriend.”
Royce looked ready to defend himself, but the fire in his eyes died out almost as quickly as it appeared. Sitting back in his seat, Royce thought for a while about Kit’s claim before softly asking, “You really think I’m in love with Vivien?”
“Bentley said you two were in love ages ago,” Kit admitted as she shrugged. “At the time, we all brushed it off, but it’s clear as day, really. Besides, love makes people do stupid shit - like travel fifteen hundred miles just to see some girl you didn’t know you were in love with.”
Flushing a faint shade of pink, Royce attempted to appear nonchalant as he rhetorically asked, “How was I supposed to know?”
Eyeing her friend, a knowing smirk tugged at Kit’s lips as she said, “I’m not sure, honestly, but I’m sure a part of you knows exactly when it happened because you, my friend, are in love with Vivien.” Taking a second to watch the flurry of thoughts and emotions flicker in Royce’s caramel eyes, Kit smiled and elbowed him in the side before teasing, “And, if she has you wrapped around her finger this badly, I know I’m gonna like her.”
Grateful for the way Kit almost always seemed to know just what to say, Royce allowed himself to breathe a laugh and shoved her back, “Oh yeah? What’re you guys gonna do?”
“Other than talk shit about you and trade gloriously embarrassing stories of yours?” Kit asked with a laugh. “I don’t know, probably get milkshakes or have a sleepover or something.”
Rolling his eyes as the bus stopped to let off a load of kids before getting on, Royce chuckled, “You’ve been spending too much time with Sandy.”
Unable to argue with the truth, Kit smiled, “Maybe a little.”
Rushing into a newly evacuated seat, Sandy plopped down by the window and asked, “You two talking smack about me?”
“Talking shit, but yeah,” Royce agreed.
“Fuck yeah,” Sandy cheered softly enough that the crotchety old bus driver couldn’t hear her and give her yet another bus behavior slip for her to forge her grandparents’ signatures for.
Taking up the rest of the seat, Lake chuckled at his red-haired friend, “Yet you give me a hard time for talking shit about you.”
“Because you’re a dick,” Sandy shrugged. Brushing off the boy’s idiocy, Sandy leaned forward to get a better look at Kit before asking, “Did you get anything out of him?”
“Other than the fact that he’s obviously obsessed with her and didn’t realize he was in love with her,” Kit tilted her head side to side before shaking it, “not really.”
Turning back toward Kit with a look of disbelief, Royce hissed, “Kit!”
Tactfully ignoring Royce, Kit pushed his head back toward the seat so that she could see Sandy and Lake and said, “Royce keeps a picture of the two of them in his wallet.”
“Ugh, gross,” Sandy said with an exaggerated shiver. “Sounds like my grandad. All mushy and shit.”
Turning to kneel on his seat as the bus pulled onto another street, Bentley looked over the back of the bench at Sandy and Lake, adding his two cents to the conversation as August turned with him, “You should see his journal. That thing is full of things about Viv.”
Letting out a snort, Lake’s head swiveled toward the boy he shared a desk with in chemistry class and asked, “You’ve got a diary?”
Before Royce could scramble to find a retort, Bentley snickered, “Yeah, he does. And every page is devoted to her.”
“Bentley,” Royce hissed, “shut up! You and I both know that’s not true.”
“Okay,” Bentley relented before turning back toward Lake and Sandy, “he’s right.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s every other page.”
Laughter bubbled up amongst the group as agitation washed over Royce’s expression. His frustration was short-lived as the bus rolled to a stop outside of the South Pasadena mobile home park, and Sandy hefted her backpack onto her shoulder. Waiting for the rest of the kids to line up and make their way off the bus, she chuckled at Royce’s disgruntled expression and said, “Tell your girlfriend I look forward to meeting her. I can’t wait to tell her about the day you fucked up Darren’s face. I bet she’ll be so proud.”
“She already knows,” Royce confessed with a shrug. “And, for the record, she was very proud.”
“I’m sure,” Sandy chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Shoving her way into the walkway between seats, Sandy turned back to her friends and began walking backward toward the front of the bus as she called out to Kona, “Give my babies a treat for me when you get home.”
Scrambling into the seat a pair of seventh-graders had evacuated behind Lake, who had since turned sideways to lay back on his bench, Kona offered Sandy a thumbs up and shoved Zack into the seat before answering, “I’ll call you later if your Roy Orbison came in.”
As she reached the top step, Sandy glanced back at Royce and wiggled her fingers at him as she teased, “See ya, lover boy.”
Royce let out a scoffed laugh as Sandy jogged down the steps and headed out toward the mobile home park where she lived with her grandparents. Typically, August would have gotten off at the same spot and walked to the next street up to go home, but seeing as he was going to be brought home by Kona’s father after getting their homework done at the Murphy’s house, he simply waved to the ginger girl from the window seat and watched her jog into the mobile home park. As the bus lurched forward and the mobile home park disappeared down the street, Royce relaxed in his seat and sighed, thinking back on how far things had come in the little over a year since their arrival.
Sandy was the first friend he made in St. Pete Beach, and he wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed having her around - not that she had really given him a choice in the matter to begin with. She was sarcastic, loved to sneak out of class and never return, and she seemed fiercely determined to do anything she put her mind toward, giving him no wiggle room when it came to becoming her friend. Two days into knowing Sandy, Royce realized she had two very different personas depending on who she was around. When she was with her grandparents, she was the image of the “girl next door” stereotype - sweet, well-educated, mild-mannered, the whole package. However, the second she was away from her straight-laced, by-the-books relatives, she was free to be whoever she wanted to be.
Beyond her split personality issue, Cassandra Wheaton was a genuinely nice person to have on your side. She was an assistant in the school’s office, giving her access to all of the demerits, grades, and detentions given out in the buildings, which she occasionally used to help her friends get out of trouble. During Royce’s first week at the school, she had been tasked with showing him all the classes they now shared, guiding him through the building as she gave him a good understanding of which teachers to avoid at all costs and what classes to swap out of if given the chance. When she sat with him at lunch on the first day and saw he had little more than a hastily thrown-together sandwich and a Ziploc baggie of Cheez-Its, she made her way back up to the lunch counter and snuck an extra pudding cup and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him.
After that, Royce found it nearly impossible to avoid the redhead. Her small extension of friends - a set of fraternal twins named Katrina and Laken Dubois - soon joined their little lunch sessions in the courtyard, sitting on the grass by the fountain and filling him in on all the things he had missed in the first half of the school year. Their parents had been killed in a hurricane back in Louisiana, so they were uprooted from their home in the heart of Lafayette Parish and shipped off to live with their godparents - their aunt and uncle - in a gated community bordering the Pasadena Yacht and Country Club. The loss of their parents, their closely-knit Creole community, and their sense of belonging had sent the siblings for a loop, but it was that same sense of confusion that bonded them to Royce so easily. The trio understood each other.
Katrina - or, rather, Kit - was taller, smarter, and better at hiding her streak of rebellion, regardless of how faint that streak was. She excelled in all of her classes, particularly French, which was, after all, the language they spoke back in Louisiana. Kit was hardworking and constantly busy when she wasn’t in school, working afternoons at Sandy’s family’s ice cream and snack shop inside Roll-A-Way Lanes bowling alley and spending weekends tutoring groups of kids at the local library. She was on the honor roll, was perpetually at the top of every class, and had the trust of almost every adult who knew her name. It took all of two weeks for Royce to find out that Kit had a bit of a temper, but seeing as her brother was the main target of her ire, nobody really got the chance to see it. Then came the day he got the chance to watch her verbally rip a soccer player apart for trying to grope one of her friends in the hallway. Of the twins, Kit was the more reserved, silent type who preferred to listen rather than speak, something her brother made up for in abundance, but she wasn’t afraid to fight for what was right, regardless of the cost.
Laken, who preferred to be called Lake, was a dock hand at the local marina where their uncle worked. Right off the bat, Royce figured out Lake wanted more out of life than what had been handed to him. He constantly spoke of wanting to be something great one day, whether it be a famous athlete, a rock star, or an actor of some sort. Regardless, he wanted to be something more than Barnacle Boy - a taunting jab made by the prissy rich assholes who spent their afternoons yachting around the marina, throwing empty bottles of alcohol into the water for Lake to swim out and clean up. Lake’s uncle begged him to be practical, but he was far from it. In fact, more than once, he had been taken aside by some of the marina’s most high-paying customers to flirt with their wives or in-laws in exchange for money, free drinks, or basically whatever Lake requested despite being underage. He insisted the job was alright, but anyone who knew him, knew he would take pretty much any offer of a new job if given the chance.
The trio had grown inexplicably close to Royce in the year and two months since their arrival in St. Pete Beach, but, then again, so had Bentley’s little gaggle of friends. Like Sandy had guided Royce around, August had been Bentley’s tour guide around Boca Ciega Junior High. However, unlike Royce’s initially reluctant friendship with Sandy, August and Bentley instantly got along. The two were relatively similar in terms of personality, but August’s shy, introverted tendencies were polar opposite to Bentley’s eagerness to make friends, making their friendship an easy one. By the time lunch came around and August showed Bentley to the table where he and his friends, Zack and Kona, ate every day, the two had discussed almost everything under the sun.
Bentley had first been introduced to Kona in the hallway on the way to the first class the three of them shared - English. The first thing Bentley told Royce about Kona was that she was a bit nosy. She had sort of appeared out of nowhere, started pestering Bentley for information about himself on their walk, and sat directly behind him in class, scribbling notes in a journal filled with highlighted notes and fancily swirled cursive. August had reassured him that Kona was harmless but curious and creative, and when he arrived at the lunch table, only to be handed a hand-woven bracelet with a golden sun dangling from it, he realized that Gus was right. Kona was weird, for sure, but she was the kind of weird that Bentley enjoyed being around.
Zack was relatively easygoing as well in terms of friendship, but that was primarily because August had introduced them during basketball drills. Bentley wasn’t exceptional at basketball by any means, but after August had lost and the two of them had come to a draw whilst playing Horse, he had gone from “new kid” to “new friend” with Zack in a matter of minutes. Afterward, on their way to the World History class they shared, Zack defended Bentley against a group of sophomores who had tried pushing him into the stairwell wall, nearly getting into a fistfight with the aggressive tenth-graders before a teacher came to break things up. After that, Zack became a constant presence, a fierce friend and protector, even when Bentley didn’t know he needed one.
Without either knowing of the other’s triumphs, Royce and Bentley had both formed their own, individual friend groups within a week of living with Miles. By the end of that first week, they asked Miles if they could bring their friends home after school to work on projects together and get caught up on assignments as a group. At first, Royce and Bentley had been worried that their friends wouldn’t get along all that well, but they were quickly proven wrong when the gaggle of eight latched onto members of the opposite age group. Kona took to Sandy like a fish to water when she discovered the older girl had a penchant for sneaking out of her grandparents’ home to go visit her friends, Kit took August in during a cookout on the beach and hadn’t been able to pry him from her hip since that day, and Zack and Lake were particularly close after the two went head-to-head at the town pool’s basketball court and refused to give up until well after sundown. Now, over a year later, they were still just as close as they had been then - if not more.
The more Royce thought about their friend group and how much time they spent together after school, the more he wondered how Vivien would react to their eclectic personalities. Her own friend group back home was… different, to say the least. Although Vivien and Kona had seemingly gotten along well, her potential friendship with the others was still in the air. Would she like Sandy’s, well, everything? Would she mind Zack’s perpetual need to argue? How would she react to one of his closest school friends being a teenage alcoholic?
Chewing lightly on his lower lip, Royce’s mind raced until the bus screeched to a stop in the parking lot of the Pasadena Shopping Center - a strip mall bordering the marina where Lake and his uncle worked. Stepping into the aisle to allow Kit to move from their bench, Royce smiled and clapped hands with Lake before telling him he would see him around. Then, as she stood from her seat and hefted her bag onto her shoulder, Kit stepped into the aisle and patted Royce on the shoulder.
Upon receiving a curiously raised brow from the taller boy, Kit grinned and said, “There’s this really sweet book at Bookends that I borrowed last week. I think your girlfriend might enjoy it, so I’m going to see if I can pick it up before my shift, and maybe you can bring it home for her tomorrow, okay?”
“Kit, I-”
“Don’t argue it, Royce,” Kit cut off with a wave of her hand, quickly turning on her heel and starting toward the front of the bus. “She’s going to love it, and when I turn around, you’re going to shut up and nod because you know I’m right.”
Sure enough, as Kit stood at the top step and turned back toward her friends, her expression challenging Royce to speak up, he simply smiled and offered her a nod. “Thanks, Kitty.”
“Atta boy,” Kit said with a proud smile. Turning her attention to the others, she gave a final wave and said, “See y’all tomorrow.”
As a chorus of farewells followed the dark-skinned girl off the bus, Royce transferred his belongings to the seat Laken had left empty behind August and Bentley, giving his friends a final wave as the bus peeled away from the sidewalk. Once they were on the street out of South Pasadena, Royce checked his watch and sighed. Despite their home being a seven-minute drive from the shopping center, they had another half an hour before they would go home. After dropping off a group of students at the Harbor Side Condos just over the bridge from St. Pete Beach, the bus usually dropped the rest of the students off in the community center's parking lot and made them walk home. The old man driving the bus didn’t care for teenagers and made his disdain obvious to all pupils aboard, making the rest of them walk regardless of how far they lived as long as the weather was above fifty degrees.
Thankfully, they weren’t far from home - a fifteen, maybe twenty-minute walk if there wasn’t much traffic - but for those who lived closer to Egan Park or Punta Vista, the late-spring, early-summer weather made their walks home dreadful. Once the handful of students who lived in the condos were let off, Kona dragged Zack up to the seat across from Bentley and August and struck up a conversation with them while Royce listened in, hearing them pester Bentley for more information about Vivien and her interests.
Why they chose to ask Bentley instead of asking him directly, he wasn’t quite sure, but he wasn’t necessarily complaining. Although he would be more than willing to talk about his girlfriend and tell everyone he knew how much he adored her, his revelation with Kit had thrown him off. Was it really that simple? Could he really be in love with her after only a couple of months? Would Vivien think it ridiculous if he was?
As the bus screeched to a stop in the parking lot of the community center, Royce stood and waited for his brother and friends to gather their things before stepping off the bus behind them. Joining them by the edge of the parking lot, they waited for the bus to leave the lot before using its traffic-stopping length to cross traffic and reach the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Though the walk was filled with conversation, Royce remained relatively silent, occasionally laughing when one of them made a joke or telling them to watch where they were going if they stepped too close to the edge of the sidewalk. Thankfully, none of them pointed out his silence, allowing him time to think before they got home.
As per usual, Bentley, Kona, and Zack took off in a run as soon as they crossed 67th Street, using the straight shot as a time to race to the front door. August, however, lingered with Royce, not wanting him to walk home alone. Falling into step with the older boy, August offered him a small smile before softly asking, “Is Vivien really as nice as Bentley says she is?”
Taking note of the way August’s eyes flickered to the sandy sidewalk as he turned toward him, Royce nodded, “I might be a bit biased, but yeah, she is.”
August let out a soft laugh, “Ben said she’s the one with the pants in your relationship.”
With a snort, Royce peered down the street at where his brother and their friends were bounding down the street, arguing over the wind as to who would reach the front door first. “He’s not wrong. I would do anything for her and I’m sure she knows that by now.”
“Was Kit right?” August asked as Royce nudged him to cross the street after a car passed. “Are you in love with her?”
Taking in a breath and shoving his hands into his pockets, Royce shrugged, “I think I might be, but I want to think it over before I tell her.”
“Good idea.” As they passed a house with a small boat in the driveway, August asked, “Is she really a figure skater? Like the ones in the Olympics?”
Royce chuckled, “Yeah, like the Olympians, but better. I’ve seen her and Riven do some pretty crazy jumps and stuff.”
“Who’s Riven?”
On instinct, Royce’s eyebrows scrunch together, the question registering as ridiculous before the realization that August had never met Vivien or her partner occurred to him. Grinning, he reached for the wallet in his pocket and pulled a group picture from behind a few dollar bills. Taken at Vivien’s Christmas party, the image had just about everyone Vivien held dear, including himself and Bentley. Vivien stood near the center with her arms around Royce and Bentley, Riven had a pair of bunny ears behind Jade’s head while he and Erica flipped each other off, and Abby and Oliver were crouched in front of everyone.
Holding the picture out to August, Royce began pointing people out, slowly adding information as to who everyone was before finally pointing out Vivien and Riven. “He’s pretty much Viv’s older brother. They’re on the ice almost every day and they’ve known each other since she was - I think - three or four.”
“And now she’s your age?” August asked as he examined the photo. As Royce nodded, humming in confirmation, August smiled at the brunette between his two friends and said, “They must be close.”
“They are,” Royce chuckled. “They rag on each other all the time, calling each other names and stuff like actual siblings. In reality, though, Riven doesn’t have any siblings, and Viv has the twins.”
Bringing his finger down to where Abby and Oliver were crouched in front of the group in matching Spiderman poses, August asked, “Oliver and Abigail, right?”
“Yeah, but she only goes by Abby unless she’s in trouble,” Royce said.
August hummed thoughtfully as his eyes scanned the picture. As his gaze shifted onto Vivien’s bandmates and Royce guided him across the sandy grass to the front door of their home, August pointed to Erica and Riven and wondered, “Do they not like each other?”
“Oh, no,” Royce laughed, “they’re about as close as close can get.”
“Then why are they flipping each other off?”
Hoping his train of thought didn’t take as long to come up with a cover story as he felt it did, Royce turned to August with a smile and said, “That’s just how people are in New England. When you’re really close to someone, it’s common to do that.”
“Really?” August asked as he stepped into the house and handed Royce the picture.
Diligently, Royce nodded as he put the picture back in its rightful spot and tucked his wallet away, “Yeah. I once saw a driver honk at a pedestrian just to flip them off while they crossed the road, then they started chatting like old friends.”
With a shake of his head, August turned toward the living room and sighed, “And they say Floridians are crazy.”
Watching August venture into the living room and join the others around the coffee table, Royce dropped his backpack by the door and lifted Binx from the table Bentley had deposited his keys on, cradling the cat to his chest as he made his way to the kitchen. Allowing Binx to climb onto his shoulder as he unlatched the door leading into the garage and reached into the pantry for the tub of cheese balls, Royce spoke softly to the cat, telling him of his school day as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and pouring some cheese balls into it, Royce pulled one from the container and allowed Binx to nibble away at it as he twisted the lid back into place and stored the snack away before Zack found where their new hiding spot for it was.
Softly humming an ABBA song Vivien had blasted during their last visit, Royce brought the bowl of cheese puffs to the living room and placed them in the center of the chaos before making his way to his backpack and pulling his homework binder from within. Binx, ever the patient cat, waited for his owner to get close to the couch before launching from Royce’s shoulder and perching himself on the armrest as Royce settled cross-legged beside him.
Checking his watch as the others began discussing their respective projects for their upcoming state project for Social Studies, Royce grinned and opened his binder. In less than an hour, Miles and Vivien would be back, and he would finally be able to show her off to some of his friends. Granted, she had already met Kona that morning and had been introduced to a large group of their extended friend group at Big Momma’s, but allowing her the chance to sit in the comfort of their home and chat like they would if they were back in Sanbornton would probably be easier for her to adjust to than having a big meeting with everyone at school.
As Royce got to work his math homework, pumping out answers for algebra problems he was almost sure he would never need later in life, he found himself more easily distracted than normal, checking his watch habitually and glancing toward the front door every time he heard the slightest creak. It didn’t take long for Zack to call him out on his unusual behavior, sending Kona and Bentley into a teasing fit that only August could efficiently put a stop to, but despite the way he rolled his eyes in return and told them to shove it, Royce knew he had to chill. After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been away from Vivien for longer. It just… after having to be away from her for so long, the draw to be with her at all times now that he had her was strong - inescapably so.
Taking in a breath as he absentmindedly ran a hand through Binx’s shiny fur, Royce realized Kit might have been right. Maybe he really was in love with Vivien. Maybe he had been for a while and simply hadn’t realized it. Maybe he needed someone with Kit’s gentle yet direct approach to smack some sense into him. If Royce was honest with himself, he’d felt a strong connection with Vivien for a long time - longer than they’d been in a relationship, he was sure of that - but how, exactly, was he supposed to tell her as much? He couldn’t just outright tell her he was madly in love with her, could he?
Sighing internally, Royce returned to his homework and, for the first time in a long time, found himself struggling to focus on any of the information before him. His mind kept wandering back to Vivien. How was she? Was she having fun with Miles? Were they on their way back from the shop yet? Tapping the rubber tip of his pencil’s eraser against the homework sheet before him, Royce found himself admitting defeat. Maybe Miles was right to tell him he was wrapped around Vivien’s finger and had been for a long time. And, if Miles - of all people - was right about that, it was time for Royce to admit that he was totally, utterly, mind-blowingly-stupidly screwed.
Waving goodbye to Raymond and Josh as they settled into Raymond’s shiny, purple Studebaker Starlight - a vehicle that vaguely reminded Vivien of a musical Riven had made her watch bootlegs of any time he found a new one online - Vivien tugged on the leather jacket Miles had loaned her, tucking her cell phone and other belongings into the inside pocket before zipping herself in. “You know,” Vivien began as she pulled her borrowed sweatpants out of Miles’ saddlebag, “if I knew how to drive a stick shift, I would have stolen that car.”
Crinkling his nose in obvious disgust at the vehicle’s appearance, Miles turned to Vivien with a raised brow and questioned her sanity as he asked, “Why? That thing is the definition of social suicide.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Vivien asked in return as she tugged the pants on over her shorts. “It’s purple and shiny, therefore, it should belong to me.”
As if realizing something for the first time as Vivien pulled her helmet out of the saddle bag, Miles grinned and asked, “Is that the reason why you have so many of those purple rocks in your room?”
Placing the helmet on the seat of the bike, Vivien turned to Miles with one hand on her hip and the other pointed accusatorily at him as she shot back, “First of all, they’re crystals, not rocks. Second, I have more than just purple ones. And, third,” she glanced away, her hand dropping to her side as she admitted, “maybe.”
“You obsess over fancy rocks because they’re shiny and colorful?” Miles asked, trying his best to withhold the snort of laughter that ached to be let free.
“Look, Major Dickhead,” Vivien began, her amusement at Miles’ disdain for the nickname undeniable as she smirked in his direction, “I don’t pick on you for collecting pressed pennies like an old lady at a tourist trap, you don’t pick on me for having a rock collection.”
Snorting at her jab at his habit of collecting pennies from random spots like the zoo or museum, he stepped up and took her helmet from the bike, dropping it onto her head and clipping it in place under her chin before wiggling her head affectionately. “Alright, kid. Truce?”
“Truce,” Vivien agreed with a grin, tucking her braid under the leather jacket.
“Good,” Miles said as he tapped the side of Vivien’s helmet. Pushing aside the stack of records he had her set inside the saddle bag, Miles pulled his jacket from the bottom of the bag and watched her climb onto the motorcycle, making sure she was settled on the back before taking in a breath and asking, “So, what happened earlier while you were at the record shop? You never finished what you were saying.”
Watching Miles pull his fingerless gloves from the pocket of his jacket, Vivien shrugged, “I’m sure it was just me being paranoid, but there was a biker guy in there that sketched me out. He left the shop the same time I did and it creeped me out, so I tried to ignore him and keep walking.”
Miles hummed thoughtfully before offering the younger girl a small smile, reaching out to pat her arm as he said, “Good job, kiddo. Any idea whether he was from a gang or not?”
“I’m not sure,” Vivien shrugged as Miles pulled on his jacket, “but his jacket said he was the leader of the pack, so I think he might’ve been.”
Although that didn’t narrow the playing field at all in Miles’ mind, he attempted to appear reassuring as he zipped his jacket and approached his motorcycle. Clicking his helmet into place, he said, “There are maybe four or five gangs in our area with arrogant leaders like that. For the most part, they act like tough shit, but they’re not much more than a group of guys who ride around maybe twice a week and consider themselves a gang.”
Vivien sighed, pushing herself back enough to allow Miles to slip onto the bike before settling in behind him, “So I was plotting my episode of Unsolved Mysteries for nothing?”
“Yeah, probably,” Miles snorted. Slipping the key into the ignition, he glanced over his shoulder and asked, “What would the episode name be?”
Gesturing into the empty air beside the bike, Vivien lowered her voice to mimic that of the show’s host, Robert Stack, and declared, “Mystery: Vivien O’Brian, Kidnap or Murder?”
Letting out a soft laugh, Miles shook his head, “That’s one hell of an attention-grabber.”
“That’s the point,” Vivien grinned. “Just imagine Robert Stack going over my life history and disappearance because some rando biker dude in another universe decided I was ripe for the picking.”
“Then,” Miles tacked on, “in your times, you’d be covered by that YouTuber girl you watch all the time.”
A dramatic gasp dragged its way from Vivien’s lips, and Miles turned to see her eyes practically sparkling at the idea. Giddily slapping Miles’ back as she beamed, Vivien squealed, “I would kill to have Kendall Rae do an episode about me!”
Miles let out a snort and started his bike, calling over the roar of the engine, “Isn’t her whole focus on telling the victim’s stories, not the murderer’s?”
Vivien thought for a moment before visibly deflating, resigning to wrap her arms around Miles’ middle as she sighed, “Oh yeah.”
Shaking his head at the girl’s desire to become the topic of a true-crime show in some way or another, Miles patted the hands she had wrapped around his waist before gripping the handlebars and pulling away from the shop’s employee parking. Apart from the roar of the engine and Vivien’s occasional taps on his helmet to alert him of a nearby cop, Miles was only mildly concerned with how quiet the ride back to town had been. Chalking it up to the girl’s nervousness about her earlier encounter with the biker in the record shop, he resorted to taking the time to check on her anytime they stopped at a red light. After making a quick stop at a small shop run by an older Hispanic couple that Vivien insisted on getting snacks at, Miles drove them home, pulling into the driveway and cutting the engine before rolling to a stop in the garage.
Once she was off the bike, Vivien heaved a sigh of relief as she peeled her now-sweaty leather jacket off. Setting the coat on the seat Miles soon vacated, Vivien unlatched her helmet and set it aside before sighing, “You know, you really should get a radio for this thing. Then, you could sing when you ride.”
Miles let out a snort as he hung his helmet from the handlebar, “And that’s exactly why I don’t have one. Nobody needs to hear me sing.”
“Why not?” Vivien asked as she watched Miles lower the garage door. “You sing along to the radio at work.”
“Yeah,” Miles chuckled, “badly. Just like other guys.”
Smacking Miles with a scoff, Vivien rolled her eyes, “Liar. You sound like either Hunter Hayes or - oh, hell, what’s their name?”
Grinning, Miles watched the gears in Vivien’s brain grind as she squinted, her nose scrunching up as she tried to figure out the singer she was thinking of. Hoping to convince her to drop the subject, Miles nudged her and joked, “You better not say Rebecca Black or some shit.”
“I was trying to be nice, but, now that you mention it, I can kinda see the resemblance.” Vivien giggled maniacally, pitching her voice into a nasal tone before singing, “Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday.”
Placing a hand on the girl’s face and shoving her away, Miles chuckled, “Shut up.”
Following Miles to the door leading into the house, she asked, “One thing I gotta ask, though, is when the hell you got a southern accent? I can understand the phony New York accent the other members of the Rat Pack have, but since when do you talk like a cowboy?”
Turning back toward Vivien, Miles' eyebrow raised and he replied, “Since always. I was raised in South Carolina.”
“I knew that,” Vivien scoffed. In a sigh, she muttered, “Dumbass. But you had an accent when you sang earlier. Why don’t you have it when you talk?”
With a shrug, Miles reached for the doorknob and twisted it, shoulder-checking the door to shove it open as he replied, “I try to rein it in, especially around the boys. When I was younger, I was told I sound like my dad. After all the shit he put me and my brothers through, I don’t want that, so I try to speak without an accent as much as possible.”
As much as Vivien wanted to hear what Miles sounded like with a deep, southern accent, his reason for forcing himself to sound different made sense. Allowing him to hold the door open for her, Vivien ducked into the kitchen and thought for a moment. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard much of an accent from Royce or Bentley either. Did they fight their accents for the same reason? Turning to Miles as he locked the door with a shove, she asked, “Did they have accents too?”
Miles nodded, running a hand through his hair as he headed for the refrigerator for a drink, “They used to, but I haven’t really listened to see if they still do. Why?”
Feeling somewhat giddy at the idea of hearing Royce with an accent, Vivien pocketed the information for later and giggled as she headed toward the archway that led into the hall, “Just wondering.”
Miles opened his mouth to question her as she left the room but resigned to shaking his head as he made his way to the phone on the wall, instead opting to call his girlfriend to make sure she had gotten home safe. Meanwhile, Vivien crept toward the living room and peered around the wall, listening to Bentley and his friends discuss homework from around the coffee table as she took in the sight of Royce on the couch. Although his back was to her, she could tell he was smiling as Bentley’s friend - a boy with dark brown, tightly-curled hair - cracked a joke about one of the teachers he had been saddled with.
Looking around the small table as she crept into the room, Vivien found a pair of sea-green eyes on her, and she frantically shook her head in Kona’s direction, tapping her index finger to her lip in a silent plea for the girl to keep her presence a secret. Smirking, Kona’s attention fell on Royce as she asked, “Hey, lover boy, when’s your girlfriend coming back? I want to give her the bracelet I made at school.”
Without looking up from the homework on his lap, Royce shrugged, and Vivien used his distraction as an opportunity to sneak up behind him on the couch. “Hopefully soon.”
“Why hopefully?” Bentley asked, glancing up at his brother only to catch Vivien gesturing for him to remain silent before dragging a finger across her throat. With a knowing grin, he added, “You gonna tell her you looove her?”
Royce let out a snort, kicking Bentley’s shin as he shot back, “Dude, no. Quit it.”
Before either of the other boys at the coffee table could speak up, Vivien wrapped her arms around Royce’s shoulders, interlocking her hands over his chest as she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “What; so you don’t love me?”
Jumping at the unexpected voice in his ear, Royce turned enough to see Vivien smirking back at him. Feeling his face burn as his mouth opened and closed like a fish, he stumbled over his words as he tried to think of how to respond, “No! I-I mean, yeah, b-but no. Viv, I-”
Quickly leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, effectively shutting him up, Vivien giggled softly, “You love me.”
Royce’s caramel eyes pool with affection as he slowly reaches up to touch the braid that drapes over Vivien’s shoulder. The hastily made braid Miles wove is loose and wind-blown, straggly strands fraying out of it, however, to Royce, its beautiful. Meeting Vivien’s emerald eyes, Royce smiled and softly nodded, “I do.”
Before giving Vivien any chance to process Royce’s words, her focus too drawn on his smile at her presence, a soft voice broke the silence with a hesitant cough, and Vivien searched the floor until her gaze landed on a blond boy sitting in front of the couch, turned halfway toward her and Royce. Nervousness filled the boy’s eyes - a hesitant, kicked puppy look that instantly made Vivien want to wrap the younger boy in a hug and shield him from the outside world - but still, he piped up, “I take it you must be Vivien?”
Lightly squeezing Royce and pulling away, Vivien stood and climbed over the back of the couch, settling in beside her boyfriend before offering the blond boy a hand. “Guilty as charged.” Before the kids around the table could speak up, she beamed and said, “Now, don’t introduce yourselves. I want to guess. I already know Rolls and Beemer, of course, and I met Kona this morning.”
“Nice to see you got rid of those ugly-ass sweatpants,” Kona remarked with a nod of greeting.
With a snort, Vivien beamed at the girl before looking between the boys and humming to herself. Pointing hopefully toward the shy boy before her, she presumed, “I’m going to guess that you’re August,” her gaze swiveled toward the dark-skinned boy who had previously joked about a teacher, “and you’re Zack.”
“Damn,” Zack breathed, looking over Vivien before turning his gaze to Royce. “She’s good.”
“I know,” Royce agreed, pride shimmering in his eyes as he looked over Vivien, soaking in her presence as she slowly leaned against his arm.
Kona rolled her eyes at Royce’s lovesick expression and dug into the front zipper pocket of her backpack, fishing out a chevron-patterned strap with a loop on one end and two braided strands on the other. “Hey, Vivien, catch,” she called out, making sure she had the older girl’s attention before tossing the bracelet over August’s head and into Vivien’s lap. “I made it for you during history class. I was going to do a gradient of purples since your dumbass said that’s your favorite color, but I only had one shade, so I worked with what I had in my bag. I’ll make you a proper one when I get home, but that one’s just a welcome gift.”
Looking over the bracelet with a grin, Vivien internally giggled at the irony of the girl’s color choice - cerulean blue, lavender, and bubblegum pink. quickly tying the band around her wrist, she twisted her arm around and beamed, “Thanks, Kona.”
“You’re one of us now,” the blonde shrugged, brushing off the girl’s gratitude and returning to her homework.
“You know,” Zack began, closing his workbook with a grin, “none of us thought you were real. We all thought Royce was making shit up.”
Vivien let out a snorted laugh, turning to Royce as he shook his head with a sigh, “That seems to be a common thread.”
“I don’t get why,” Royce sighed. “It’s not like I’m some antisocial hermit. I can have a girlfriend.”
“I think it’s more about the fact that Vivien was from another state,” August piped up. “Nobody had seen or heard of her as anything more than a friend before you guys went on vacation, but then you come back from Christmas break with pictures of a girl that you just don’t shut up about? It’s kind of suspicious, if you ask me.”
“I gotta say,” Bentley added with a grin, “even I would’ve been sus of your story if I wasn’t involved behind the scenes.”
“Sus?” August echoed curiously.
“What did you do?” Zack asked Bentley incredulously. “It’s their relationship.”
“Yeah,” Bentley shrugged, “but I’m the one who made them realize they were stupidly into each other.”
Kona opened her mouth to press for more information, but a honk from outside made her stop. Turning toward the picture window and stretching to see out of it from her spot on the floor, she sighed and turned back to her friends, “My dad’s here.”
Zack snorted, “Did he bring the warden?”
“Don’t think so,” Kona shrugged, shoving her books and notebook into her backpack. “She was talking about making huli huli chicken tonight, so she probably stayed back.”
Laughing softly through her nose, Vivien asked, “Ah, you call your mom ‘the warden’ too, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kona beamed, glad she had something in common with the older girl.
“Yeah, but unlike yours,” Bentley began as he dropped onto the cushion next to Vivien, “her mom is actually nice.”
“Bentley!” Royce hissed, reaching behind Vivien to smack the back of his brother’s head.
Instead of being offended by Bentley’s remark, Vivien turned to Royce and gave him the same smack upside the head, defending her friend from his brother’s attack. “He wasn’t wrong, Rolls. I got to meet Kona’s mom earlier. She’s way nicer than my mom.”
“Why do you call Royce ‘Rolls’, Vivien?” August asked as he zipped his backpack and stood from the floor.
Turning to the younger boy with a smile, Vivien shrugged and said, “Rolls Royce.” Then, jerking her thumb in Bentley’s direction, she said, “I screwed up poor Benny’s nickname back in November. I forgot that Beemer is the nickname for a BMW, not a Bentley.”
“But I love it anyway,” Bentley claimed as he shoved his homework and school books into his backpack. “It’s something only you get to call me, so it’s special.”
With a bright smile, Vivien brought her arms around Bentley’s middle and squealed, “Aww, Benny! That’s so sweet!”
Despite the laughter tumbling from his lips, Bentley wriggled in Vivien’s grasp, attempting to throw her off as his backpack hit the floor with a thump. Giggling as Vivien’s fingernails attacked his sides, he laughed, “Shut up! I’m not sweet, you weirdo! Get off of me!”
Feeling rather proud of herself, Vivien released a now breathless, pink-cheeked Bentley, allowing him to fly off of the couch and walk his friends to the door as they teased him. After waving goodbye to the kids she had only just met, Vivien leaned back against the couch and turned toward Royce with a smile. He lifted his arm to the back of the couch as an invitation, and Vivien slowly shifted, tucking herself into the gap under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Taking in a deep breath, the faint smell of cocoa butter and vanilla flooding her senses, Vivien sighed, “I missed you.”
Bringing his arm around Vivien’s shoulders and squeezing her close, Royce replied, “Not nearly as much as I missed you, I’m sure.”
Looking up at Royce with a grin, she snickered, “I was subjected to Miles and his work buddies singing along to The Supremes and Lesley Gore all day. I think I win.”
Royce let out a snort, “At least you had something entertaining to keep you distracted. I was stuck in boring classes, with boring subjects, and nothing to do but think of you.”
“Sounds like an average day at school for me,” Vivien chuckled. Turning toward Royce with a grin, she softly said, “You consume my every thought, especially when I have to sit through English with Mr Orszulak.”
“English is fun,” Royce argued with a laugh. “It’s pretty much the only class I don’t want to fall asleep in.
Pulling a face, Vivien shook her head, “It’s fun for people who can read without having to focus on every single letter. Honestly, I find Spanish easier than English.”
Raising a brow, Royce asked, “You like Spanish? I couldn’t take it for more than a quarter and transferred to French when report cards came around.”
Vivien rolled her eyes and scoffed, “It’s only easier for you because that’s one of your native languages, cariño.”
Confusion lightly knitted Royce’s brows as he slowly smiled, his eyes glittering at the prospect of being given another nickname by his girlfriend, “What does that mean?”
“That French is easier for you because your mom probably spoke it a lot at home when you were little,” Vivien shrugged. “Isn’t that how native languages work?”
“Not that, mon cœur,” Royce said with a shake of his head. “That last part - the car… car-nino part. What does that mean?”
Feeling her eyes widen a fraction behind her circle frame glasses as she nudged them further up her nose, Vivien nearly froze. She had understood what he called her. Feeling as though her heart could melt out of her chest and into Royce’s hands, she found herself suddenly grateful for all the painstaking hours she had put into Mrs Duran’s class. Praying her face didn’t betray her feigned nonchalance, Vivien shrugged, “You took Spanish, shouldn’t you know?”
“That’s not fair!” Royce laughed, twisting so that he was able to properly see Vivien’s eyes. “I took one semester and I barely remember how to ask people their names. You can’t start calling me things in a language I can’t understand and expect me not to want to know what it means.”
“You called me something in a language I can’t understand,” Vivien shot back with a smirk. “Are you going to tell me what ‘mon kur’ means?”
Grateful Royce’s red-tinged face was more of a traitor than her own, Vivien grinned as he visibly scrambled for something to say in response. Then, finally, he shook his head and hesitantly smiled her way, “Not until I figure out what yours means.”
Squinting back at him, Vivien leaned closer and said, “Tú me frustras, mi todo.”
“I have no idea what you just said,” Royce breathed, “but it sounds pretty, even if you look like you’re mad at me.”
“No estoy enfadada,” Vivien replied with a shake of her head, tapping Royce on the nose with a smile. “Me vuelves loco, pero en el buen sentido.”
Thoroughly confused but somewhat enjoying hearing Vivien tell him things in a language he didn’t understand, Royce hoped she was saying good things to him as he slowly replied, “J’aime quand tu me souris. Les étoiles pâlissent en comparaison de l'éclat de tes yeux.”
“What level of French is that?” Vivien giggled in disbelief. “I understood maybe five words out of everything you just said.”
“You’re a step ahead of me,” Royce laughed. “I didn’t get a single thing out of yours.”
As the young couple shared a laugh, Bentley joined them, bringing a few glass bottles of soda from the kitchen as he reported that Miles had just gotten off the phone with Carrie and was cooking dinner. What they were having was a mystery, given the lack of smell lingering in the air, but none of them seemed to mind as Bentley turned the television on and changed it to a channel where Leave It To Beaver was playing. As Bentley found space on the last free couch cushion, Royce and Vivien relaxed into their seats to watch the show with him, putting aside their bilingual conversation for the time being.
Dinner didn’t quite go as planned as Miles was taken away from the stove by a call from the school, telling him Vivien was allowed to join for the rest of the week. The smoke alarm and Royce’s quick instinct to grab the fire extinguisher from under the sink made it easy to save the walls from catching on fire, but their charred chicken wasn’t so lucky. Having to order from the only place in the area with delivery as an option, Miles called the local Chinese restaurant, and they were stuck waiting another forty-five minutes before the food arrived.
After dinner had been eaten and the plates were taken to the kitchen for Miles to clean - his least-liked chore on the list they hung on the fridge - the trio returned to the living room to watch TV. Not long after curling up in Miles’ recliner with Binx purring contentedly on his chest, Bentley fell asleep, his choice of The Flintstones still playing on the screen. Royce and Vivien had stolen the entirety of the couch, Royce’s head resting on the armrest while Vivien laid against him, her head turned to the side so that she could watch the show even though she wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening.
Royce’s hands fiddled with her loosely braided hair, his arms wrapped around her to keep her close as he relaxed in her presence. Glancing down at her as the show turned to commercials, he noticed how one side of her glasses had been smushed between his chest and her face, forcing the lenses off-kilter. Chuckling softly at how little she seemed to care about how her frames sat, Royce quickly apologized as the sudden movement made Vivien lift her head, peeking up at him with a curious look in her eyes.
“It’s okay, mi corazón,” she breathed with a small, tired smile.
Snorting quietly, Royce asked, “Did you just call me a calzone?”
Mindful of the fact that Bentley was passed out just a few feet from her, Vivien attempted to contain her laughter, shaking her head as she repeated, “Corazón. Not calzone.”
“Are you going to tell me what that means,” Royce began, “or am I just going to have to ask the Spanish teacher tomorrow?”
“That depends,” Vivien said softly, stretching up to lightly kiss Royce’s cheek. “Are you going to tell me what you called me earlier, mi todo?”
With a definitive shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, Royce breathed, “Absolutely not, mon étoile filante.”
Vivien’s mouth fell open as she reached up and took Royce’s face in her hands, smushing his face in her palms as a look of amazement sparkled in her eyes, and she remarked, “I think I saw something like that on the packaging for my telescope. That was ‘something star’, wasn’t it? You called me a star!”
Chuckling at her excitement, Royce brought his hands up to cover Vivien’s, grinning as he leaned into her palm and nodded. “A shooting star. Well, actually, my shooting star.”
“Yours, huh?” she questioned softly, adoring how a light flush of red danced across Royce’s face. Giggling tiredly, Vivien slid her hands away from his face and brought her arms around his middle as she tucked her head under his chin, snuggling into his warmth. With a contented sigh, she breathed, “I like the sound of that, mi luna.”
Notes - Happy birthday, Dr. Eleanor Jubb!!! You have no idea how insanely proud and happy I am for you! I hope that, now that you're able to take time for yourself, that you have a fun birthday; you deserve it! I'm so glad I was able to be a small part of your journey and got to support you on your way to becoming a dentist. You're an incredible human being and I'm so incredibly happy for you! Just know that I adore you and wish you all the best! Happy birthday, El! Here's to another wonderful trip around the sun! 🥳🎂🦷💕
Thin, cotton sheets rustled against the mattress as Vivien kicked the covers off for the umpteenth time since she initially laid down hours ago. Despite spending enough time working on setting up her room that Bentley had fallen asleep on the floor with his head on her suitcase, Vivien had yet to fall asleep. Kept awake by her thoughts as well as her anticipation for the next morning, she had found herself tossing and turning so much that she worried the creaking of the old, wooden bed frame would wake Royce in the room kitty-cornering hers.
The old bed had, according to Miles, been passed on to him not long after he had bought the house by a friend he worked with. Supposedly, the man had upgraded due to his girlfriend moving in, but now that she knew how noisy the frame was with every move and every breath she took, Vivien wondered if the guy had simply had enough of the noises it made and given the frame to Miles to rid himself of it. The mattress itself was comfortable - one of the few things Miles had brought with him from Butchy’s house to his own once he moved - but the creakiness of the wooden frame set Vivien’s nerves on edge. Her bed back home had a wooden frame that she and her grandfather had worked on together over spring break years prior, but even with the storage cubbies they had carved into it, the hardwood frame never once creaked and groaned like the one she was currently struggling to sleep on.
Vivien knew she should have been asleep hours ago, but with the bed groaning with every move and her excitement for the next day mingling together like shooting a cocktail of Red Bull, Monster, and 5-Hour Energy directly into her veins, sleep felt as though it was no longer an option. She was tired earlier in the evening, and rightfully so, but now, time had melted into nothingness, and she was wide awake. She could have sworn that when she said goodnight to her boyfriend and his brothers, she was practically teetering on the edge of dreamland. However, now that she had exhausted all efforts to fall asleep, she wondered if there was any hope of getting to sleep at all. The sheep had long since stopped jumping over the fence, she had tried and failed a deep breathing technique that had worked for her in the past, and the ASMR videos she had saved to her phone’s camera roll had done nothing but keep her more alert than when theft had initially started. It was pointless.
After all the cleaning they had done - or rather, the hour and a half of cleaning they tried to do whilst also singing and dancing along to whatever songs came over the transistor radio they perched on the windowsill, followed by a pizza Miles made from a Chef Boyardee box kit that had Vivien enraptured for far longer than she cared to admit, and then another long stretch of shoving things to the far side of the room to deal with another time as the teens struggled to keep themselves from yawning - Vivien found herself wide awake, staring at the gently circling ceiling fan above her bed.
It wasn’t fair. She could hear Bentley snoring even with their bedroom door mostly closed, and although she had no idea how Royce could sleep with Bentley’s chainsaw-like snoring across from him, she knew her boyfriend had long since fallen asleep, presumably still cradling the cat to his chest. From her experience that night alone, Vivien knew Binx liked to roam the house while his owners slept. The golden-eyed cat had spent at least an hour with her, curling into a ball beside her and purring contentedly as she ran her nails along his silky fur, but had left her side after giving her cheek a few gentle licks. Though she wasn’t sure how long the feline had been gone for, Vivien knew she missed him. His companionship was a welcome distraction, and his soft purrs had almost lulled her to sleep when he arose and left the room. She hadn’t seen him wander past her room yet, but given how long she had been tossing and turning to get comfortable with him gone, Vivien knew there was a possibility that he may have crept by without her knowing.
Glancing at the analog clock beside her bed, she rolled her eyes and allowed her head to drop against the pillow once more. Normally, being up past midnight was nothing to her. She had pulled so many all-nighters reading fanfiction, working on schoolwork, or rehearsing with Riven, Jade, and Erica that staying up late was second nature. However, this was no normal all-nighter. Regular all-nighters were filled with energy drinks, fun playlists, and cheesy smiles directed at her phone, not the mental gymnastics that came with her coming to terms with her emotions. On top of that, the knowledge that she would have to be up and somewhat alert for her shopping excursion with Carrie and Lela made Vivien wonder if she should have insisted on going to bed after Miles carried Bentley off to bed.
As far as she could recall, she hadn’t brought any melatonin with her on her trip - something she was deeply regretting at that moment despite knowing how her body would have reacted to the medicine - but as she pulled her headphones off and heard faint voices from somewhere in the house, she wondered if Miles was still awake as well. From what she remembered of his time staying at the Birch family’s cabin, it wouldn’t surprise her if he was. He was just as bad as she was. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he had anything in the house that she could take to force her body to get some rest. Taking a deep breath and sighing through her nose, Vivien glanced at the clock again and decided it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Grateful for the light her lamp provided, Vivien pushed herself to sit up on her bed once more, running a hand through her hair and tugging strands out from under the slightly oversized t-shirt Miles had loaned her for the night. Though she couldn’t be certain, Vivien felt as though the heat of her thick hair pressed against her neck instead of held back in a neat braid had contributed in some way to her lack of sleep. Vivien had always found it difficult to sleep with her hair down, but being in the warm Florida heat was certainly not helping matters. She was hot and sweaty, and her brain refused to shut off for the night, a perfect recipe for a zombie-like Vivien the following day. She had already tried tying it up in a half-hearted bun, but her worn-out elastic had chosen violence and snapped against her scalp, only adding to her mounting frustration.
Pushing herself to the edge of the bed, Vivien’s feet met the cool wood floorboards, and she stood slowly so as to not affect her blood pressure from the sudden shift in perspective. Grabbing her glasses from the nightstand and tucking her phone into the pocket of the gym shorts she had borrowed alongside the t-shirt she pulled from Miles’ closet, Vivien took in a breath and quietly left the room. Padding into the hallway and inching past the room Royce and Bentley shared, she slowly made her way down the stairs to the main floor of the house. Upon entering the living room, Vivien smiled as she spotted an old - or, in their world, new, she supposed - show her grandfather loved on the TV across from the couch.
Miles appeared to be in his own little world as Hogan’s Heroes played before him, his hands occupied with a certain black furball who purred contentedly in his lap, but Vivien only felt mildly conflicted about interrupting them as she neared the back of the couch and leaned against the back. The old World War II period sitcom was based on a group of prisoners of war who were being kept in a Nazi camp, and Vivien had watched a few episodes here and there with her grandfather over the years, but she had no idea Miles was invested in the show as well. Maybe there would come a time when she could sit them both down and let them chat about the show. She knew her grandfather would love it; after all, he was a professional gabber, and she knew Miles was a great listener.
Smiling, she watched as the German Colonel Klink spoke with the lead character, his prisoner, Colonel Hogan, “Hogan, just because you’re wearing my uniform, doesn’t mean you’re me!”
As Hogan began replying, Vivien echoed the quote alongside the character and delighted in the surprised jump of Miles’ shoulders as she did, “Good. I was afraid this uniform might be contagious.”
Turning his attention to the younger girl as she climbed over the back of the couch to sit beside him, Miles asked, “What are you doing up, kiddo?”
“I could ask you the same thing, buddy boy,” Vivien shot back lazily as she ran her hand over Binx’s back. “It’s midnight-thirty.”
“Midnight-thirty?” Miles quoted with an amused grin. Shaking his head as the brunette beside him nodded, Miles draped an arm over the back of the couch behind Vivien and sighed, “If you must know, I usually go to bed around one on weekends since I don’t have work. Now, what are you doing up?”
“Can’t sleep,” Vivien shrugged. “My brain won’t turn off, and, even with the fan on, I’m too hot.”
“Well, aren’t you conceited,” Miles teased gently.
Vivien let out a tired snort, rolling her eyes halfheartedly as she breathed, “You know what I mean, moron.”
“I know. Would you like something to help you sleep?” Miles offered. “I don’t know if we have anything medicinal, but I’m pretty sure Mick keeps a box of tea somewhere in the kitchen cabinets.”
Brushing off the offer with a somewhat thoughtful shrug, Vivien eventually shook her head and slouched to the right, curling herself into Miles’ left side. “Can I just hang out with you for a while? I don’t want to be up in my room all alone with my thoughts right now.”
“That’s fine,” Miles allowed, bringing his arm around Vivien’s shoulders and waiting for her to make herself comfortable as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Just don’t stay up for too long. You have a busy day tomorrow and you should at least try to get some sleep.”
“Pft,” Vivien breathed as she brought her attention to the television set before them, “I’m not even tired.”
Miles chuckled sarcastically, “Sure you aren’t.”
Vivien rolled her eyes and grinned, relaxing into the couch cushions as the show continued. She was determined to at least finish the episode Miles was on, just to prove him wrong. Petty spite was something she could work with. Sure, she could claim that she wasn’t even remotely tired, but as she struggled to keep a yawn as silent as possible, Vivien wondered just how long it would take for Miles to admit defeat. Two episodes? Three? Whatever it was, Vivien was willing to fight for her victory over the eldest of her boyfriend’s siblings, regardless of how long it took. Besides, the show was too riveting.
As the credits began to roll and the clock ticked over to one o’clock, Miles glanced down at the girl whose head had slid from its perch on his shoulder to his chest and grinned smugly at her closed eyelids and soft breathing. She had gone silent halfway through their time on the couch, and if the pair of circle-frame glasses guarded by Binx’s paw as he observed the girl was anything to go by, she had been asleep for a while. Under his breath, Miles muttered, “So much for not being tired.” Glancing down at Binx, he asked, “She’s been out for a while, huh, Binx?”
The cat’s attention turned to Miles, and he blinked slowly up at his owner in silent agreement before he quietly jumped from the couch to the coffee table, giving Miles space to move if he chose to. Taking a deep breath, Miles pocketed Vivien’s glasses and slowly shifted on the couch, crossing Vivien’s arms over her chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and slipping an arm under her knees before carefully rising from the couch, lifting her with him. Glancing at the television, he sighed as he realized he would need to go back downstairs to turn it off, but as Vivien shifted, looping an arm around his neck with a nonsensical mumble, he realized he had more important things to worry about.
Slowly making his way up the stairs so as not to wake Vivien or his brothers, Miles stepped into Vivien’s room and looked around at the glowing lights flitting around the room. He hadn’t recalled seeing her plug anything in apart from her phone, but he supposed it wouldn’t have been unusual. As he set Vivien down on the mattress, the bed creaking lightly at the new pressure, Binx jumped up with her, curling up on the girl’s spare pillow once she had settled on her side. Miles tugged the flat sheet over Vivien’s form and pulled the rest of the blankets to the foot of the bed before reaching up to the ceiling fan and tugging the string to set it up another level. With her curled up on her side, Miles took one of the elastics from Vivien’s toiletry bag on the nightstand and wove her hair into a hasty braid before securing it with the elastic and stepping away, leaving the girl to sleep as he set her glasses on the nightstand. Miles glanced around once more, the amount of light in the room making him wonder how Vivien slept at all with it, but as Binx softly meowed at him, encouraging him to leave the girl alone, Miles left, muttering a final goodnight to the girl before slipping out of the room to turn everything off downstairs.
What felt like only moments after she had allowed her eyes to slide closed during their late-night Hogan’s Heroes watch party, Vivien’s eyes peeled open as she jolted upright, instantly upset with how easily she had lost her battle with sleep. Despite her frustration, she was somewhat grateful for the sleep she had gotten as she glanced at the clock beside her bed. Her usual wake-up time of 5 a.m. had forced her body awake like a defibrillator on some corny hospital drama, but with at least four hours in her system, Vivien felt as though she could take on the day once she had some caffeine in her. Giving Binx an apologetic scratch as he blinked up at her, Vivien pushed herself out of bed and pulled on her glasses, taking her hair out of a braid she didn’t recall making and turning off her lamp before making her way over to her suitcase to find something to wear for her morning walk.
Although she didn’t have much - and wouldn’t until the girls took her to the mall in a few hours - Lela had tossed in a swimsuit for her to wear if she decided to join Mick on her morning surf. It wasn’t much as far as options went, but Vivien had worn swimsuits as shirts over the summer before, so really, what was the harm? Tugging the one-piece on, she pulled the striped lavender shorts from the day before on over top of it and threw on her sneakers before grabbing her toiletries and creeping into the hallway. From the sound of things, the Murphys were sound asleep still, and Vivien hoped it would remain that way as she stepped into the bathroom. Despite not taking a shower the night before, Vivien didn’t bother trying to take one before her jog, instead settling on pulling her hair into a half-hearted bun and brushing her teeth before heading back to her room. After setting her bag down, grabbing her phone, wallet, and headphones, and giving herself a quick glance in the mirror, Vivien headed downstairs as quietly as possible.
Crossing the gap between the stairs and the front door was easy, but as she realized there was a knife wedged into the door frame, the handle pressed firmly against the door as the blade disappeared into the wall beside it, she wondered why Miles would have done such a thing. Was deadbolting the door not enough protection for him? Tugging the knife out of its designated slot was no easy feat, but Vivien managed to do so after a bit of wiggling, placing the knife that was about as long as her forearm onto the table by the door where Miles’ and Royce’s keys had been set sometime during the afternoon. Glancing back at the door, she reached for the top deadbolt and realized that the locking dial simply spun in her hand, a free spin that did nothing to either lock or unlock the door. As the realization that the door dagger had been there for a reason, Vivien sighed and unlocked the door knob before pulling the door open and stepping outside.
Salty sea air filled Vivien’s lungs as she slowly closed the front door, locking the handle before pocketing her key. Looking up to the sky, she grinned. The sun had yet to begin rising over the horizon, the almost navy blue sky lightening the closer it got to sunrise. Slipping her phone from her pocket, Vivien jogged to the end of the street where Gulf Winds Drive met 64th Avenue, snapping a picture of the skyline before tucking an earbud into one ear and starting up the first song on her morning music playlist - a Kate Bush song she hoped never lost its popularity. It was odd, in a way, listening to eighties music whilst living in the sixties, but Vivien couldn’t bring herself to care.
Using her phone’s map, she placed a pin over the house she had left before making her way down 64th until it met Gulf Boulevard, looking up and down the street in search of places to explore. A lot had changed, if her map was anything to go by, but a few small restaurants and shops lined the main street, filling her with a sense of familiarity as she realized how similar it could be to her hometown. Following the sandy sidewalk to her left, Vivien looked around at the small shops, finding many of them closed due to the early hour. A small diner across the street with stereotypical stools and a checkerboard floor had just flipped their sign to open, their doors opening to a handful of bikers and truckers alike, all seemingly in search of breakfast before they hit the road in one way or another.
A few doors down, on her side of the road, Vivien watched as a woman who had to have been in her late sixties struggled to slip an “OPEN” flag into its holster on the wall outside of her shop. Hastening her step, Vivien jogged up to the woman and tucked her earbud and phone into her pocket, calling out to the woman, “Would you like some help, Ma’am?”
The short woman turned, her dark eyes widening as she took in Vivien’s appearance. However, her surprise was short-lived as she lowered the flag and nodded, “Please.”
Taking the flag from the woman with a smile, Vivien raised the flag and slotted it into the hole, tightening the screws on either side of the pole to keep it in place. Taking a step back, Vivien eyed the flag as it waved in the wind before she nodded to herself, “That should hold it.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, her thick accent alerting something in Vivien’s mind as it faintly reminded her of the actors in West Side Story. Puerto Rican, maybe? “My husband would do it for me, but he broke his arm.”
“I’m so sorry,” Vivien breathed, offering the woman a sympathetic smile. “I guess it was good that I was in the right place at the right time.”
The woman’s eyebrow raised just enough for Vivien to notice before it disappeared, and she clasped her hands together, “I must apologize for interrupting your walk, young lady.”
“Oh no, no,” Vivien said with a wave of her hand, “it’s nothing. I’m just glad I could help.”
As though searching for something, the woman glanced around the relatively empty streets before stepping closer to Vivien and placing a hand on her arm, lowering her voice as she questioned, “Are you Cuban?”
Slowly shaking her head, Vivien answered, “No, ma’am. I’m just Native with a little bit of European mixed in.”
Placing a finger under Vivien’s chin, the woman shook her head with a fiercely determined look as she gently scolded, “Nobody is ‘just’ anything. Your heritage is just as rich as mine. I only ask because it is uncommon for whites to come near our bodega, and you, my love, look very white.”
Vivien chuckled, “I’m a lot darker in the summer.”
“Aren’t we all,” the woman chuckled. Patting Vivien’s cheek, the woman stepped back and offered Vivien a hand, “My name is Aletha, but most people around here call me Abue.”
“Vivien,” she introduced as she latched onto the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Aletha greeted. Gesturing toward her store, she offered, “Come in. My Ernesto will make you something for breakfast.”
Looking up at the store’s name as the woman stepped inside, Vivien smiled, “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure anyone would have helped you.”
“And I would do it for them, too, but you are the one who stopped, no?” When Vivien resigned with a nod, Aletha grinned, “You stopped, so you deserve it. Now, come, we will make you something.”
Taking in a breath, Vivien nodded and followed the dark-haired woman inside, helping her prop open the door before taking the chance to look around as she called out for her husband. Though most of the signage was in Spanish, Vivien could understand some of what was written as she had managed to learn enough Spanish in school to get by in basic conversations. A few rows of groceries and typical convenience store merchandise lined the room from the register to the back wall. If Vivien’s Spanish was right, coolers containing milk, juice, eggs, and a few types of alcohol capped each aisle, and as Vivien peered into one containing juices with labels in Spanish too advanced for her to read, a man’s voice cut through the silence.
“¿Tenemos un cliente?” the man asked as he entered from the door behind the counter, hastily tying an apron around his waist. “¿Ya?”
Gesturing to Vivien, Aletha spoke, “Darling, this is Vivien. She helped me put up the flag. Make her whatever she wants.”
Looking up from the knot he tied around his stomach, the graying man’s eyes found Vivien, and his smile faltered slightly before he forced it back into place. Turning to his wife with a smile that Vivien could tell was strained, he asked, “¿Por qué les das cosas gratis cuando ya lo tienen todo?”
Stopping the man with a hand, Aletha spoke firmly, “¡Haz lo que te dicen!”
“¡Pero-!”
“Ernesto,” Aletha interrupted as she sent her husband a look, begging him to argue with her further. “Esta dulce chica no hizo nada malo. Nuestra gente y su gente son primos. Hazle algo para mí, por favor.”
Attempting to piece together what she could understand of the conversation, Vivien glanced between the two and softly spoke up, “Yo también hablo español.” As the man’s gaze landed back on her, the dark eyes behind his glasses widening as his native language left her mouth, Vivien explained, “Solo un poco, pero puedo entenderlo. I, uh, I can leave, if you’d like.”
“Ignore my husband,” Aletha attempted. “We deal with bad people a lot here. Mostly whites. Forgive him.”
“It’s alright,” Vivien offered with a smile. “Can I, um, could I maybe buy some stuff to make for breakfast before I go?”
Gesturing toward the aisles, Aletha nodded, offering the girl an apologetic smile, “Please.”
Slowly turning back to the shop, Vivien took in a breath and looked around a bit, taking her time looking around as she heard the couple begin arguing in hushed, quick voices. Her prior Spanish lessons went out the window as Ernesto got a verbal lashing from his wife, her words sharp and pointed as Vivien looked over their merchandise. As her arms filled with things she could use to make a nice breakfast for herself and the Murphys, Viven overheard Ernesto apologizing to his wife, but couldn’t make out anything after that as the heels of Aletha’s shoes clacked against the tiled floor whilst the woman left the vicinity. After allowing the older man some time to cool down, Vivien headed to the register and placed her items on the counter, offering Ernesto a small grin in the hopes that they would have a peaceful exchange.
Thankfully, the man didn’t seem too keen on chatting as he began punching in the price of her items and pushing them aside one by one. She offered to help him bag her items, but after he silently shook his head, Vivien stood on the opposite side of the counter with her hands folded in front of her, silently praying the interaction would be over soon so that she could leave without any further words from either of them. However, after giving her the total and accepting her money without much fuss, a pointed cough from behind the sandwich counter forced Ernesto to speak as he counted the girl’s change and handed it over.
Pushing the cash drawer back into the base of the register, the man hesitantly spoke, “Lo siento.”
“It’s alright,” Vivien brushed off, ready to simply grab her things and get out of the older man’s hair so that they both could go about their days in peace.
“No, no está bien,” Ernesto replied with a shake of his head. “You helped my Aletha. I was rude.”
Hoping to brush the whole matter aside, Vivien shrugged, “It’s water under the bridge.”
“White people don’t come often unless they want trouble,” Ernesto sighed, tucking the package of bacon against the side of the bag. “You look white like arena de playa.”
Vivien chuckled lightly, knowing just how pale she had gotten over the dreary winter they had gotten rammed with that year, “I’m from New Hampshire. Up there, it’s more snow than sunshine.”
Glad the girl seemed to take his comment lightly, Ernesto grinned, his mustache lifting as he spoke, “The sun will give you summer skin soon. Still, it is good to see light-skin people have good souls.”
“I think everyone has good in them somewhere,” Vivien claimed with a small smirk. “Some people just have a harder time finding it than others.”
Trying to make the girl before him understand where he was coming from, Ernesto gestured to the front windows of his shop, the rolling gate still covering the outside of the window despite the beautiful display hidden within. “White people came and painted the windows. Hard to trust people.”
Vivien eyed the window, smears of dark red and black streaking the glass. “Vandalism,” she breathed. Turning back to Ernesto as he placed the container of eggs on top of the items in her brown paper bag, she said, “Not every white person is so horrible.”
“I know,” Ernesto muttered, sliding the bag across the counter toward Vivien. “Sorry again.”
“Thank you,” Vivien said with a smile. “Maybe I can stop by another time and help get rid of the paint. I have some acetone that would probably do the trick.”
Stepping up beside the girl with a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, Aletha said, “We appreciate the offer, but don’t go out of your way. We can manage just fine.”
“I know you can,” Vivien admitted with a grin, accepting the breakfast sandwich with a smile. “I just like helping people if I’m able to.”
“We’ll think on it,” Aletha smiled, cupping Vivien’s cheek with a hand. “Now, go. I’m sure you have better things to be doing this morning than listening to an old man ramble to his wife about the front page of the news paper.”
“Mira a quién llamas viejo,” Ernesto argued, taking a copy of the daily paper from the stack on the counter, folding it in thirds, and tapping the top of his wife’s head. “You’re older than me, mi vida.”
“But you look older, mi amor,” Aletha brushed off with a wave of her hand. Turning her attention back to Vivien, she said, “Go, sweet girl. Before he makes you listen to the headlines and traps you here all day.”
Chuckling at the older couple who, if Vivien thought more about it, sort of reminded her of another older couple she knew, she thanked them for the fresh produce she had bought and the sandwich she hadn’t asked for before heading back into the Florida heat, the sun’s rays just barely peering over the horizon, casting rays of gold and orange beaming through the shades of navy that filled the morning sky. Rearranging the paper bag so that the bottom rested on her left hip, Vivien checked her phone for the time before slipping it back into her pocket. Though she still wanted to explore the area, she knew that if she headed back to the Murphy house, she would have time to make something for breakfast without the boys - or, rather, Royce - interrupting her. With a grin, she adjusted her grasp on the bag and began her walk back to the house, already eager to get into the kitchen and begin cooking before Royce would get the chance to.
In the nearly six months they had known each other, Vivien came to love how similar she and Royce were. Both of them had a deep love for books, had two siblings they adored more than life itself, and both were early risers. Although Vivien loved their early-morning phone calls and video chats while Royce stayed with the Birch family, now that they shared a roof, she hoped he would stay in bed long enough for her to make everyone breakfast. She wasn’t entirely sure what the boys had in their pantry - if they kept much of anything other than cans of soup and vegetables in there in the first place - so she had bought a handful of things she knew she could make into something for them before they started their day.
The coffee she had bought was unlike anything she was used to - some type of Costa Rican coffee in a glass jar that only had Spanish instructions on the back - but she was determined to try, at the very least. Miles would probably drain most of it, if given the chance, but Vivien didn’t really care; it would be worth every penny even if he did. With any luck, she’d have a cup for herself before he made his way downstairs to demolish whatever was left. Bentley and Royce, to her knowledge, weren’t big fans of coffee, so the majority of the coffee would be used up by herself and Miles, but hopefully, the boys would enjoy the juices she had picked out for them in place of the coffee they would miss out on.
Turning onto 64th Avenue, Vivien began to think of recipes she could whip up - omelets, quiches, maybe even her grandpa’s famous cheese and bacon strata cake! The list of possibilities, while not entirely endless as she only had enough ingredients for so much, was long. Although she was somewhat tempted to go all out and make her Grandpa George’s strata cake, she knew that she didn’t have nearly enough time to do all of the preparations, let alone cooking, before Royce would be downstairs.
As she neared the end of Gulf Winds Boulevard and checked the time once more, Vivien settled on French toast - something relatively quick that she knew the boys liked. The vanilla ice cream she had purchased in the hopes of making root beer floats that night with her hosts would, most likely, be melted enough by the time she got to their house that she could use that instead of hoping the boys had enough flour, sugar, salt, and milk for her usual recipe. All she would need to use from their house would be butter, something she hoped they would have enough of. She would replace what she used, of course, but that was the only thing she hadn’t picked up on her little shopping trip.
Taking a deep breath as the Murphy house came into view, Vivien hoped they were all still sleeping - or, at the very least, that they were all still in their rooms. At home, she liked to listen to music or sing to herself while she cooked, as she knew her parents and siblings couldn’t hear her. However, with the relatively open floorplan the Murphy’s home had, Vivien didn’t particularly feel like forcing them to listen to her singing like a beached whale at barely six in the morning. The only audiences she didn’t mind having while she cooked were her grandparents, their dog, Ding, and her own dog, Loki - the latter two being walking trash compactors who would eat anything and everything offered to them, regardless of how charred it was, and had no regard for her terrible singing.
Although she adored Roye and knew he cared about her too, she felt as though she was at a total disadvantage when it came to singing around him. He was from a world literally fueled by music, people singing to pass the time or tell their story, whereas she came from a world where people only sang publicly if they thought they had a chance to become the next viral something or other. In a way, she hoped he would never have to hear her sing apart from the select few times she sang in the car on long rides, but she knew the inevitable would happen sooner or later during her stay. Mick had warned her in passing that singing was damn near unavoidable no matter how hard one tried, but that wasn’t going to stop Vivien from trying as much as physically possible to avoid breaking into a spontaneous song or dance.
Shifting the bag onto her hip once again as she reached the front door, the peeling paint leaving chips of red on her shorts as she leaned against the door, Vivien pulled her key from her pocket and slipped it into the lock. Setting the bag down on the table by the door, Vivien fought the inanimate object for her key for a moment before yanking it free and shoving it into her pocket once more with a huff. Once the door was closed and the handle was locked, Vivien picked up the bag and made her way to the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and pulling things from within. Once everything was laid out before her, Vivien put the ice cream in the sink to continue melting, took the loaf of day-old bread over to the counter, and began shoving the rest of her purchase wherever she thought it belonged.
After struggling to open the borderline-antique General Electric refrigerator, Vivien tossed the package of bacon into the meat drawer, took out the container of butter, and closed the metal beast with the hope that she wouldn’t have to open it again any time soon. Of all the things she had heard Miles ramble about needing to repair or replace over time, how the refrigerator hadn’t made the list was beyond her. After putting the rest of the items away in some place or another, Vivien began looking for the cooking utensils. Unlike the oven back home, the drawer underneath the Chambers brand Model C stove and oven was nonexistent. The stovetop was somewhat similar to the one she was used to cooking on back home apart from the griddle-slash-broiler on the left-hand side, and the oven took up a very small portion of the appliance, but the only storage cubby had a large metal pot and nothing else.
With a huff of mild frustration, Vivien turned on the oven to preheat it before looking around at all of the cupboards she would have to scour through in order to find anything to cook with. With how scatterbrained Miles tended to be, it would be a miracle if anything was in a somewhat normal place. She tried the cupboards on either side of the oven, to no avail - the right side holding a bunch of household tools she assumed Miles used around the house for minor repairs while the left was host to a tower of teetering Tupperware that leaned precariously toward the door which she quickly shut. Straightening up once again, she tried looking above the stove in the hopes that one of the cabinets would have something she could work with.
Soft taps on the tiled floor drew Vivien’s attention to a particular feline as he entered the room, hopped onto one of the stools from the floor, and sauntered his way across the counter to where she had left the paper bag. Reaching out a hand to pet the cat as he sniffed at the brown bag, Vivien sighed, “Morning, Binx.” In return, the cat purred, nuzzling her hand contentedly. With a slight grin, Vivien looked around at the cabinets and joked, “I don’t suppose you know where the boys keep their pots and pans, do you?”
After receiving his fill of attention, Binx hopped down from the counter and padded over to the counter on the wall where the sink was, pawing at the leftmost door below the countertop where the drying rack resided. Eyeing the cat with a raised brow, Vivien followed him over to the counter and crouched before it, allowing the black cat to wander a few steps away before pulling the door open. Much to her surprise, a haphazard stack of pots was braced against the back wall, a slanted array of pans pressed between the pots and the cabinet door.
Turning to Binx as she slowly pulled out a few pans, Vivien breathed a soft, “Thanks.” As though the cat had understood her, Binx slowly blinked, nodding at the brunette before lifting a paw to his mouth and licking it. Setting her selection of pans on the counter by the sink, Vivien pushed herself to her full height and closed the cabinet door before glancing back down at the cat and chuckling, “Any idea where they keep the bowls?”
As the housecat peered up at her, his golden eyes sparkling in the light overhead, Vivien smiled and went back to her search. Looking through some of the overhead cabinets with no luck, she listened as Binx wandered off, presumably heading to the boys’ room to beg for breakfast. If she knew where his food was, she would have given him some, but given her lack of luck finding the bowls and silverware, Vivien didn’t particularly feel like tearing the room apart in search of Binx’s food.
Turning her attention back toward the stove in the hopes of finding something there, Vivien froze as she realized Binx had yet to leave the room. Instead, he sat on the counter to the right of the stove, watching her like a silent judge. With a ghost of a grin, Vivien ran a hand along the cat’s fur and said, “You know, it’s times like this that I think it might be a good thing that cats can’t talk. Your eyes do all the judging your mouth can’t.”
Meowing loudly, Binx moved from under Vivien’s hand and made sure she was watching him before stretching up toward one of the upper cabinets, kneading the door with his claws briefly. Settling on the counter once more, he blinked up at Vivien and batted her hand with his paw, a silent encouragement for her to open the door. Glancing up at the door, Vivien swore she had already looked through it, but found herself reaching up all the same. Before she took the handle, she pointed at it, looked down at the cat, and asked, “This one?”
Binx slowly blinked - a yes, if Vivien had to guess.
Taking in the fact that she was taking instructions from a cat - of all things - Vivien latched onto the handle of the cabinet and pulled it open, lifting her gaze from the cat before her as the door swung open. Emerald eyes widened behind round glasses as Vivien realized, for the second time that morning, that Binx had understood her enough to show her where things were in the house. Mentally wishing she could have taught her perpetually lazy pup the same thing, Vivien hesitantly took a few bowls down and closed the cabinet before turning to Binx again.
Swallowing the last shreds of her common sense, Vivien asked the cat, “What about the silverware?”
In response, Binx’s golden irises flickered over to the sink where the dishes Miles and Royce had scrambled to clean the night before were still sitting in the drying rack. Venturing back over to the sink, Vivien waited for Binx to hop onto the counter and lean over the edge, his eyes pointedly staring at a drawer with half a handle still connected to the wood. Tugging the drawer open, Vivien pulled a fork, a pair of tongs, and an ice cream scooper from the tray within before smiling at Binx. The cat, seemingly indifferent, merely stared up at her, soft purring betraying his aloof stare as Vivien allowed her nails to comb through Binx’s silky fur.
“Are you sure you’re not a talking cat or something?” Vivien wondered aloud as Binx nuzzled into her hand.
“Pretty sure.”
Jumping back from the cat at the sudden voice, Vivien nearly dropped the utensils in her hands, shaky hands clamoring to snatch the tongs from midair before they could clatter to the floor. Once she was sure she had a solid grip on everything apart from her sanity, Vivien whirled around, hoping that someone else had simply ventured into the room without her knowing. Seeing her boyfriend standing in the doorway in his pajamas with an amused grin and a knowing gleam in his chocolate eyes, Vivien let out a huff and placed a hand over her chest to calm herself.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she breathed, glaring halfheartedly at Royce as he stepped into the room.
Royce chuckled, pulling open the fridge with far more ease than Vivien had and filling a small bowl with water from a pitcher they kept on one of the shelves, “I guess I could say the same to you.”
Curious as she set her utensils on the counter and pulled the ice cream out of the sink, Vivien watched Royce place the bowl of water on a towel on the floor as she asked, “How would I have scared you? I didn’t even know you were up.”
As he pulled a can of cat food down from a cupboard, Royce admitted, “I usually get up around six to start making breakfast, but when I went by your room to see if you wanted to join me, you weren’t there. You also weren’t in the bathroom, but when I checked the living room, you weren’t there either, so I was starting to get worried when I heard you talking to Binx.”
Watching Binx as Royce opened the cat food and placed some in a small ceramic bowl covered in little cartoon fish, Vivien claimed, “He’s a smart cat. He was helping me find stuff to cook with.”
“I think he’s memorized where everything is just so that he can tell us that he wants food.” Glancing at Vivien as he moved to put the food down for Binx, Royce thought for a moment about her words, distracted only by Binx’s meow telling him to put his food on the floor before he got claws to the wrist. Setting the food down, Royce returned to Vivien’s side and brought his arms around her middle, watching her shovel vanilla ice cream into a bowl from over her shoulder as he said, “You know, if you were hungry, you could have come to me. I would have made something, so you didn’t have to go through all this hassle.”
“I know you would have,” Vivien said with a smile, “but I wanted to make something to thank you guys for letting me stay here.”
Stepping away from Vivien and taking the second pint of ice cream from the sink before she could reach for it, Royce spoke softly, “You don’t have to do that. We want you to be here.” As Vivien watched him scoop ice cream into the bowl, Royce turned to her with a small smile and said, “Besides, you’re not just our guest, you’re my girlfriend. I don’t want you to feel like you owe us anything for staying here.”
“I know,” Vivien said before licking some melted ice cream from the back of her hand. “I just wanted to surprise you guys.”
Scraping the inside of the container with the spoon, Royce raised an eyebrow and asked, “What were you trying to make, anyway?”
“French toast,” Vivien admitted. “I was hoping to at least get some of it done before you came down, but I had a hard time finding anything to cook with.”
“Yeah,” Royce sighed, reluctant to admit just how poorly stocked their food supply always seemed to be. “We haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while.”
“I meant the cookware,” Vivien said as she took the bowl from Royce, watching him toss the empty container into the trash at the end of the counter. “I don’t know how you guys find anything. I mean, I get the silverware drawer being by the sink - that’s the way it is at our house, too - but the pots and pans being on the other side of the kitchen, away from the stove? That’s a decision that should send someone to an asylum.”
Raising his arms in surrender, Royce chuckled, “Don’t blame me. That was all Bentley.”
“And you let him?” Vivien pressed with a laugh. “Mister organized let his baby brother wreak havoc on the kitchen?”
“I didn’t exactly get much say,” Royce admitted. “I was busy helping Miles with his Jeep when all this happened.”
Hoping that, sooner or later, she would be able to help Miles with fixing up the rolling rust bucket that sat in the garage, Vivien sighed and shook her head, “You know, I’m half tempted to buy him a new Jeep so he doesn’t have to deal with that cruddy old thing.”
Royce chuckled, shaking his head, “He won’t let you do that.”
“I know, but the thought is there,” Vivien shrugged. Smoothing out the ice cream with a spoon, she asked, “Could you grab the bread for me?”
With a soft hum, Royce turned, taking the loaf of bread from the counter, pulling the twist-tie off, and pocketing the yellow tie before setting the bag of bread close to Vivien and asking, “Anything else?”
Pulling a slice of bread from the bag and placing it in the ice cream, Vivien glanced over at Royce, drinking in his gentle expression and half-asleep appearance with a smile as she asked, “Would you mind buttering a skillet for me? And, uh, could you put it over medium heat too?”
Royce nodded with a smile, maneuvering around the kitchen with practiced ease as Vivien gingerly carried the bowl of vanilla ice cream and the bag of bread to the countertop closest to the stove. As he watched Vivien slather the bread in ice cream, Royce placed the skillet on the stove and turned it on before taking the twist tie out of his pocket with a grin. Vivien placed the first slice of bread on the skillet with a smile, her fingers sticky with ice cream as she reached for another slice of bread and began humming softly to herself as she slathered a fresh slice of bread in ice cream.
Stepping up to Vivien’s left with a small smile, Royce took a paper towel from the roll on the counter and asked, “Can I see your hand for a second?”
Glancing over at her boyfriend curiously, Vivien asked, “Huh?” Connecting the dots as he held a hand out to her, Vivien quickly said, “Oh, yeah, sure. Here,” and held out her hand before turning back to the breakfast she had begun cooking.
Taking Vivien’s wrist and attempting to ignore the slight electric tingle running up his arm as his fingers twisted her hand palm-up, Royce wiped the melted streaks of white from her fingers before flipping her hand back up and sliding the bread tie around her finger. Twisting the ends together in a sort of lopsided heart against the top of his girlfriend’s ring finger, Royce grinned proudly and said, “There.”
Tearing her gaze away from the pan as she flipped the first piece of bread and placed the second in it, Vivien peered down at the hand Royce still held, examining the bread tie ring with a confused grin. “Cute,” she chuckled. “What made you think of that?”
Royce shrugged, “I can’t exactly give you my class ring or a letterman sweater since I don’t have one, and I can’t afford a fancy promise ring, so I figured this would be the next best thing.”
Vivien smiled, albeit with a hint of trepidation, as she slowly asked, “I’m sorry, but what exactly are promise rings?”
“You don’t have them in your world?” Royce asked in return, confusion lacing his words as he watched Vivien shake her head. “W-Well, I guess, for most people, it’s sort of like a way for a couple to show that they’re serious about each other.”
Raising a brow, Vivien wondered, “I thought we were serious about each other already. Are we… were you not serious about us?”
“What?” Royce breathed, finding hurt in Vivien’s eyes as he watched her scrutinize him. Realizing what his words had implied, he quickly shook his head, eyes widening as he exclaimed, “No! No, I am, I promise!”
Smiling at how easy it was to get Royce scrambling, she squeezed his fingers in her grasp and asked, “Then what does this mean to you?”
“I don’t know, really,” Royce breathed, examining the makeshift ring as he brushed his thumb over it. “It just felt right.”
Examining Royce’s expression as he traced the ring with his finger, Vivien grinned and lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to Royce’s knuckles and whispering against his skin, “Thank you.”
Fighting to ignore the surge of goosebumps that rushed up his arms, Royce smiled - a captivating grin that Vivien loved every time it appeared. Whilst Royce had admitted to her that he was never really fond of the way his smile stretched the thin scar on his upper lip into a white line, Vivien found it all the more appealing and had told him as such more than once. Pulling her hand to his lips, Royce reciprocated her earlier kiss by pressing one to the back of her hand before saying, “You’re welcome.”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien tried to think of something, anything, to say in response, but found herself quickly distracted by the food as the smell of French toast wafted through the air. Whipping around to the stove, Vivien quickly scrambled to flip one slice and take the other off of the heat, wincing at the blackened state it was in. Royce grabbed a plate from the cabinet and handed it to Vivien, matching her expression as she set the first slice on the plate.
“Great,” she breathed, making a mental note to add the charred slice of bread to her plate later on.
Hoping to make light of the situation, Royce grinned, “At least the house smells good.”
“Yeah,” Vivien sighed, setting the plate aside as she grabbed a fresh slice of bread and coated it in ice cream. As Royce took the plate from her other hand, Vivien said, “You can just put that aside. I’ll have that one.”
Eyeing the burned bread with a raised brow, Royce slowly spoke, “But it’s burnt.”
“Only on one side,” Vivien said as she placed the bread in the skillet. “I can scrape that off and it’ll be fine.”
Though he still felt the need to chuck the piece of bread into the trash, Royce set the plate down and resigned himself to helping his girlfriend with breakfast as she handed him the tongs and began coating another slice of bread. After making sure they had enough for everyone, Royce turned off the stove and helped Vivien place the French toast on a baking sheet before stepping away to start making coffee for Miles. Vivien put the breakfast in the oven to keep it warm before asking Royce if he knew how to make the Costa Rican coffee she had placed on one of the counters. Once the percolator was on the stove and coffee had begun brewing, Royce and Vivien sat down at the table with some spoons and the bowl of leftover ice cream to discuss all she had done that morning.
Their peaceful morning was soon interrupted, though, as the smell of warm breakfast filled the house. Bentley stumbled his way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a loud yawn as he reached the kitchen, looking around for whatever smell had lured him out of bed. Spotting his brother and close friend at the table, he muttered, “Morning.”
The pair replied in kind before Vivien teased, “Do you always look like you stuck a finger into an electric socket when you get up in the morning?”
Still half asleep as he wandered through the kitchen in search of food, Bentley grumbled, “Ask your boyfriend; he looks like this every day.”
Mildly bewildered at how easily he had been thrown into the conversation, Royce asked, “What did I do to you?”
Opening the fridge to look inside, Bentley huffed, “Well, you’re hiding my breakfast, for one.”
“It’s not hidden,” Royce chuckled, watching with a grin as his baby brother turned toward him and gestured to the kitchen with disbelieving eyes.
“Where is it, then?”
“It’s in the oven until Miles gets up,” Vivien said with a smirk. “I suggest that, if you want something to eat, you go wake him up.”
Bentley groaned, dragging himself across the room and dropping into a chair as he groaned, “That’ll take forever.”
Vivien watched with amusement evident in her eyes as Bentley folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them with an exaggerated sigh. Smirking, Royce placed a hand on Bentley’s head, ruffling his brother’s hair as he said, “You know, you could always bribe him with coffee. That usually works.”
“But all he’s got is that stuff from the gas station,” Bentley muttered into his arms. After letting out a yawn, he lifted his head slightly and sighed, “From the sound of it, it tasted like mud yesterday.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I bought some coffee while I was out, then,” Vivien said with a grin, watching as Bentley’s attention latched onto her.
The blond’s sleep-riddled brain took a while to piece together Vivien’s statement, but as realization filled his baby-blue eyes, Bentley found himself confused. “You didn’t get coffee when we were out last night.”
“No,” Vivien agreed with a shake of her head. “I bought it this morning at this cute little bodega while I was on my morning walk.”
“You’ve been out already?” Bentley asked, exhaustion lingering in his bones. When Vivien nodded, Bentley made a face and turned to Royce, “I was right; you two really are made for each other.”
Though Vivien seemed curious as to what Bentley meant, Royce was quick to backtrack as he fought the urge to slap a hand over his brother’s mouth, “Anyway, I just started making the coffee Viv got, so if you want breakfast, go harass him. Maybe he’ll get out of bed if he knows he’s got good coffee waiting.”
“‘M too tired, RJ,” Bentley yawned, closing his eyes and resting his chin on his palm as he struggled to keep himself awake. “Can’t you go wake him?”
Meeting his girlfriend’s haze from across the table, Royce rolled his eyes with a smile that Vivien seemed to share before shrugging and pushing his chair back from the table. “Just this once,” Royce sighed as he stood, pushing his chair back in and placing a hand on Bentley’s back as he rounded the table.
“You said that last time,” Bentley muttered with a tired grin, his eyes just barely open as he watched Royce head toward the hallway, Binx trotting along behind him.
Sparing a last glance at his baby brother, Royce said, “And one of these days, I’ll mean it. Now, why don’t you get the plates and silverware out while I get him.”
“Fine,” Bentley groaned dramatically, nudging his chair away from the table as Royce smirked and headed toward the stairs. Once he was sure his brother was out of earshot, a knowing smirk tugged at Bentley’s lips as he turned his attention back onto Vivien. “So,” he began with a drawl, “you two spent the morning together, huh?”
“Not really,” Vivien shrugged. “I went out for a walk on my own, helped a lady put up a flag, did some shopping, and came back. Royce heard me making breakfast and decided to help.”
Despite the hint of skepticism in Bentley’s eyes, the blond brushed off her claim and said, “You know, I meant what I said. You two are perfect for each other.”
“We are, are we?” Vivien asked with a grin, watching Bentley stand and drag himself away from the table.
He hummed as he began pulling plates from the cabinet, “You two both wake up at the crack of dawn like a couple of freaks.”
Vivien snorted, rising from her seat to grab silverware as Bentley set the array of mismatched plates in a stack on the counter, “And that means we’re good for each other?”
“It’s one of the ways, yeah,” Bentley nodded. Thinking for a moment, Bentley slowly asked, “You remember when we met you on Halloween, like, forever ago?”
Intrigued yet amused, Vivien nodded, “It’s only been six months, but yeah, why?”
“That’s when I knew you two would be together,” the blond admitted.
Vivien raised an eyebrow, “Right off the bat like that?”
“Mhm.”
“How?”
Leaning against the counter, Bentley ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “He kept smiling at his hand like an idiot. Even when we got back to the cabin and he got the chance to send you a message, he would not stop looking at your handwriting like it was a first-edition copy of some fancy book or something.”
“He was that bad?” Vivien snickered. She knew for a fact she hadn’t been any better, but the thought of Royce, her sweet, usually composed boyfriend, being so eager to strike up a conversation without romance being on the table at the time, sent warmth fluttering across her cheeks as giddiness settled in her ribcage.
“Worse,” Bentley scoffed. “When we got home and he had no way of talking to you, it was far worse since you were all he wanted to talk about. That was when I figured that, if Royce had any say in it, you two would be together sooner or later.”
An adoring smile tugged at Vivien’s lips as she helped Bentley set the table, memories of that Halloween night flitting across her mind as she breathed, “You know, if it weren’t for Riven, I never would have said anything to Royce.”
“Riven?” Bentley echoed thoughtfully. “That’s the guy that you skate with, right? The tall one who started the karaoke thing at your Christmas party?”
“That’s the one,” Vivien chuckled. “When we were handing out cookies and stuff, Riven kept teasing me for staring at Royce while you were trick-or-treating. He tried encouraging me to talk to him or ask him out, but I was too nervous to do anything.”
Curious, Bentley sat in his usual chair and asked, “If you were too scared, how did he convince you to give Royce your number?”
“You guys had started walking away, and Riven came up to me and asked if I was - oh, how did he say it?” Vivien thought for a moment, thinking back on that night and attempting to recall her best friend’s statement. After a while, she chuckled and confessed, “He, uh, he asked if I was going to grow some balls or if he was going to have to ask Royce out for me.”
Bentley let out a snort, “Y’know, I think Butchy and Miles were just shy of doing the same for Royce when you came over.”
“What did I do for Royce?” a deep, groggy voice mumbled from the archway of the kitchen.
Turning toward the edge of the kitchen with a lopsided grin that reminded Vivien of her partner in crime back home, Bentley chirped, “We were just talking about how you had to help RJ give Binx a bath last week after the ice cream incident.”
With an exhausted face and a heaved sigh, Miles glared at the black furball in Royce’s arms and huffed, “Little demon cat.”
Reaching up to pet the cat as Royce passed and smiling as Binx leaned into her nails with a gentle purr, Vivien peered over at Miles and teased, “He’s just a baby, Miles.”
Fixing his tired cerulean eyes on Vivien, Miles pointed at the cat and emphasized each word as he repeated, “Little. Demon. Cat.”
Royce grinned, “Miles is just upset that Binx wouldn’t sit still while we washed him.”
Grabbing his mug from the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee with a yawn, Miles shook his head, “No, Miles is upset he was turned into a human pincushion, but Royce got to snuggle his little demon spawn while Binx was all snuggled up in Miles’ towel.”
“Since when does Miles speak in the third person?” Vivien wondered with a smirk as Royce sat down and allowed Binx to wander the kitchen. “’Cause Vivien thinks it’s kinda weird.”
Without turning to look at the girl, Miles set the percolator back on the stove and turned the burner off before raising a hand and flipping her the bird as he sipped his coffee. Stopping to take a breath, Miles stared into his cup of coffee as the flavor finally settled on his tongue. The bitterness of any black coffee would typically make him wince, but the soft, smooth taste of the coffee had taken him by surprise - a pleasant wake-up call in comparison to the harsh slap in the face his gas station coffee had been the last couple of days. Since he had bought it after a long work day without so much as looking at the label, Miles’ tongue had been violently assaulted by the sheer nastiness that was his first cup of coffee that morning.
It was his own damn fault, sure, but he had given it the benefit of the doubt, hoping he hadn’t wasted his money on nasty coffee. However, after taking some to work in the hopes of trying it in the new coffee maker his boss had put in the waiting room for customers, Miles found himself out of luck. The coffee was disgusting no matter how you made it, and, to his dismay, he discovered that no amount of cream, milk, sugar, or flavoring shots could rid him of the motor oil that clung to his taste buds all day afterward.
Staring into the dark liquid, Miles began to wonder who had gotten the disastrous coffee to taste so good. Slowly turning as he made his way to the fridge, Miles asked, “Which one of you made my coffee?”
“Royce did,” Vivien claimed as Royce lifted a hand.
“But Viv helped make it taste good,” Royce tacked on.
Glancing warily between the girl and his coffee, Miles slowly asked, “The hell did you do to it?”
With a smirk, Vivien feigned innocence as she stood from the table and asked, “Whatever do you mean?”
Setting the mug down, Miles stared right through Vivien’s acting and said, “It tastes good. What did you do to make that sewer water taste good?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she fired as she neared the stove.
“I would,” Miles retorted blandly. “That’s why I asked.”
Vivien looked ready to continue stringing Miles along, but Bentley, eager to get some food into him, spoke up, “She bought you some good coffee this morning. Now, can we please have something to eat before I starve over here?”
Turning back to Vivien, Miles asked, “You bought coffee?”
“I did,” she nodded. “I hope it tastes alright.”
“It’s great, thank you,” Miles responded, his gratitude instinctual. However, he couldn’t contain the urge to ask, “How much was it? I’ll pay you back after.”
Vivien rolled her eyes, reaching for a mug to pour herself some of the coffee, “It’s not just for you, so no, you won’t.” Lowering her voice, Vivien muttered, “Right now, I have more money than I know what to do with, so how about we let it slide and you can spend your money on something else?”
Though Miles looked reluctant to back down, the firm kindness in Vivien’s eyes made it impossible for him to do anything more than softly ask, “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Thank y-”
“You know what I’m positive about?” Bentley asked, cutting off Miles’ statement of gratitude from the other side of the room. “I’m positive that I’m starving over here.”
With a sigh and a not-so-subtle roll of his eyes, Miles turned back to his brothers with a tired grin, “And, thus, the drama queen of Murphy house has finally made an appearance. What do you want for breakfast? I think we still have some of those quiches Lela made the other day.”
“Actually,” Vivien began, drawing Miles’ attention back to herself, “I already made breakfast.”
“You did?” Miles asked, a wave of concern weaving through his chest as he wondered what on earth she could have used to make anything. There wasn’t much in the pantry, and the fridge had the bare-bones necessities he made sure were always in the house, but he was going to take the boys grocery shopping while Vivien was out with the girls so that they would have enough food in the house for everyone. Apart from the knock-off brand cereals in the pantry and the handful of toaster pastries Bentley liked that sat in a box on the counter; there wasn’t a lot in the house when it came to breakfast.
Vivien took a pair of oven mitts from a hook on the wall behind the stove and slid them on. Then, she opened the oven and pulled out the tray of French toast she and Royce had set inside to keep warm. Placing the tray on the unused burners of the stove, Vivien turned off the heat and set the mitts aside, gesturing to the food with a grin. “We made French toast.”
“We?” Miles echoed.
“Royce helped,” Vivien shrugged.
“Not really,” Royce chuckled as he grabbed a spatula from the utensil drawer and handed it to Vivien. “If anything, I think I was more of a distraction than anything.”
“A very welcome distraction,” Vivien said with a smile. Turning to the food before her, Vivien said, “Now, come on. I only have so much time to eat and chill with you guys before the girls get here.”
Not needing to be told twice, Bentley rose from his seat with his plate and crossed the room, nearly plowing Miles over in the process as he scurried to the stove and waited for Vivien to shovel food onto his plate. Once his brothers had food on their plates, Miles handed Vivien her own and waited for the boys to be seated before lowering his voice and asking, “How did you make all of this?”
Vivien shrugged as she set her own plate aside and began filling Miles’, “It’s just some vanilla ice cream and bread, Miles; it’s nothing spectacular.”
Miles thought for a moment, glancing at the refrigerator he knew was just barely cold enough to keep their milk stable before turning back to Vivien, “I’m pretty sure we didn’t have any ice cream, kiddo.”
“I bought the stuff this morning on my walk,” Vivien said with a grin. “There’s this adorable little shop on the next street over that’s run by this sweet, older, Cuban couple, and while I was checking it out, I figured I’d make breakfast to thank you guys for hosting me.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s arm, Miles said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” Vivien retorted, handing Miles his plate with a smile. “Now, go finish making your coffee and then eat. I want to hear how terrible my cooking is this time.”
With a reluctant chuckle, Miles rolled his eyes, “First of all, that was one time, and I was sick, so nothing tasted good. Second, how are you still holding that over me? It was, like, a year ago.”
“What can I say? I’m petty,” Vivien grinned, taking her plate and heading back to the table as Miles grabbed the creamer from the fridge and poured some into his coffee. Using her fork to cut into the first slice of bread on her plate, Vivien asked the boys, “How is it?”
Although Royce took the time to swallow his food before telling her how much he enjoyed her cooking, Bentley had no qualms with holding a hand over his mouthful of French toast and mumbling, “So good!”
“Ben,” Miles gently reprimanded as he set his coffee and plate down and took his place at the table.
“Sorry,” the blond muttered, too distracted with stabbing into the bread again to actually mean what he said.
With a heaved sigh, Miles turned to Vivien and said, “It must be good if Bentley’s too busy stuffing his face to bother putting maple syrup on anything.”
Vivien chuckled, watching as Bentley’s gaze slowly rose from his plate, locking quickly on the golden brown bottle of Vermont maple syrup. Snatching the bottle from the center of the table, Bentley popped open the cap and let a thick stream of syrup drench his plate, soaking every last crumb in the liquid before capping it and returning the bottle to its original position. Snorting as she watched Bentley practically inhale his food, Vivien shook her head and went back to eating, allowing a comfortable silence to fill the air.
By the time the food was gone from everyone else’s plates, Bentley was long since finished and had begun chatting with the others around the table, his plate still coated in a thick layer of syrup on the table before him while he used a laser pointer Mick had given him to play with Binx. Once the table was cleared of plates and the dishes had been unceremoniously tossed into the sink to be washed later on, Bentley all but dragged Vivien to the living room to introduce her to his favorite Sunday morning cartoons while Royce headed upstairs to get dressed and Miles worked on figuring out a grocery list. It didn’t take long for Royce to join them again, still half-heartedly carding his fingers through his tangled curls as he jogged down the stairs. Halfway through an episode of The Jetsons, with Royce rubbing circles into the back of her hand with his thumb and Bentley explaining the show’s main characters to her while a segment of commercials aired, Vivien jumped as a series of knocks rapped on the door.
Without allowing anyone to get up from their positions, the door swung open, Lela’s jet-black hair flowing like a drop of ink in water over her shoulder as she hip-checked the door from its heat-swollen frame. With a laugh she shared with Carrie as the pair entered the house, Lela beamed, “Hey, hey! Who’s ready to blow through our paychecks?”
Vivien chuckled, pushing herself from the couch with a grin, “Is that what I volunteered for?”
As Vivien rounded the couch, Lela sauntered over to meet her, wrapping the brunette in a hug and rocking her from side to side as she giggled, “It absolutely is.” Pulling back to hold Vivien by the arms as Carrie worked on shoving the door closed, Lela explained, “Carrie and I brought you some clothes to try on before we go, so that you don’t have to borrow some of Miles’ clothes and end up reeking like motor oil and gasoline all day.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Miles huffed as he left the kitchen, writing pad and pen still in hand.
Lela turned to him with a grin, “Good.”
Crossing over to meet her boyfriend and shifting the bag of clothes she carried into the crook of her elbow, Carrie smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist with a yawn, “Good morning to you, too.”
“Morning,” he muttered against her as his forehead came to rest against her shoulder.
Rolling his eyes from his spot on the couch, Royce scoffed, “Really? First thing in the morning?”
Turning to her boyfriend with a somewhat amused stare, Vivien retorted, “You say that like you weren’t just as clingy with me this morning while we made breakfast.”
Taking in a breath, Royce looked ready to argue, but as he met Vivien’s eyes, he deflated, sulking back into the couch as Bentley snickered, “Your girlfriend has bigger balls than you do, RJ.”
“Shut up.”
Vivien snorted, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Lela, “So, about those clothes?”
Practically shoving the half-asleep Miles away from her shoulder, Carrie held up the bag with a smile, “Right here.”
Converging in the middle of the living space, Carrie opened the bag and allowed Lela to dig into it and pull out a myriad of colored fabrics. “I pulled a few things from my closet and so did Carrie, so feel free to pick whatever. There isn’t much, but we thought you’d like to blend into the crowd a bit more. There are some pants for comfort’s sake, but since it’ll be in the eighties today, we picked out some shorts and skirts as well.”
“There’s also a ton of patterns and colors for you to play with,” Carrie added with a smile. “And I may or may not have thrown in some shoes for you, but I wasn’t sure if the sizes in your world are the same as they are here, so don’t worry if they don’t fit you.”
Peering into the bag with a smile and examining the array of material within, Vivien glanced between the two girls and giggled, “What am I supposed to do with all of this when we get back from shopping?”
Lela chuckled, “These are for you, silly. You get to keep them.”
“What? Why?” Vivien asked. “I can’t just take your clothes.”
“Consider it a gift,” Carrie said with a wave of her hand, brushing off Vivien’s concern with a comfortable smile. “Besides, we both have more clothes than we know what to do with. It makes sense that we’d pass some stuff down to the next girl in line.”
Though Vivien had, of course, borrowed clothes from family members before - and stolen a handful of clothing from her aunts and father over the years - she had never been given direct hand-me-downs before. Her only older cousins on her dad’s side of things were boys, and the only other girls around her age were younger, making it nearly impossible for her to receive anything second-hand. Feeling a surge of familial fondness spread through her chest as Lela all but shoved the bag into her grasp, Vivien grinned at the pair and breathed, “Thanks, guys.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Carrie chuckled, nudging the girl toward the stairs. “Just try to find something you like in there and we’ll wait down here.”
“Yeah, so get a move on,” Lela said with a wink. “The sooner you get dressed, the sooner we can go shopping.”
“Alright, alright,” Vivien laughed, hefting the bag onto her shoulder as she began jogging up the stairs, “I’m going!”
Once she was back in the room she now called her own, Vivien deposited the bag of clothes on the end of the bed and began pulling things out of it, tossing them into piles on her bed. Thankfully, the shoes were the last items in the bag, clunking to the floor in a heap as the bag tumbled off the end of the bed. Pushing the chunky go-go boots and heels so high she knew she’d break an ankle even trying to walk in them aside, Vivien grinned at the collection of sneakers and beach shoes Carrie had gifted her. Picking up a pair of shoes she felt would be comfortable roaming through stores all day, she froze as an envelope tumbled to the floorboards with a soft tap.
Picking up the envelope, Vivien flipped it over to find her name scrawled across the front in glittery ink, both of the dots above the I’s in her name turned into tiny hearts. Inside the envelope was a small, folded note alongside a thin necklace with a small, purple rose dangling from it and a pair of matching earrings. Unfolding the paper, Vivien smiled as she read Carrie’s swirling handwriting.
‘Vivi, I wasn’t sure if you have your ears pierced or not, but I wore these in an episode of Find Your Voice, and thought you’d like them, so I took them home with me. I hope you like them. xoxo, Carrie. PS, Miles told me that you don’t like accepting random gifts, but I won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even try giving it back to me!’
Resigning to her fate, Vivien set the envelope of jewelry on the bed and began attempting to find something in the pile of clothes that would match her new accessories. Although her outfit of choice had enough purple to make a purple people eater froth at the mouth, the brunette could bring herself to care. Vivien smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pulling her hair down from its elastic and slipping the tie around her wrist as she debated on whether or not leaving her hair down was a good idea. Choosing to ask the girls later, Vivien returned to the bed and grabbed the envelope, pulling out the jewelry and slipping them on.
Picking up the envelope and setting it on the nightstand, Vivien found herself glancing over her shoulder at the suitcase propped against the wall. Hadn’t her dad said something about Abby putting something in there while they were packing? Shrugging, Vivien decided she would clean up the mountain of clothes when she got back that afternoon and stepped over to the suitcase, kneeling on the floor in front of it. Pulling back the zipper, she pushed aside the clothes she had intended to give back to Lela and Carrie, her shower bag, and her bag of chunky crystals she had yet to put in her windowsill before pulling an envelope from the bottom of the plastic lining.
Her dad’s handwriting was usually anything but neat, but Vivien found herself smiling at the familiarity of it - reminded faintly of the one and only time she ever tried forging his signature to get out of detention when she was in seventh grade. Of course, with her dad being the junior-senior high school’s principal, she was screwed from the start as he would have had to approve of her release slip, but she never was one to think ahead when it came to things like that. Opening the envelope and pulling out a piece of construction paper folded to resemble a card, Vivien smiled at the hand-drawn cartoon dinosaurs on the front - a signature of Oliver’s presence, no doubt - and opened it, a smaller, yet thicker envelope thumping into her lap as they were released from their confines.
Not wanting herself to be distracted by the new item, Vivien read through a small note from her dad - his well-wishes and love apparent as he told her to accept what they gave her and take loads of pictures for them - followed by short messages from her siblings - Oliver’s teasing remark telling her not to get pregnant on spring break starkly juxtaposed with Abby’s sweet message reminding her to take a break for once and telling her they loved her. Vivien found herself smirking at the differences between her siblings before setting the card aside, intent on setting it somewhere she could see it every day. Picking up the extra envelope, Vivien’s mouth fell open in shock as she found a stack of dollar bills inside. Tugging the cash from the plain white envelope and finding a sticky note placed atop the first bill, she let out a disbelieving breath - it was all hundreds!
Giving it a quick count, Vivien nearly dropped the money. There had to have been at least two grand in her hands. Vivien felt panic wash through her; she could have sworn she told her dad how much she had saved for the trip! What gave him the idea of giving her so much? Pulling the sticky note from the money, she read her dad’s quick note - “Your aunts and I have been setting money aside for your future escapades. Have fun in paradise, pumpkin, and don’t spend this all on crystals and dog toys! Loki has enough of those. We love you, baby girl. Always.” - and felt her eyes begin to burn. She hadn’t had the chance to swing by her aunts’ place before leaving, but as she took a deep breath to calm herself, Vivien felt almost grateful they claimed they were busy that night. If she had seen them before leaving and not thanked them, she would have felt so much worse. At least her phone call on the plane had consisted more of yawns and tired ramblings about activities she was looking forward to than anything meaningful.
Digging into the back pocket of her shorts, Vivien tugged out her phone and unlocked it before remembering exactly where - and, more importantly, when - she was. Even if she called her dad and her aunts to thank them for their overly expensive gift, the call wouldn’t go through. Not only were the phone numbers probably not in use yet, but even if they were, the only people in her immediate family tree who were even alive in the sixties were her grandparents, and they would only be around seven or eight - certainly not old enough to be accepting phone calls from some random girl claiming to be their granddaughter. Letting out a sigh, Vivien pocketed the phone once again and stood, setting the card and sticky note in the drawer of her nightstand and adding the money from her family to the already absurd amount of money in her wallet.
Now possessing far too much money than she knew what to do with, Vivien took a purse from the pile of items she now owned and shoved her phone, wallet, and blood pressure medication into it before securing her smartwatch around her wrist and leaving the room. Heading downstairs once more, Vivien smiled as Lela and Carrie turned to her with a question, “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Vivien replied. Turning her attention to the trio of brothers on the couch, Vivien asked, “What are you guys going to be doing today?”
“Grocery shopping,” Miles grumbled, letting out a yawn as he peered over the back of the couch at the young girl. “We should be done by two or three, if I can pry a couple certain someones away from the bookstore next to the Winn-Dixie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roye claimed innocently despite the glimmer of anticipation in his caramel eyes.
“Mhm, sure,” Vivien drawled as she made her way behind the couch, wrapping her arms around Royce’s shoulders from behind. As he placed his hands over her arms and squeezed them in return, she lowered her voice and smiled, “I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun,” he replied.
“You too,” Vivien chuckled. “I just know it’ll be so hard to pry poor Bentley away from that darn produce aisle.”
The aforementioned blonde let out a sarcastic snort, “Yeah, about as hard as pulling teeth.”
Vivien smiled and, feeling somewhat more at ease now that she felt more welcomed by the girls she would be spending the day with, said a quick goodbye to the Murphy brothers before following Carrie and Lela outside. Tugging the door into the frame with a yank, Vivien turned to the girls and asked, “So, what now?”
“Now,” Carrie began, swinging her keys as she sauntered over to her car, “we go shopping.”
Raising an eyebrow, Vivien chuckled as she asked, “What happened to getting coffee?”
“We’ll get it at the mall,” Carrie shrugged as she slipped into the driver’s seat.
Looping her arm into Vivien’s and pulling the girl toward Carrie’s Mustang, Lela smiled, “The coffeeshop we usually go to is closed for a family vacation.”
“Those bitches,” Carrie huffed, taking her sunglasses from the visor and placing them on the bridge of her nose.
Laughing, Vivien climbed into the back seat and buckled herself in as Lela rounded the car, “How dare they take a vacation during spring break!”
“I know, right!” Carrie exclaimed, smiling at Vivien in the rearview mirror. “Anyway, they have this little coffee place in the food court that sells cookies and stuff, so I figured we could head there first and then shop around for a bit.”
“Sounds good to me,” Lela sighed as she settled into her seat, turning to Vivien with a grin.
“Yeah,” Vivien nodded, “sounds good.”
“Great!” Clapping her hands together, Carrie beamed, her brilliant smile nearly blinding as she turned the key in the ignition and began backing out onto the street. Nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose, the blonde put the car into drive and pressed the gas pedal, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Lela was quick to turn on the radio, Wipe Out by The Surfaris blaring over the speakers as the car turned left onto Gulf Boulevard. Vivien found herself bopping along to the music as she looked out the side of the car, her hair whipping in the wind and her smile growing as she took in the downtown area of St. Pete Beach, simply excited to see more of the small city. As they flew through the city, turning onto Pinellas Bayway across the street from some ritzy hotel on the beach, Vivien smiled as she took in the palm-tree-lined streets, the warm, oceanic air filling her lungs as the sunlight warmed her skin.
Maybe her dad was right; this place really was paradise.
After slowing down so that Carrie could pay the toll, they pulled onto the highway, picking up speed as they took to Route 275, The Beach Boys’ song Little Deuce Coupe playing over the whipping wind. The half-hour-long drive felt as though it flew by as Vivien drank in the view from the back seat, her eyes flitting between the other cars on the highway and the buildings they drove by. However, once they pulled onto the Howard Frankland Bridge, Vivien found herself enraptured by the glow of the sun on the rippling waters of Old Tampa Bay, pulling her phone out to snap a few quick pictures of the water and the other old-school cars on the bridge with them before tucking it in her purse again to admire the view.
All too soon, the ride was over, and Carrie had pulled into the parking lot for the Sunny Shore Shopping Plaza, rolling into a parking spot midway between the first-floor entrances of JCPenney and Saks Fifth Avenue. Climbing out of the convertible, Vivien looked around with an awestruck smile; the mall was on the larger side in comparison to most shopping areas back home, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, she had somehow survived the Natick Mall - the largest in all of New England - with just a pair of very sore legs, and if the Sunny Shore Mall was anything like it, she could manage just fine so long as she had some pretzel bites and lemonade.
As Carrie sidled up beside her, Vivien beamed, “I have a feeling I’m going to like it here.”
The blonde chuckled, placing her sunglasses atop her head with a smile, “I knew you would.”
Placing her purse strap on her shoulder, Lela took Vivien’s hand and added, “Just wait until you see the inside. There’s a Woolworth’s, a Marshall Field’s, a few five-and-dime stores like Kresge’s, and even a few record shops.”
Allowing the older girls to pull her toward the JCPenney entrance of the shopping mall, Vivien smiled although she had only ever heard of one of the aforementioned stores. Feeling excitement bubbling in her chest as Lela jogged up to the door to pull it open for herself and Carrie, Vivien found it nearly impossible to wipe the smile from her face as she said, “I feel like I’m stepping into a Bright Sun Films YouTube video or something.”
“A YouTube video?” Carrie echoed. “What’s a YouTube?”
“It’s-” Vivien cut herself off, suddenly hit with the fact that YouTube didn’t exist in the sixties. “It’s a video platform where people share things like music and movies and stuff. Maybe I can show you on my phone later.”
“I’d like that,” Carrie smiled, taking Vivien’s arm in hers and pulling her into the store.
Though, as a whole, JCPenney’s departments hadn’t changed much since its original format - clothing, home goods, jewelry, and appliances - the style of, well, everything took Vivien aback far more than she realized it could. Not only were the styles of clothing different, but the store itself was entirely different from any JCPenney Vivien had ever visited. Mid-century-style chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm, golden light on the store as workers in pastel uniforms flitted about with cheerful smiles on their faces. Vivien smiled in return as a woman passed by with a rack of clothes, the two sharing a wave as the woman went about her day.
“It’s funny,” Vivien breathed, gaining the attention of the girls on either side of her as they guided her further into the store.
Looking around curiously, Lela tipped her head to the side as she asked the younger girl, “What is?”
Snickering, Vivien admitted, “I’m not used to seeing people happy to be at work. Most workers in my world are standoffish and grumpy when you approach them in a shop.”
Sharing a laugh as Vivien looked around in amazement, Lela watched as Carrie moved to stand in front of the young brunette with her signature, dazzling smile and said, “Well, Vivi, most people nowadays actually like the jobs they have. From what little experience I have, I can tell you the people are, usually, a lot nicer here because they have other work options to choose from.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Vivien agreed with a nod. Looking around the store, she wondered, “Where do we even start?”
“Why don’t you pick?” Lela offered. “It’s your first time in the sixties, and not like we’re on a tight schedule or anything, so we can go anywhere you want to go.”
Smiling at the idea, Vivien looked around at the different departments, the music playing from the speakers on the walls filling her with a sense of familiarity as she took in the clothing selections around her. Turning from the junior-miss department to the ladies’ department, Vivien found herself not looking at the clothes as a head of blonde hair caught her attention. Watching as the girl turned, her arms filled with various hangers of clothing yet to be tried on, Vivien stepped away from Lela and Carrie and made her way to the blonde.
“Hey,” she called out, smiling as the girl looked up, “you’re Jules, right? The girl from the restaurant yesterday.”
“And you’re Vivien,” Juliet said, smiling as Vivien nodded in agreement. “What brings you here?”
“A shiny, convertible Mustang,” Vivien offered with a tentative laugh. Attempting to brush off her awkwardness with a shake of her head, she gestured to Lela and Carrie as they followed her over and explained, “Carrie and Lela wanted to take me shopping.”
Juliet let out a soft chuckle, smiling over Vivien’s shoulder at the familiar pair, “Not even two whole days here and this one’s already got you two chauffeuring for her? Damn.” Nudging Vivien with an elbow, she smirked at Carrie and teased, “If I’d known it was that easy to hitch a ride in that fancy car o’ yours, I’d have used my - oh, what did you call it, Carrie?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully before thickening her accent with a playful grin. “My ‘southern belle charm’? - on you the day I met you.”
In a bid to appear unphased despite the tinge of pink flushing across her cheeks, Carrie laughed, “You’re one to talk about fancy cars, Julie. You’ve got an Aston Martin.”
“Not today, I don’t,” Juliet said with a wink. Turning her attention back onto the brunette before her, she lowered her voice, “Today, I’m just an average girl with her Thunderbird.”
“I thought you were an average girl,” Vivien chuckled in a breath. “Are you, like, rich or something?”
“My dad owns a few motorcycle manufacturing plants in Texas and Tampa as well as a few country clubs and luxury car sales places,” Juliet admitted with a shrug.
Thinking for a moment about how at ease the girl had been at her place of work the day before, Vivien asked, “I take it you only work at Big Momma for funsies?”
Juliet laughed, smiling brightly back at Vivien, “Well, more for the drama, but yeah, I guess that works too. I don’t really need to work anywhere, but Daddy said I should get some real life experiences and stop stickin’ my nose so high in the air I could drown in a rainstorm, so I picked the only place nobody really knew me at.”
“And, now, everyone loves her,” Carrie chirped as she examined a rack full of skirts with funky patterns.
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” Juliet said with a grin - lopsided, but still somehow perfect. “I’m sure I pissed off a few people by takin’ up space at their favorite hangout.”
“Only those who knew you from before had any issue with it,” Lela admitted. “But now, they love you.”
“And the feelin’s mutual,” Juliet smiled. "They weren't so fond of me before."
“‘Before?” Vivien wondered aloud. “What happened before?”
Juliet heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes at the memory, “It’s a long, twisted story starring my shitty ex-boyfriend and his gaggle of lunatic shitheads he considers friends.”
Eager to learn more about the seemingly sweet and innocent blonde before her, Vivien’s eyes glittered as she asked, “What did they do?”
Leaning close to the girl, Juliet took Vivien’s hand and lowered her voice, “It’s probably not a good idea to get into it here, but he’s a jerk.”
“Worse than just a jerk, if you ask me,” Lela huffed. “He’s an attempted murderer, in my opinion.”
“And you’re right to think so,” Carrie agreed.
Wide-eyed, Vivien looked between the three older girls before saying, “Okay, now I really want to know!”
Juliet glanced around before jerking her thumb toward the large opening that led from JCPenney into the rest of the mall, “Why don’t we go down to the food court? It’s louder down there, so nobody will hear us.”
“I saw in the paper that they’re giving out free milkshakes this weekend at The Crazy Cow,” Lela suggested.
“That’ll work,” Juliet agreed with a smile. Following the girls away from the clothes to the main pathways of the store, she turned to Vivien and said, “Before anything else, though, just know that it happened a while ago, and I’m still fighting with Xander to this day.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s shoulder as she and Lela began guiding Vivien and Juliet through the store to the main concourse of the shopping mall, Carrie explained, “The scumbag still has a bunch of her stuff that he refuses to return.”
As her mouth fell open, disbelieving rage filled Vivien’s expression as she breathed a soft, “That asshat.”
Juliet snorted, “Welcome to the slader Xander club. The girls and I get together every Friday to rant about him and his bullshit. It’s like a book club, but with more threats of violence.”
“Count me in,” Vivien said with a smile. “I’m always down for a bit of shit-talking toxic exes.”
“It’s not just him, though,” Lela claimed. “Carrie’s ex, Eric, is also on our list of nasties.”
“And don’t forget that arrogant piece of crap you were with for, what, a month, a few summers before you and Tanner got together,” Carrie added. “What was his name, again?”
Lela rolled her eyes, a scoff falling from her lips as she recalled her absolutely shitty summer romance from what felt like a lifetime ago, “William. Ugh, don’t even get me started on him.”
As the other girls let out soft laughs, Vivien recalled a line from a clip of a show she’d been recommended during one of her mindless scrolling sessions, “Why is every inbred, rich, white guy named William?”
Turning toward the brunette with a raised eyebrow, Lela asked, “How did you know that about him? Did I show you a picture of him or something?”
Vivien was confused for a moment, shaking her head slowly, but as realization dawned on her, she let out a bark of surprised laughter, “Wait; he was actually a rich, white guy?!”
“And I wouldn’t put it past that family to have some serious inbreeding issues under the surface,” Carrie confirmed.
“I was just quoting a show,” Vivien laughed as they stepped out into the main hallways of the mall. A few steps away from the store, she found herself asking, “Was he really inbred?”
“Most generationally wealthy families end up marrying off their children to continue the family businesses or whatever,” Juliet explained. “It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that somewhere down the line, someone married a cousin or something.”
Lela shrugged, hoping to brush the conversation aside as they guided her through the mall, “I don’t know whether he was or wasn’t, but he was a jerk, all the same.”
“And you went out with him?” Vivien asked. “I can’t imagine you with anybody like that.”
With a sigh, Lela nodded, “He wasn’t horrible at first. After a while, though, it was like a dumpster fire flying down a ski hill.”
“I guess we’ve all been there,” Vivien shrugged as the girls led her down a short set of stairs to the sunken area of the main floor where the food court was. “Everyone has a relationship they’d rather not recall.”
“Speaking from experience?” Juliet asked as she guided the girls to an empty table in the middle of the chaos.
Vivien nodded, “My last relationship was alright at first, but, like Lela’s, it went downhill. It happens, I guess.”
“I didn’t know you dated anybody before Royce,” Carrie said as Vivien dropped into the chair beside her.
“Yeah,” Lela piped up, “me neither.”
“What was he like?” Juliet asked.
Not wanting to correct the older girl she had only met the day before and have to explain to someone from nineteen-sixty-four that her previous relationship wasn’t with a boy, Vivien shrugged and said, “Alex and I were actually friends first. We went to the same figure skating rink, liked some of the same movies and music, and we got along great. But, toward the end of things, we stopped talking as much.”
“How come?” Lela asked.
Vivien heaved a sigh, “Alex’s family was moving, and they weren’t sure how to tell me, so they just, sort of, didn’t. Every time I tried calling or anything, it was like talking to a brick wall. They didn’t really listen to anything I had to say, and, when I tried talking about feeling ignored, they finally came clean about the reason, and we ended up breaking up that same day.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s arm, Carrie sighed, “I hate that it happened to you, but I think I’d take an amicable breakup over a cheater anyday.”
“It wasn’t exactly amicable,” Vivien admitted slowly. Feeling three sets of eyes on her, Vivien hesitantly admitted, “Alex sort of threw an ice skate at my head when it was all said and done.”
“Like, blade and all?” Lela wondered. As Vivien slowly nodded, Lela shook her head, “What the hell; that’s insane!”
“Well, damn,” Juliet breathed. “And here I thought having Xander keep a box of my things hostage was bad.”
“Please tell me you got revenge or something?” Carrie pressed.
Vivien shook her head, “I was too in shock to think of anything like that. Plus, we were friends before we were anything more; I couldn’t do that.”
“Obviously, he didn’t feel the same,” Carrie scoffed, shaking her head.
“You’re a helluva better person than I am,” Juliet claimed. “I would’ve torn his arm clean off and beat him with the bloody stump if I’d been in your position.”
Raising an eyebrow at the girl beside her, Lela softly breathed, “That’s a bit violent, don’t you think?”
“’S a southern thing. I wouldn’t’ve actually done it,” Juliet shrugged, taking in a breath before smiling across the table at Vivien. “What I mean is, he would’ve had hell to pay if I’d been there.”
“Agreed,” Carrie seconded. Then, with a deep sigh, she leaned back in her chair and huffed, “Some men are just asses.”
“Yeah,” Vivien sighed. Taking a moment to think about how far she had come from her first relationship, she smiled and admitted, “I’m just lucky that Royce is like an angel in comparison.”
“And he’s lucky to have you as well,” Carrie said with a smile. Patting the table with a hand, she glanced around at the other girls before saying, “Now, enough talk about boys; this is supposed to be a girl’s day. What does everyone want to drink?”
Juliet’s quick request for something called the “Death by Chocolate” milkshake gave Vivien pause, but as she looked over at the small outlet shop with a handful of workers behind the counter wearing sailor getups, she smiled. Squinting to see the sign better despite her glasses, Vivien found herself chuckling at the names of the milkshakes - each a pun or subtle nod to a song that Vivien could appreciate. Requesting a “Peanut Butter Bomb” with rainbow sprinkles instead of the chocolate ones the sign claimed came with the frozen drink, the brunette watched as Carrie and Lela rose from their seats, Lela offering to order them something for lunch from the pizza shop in the corner of the food court.
Suddenly alone with the blonde she hardly knew, Vivien found herself smiling hesitantly at the older girl. “So…” she drawled cautiously, now immensely aware of how little she could talk with the blonde. Juliet was - by Vivien’s standards, at least - very pretty and seemed to be very kind, but one look at the older girl reminded Vivien that she couldn’t bring up much of anything she liked. Her music choices and movie interests wouldn’t make sense to someone stuck in the sixties, any meme references she would usually make to bridge the gap between herself and a potential new friend wouldn’t land if the meme never existed, and she couldn’t exactly whip out her cell phone and show the girl her newest favorite TikToks. Vivien was, for all intents and purposes, stuck. “How’s it going?”
“It’s good, I suppose,” Juliet chuckled, smiling reassuringly at the girl across from her. “Y’know, you don’t have to be so stiff.”
“Stiff?” Vivien wondered aloud, feeling the tension in her spine twitch as the urge to slouch took over. “I’m not stiff.”
Sending the girl a knowing look, Juliet smiled, “Tell that to your rigid, dancer posture. You take ballet classes?”
Slowly, Vivien nodded, taking in a breath to relax herself a bit as she explained, “I’m a figure skater. My partner, Riven, and I do ballet to help us have nice lines on the ice.”
“Riven, huh?” Juliet asked. “Is he that tall boy Mick says you’re in a band with back home?”
“I guess so, yeah,” Vivien beamed, eager to finally have something to discuss with the blonde. “He’s kind, always considerate, and super smart, but I’d never tell him that - oh, and he always smells like this really nice, watermelon-y cologne his dad got him for Christmas that’s a knock-off of some really expensive Ralph Lauren one, but he refuses to tell me what it is because he’s an ass. But, then again, he’s my ass, so I love him anyway.”
“You love him?” Juliet questioned softly as she curiously tilted her head. “What about Royce?”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Vivien brushed off. “Riven’s like my brother, basically. We’ve been skating together since I was, like, four, and although I adore him, and vice versa, he’s my brother. As amazing as he is, I would rather jump from the tallest skyscraper without a parachute than date him.”
Letting out a soft laugh, Juliet nodded, “Good to know. Do you have any pictures of him on your phone?”
Eyes glittering like freshly polished emeralds, Vivien nodded emphatically, reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone. Unlocking the device and swiping over to her photo albums, Vivien’s fingers froze millimeters above the screen as she slowly looked up at Juliet, who smiled softly in return. Realizing the blonde had tricked her, Vivien quietly asked, “You knew?”
Juliet nodded dutifully, her smile never wavering, “Word travels fast at Big Momma’s, and Mick is always talking about her little sister who she wants to show off to everyone if she ever gets the chance. It wasn’t hard to piece together who you were once I knew your name, but I wanted to form my own opinion of you before I told you what I knew.”
“And?” Vivien asked. “What’s your opinion?”
“I’m still working on it,” Juliet admitted. “But so far, so good.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Juliet chuckled, reaching across the table to place a hand on Vivien’s arm. “You don’t need to impress me, darlin’. Just be yourself, and I’ll tag along for the ride.”
“Thank you,” Vivien said, finally feeling herself relax enough to find the metal chair she sat on somewhat comfortable.
“What’re friends for?” Juliet asked rhetorically, her smile nearly blinding. “Now, show me some pictures of this brother of yours. He sounds like a catch, and I’m in the market for a new beau.”
Snorting at the idea of someone as beautiful as Juliet finding Riven - of all people - attractive, Vivien opened her phone once again and began scrolling through her pictures as the other girls made their way back to the table. Combating Lela’s wide eyes and Carrie’s raised brow with a smile and a shake of her head, Vivien accepted her milkshake from Carrie and explained to Juliet who some of the people in her pictures were. Once Lela had set down the pizza she had ordered and Vivien tucked her phone back into her purse, the conversation seemed to flow with relative ease.
All too soon for any of their liking, the meal was over, and they were tossing their trash in one of the overly ornate trash barrels on their way out of the food court. However, instead of parting ways with the girls, Juliet decided to stick around, far more interested in having a group of friends to shop around with than wandering the large shopping center on her own. Juliet was eager to show her friends some of her favorite shops, guiding them through locally-owned shops like Durand Sisters, Zig to Zag, and Missy’s Closet. Though they didn’t find much that Vivien was interested in, they all left with something from each store before letting Lela drag them into a dress boutique, which she said would have just what Vivien needed. The girls spared no time at all pushing her into the nearest changing room and throwing dresses over the door at the poor brunette, urging her to try on anything she liked once they figured out her size in different brands.
After spending a few hours floating between stores and trying things on, Vivien was more than willing to sit around at a smoothie shop on the far end of the mall. Sipping at her watermelon smoothie while the girls divvied up their purchases and handed items to each other across the small table, Vivien found that she was simply glad for a break. She never believed there would come a time when she would be out-shopped by anyone - hell, she spent most of her summer the previous year in the mall, bouncing between shops with Erica and Jade while they filled out applications, did interviews, and just hung out - but there she was, sitting around a tiny metal table to rest her aching feet, smiling as she listened to the girls chat about everything and everyone they could think of. It was nice.
Once they had finished their drinks and relaxed for a while, Vivien admitted that she wanted to find a place that could fill her closet with more than just the practical fashion of the day - she wanted to find clothes that were just as comfortable and relaxed as she was. After examining the mall’s directory map and eliminating a couple of handfuls of stores from her potential list as the older trio picked apart the selection with practiced ease, Vivien found herself hand-in-hand with Lela and Carrie as they headed down the concourse to a store called Woolco. The mannequins in the shop’s windows were dressed in a range from the wasp waist dresses and puffy skirts worn by the older women in the area to mod dresses, shift skirts, and colorful jeans with matching sweaters that were, Vivien supposed, commonplace for teenagers and young women. Upon entering the store, Vivien was mildly confused by the lunch counter near the door, the smell of soups and grilled cheeses wafting through the air as a teenage boy around Vivien’s age greeted them.
Grabbing a shopping cart and pulling Vivien toward the juniors department despite her insistence that, due to her height, she was in the women’s section back home, the older girls began pulling things from the racks and draping them over the side of the cart in a pile. At Lela’s urging, Vivien split off from the group, heading across the path to the shoe department in search of something to match a majority of what the girls had picked for her. Though the shoes Carrie had already gifted her would definitely be making their way into her rotations, she knew for a fact that anything with a heel higher than the ones on her figure skates would require some getting used to. In the meantime, she needed something practical and easy to walk in.
Though she usually searched the men’s section first in the hopes of finding some Converse that would last longer than the ones in the women’s section, Vivien found herself drawn to the ladies’ section. Among the saddle shoes and shoes that appeared to be copies of her favorite iconic sneakers, Vivien found a pair of Keds Champions - the same shoes she remembered Baby wearing in Dirty Dancing. Glancing over at the girls and the stack of clothes they had accumulated for her, Vivien sighed and shook her head with a smile. Yeah, she had time.
By the time she had set aside a few boxes of shoes, the girls had gathered enough clothing to fill a new store, making Vivien wonder if she would’ve been better off going shopping with Miles and the boys. Examining the pile as she placed her trio of boxes inside the cart, Vivien asked, “You guys do realize I’m only staying for, like, a month or so, right?”
“Oh, please,” Lela scoffed with a grin. “It’s the sixties, Vivi, you need an outfit for every occasion you come across.”
“Especially dance nights and pool parties,” Juliet suggested with a smile.
Shaking her head with a smile, Vivien sighed, “Somehow, I doubt I’ll be going to many parties. I’ve barely left my house all year apart from school and skating practice.”
“Then isn’t it time that you did?” Carrie asked, gentle music floating through the air from seemingly nowhere as the blonde smiled warmly at the brunette before her.
Looking around in bewilderment, Vivien wondered aloud, “Where is that coming from?”
“Besides,” Lela began, ignoring the girl’s question, “this world is different from yours.”
“Yeah, Vivi,” Juliet agreed, smiling at Lela and Carrie as she began singing, “look around! Everybody’s groovin’ to a brand new sound.”
Beaming proudly as the music began to swell, Lela took Vivien’s hands and pulled her toward the dressing rooms as she sang, “Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi, follow me, I know something’s in you that you wanna set free.”
“So let go, go, go of the past now,” Carrie sang with a wink, waving her hand as though she was, quite literally, brushing off the past. “Say hello to the love in your heart.”
“Yes, we know that the world’s spinning fast now,” Juliet chimed in, helping Carrie pull aside the curtains that separated the changing rooms from the rest of the store, “but you gotta get yourself a brand new start.”
Vivien allowed Lela to pull her inside the dressing rooms, looking around briefly at the fancy chandeliers and various mirrors lining the walls before jumping in surprise as the changing room attendants began singing along, joining in the familiar song as the backing vocals Vivien sang in the car all the time, “Hey, Vivi, welcome to the sixties! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh~! Oh, Vivi, welcome to the sixties! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh~! Go, Vivi, go, go, go!”
Finding herself pushed into a cubicle by the girls who had brought her to the store, Vivien let out a startled “Hey!” as they filled her arms with clothes and all but slammed the door in her face. Huffing as she set the overwhelming stack of clothes on the bench inside the room, Vivien scoffed, “Not cool, you guys!”
Ignoring the girl’s remark, Carrie softly sang, “Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi, have some fun.”
Looking over the pile, Vivien muttered, “It’ll take me twenty years to try all this stuff on.”
“Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi,” Lela joined in from the other side of the door, “take a chance.”
Picking up a dress that the girls presumed she would need for some fancy night on the town, Vivien rolled her eyes, “Guys, I think I would’ve preferred a few more pairs of pants.”
“So?” Juliet asked. Without letting the girl get a word in edgewise, the blonde continued singing, “Let go, go, go of the past now.”
“Say hello to the light in your eyes,” Lela added, her smile evident in her tone despite keeping her voice soft.
Carrie leaned against the door, preventing Vivien from pushing it open to leave as she sang, “Yes, we know that the world’s spinning fast now.”
Then, as a joint effort, the girls sang in unison, “But you gotta run the race to win the prize!”
Taking in a deep breath as the music lulled, Vivien sized up the pile of clothes and shrugged, kicking her shoes off, pulling a few selections from the pile and setting them aside to try on. “Fine,” she huffed, “you win.”
Just like that, the music swelled once more as the girls outside the changing room and the attendants began singing the chorus once again. Allowing herself to get pulled into the swing of the song, Vivien changed into a checkerboard dress that faintly reminded her of Tracy’s finale dress in the Hairspray movie and knocked on the door to ask Carrie to step away from it before poking her head out. Though the people outside the changing room still sang along to the Hairspray song, Vivien found herself smiling and humming along as she slowly stepped out to look at herself in the mirror.
“Welcome to the rhythm of a brand new day,” Carrie sang with a beaming smile as she stepped up behind Vivien in the mirror.
“Take your newfangled fears,” Juliet sang, sidling up on Vivien’s left, “and just throw them away.”
Looking over the younger girl’s outfit, Lela placed a hand on Vivien’s shoulder and smiled gently at her as she suggested, “You should add some color and a fresh new ‘do.”
Joining the raven-haired girl in singing the last of her statement, Carrie and Juliet nodded and smiled, guiding Vivien back to the dressing room and pushing her inside, “’Cause it’s time for a star who looks just like you!”
However, as the song continued, Vivien felt herself drawn to a particular dress that hung on the back of the door. Though she wasn’t usually one for green, and the skirt was nowhere near as long as she would have preferred, the dress nearly matched her eyes, encouraging her to take it down from the hanger and at least give it a shot whilst her friends and the workers sang. Almost as though the people outside her dressing room knew she had gotten the dress on and into place, a knock sounded on the door, and Vivien called out, “Yeah?”
Without warning, the door swung open, and a pair of fitting room attendants stepped into the small room, encouraging Vivien to sit on the bench as they took turns showing her things they had brought with them. The older one, a redhead with streaks of white framing her face, started singing as she pulled out a tube of lipstick, held Vivien’s chin to keep her in place, and started applying it to her lips, “Don’tcha let nobody try to steal your fun, ’cause a little touch of lipstick never hurt no one.”
“The future’s got a million roads for you to choose,” the other attendant, a dark-skinned woman with curly hair and a graceful smile, sang as she knelt beside Vivien and slipped a pair of shoes on her feet, buckling the strap over the top of her foot before moving away, “but you’ll walk a little taller in some high-heel shoes.”
“And once you find the style that makes you feel like you,” the redhead sang.
“Something fresh, something new,” the curly-haired attendant added.
Opening the door and stepping out of the fitting room, the pair sang in unison, “Step on out, hear us shout!”
After a pause of complete silence, Vivien heard Carrie knock lightly on the door as she called out, “Vivi, that’s your cue!”
Propelling herself to her feet and giving herself a quick once-over, Vivien stepped out of the dressing room and made her way to the mirror, finding her reflection with wide eyes. Though the dress looked small on the hanger, it fit her perfectly, the shade of green complimenting her eyes nicely. The soft pink on her lips was the only makeup she remembered receiving, but behind her glasses, she could see traces of eyeshadow and mascara that, for the first time in years, didn’t make them uncomfortably clumpy or stick to the lenses of her glasses. Then, to top it all off, her hair had been teased into a small bump just behind her bangs, separated by a solid white hair band she didn’t recall wearing. Overall, she looked like something out of a vintage magazine - a look unachievable without the help of movie magic.
Feeling as though she had stared at herself long enough, Vivien took in a deep breath, glanced at the trio of girls who had moved to stand beside and behind her, and began hesitantly singing along to the song, “Hey, Carrie, hey, Lela, look at me; I’m the cutest chickie that ya ever did see.” Surprising herself with how good she sounded, Vivien let out a chuckled breath and sang, “Hey, Julie, hey, girls, look at us! Where is there a team that’s half as fabulous?”
“There she is!” Carrie cheered.
“Yes!” Lela squealed.
“Sing it, girl!” Juliet beamed.
Determined to enjoy the moment while she had it, Vivien smiled reassuringly at her reflection before turning to the girls and continuing the song, “I let go, go, go of my past now; said hello to this red carpet ride. Yes, I know that the world’s spinning fast now - tell Lollabrigida to step aside!”
As the music pulled them out of the dressing room area and back toward the entrance of the store, the lyrics of the chorus encouraging them to leave, Vivien found herself handed bags upon bags of clothing she had never tried on. Though she felt a hint of concern as the workers guided them to the exit, the repeated singing of the chorus swelling with each step they took, Vivien found herself smiling as she - like the other girls she had gone into the shop with - was pulled into a sort of involuntary musical number once they exited the store, finding everyone else in the mall dancing along as though it was the most normal part of their day.
Once the music finally ended, however, and they were stood by the water fountain in the middle of the concourse, Vivien panted to catch her breath as she laughed, turning to the girls on either side of her with wide eyes. “What was that?”
“A makeover montage,” Lela explained, beaming proudly at the brunette. “At least, that’s what Mick calls it.”
Looking over her outfit, Vivien smiled, “I can’t believe I actually had fun with that.”
Draping an arm over Vivien’s shoulders, Carrie said, “I can’t believe how incredible your singing voice is.”
“The power of movie magic, I guess,” Vivien chuckled. “Normally, I sing like a beached whale.”
Raising a brow, Juliet asked, “Aren’t beached whales dead?”
“Precisely.”
Lela scoffed as she took some of the bags from Vivien’s arms, “Vivien, I’ve heard you sing in the car.”
“Then you should know, better than anyone,” Vivien began, taking a moment to point to herself. “Beached whale.”
As Lela rolled her eyes and shook her head, Carrie began guiding them toward the mall’s exit with a sigh, “We have got to work on your confidence while you’re here.”
“I’m confident I sing like a beached whale,” Vivien tried. “Does that count?”
“Nice try,” Juliet chuckled, “but no.”
Vivien sighed, shrugging as they made their way outside. The mid-afternoon sun was warm on her skin as they stepped out of the air conditioning. “Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Following the other girls over to the parking lot, Juliet pulled the keys to her car out of her bag and asked, “So, where to next, girls?”
“Well,” Carrie began, placing her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “I was going to try bringing Vivi to the studio to show her around before we head home for the night, but turns out, nobody’s there to let us in the gate.”
“I could hop the fence,” Vivien suggested. After receiving nothing but silence and bewildered stares, Vivien asked, “What? It wouldn’t be my first time?”
“You break into places often?” Juliet wondered.
“As I tell Mickie all the time, it’s not breaking and entering if you don’t break anything,” Vivien shrugged. “Then it’s just entering.”
Lela snickered, “I don’t think that’s what the police would say.”
“Probably not, but I’ve never really gotten in trouble for it,” Vivien explained. “Abandoned buildings don’t typically have security.”
“I think that makes it a bit different than climbing the gate to a film studio,” Carrie grinned. “Besides, it probably wouldn’t go over well if we had to call Mick, Miles, or the Warden to bail us out of jail on your first full day here.”
With a sigh, Vivien admitted, “Yeah, I guess.” As they reached Carrie’s car, the brunette hefted some of her shopping bags into the backseat before climbing in and sitting, “So, any idea what’s in all of these bags? I didn’t try on much of anything.”
Peering into some of the bags over the side of the car as Lela placed more bags on the floor behind her seat, Juliet said, “Looks like most of the stuff we picked out for you.”
“But I didn’t pay for anything,” Vivien mused, glancing back at the mall entrance as though she expected some disgruntled manager to come running outside, demanding payment.
As though sensing the girl’s apprehension, Lela laughed, “Don’t question it. Free clothes and food come with the territory of movie magic. It’s kind of normal for us to get free things now and then.”
“Anyway,” Juliet started, bringing the conversation back to the items they had received as she looked through the bags, “it looks like there’s a few swimsuits, some shoes, and some everyday clothes as well.”
“And, hopefully, you got to keep some of the dresses we picked for when you and Royce go out dancing,” Carrie added, shimmying as she walked around the back of the car to the driver’s door.
“Dancing?” Vivien echoed with a laugh. “I doubt we’ll do much of that. He’s just as coordinated as I am.”
“Says the ballerina,” Juliet teases.
“And figure skater,” Lela chimed in.
Carrie looked at Vivien in the rearview mirror with a raised brow, “I would’ve thought you’d be one of the most coordinated people in this car.”
Vivien smirked back at the blonde, “Well, I have enough scars to say otherwise, but thanks.”
Turning in her seat as she buckled herself in, Lela said, “I remember Mick saying you were clumsy, but I thought she was just teasing.”
“Nah,” Vivien chuckled, “I’m graceful as hell on the ice, but the second I’m out of my skates, it’s like there’s a magnet slamming me into any surface that can cover me in bruises. So, yeah, I think dancing might be off the table.”
Juliet chuckled, patting the side of the car with a smile, “I don’t know, darlin’. You were dancin’ pretty darn well back there.”
Though her first instinct was to brush off the girl’s compliment and move on, Vivien found herself taking the time to actually think for a moment, pondering her statement. She had experienced a lot of firsts that day - her first interaction with people her friends didn’t already know, her first shopping trip in another world, and her first real taste of the movie world she now lived in. Whilst singing and dancing in public wasn’t something Vivien would usually find fun, she had to admit that, for her first time doing so, she actually enjoyed herself. With a small smile, Vivien softly said, “Movie magic, I guess.”
“We’ll let it slide for now,” Lela said with a reassuring smile.
“Just think about it,” Juliet added. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find you’re so good at dancing that Carrie here will convince the studio to take you on.”
Vivien let out a snort, “Yeah, I doubt that’ll happen.”
“Never know,” Carrie said from the driver’s seat. “They’re always looking for extras and one-off characters. Maybe they’d be willing to sign you on for a few episodes.”
Watching apprehension flood Vivien’s face as the younger girl stared wide-eyed at the mirror, Juliet smiled and said, “For now, though, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Thank you,” Vivien sighed under her breath.
“Anytime,” Juliet replied with a soft chuckle. “Well, I best be goin’. I’m meetin’ Daddy for tennis at the country club before dinner. You girls enjoy the rest o’ your night, and I’ll see y’all at Big Momma’s sometime this week.”
Sending the blonde another gracious smile, Vivien waved, “Bye, Juliet.”
“Later, Jules,” Lela said, offering the blonde a smile as she sauntered off to wherever her car was parked.
“See you, Julie,” Carrie said, wiggling her fingers in the other blonde’s direction as Juliet turned to the Mustang and blew a kiss to the trio within.
Once Juliet was out of sight, Carrie started the car, the engine roaring to life under the hood. The radio kicked on as they backed out of the parking space, encouraging Vivien to sing along as one of her favorite songs from Dirty Dancing began to play. Vivien allowed her head to tip back against the slot where the convertible roof was tucked away, finally finding herself able to relax into the leather seats as Carrie pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main street. After stopping at a traffic light and paying the few cents necessary to board the toll road, Vivien felt the car speed up yet kept her eyes on the sky above as clouds guided the sky closer to dusk.
Despite being energetic all day at the mall, as the radio personality announced it was now six in the afternoon, Vivien couldn’t help but let out a soft yawn. It was no wonder she was tired with her lack of sleep the last few nights, but she couldn’t help but feel it was rude for the universe to remind her of it when she had just had a fantastic day with her friends. As though taunting her, Vivien rolled her eyes as another stronger yawn forced its way out of her. Envisioning one of the clouds above the car shifting into a giant, fluffy middle finger, she breathed a chuckle and tipped her head to the side as they crossed the Old Tampa Bay, feeling the setting sun warm the otherwise chilling air as she soaked in the sight before her.
Distantly, she wondered what her friends would be doing, but then recalled her conversation with Mick and sighed, tearing her gaze away from the sun. Vivien knew that, sooner or later, she would adjust to the idea of her friends and family being in the same place they were stuck in when they left their world behind, but now was not that time. She sort of missed the daily updates from her friends - hearing about the Karens that flocked to the mall Erica and Jade worked at, or seeing pictures of tattoos Riven got to work on that day, or getting calls from her family members to check up on her. Granted, she had photographs of everyone and enough saved voicemails to fill her inbox with messages from her loved ones, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing them on her phone screen or hearing them tell her how much they loved her.
Turning her gaze to the sky again in an attempt to keep her face dry and prevent any potential tears from streaking the makeup she knew would stream down her face and make her look like a melted raccoon, Vivien took in a deep breath to steady herself, and she swallowed thickly. The sudden, overwhelming feeling of being alone in this strange, new world had hit her like a bus, sending surges of worry through her chest like someone had chosen to stitch her up with barbed wire. Running through her emotions as quickly as possible to clear her head before they got back to the Murphy’s home, she made sure to remind herself of a few things - she wasn’t alone, the people she was with were like her family and would be there for her regardless of whatever happened during her stay, and no time would pass back home, so even though they didn’t call, her family and friends in her home world still loved her.
Finally able to take a deep breath as she felt the car turn onto another stretch of road, Vivien lifted her head from the roof slot and listened to the radio, forcing herself to relax until she could get back to her temporary bedroom. Once she was in the safety of her room, she could sit on the floor with her pictures of her family, listen to their voicemails and the playlists she had created with them, and let her emotions free. However, until then, she was determined to enjoy the rest of her time with her friends, singing and humming along to the radio as Carrie turned to the right at the end of Pinellas Bayway and headed back up Gulf Boulevard.
Just as the song changed once more, the automatic street lights flickered on, casting the small city in a golden glow as the sun inched closer to the horizon. Eyeing the downtown area with childlike wonder, Vivien found herself comparing the view to Radiator Springs, briefly wondering if the fictional town of sentient cars was based on something similar to St Pete Beach in the sixties. Taking in the colorful neon signs and shimmering lights along the main street, Vivien found herself almost disappointed as they turned onto 64th Avenue and the lights of the main street turned to a few flickering street lamps with moths fluttering around the bulbs.
Letting out a half-content, half-disappointed sigh as they turned onto Gulf Winds Drive and further from the glow of Gulf Boulevard, Vivien scanned the houses along the street until the Mustang slowed, dragging the brunette’s attention to a particular turquoise house. Vivien felt her eyebrow lift toward her bangs as she spotted a red pickup truck parked in the sandy driveway. As they rolled to a stop beside the truck, Vivien spotted a sticker on the dash that she recalled giving to Butchy years ago - an image of the Fireflies logo from when they played The Last of Us together. She had whooped his ass in Factions, killing his character repeatedly until he got the hang of things, but when she needed help with a particularly frustrating section of the actual game, he brought her character through it in a matter of minutes. So, in exchange for his help, she had drawn and printed out a sticker for him at school.
Having never heard what he did with the sticker since, Vivien felt herself smile as she realized why she hadn’t seen it tucked into his phone case like his picture of Mick was. Wondering if he knew just how hard it would be to take the sticker off in the future, she bit back a laugh and began loading her arms with her shopping bags as Carrie and Lela climbed out of the car to help her. Laughing as Carrie and Lela joked about how many mannequins at the mall needed makeovers, Vivien pushed the heat-swollen door to the house open with her hip and called out, “Honey, we’re home!”
As the voices in the house died down and were replaced with laughter, Mick stood from the couch and rounded it to bring Vivien into a hug as she asked, “How was the mall?”
Vivien’s eyes practically glittered with excitement as she dropped some of her bags and began speaking, “Incredible! We went to so many stores, and the food was amazing, and we ran into Juliet while we were there. She was super nice and helped us find stuff, but she went to go play tennis or something, so she’s not with us, but she was really nice, and she knows about me being from the real world - or whatever we call our home world. Oh, and I think she might have a thing for Riven, but that’s a story for another time, and-”
Chuckling as he stopped the girl before she could ramble for another hour, Butchy turned toward the back of the couch and asked, “So, you had fun?”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien beamed as she nodded, “It was a blast. I even got to be in a makeover montage like in the movies.”
“We see this,” Miles chuckled as he scanned over the girl’s outfit. “It suits you, kiddo.”
Striking a pose, Vivien flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Why, thank you. It was really weird, but I actually kind of enjoyed it.”
Joining his girlfriend with a small smile, Royce took Vivien’s hand and slowly spun her around before softly telling her, “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Rolls,” she breathed. Suddenly remembering something, she held up her other hand and showed him the bread tie still wrapped around her finger. “Look what they let me keep on in the chaos.”
Royce let out a soft laugh, feeling his face warm as he traced a thumb along the plastic, “Nice.”
Turning her attention back onto Mick as the older brunette began gathering her bags from the other girls, Vivien asked, “How did helping your friend move go?”
“It didn’t take long,” Mick shrugged. “They didn’t have a lot of stuff to unpack.”
“Well, that’s good,” Vivien smiled as she helped Mick pick up her bags from the floor. “I bet they appreciated the help.”
Bentley grinned as he turned the volume on the TV down and stood from his spot on the floor so he could see the people behind the couch, “Why don’t you go upstairs and see if they are.”
Confused, Vivien’s head tilted to the side as she glanced around at her friends. When their expressions gave her nothing to work with, she asked, “Upstairs? Why, can I see their place from there?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Butchy chuckled.
Still mildly confused, Vivien asked, “What does that mean?”
“The friend we had to move in,” Mick began, nudging Vivien with her elbow, “was you.”
“Me?” she wondered. “But I thought I was moved in already?”
“Living out of your suitcase doesn’t mean you’re moved in, Viv,” Bentley scoffed.
“Come on,” Mick said, nodding her head toward the stairs. “I’ll explain on the way up.”
Vivien spared a last glance at her friends, finding Carrie shooing her away with a smile while Lela gave her a pair of thumbs up. Letting out a breath, Vivien tentatively smiled and hefted her bags further up on her arms as she turned to follow Mick to the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, she heard the television volume turn back up as she asked Mick, “So, what happened?”
Turning toward the sixteen-year-old as she reached the landing, Mick explained, “When we were at the gas station last night, Miles asked us how he could make you feel more at home here, so we decided to step in and help.”
“Do I want to know what you guys did?” Vivien asked hesitantly.
Mick snickered as she led Vivien toward her room, “We fixed the rod in the closet so you can hang stuff up, and we put together a few things for you, that’s all.”
As Mick stepped aside to let Vivien enter the room first, the young brunette stepped up to the door, scanning the new addition of a hand-painted dreamcatcher on the wood, her initials painted in a calligraphic style on the feathers dangling from the bottom of it. Smiling as her fingers traced the outline of the dreamcatcher, Vivien asked, “Bentley?”
“Bentley,” Mick confirmed with a nod.
Letting out a soft laugh, Vivien reached for the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She had barely taken two steps inside the room before freezing as she took in the handful of subtle differences that changed the room’s energy entirely. On top of a fluffy, cream-colored, shag rug she didn’t recall having in the room before, the creaky wooden bed frame had been swapped out for a metal frame with intricate swirls on the head and footboards. Her eyes stung as she found that the spare bedding Royce had pulled from the linen closet for her was long gone, replaced by pale purple blankets and pillowcases covered in constellations. If that wasn’t enough already, Vivien found herself letting out a breath of disbelief as she realized the dresser Miles had been determined to fix due to it being swollen shut from the summer heat had been replaced with a white vanity that already had her small selection of skincare and her myriad of hair products organized on the tabletop.
Looking around the room as she deposited her shopping bags on her bed, Vivien found her bedside table sporting her lamp, her collection of crystals, her eyeglasses case, and a framed picture of herself, her family, and friends at the summer camp her grandparents owned. Though she wasn’t entirely sure where the image had come from, Vivien didn’t bother asking as she picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, examining it with a small smile as Mick began listing all the things they had worked on while the girls kept her distracted at the mall.
“We weren’t sure what to do with your roller skates, so we put them with your shoes in the closet, but feel free to put them wherever you like,” Mick said with a smile as she closed the bi-folding doors. “Oh, and we also found your embroidery stuff and bracelet kits in your suitcase, so we put them inside the vanity for you so they’re easy to find.” Looking around the room one last time, Mick smiled and announced, “I think that’s about it, but… Viv, are you okay?”
Tearing her gaze away from the photograph in her hand at the older girl’s concerned tone, Vivien nodded and set the frame aside, rocketing up from her seat on the bed to wrap her arms around Mick. “Thank you,” she muttered into the girl’s shoulder.
Squeezing the girl close and rubbing a hand along her spine, Mick smiled, “Don’t thank me yet. Butchy still has to fix the ceiling fan for you.”
“The ceiling fan?”
“Mhm,” Mick hummed as Vivien pulled away. “Miles said you were feeling too warm last night, so Butchy checked it out and found that it’s not running right. We went back to our world to pick up some parts and got back here just a few minutes before you and the girls got back from the mall.”
“Oh,” Vivien breathed. Taking in a deep breath, she shook her head, “You guys didn’t have to do all of this for me. I’m only here for a little while.”
Mick shrugged, “So what? We all want you to feel at home while you’re here. This is the least we could do.”
Before Vivien could think of a good retort, Butchy made his way upstairs and into the room with a toolbox and a bag full of parts from Home Depot. Glancing between the girls as he entered the room, he asked, “Should I be worried that you two are so quiet up here?”
Mick shook her head with a small smile, placing a hand on Vivien’s shoulder, “This one was wondering why we did all of this for her.”
Finding Vivien’s emerald eyes as he set his toolbox down beside the edge of the fluffy rug, Butchy plainly stated, “’Cause we love you, you little shit. Is that not a good enough reason?”
Vivien’s mouth opened and closed noiselessly before snapping shut as she stepped away from Mick, wrapping her arms around Butchy’s middle. Though he had never really been outwardly touchy with the girl in the time he had known her - the pair sharing a few sparse hugs here and there as they both seemed to prefer teasing remarks as their way to display affection - Butchy found himself wrapping his arms around her with ease, placing a hand on the brunette’s head as she softly voiced her gratitude for all they had done. Insisting she had no need to thank them, Butchy allowed the girl to pull away on her own time before telling her that the others were making dinner if she wanted to join them while he worked.
Dinner came and went quickly as everyone shared how their respective days went, and after thanking everyone for what felt like the millionth time since her return home, Vivien waved goodbye to her friends as they left the driveway under the cover of the night sky. Spending a while watching The Andy Griffith Show with her boyfriend and his brothers, Vivien retired to her room when Bentley and Royce headed off to bed, making sure to bid the pair goodnight before their door closed for the night. She didn’t know how they could sleep like that - it always felt too enclosed to her whenever she tried - but after changing and turning on her lamp for the night, Vivien opened her door and sat under the covers of her bed for a while, reading a few chapters of one of the handful of fanfictions she had saved before her arrival in the sixties.
Before she knew it, she heard the telltale creak of the stairs groaning under someone’s feet, and leaned to the side enough to see who it was. As Miles rounded the banister, Vivien softly called out to him, “Miles?”
Jumping at the sudden voice, Miles turned, making up the distance between the stairs and her doorway in just a few steps, “Do you have a habit of scaring the shit out of people you live with, or is it just me?”
“Just you,” Vivien claimed as she set her phone aside and patted the empty space to the right of her legs. “You should be grateful.”
Letting out a short snort of laughter, Miles crossed the room and sat on the side of Vivien’s bed, “What’re you still doing up? It’s almost midnight.”
Vivien sighed softly, glancing around her room before settling her gaze on the older boy before her, “I wanted to thank you again. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me.”
“Enough of that,” Miles said, brushing off the girl’s words as he placed a hand on hers. “Vivien, I’ve known you for - what? - three or four years now?”
“It’ll be three in June,” Vivien mused.
“Well, in that time, you’ve wormed your way into not only my brothers’ hearts, but you’ve also made it onto the short list of people I consider family,” he admitted, brushing a hair away from Vivien’s eyes with a small smile. “If you weren’t already the little sister I never knew I wanted, your relationship with Royce would have made me see you that way. You’re family now, kiddo, you get special treatment.”
Sharing the smile Miles sent her way, Vivien leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder as she breathed a soft, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Miles chuckled, giving Vivien a squeeze before pulling away and standing, shifting the blankets back into place over her lap as she shifted back against the pillows. “Now, get some sleep. You’re coming with me to work tomorrow.”
“I am?” Vivien asked as she plugged her phone in and set it on the nightstand.
“Unless I get a call from the school saying you can join the boys for the week,” Miles confirmed with a nod. “I’m not about to leave you at home, bored out of your mind, so if I don’t get a call back before they leave for school, you’re going with me to work.”
“So, now, instead of sitting here, reading all day and playing with Binx, I get to be bored out of my mind at your work,” Vivien stated before sarcastically adding, “yay!”
Rolling his eyes, Miles placed a palm over Vivien’s forehead and pushed her back against the pillows as he snickered, “Quit being a sarcastic little shit and go to sleep.”
“Sure thing, Dad,” Vivien teased as Miles headed back out to the hallway. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Good night, Vivien,” Miles retorted, ignoring her jibe with practiced ease.
Relaxing into her mattress as Miles disappeared down the hallway, Vivien smirked and replied, “Night, Miles.”
Notes - This took a lot longer than I anticipated, but I had a lot going on with work and Mother's Day, so I'm not surprised it took me a bit longer than it normally would have. Anyway, it's here now, it’s 40-something pages long, and I'll be starting on the next one tonight, if everything goes well at work this afternoon!
Waves crashed along the shore, lapping calmly against the sand as emerald eyes scoured for shells along the water’s edge. Salty ocean air mingled with the distant smell of grilled foods as Vivien walked along the beach. Hours had passed since her arrival in St. Pete Beach, but the crowded restaurant everyone seemed to love just wasn’t her scene. Crowded places, in general, weren’t something Vivien cared for - bar the occasional mall trip, that was - but after being shuffled around for what felt like forever, listening to people sing and being shown off like a shiny trophy, she grew tired of the crowds and excused herself.
Royce and Bentley had been eager to show her off to, well, everyone they knew in Big Momma’s, but after a while, Vivien had found it hard to keep track of all the names and faces she’d been introduced to. By the time they were done showing her off, it was time for Royce to return to work, so Bentley was quick to pull her over to the booth where they were eating. That did nothing to stop the crowd from gathering at their table, making Vivien’s chest tighten as they herded around the end of the table. Claustrophobia settled in, pinning her to the booth like a wall of concrete had fallen on her from above, but it wasn’t until Carrie said something about ordering her something to eat that people began moving away.
Unable to even think of food without feeling nauseous, Vivien excused herself and ducked out through the kitchen, ducking as she scooted past the restaurant’s windows and made her way around the building to the beach. Although it didn’t take long for her to finally relax once she was away from the chaos, Vivien found herself incapable of forcing herself back inside. The thought of admitting her fears and potentially facing the swarm of people not only interested in her but also in her relationship with Royce made her breath catch in her throat, and she ultimately decided to continue along the water’s edge, keeping her distance from any rogue sun tanners or volleyball players as she went.
Her sneakers had been abandoned at some point and were tied by their laces around the belt Lela had loaned her, the Converse tapping her thigh and cascading sand down her legs with every step she took. She made sure not to stray too far from the restaurant in case anyone went searching for her, but as the collection of tiny shells in her hand began to grow, she wondered if they had chosen to let her come back when she wanted to. Examining another moon snail shell and finding it still had a little critter living inside, Vivien waited for a wave to roll in by her feet and released it back to the ocean before choosing to turn around and venture back toward the restaurant.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if anybody owned a metal detector. Her dad had taught her how to use one during their annual road trip to Hampton Beach back when her parents were still married. Though it felt like forever ago, she could distinctly recall the excitement she felt when the machine started beeping and her subsequent disappointment when they found it was just a dirty quarter that had fallen from someone’s pocket. Despite her initial dissatisfaction at the discovery, Vivien had refused to leave until she found something else, and when she later discovered someone’s watch buried in the sand on their way to their hotel for the night, her excitement returned. Nowadays, their trips to the beach were few and far between, but Vivien’s memories of happier days with her family still lived on.
As a group of people left Big Momma’s, laughing and chattering loudly as they grabbed their surfboards and took off for the waves, Vivien took in a deep breath and wondered how many people still crowded the restaurant. Checking the cell phone she had tucked into her back pocket, Vivien sighed - it was just barely two in the afternoon. The lunch rush would soon be replaced with the dinner rush, and she would be bombarded by yet another crowd of rowdy surfers and boisterous bikers, all clamoring for a chance to speak with the new girl who had somehow managed to be the object of Royce’s affection.
They meant well - Vivien knew they did - but it was all too much, too quickly. She could handle being the drummer at the back of the stage that hardly anyone conversed with after performances, letting Riven do all the talking in interviews whenever they won a competition, and being the last one to talk during group presentations, but being the main focus of everyone’s attention - be it a big or small crowd - had never been easy for her. Honestly, it was a miracle she didn’t pass out in the booth right then and there. If it hadn’t been for Carrie stepping up and gently pushing people away with her signature, beaming smile and a thinly veiled promise for autographs if they left them alone long enough to have a meal, Vivien was sure she would have been on the floor, surrounded by worried patrons.
The idea of that crowd surrounding her and being the first thing she’d see when she came to, sent a shiver down Vivien’s spine despite the Florida heat. Yeah, that would have only made things worse. Bentley had tried to help her while the crowds cornered them, holding her hand and offering her a small smile that appeared apologetic as he tried to combat as many questions for her as the people allowed. In a way, Vivien knew he must have dealt with a similar situation upon his arrival in the small town. She could only imagine him and Royce standing in the center of Big Momma’s, being fawned over by anyone who even minutely considered Miles a friend. They probably handled it far better than she had.
They probably had warnings ahead of time. Bentley most likely handled them with ease, spouting off answers to every question with a cheerful smile and the enthusiasm of a child who still believed in Santa Claus. Royce, on the other hand, probably wasn’t much better than Vivien. As ambiverted as he was, he most likely only began to enjoy the sudden popularity once he realized it was both temporary and commonplace in the small community. Vivien’s reaction to the whole thing probably felt a bit overboard to the people in the restaurant, but being thrust into the spotlight and surrounded by total strangers in a small booth with no easy way to escape made it feel as though the world was closing in around her.
Vivien sighed to herself as she stared out at the surfers gliding over the warm water of the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe she should have gone back to the restaurant. Maybe she was just overreacting. Swallowing thickly, Vivien hoped nobody thought she was being rude for just up and leaving once she had a way out. In a way, she knew she was, but her quick departure had nothing to do with the people and everything to do with the little person in her head pressing the panic button every time someone aimed another question at her. How on earth celebrities could handle the constant spotlight and pressing questions, she would never know.
Wandering down the beach, Vivien let out a noise as she tripped over a beach bag she was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago, stumbling through the sand with an apology tumbling out of her mouth as she righted herself. The beach-goer simply waved her off and returned to the book they were reading, and with a sigh, Vivien continued her trek, only stopping as a voice called out to her, “You alright, kid?”
Squinting as the person jogged over to her, Vivien shrugged, toying with the handful of shells in her hand as she said, “I’m fine, Miles.”
The taller brunette sighed, his hands placed firmly on his hips in what Vivien could only consider to be a “dad pose” as he said, “You’re not.”
“It’s nothing,” Vivien offered, hoping to brush the whole situation under the rug. “Did the food come yet?”
“First of all,” Miles began with a somewhat disappointed look in his gaze, “you didn’t even order. Second, don’t change the subject on me. I’ve known you for long enough to know when you’re not alright.” Placing a hand on Vivien’s arm, he asked, “You know you can talk to me, right, Viv?”
Not wanting to upset the boy who was only trying to help, Vivien admitted, “I don’t like people.”
Miles chuckled, “Tell me how you really feel.”
Vivien looked up at Miles, ready to argue, before rolling her eyes as she took in the genuine humor in his eyes, “You know what I mean.” Huffing a sigh as she began walking again, Vivien admitted, “Crowds, crowded people, being the center of attention - that kind of thing. I get all claustrophobic and shit.”
Humming in understanding, Miles followed alongside the younger girl and brought an arm around her shoulders as he asked, “What happens?”
“I can’t breathe, I can’t think,” Vivien shrugged. “I remember this one time that we were at a competition, and a bunch of people with cameras came around, and I ended up passing out.”
“Damn,” Miles breathed. “Was it that bad in there for you?”
“Getting there,” Vivien sighed, leaning her head against Miles as he guided her back toward the restaurant. “I went out through the kitchen the first chance I got.”
Miles glanced around at the beach, taking in a slow breath that encouraged Vivien to do the same, “Did the fresh air help?”
“Mhm,” she nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Miles said firmly as he guided Vivien toward an empty table on the front porch of the restaurant. “I, of all people, understand how hard it is to be the new kid in town. Why don’t you sit out here for a bit? I’ll get the others, and we can eat out here.”
Vivien was quick to shake her head, “I don’t want to make them drop everything and come out just because of me. I can handle it.”
“But you don’t have to,” Miles argued sincerely. “And, for the record, nobody’s going to mind moving out here if it means we don’t have to call an ambulance for you on your first day here. Besides, if anything, it gives Royce an excuse to be our waiter.”
At that, Vivien paused, her argument dying in her throat. The idea of going back into the crowded restaurant just to sit there, hoping no people crowded their table while they ate, was mildly overwhelming. Whilst she didn’t care for the notion of making everyone abandon their usual places in their favorite hangout spot, she knew it would be easier to sit outside. And, to top it all off, Miles’ suggestion that Royce would be coming to their table more frequently made her answer seem even more obvious. Finding the courage to meet Miles’ concerned blue eyes, Vivien allowed herself to nod, muttering a soft thanks as he smiled back at her.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before making his way toward the front door. “You had Carrie thinking you somehow climbed out the bathroom window and ran away.”
Feeling embarrassment flood her face again, Vivien sat so that she could see the beach and began tapping her feet on the wooden deck as she distantly examined the menu before her. Though the thought of making everyone eat outside rather than inside, where the overhead fans kept everyone as cool as a cucumber, made her disappointed in herself for not being able to pull herself together in a new environment, Vivien knew Miles’ encouragement for her to choose the safest option for herself, would ultimately be the best decision in the end. It wasn’t long before Mack and Brady emerged from the restaurant, scanning the area before finding Vivien and dragging another table and handful of chairs over to meet hers.
As Mack pushed a chair in, she said, “You know, you’re not the first person to find this whole place a bit much.”
“I’m not?” Vivien asked, setting the menu down as she glanced up at the woman.
Mack laughed, shaking her head, “My first time here, I was thrown head-first into a musical number and made to dance in the center of the room with all of the other surfers and bikers. If you think I wasn’t ready to run the second it started, you’re dead wrong.”
Vivien let out a soft chuckle but, after taking a deep breath, decided to ask, “Is it always like that in there? Chaos?”
“Not all the time,” Brady offered. “Once they get used to you, you’ll meld into one group or another, and they’ll leave you alone.”
“From the sound of it, though,” Mack began with a grin, “they’re more interested in how you ended up with Royce.”
Vivien scoffed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as she asked, “Is it really that big of a deal?”
“To them, yeah,” Brady claimed. “Since he got here, Royce hasn’t shown a deep interest in anyone. When he came back from Christmas vacation and claimed he had a girlfriend, not a lot of people believed him.”
Mack hummed, nodding in agreement as she spoke, “I think that seeing you show up all of a sudden made everyone want to know what was so special about you that he pushed aside any offers from other girls at school.”
Vivien nodded, but as the others began to pour out of the building, her mind drifted to the thought of random girls at Royce’s school asking him out. Was it just something Mack had said to ease her mind, or was it a fact that others had tried asking him out? Vivien knew he had gone on a date before, but that he and the girl - Samantha, Serenity, something with an S - only went on one relatively awful date a few months before he even met Vivien. They had talked about their previous relationships - or lack thereof - but Royce had never mentioned anything about girls asking him out at school. Vivien could understand if girls had been asking him out - hell, that’s how she ended up with him - but to think that he had been turning them away without a second thought brought a smile to Vivien’s face.
She had to wonder, though, if it was true. Royce was the kind to get on the phone with her, listen to her blabber on and on about her day, and then do the same while she listened intently. Never had he mentioned letting down girls from his school. If it was true, he had no reason to keep it from her; she wasn’t a jealous person, after all, and they both knew that. Shaking her head with a smile as Bentley raised an eyebrow curiously at her, Vivien brushed off the thought and focused on asking everyone what they thought would be the best thing for her to order.
When Royce made his first appearance at the table, he stepped around Bentley’s chair at the end of the table and stepped up behind Vivien, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and asking if she was alright before beginning to write out their orders. Tipping her head to the side to watch as Royce scribbled out Bentley’s presumably habitual order of chicken tenders and fries, Vivien smiled up at her boyfriend as she watched him fondly. Her staring became evident as it became her turn to order, but as she’d been more focused on him than on the menu before her, Vivien stumbled over her words and hastily scanned the page in search of something to eat.
With a chuckle, Royce lowered himself to the floor beside her and softly said, “You don’t have to rush. The longer you take to order, the longer I’m able to stay out here with you.”
Vivien glanced back at him, ready to argue that it wasn’t right for him to ignore his other tables just to spend time with her, but found the words trapped in her throat as she nodded dumbly. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Well, what do you think I should get? You know this place more than I do.”
Tawny eyes scanned over the menu with ease, and Vivien found herself following his finger as he pointed at a few different things. “You like mac and cheese, so the mac and cheese bites are right up your alley, but they’re only in small portions, so if you get them with a burger, hot dog, or maybe some fish and get a cup of nacho cheese on the side, it would be good, but that’s just what I think. You don’t have to get it.”
Eyeing the small image of a basket of fried balls of mac and cheese, Vivien smiled and nodded, “Actually, I think that’s just what I’ll get. Haddock with mac and cheese bites, please.”
Royce smiled as he wrote her order on his notepad and asked, “Baked or fried fish?”
Confused by the question, Vivien softly asked, “There’s more than one way to get fish?”
“Yeah,” Royce nodded, a small laugh passing his lips. “How do you usually get yours?”
Opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, Vivien muttered, “I don’t know. My dad usually orders it when we eat out because I always go up to get stuff from the salad bar with Mom.” Hurriedly turning and leaning over so that she could see the Birches at the other side of the joined tables, she asked, “Do any of you know what I usually get?”
Brady held in a laugh and nodded knowingly, “Your dad always jokes about baked fish being healthier for you, so when your mom leaves to get her salad, he orders you guys…”
As the older man gestured toward her, the lightbulb inside her head flickered on, and Vivien turned back to her boyfriend with a smile, “Fried!” At the glowing amusement in Royce’s eyes, Vivien cleared her throat and toned down her voice as her face warmed, “I, uh, I mean, fried, please.”
Patting Vivien’s arm as she rested it on the armrest of her chair, Royce smiled and stood, “Alright. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Vivien nodded, smiling up at her boyfriend until he disappeared into the restaurant once more, and she was free to let out an uncomfortable groan as she placed her hands over her face. “I feel like a complete moron.”
Entertained by the girl’s mortification, Bentley shrugged and set his bottle of soda back on the table as he teased, “If the shoe fits.”
Miles choked on his drink, fighting to swallow his soda before coughing, “Bentley!”
Vivien was quick to brush off the remark, her smile evidence that she didn’t take the comment to heart in the slightest. “Miles, it’s fine. I thought it was funny,” she claimed with a small laugh. Turning her attention onto the blonde to her right, she asked, “So, do you have anything fun in mind that we can do while I’m here?”
Bentley was quick to nod, “I’ve already been thinking of places we should take you to and things we should do.”
“I’m not surprised,” Vivien commented with a grin. “Care to fill me in, or is it all a surprise?”
“Not all of it,” Bentley shrugged. “We can go to the record shop, and you can meet some of our friends from school and all of that stuff, but first, I have a question.”
Vivien let out a soft snort, “I might have an answer.”
Eager, Bentley beamed as he asked, “Are you gonna be staying with us while you’re here?”
“Benny,” Miles sighed, “where are we going to put her?”
“We have an extra room,” Bentley said as though it should have occurred to Miles.
Glancing at the blond boy, Carrie asked, “I thought you were going to move into that room once Miles got it cleaned out?”
“But Viv’s here now. I can wait,” Bentley brushed off with a wave of his hand. “And, for your information, I like sharing a room with Royce.”
“I never said you didn’t,” Carrie said with a shrug, brushing off the boy’s faintly snippy tone with a sigh.
Choosing to ignore the blonde, Bentley turned his pleading blue eyes onto Miles and said, “Anyway, my point is, we have a whole spare room she can use if we clean it out.”
Weakened by his brother’s powerful puppy dog eyes, Miles took in a breath and sighed, “Baby, I don’t even know where we’re going to put all of that stuff. It’s not like the cabin or our old place. We don’t have a basement to shove stuff in.”
“You don’t?” Vivien wondered, bewildered by the idea of any home not having a basement. As Miles shook his head, Bentley looked ready to whine his way to victory, but Vivien quickly jumped in, “Well, if it’s any help, I like organizing things.”
Mick let out a snort from her seat beside Vivien, “Yeah, except your closet.”
Vivien discretely flipped the older girl the bird before directing her attention back to Miles, “What I mean is that I can help put everything wherever you need it, if that’s any help to you.”
“See?” Bentley asked with a smile. “She’s even willing to help us! Can she stay with us now?”
Spotting the look of worry on Miles’ face at potentially having another mouth to feed with his already tight budget, Butchy piped up, “Actually, bud, Viv was supposed to stay with Mickie, Lela, and I.”
Bentley’s head tipped to the side, his confusion evident as he simply asked, “Where?”
“What do you mean?” Lela asked.
“With Aunt Mack and Uncle Brady in Miles’ old room, where is she going to sleep?” Bentley rephrased. “The couch?”
Miles evaded Bentley’s curiosity, glancing pleadingly toward his friends and silently asking them for help with the situation. However, it was Carrie who tried next, “When we went to Mick’s house for that Valentine’s party, Vivi and I talked on that video call thing about her staying in my apartment for a while if she ever came to visit.”
Butchy scoffed, and Vivien could almost hear him roll his eyes at the blonde from across the table as he said, “I can’t imagine anyone, especially Vivien, willingly staying under the same roof as you for any amount of time.”
Vivien made an attempt to cut in, hoping to keep the energy around the table calm before Royce returned with the food, but she was quickly interrupted as Carrie said, “Vivi and I are friends, dipshit. Right, Vivi?”
Again, Vivien opened her mouth to reply, but Butchy spoke up, “Just because you two have talked all of - what? - two times since she found out about this world, doesn’t make you friends.”
“Actually-” Vivien began, ready to defend the blonde as gently as possible, only to be cut off.
“Says the asshole who won’t even let her talk!” Carrie exclaimed.
Determined to stop things before they could escalate, Vivien tried again, “Guys, I-“
“You’re one to talk,” Butchy scoffed. “Look, just because your head’s so far up your own ass that your idea of friendship is a few little chit-chats here and there, Cole, doesn’t mean it has to be that way for the rest of us.”
As the argument continued, Vivien looked around the table. Although nobody seemed keen on stopping the pair from fighting, Bentley had pushed himself back in his chair, his eyes glued to his lap while Miles held his hand on the table, Mack and Brady appeared exasperated by the argument, though neither seemed ready to step in as both offending parties were still arguing at a relatively normal volume, and Mick and Lela just sat quietly, both seeming tired of the pair’s fights occurring so often. Tired of being spoken over, angered by the conversation spiraling out of control, and upset that nobody else seemed half as bothered as she was, Vivien took in a deep breath and thumped her fist on the table, causing those around her to jump at the noise as she turned toward the arguing pair, and snapped, “Enough! Can both of you just stop?”
Silence fell over the table as Vivien’s gaze flickered between the pair, the group watching as the usually argumentative pair fell silent. Whether it was due to the girl’s tone or the pleading look in her eyes, neither Carrie nor Butchy could be sure, but regardless, they felt their quarrel die in the silence as Vivien’s piercing emerald eyes flickered between them, effectively staring them down. With the table sitting in silence and the verbal smackdown extinguished, Vivien felt herself growing uncomfortable as she began to feel the various pairs of eyes flitting between her and the others. Sucking in a breath, she softly apologized and sunk back in her chair, hoping the cushion behind her would swallow her embarrassment.
“Viv?” Bentley asked softly, placing a hand atop the girl’s closed fist.
Letting out the rest of her breath in a sigh, Vivien opened her hand to hold Bentley’s, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that, especially in public.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Brady said with a shake of his head. “Are you okay?”
Not willing to look up from an old scratch she has found on the table as her leg began bouncing again under it, Vivien shrugged, “I’m fine, it’s just-” she cut herself off with a huff, taking a moment to think about what she wanted to say. Glancing at the older couple at the end of the table, she admitted, “My parents have been arguing a lot the last week or so because Dad told Oliver he could join his boyfriend’s family on a trip during summer break, but they never asked her what she thought about it before agreeing, and I’ve had to step in to stop them a few times so Mom wouldn’t cancel all of the trips we had planned for this week. I guess I just… I wanted to stop their fight before it got worse like my parents’ have been.”
Before the others could think of something to say, Bentley grinned and squeezed Vivien’s hand, gaining her attention as he spoke, “Butchy and Carrie don’t get much worse than that. They insult each other and play tetherball with nasty remarks until someone stops them, or they get sick of each other.”
“Or one shoves the other into the town pool,” Royce commented as he stepped outside with a wide tray of food in plastic baskets with pieces of wax paper preventing anything from spilling.
Vivien attempted a small chuckle as her boyfriend placed her basket of fish before her, looking up at him as she asked, “And how often does that happen?”
As Carrie opened her mouth to respond, Bentley took his food from his brother and beamed, “Butchy’s only shoved Carrie into the pool once so far, but their fighting is pretty much an everyday thing.”
Glancing away from the brothers, who both seemed to enjoy the memory of Carrie getting pushed into the pool by the metaphorical guard dog of their mismatched, makeshift family, Vivien looked around the table and asked, “Why don’t you just lock them in a room until they work things out?”
Without allowing Butchy the chance to voice his opinion, Mick gave Vivien a look and answered, “Because they’d both come out of it in body bags if we did.”
Snorting a laugh, Vivien allowed her gaze to drift back onto her boyfriend, watching as he circled the table before coming to a stop behind her and tucking his tray under his arm. With her head tipped back, she smiled up at him and mouthed a greeting as he chuckled at her. With his free hand, Royce tapped the tip of her nose before asking if she was alright.
Incapable of wiping the smile from her face now that he was present, Vivien, in turn, asked, “What time do you get off of work?”
Out of habit, Royce shrugged, “I get out in about an hour, so two o’clock. Why?”
“That’s when I’ll be alright,” Vivien decided. “I’ll be fine in the meantime, but the moment you get to clock out and join the rest of us wherever they choose to take me, is when I’ll actually be alright.”
A deep shade of pink began to flush Royce’s cheeks, peeking through the tan the Floridian sun had graced him with over his time living in the state, but he chose to ignore the burn under his skin as he grinned at the brunette seated before him. “Well, in that case, I might just go inside and start putting all the clocks ahead an hour.”
Vivien smirked, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Deal,” Royce smiled. As though he had only just remembered the others sitting around the table, Royce glanced around and quickly said, “I’ll check on you guys in a few. I have to clear some tables.”
Grinning at the blush still evident on her boyfriend’s face, Vivien teased, “Hurry back.”
Before his older brother could respond in kind, Bentley looked up at Royce and batted his eyes at him as he repeated Vivien, “Yeah, Royce, hurry back!”
Batting the back of his brother’s head with his serving tray, Royce rolled his eyes, “Keep it up and I’ll stop buying you ice cream after school.”
“Nooo,” Bentley whined, grabbing Royce’s wrist and tugging him back to the table. Pressing the back of his free hand to his forehead, he complained, “Whatever will I do without my daily dose of crack?”
“Bentley,” Miles chided as he glanced around to make sure nobody apart from their tables had heard the boy. “You’ve got to stop with the crack thing.”
The young blond snickered, “Says the guy who has some every morning.”
Looking pleadingly at his youngest brother, Miles took in a breath and spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t do crack.”
“Sure, you do,” Bentley teased, leaning back in his chair and beginning to count on his fingers. “You have some when you wake up, you always take some to work, and sometimes you even have some when you get home. You can’t go a day without it.”
“Ben,” Miles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatedly as he realized exactly what Bentley meant. “How on earth does coffee equal crack to you?”
Vivien grinned, nudging Bentley’s arm as she joined the blond’s efforts and asked Miles, “Are you sure you didn’t do crack this morning?”
Looking across the table with wide eyes, Miles shook his head, “What? No.”
“In the bathroom when you got here?”
“No, I-”
“Are you doing some right now?”
“No!” Miles exclaimed with a shake of his head. “Vivien-”
“Then when?” Vivien pressed.
“Never!” Miles barked. “I have never - nor will I ever - do crack!”
“Are you sure?” Bentley questioned.
Beaming from behind Bentley’s chair, Royce spoke up before Miles could, “Are you lying?”
“Yes,” Miles said in response to Bentley before realizing Royce’s question and backpedaling. “Wait, no! Look, you-”
“See how angry you are?” Vivien asked somewhat rhetorically. “It’s the crack.”
“Just admit it,” Bentley said with a sigh, shaking his head at his older brother. “Royce is your faithful crack dealer just as much as he is mine.”
Miles looked between the trio, beginning to wonder if he would regret offering to house the girl if this was what he would be getting himself into. Taking in a breath, he slowly turned to the others sitting around the table and breathed, “I’m going to have an aneurysm with them all together under one roof, aren’t I?”
Mack chuckled as she placed her drink back down on the table, “And you wonder what it’s like for us everytime we take you kids up to the cabin.”
“Does that mean Viv is staying with us while she’s here?” Royce asked, hope glimmering in his caramel eyes.
Hoping to finally get an answer to his earlier question, Bentley’s pale blue irises searched Miles’ face as he pleaded, “Yeah, Miley, does it?”
For a moment, Miles seemed to hesitate, momentarily thrown off by the boys’ complete one-eighty turn from taunting him to begging him for permission to house Vivien. He began to weigh his options - on one hand, the extra room had a bed and a somewhat functional closet for Vivien to put her belongings in until they got the rest of the room cleared out, but on the other, the savings he had been squirreling away to be able to buy better quality gifts for his brothers and Carrie would end up taking a hit if he had another mouth to feed. Ultimately, it was the look of hope in the trio's eyes that sealed his fate, resulting in a somewhat tentative nod from the eldest of the Murphy brothers.
“Yeah, alright,” he allowed, taking a moment to enjoy the simultaneous burst of excitement the three reveled in. With a smile, he then added, “Viv can stay with us, but you guys are going to have your work cut out for you with that bedroom.”
While the three teens began talking about how they would handle everything, Miles felt a hand on his arm, making him turn to the blonde beside him as she softly asked, “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking her back to my place.”
Miles returned her offer with a smile and a shake of his head, “It’s alright. I’ll figure something out for now and we’ll work it all out later on.”
Although he was sure that the subject was far from dropped by anyone around the table apart from the children, Miles tried to relax as the table’s occupants resumed their meal while Royce returned to his duties inside the restaurant. However, despite appearing interested in the conversations that flitted around the table and flowed from topic to topic, a mental jungle gym had already begun construction in Miles’ head. He worked hard all the time to provide for his brothers and still have a small fund set aside for dates with Carrie and days off with the boys - would having the girl stay with them be as difficult as he was making it out to be?
Since he had met her a few years back, Miles knew all too well that Vivien was far from a difficult child. She would eat pretty much anything handed to her, and he had seen her fall asleep practically anywhere she could - she wouldn’t be hard to house. However, Vivien was used to modern things that he didn’t have access to - televisions with more than a few select channels, computers that could find anything in the blink of an eye, internet, social media, and so on - and he could only provide so much. Would she be okay with the severe lack of technology in his fixer-upper of a home?
To top it all off, he knew firsthand how hard it was to stretch meals four ways. When they lived with their father, Miles would make meals every day for the four of them, taking whatever he could find in the fridge or pantry and making up a random recipe that he practically pulled out of his ass. With just his brothers, it was easy enough as they weren’t picky eaters - Pop-Tarts or toast for breakfast, discounted meals at school or work for lunch, and something more fulfilling for supper so that they had at least one meal together where they didn’t have to feel like cheapskates living paycheck to paycheck. Miles could manage that well enough. However, with Vivien not having a job or school to give her something for lunch, he’d have to take her shopping for things to eat throughout the day.
By the time the meal was over, Miles realized he hadn’t followed any of the conversation, his mind too preoccupied with his finances - or lack thereof - to bother listening to anything he wasn’t actively a part of. Once the table was cleared, they broke onto the beach, but Miles chose to sit on the front steps of the restaurant so that he was there when Royce clocked out. Carrie had sat with him for a few minutes before Vivien came over and begged them to join her in building a sandcastle. Miles had smiled and politely declined after explaining his desire to talk with Royce, but he nudged Carrie to join the group, watching the brunette pull his girlfriend away by the hand with a smile.
After discarding his apron and saying a quick farewell to some of his coworkers, Royce made his way out of the restaurant with a sigh, ready to start his three-day break from the place as the sun greeted him. Spotting his brother on the steps, Royce grinned and stepped down next to him, sitting beside Miles and leaning his head on the elder’s shoulder. “I forgot to thank you earlier.”
Glancing down at Royce’s tangled curls, Miles allowed a smirk to tug at his lips as he rested his cheek atop Royce’s head. “Oh yeah? What for?”
“Letting Viv stay with us,” Royce spoke softly as he listened to the waves crash against the shore. Lifting his head from its resting place, Royce found Miles’ baby blue eyes and said, “I’ll help however you need me to. If we need money or anything-”
“No,” Miles breathed, shaking his head lightly. Taking Royce’s hand in his, Miles squeezed it reassuringly. “We already talked about this, baby. I’m not letting you pay for anything.”
Royce’s expression contorted into one of exasperated understanding, “Miley-”
“RJ,” Miles interrupted with a smile, stopping his brother’s argument in its tracks. “I’ve got this. We’ll be alright. The only things you should focus on are work, school, and cleaning that disaster area you and Ben call a bedroom.”
Royce let out a scoff, “That’s more his disaster than it is mine.”
“Tell that to the pretty girl you’ve got staying with us,” Miles chuckled. As he glanced over at the group who were mourning the loss of a sand tower that had crumbled due to lack of moisture, Royce followed his gaze and smiled at the brunette who seemed to glow in the warmth of the Florida sun. Miles grinned at his brother’s expression and watched the group as he said, “The minute she walks in the door, you’ll see every little thing you forgot to clean and wish like hell it would all disappear before she saw anything.”
Royce’s smile seemed to falter as he recalled just how many dishes he’d left in the sink that morning that he was supposed to do after dinner that night, the basket full of freshly done laundry on the floor in his room that he’d neglected to put away and had just been pulling clothes out of for the last few days, and the multitude of books and paperwork strewn about the living room where his and Bentley’s friend groups congregated to work on homework and assignments together. As his gaze landed on Vivien once more, her infectious smile beaming proudly as she carried a snail back to the group alongside her bucket of wet sand, Royce couldn’t help but breathe, “I’m so screwed.”
Miles let out a soft chuckle and patted Royce’s knee as he stood, “Welcome to the club.”
Tearing his gaze away from his girlfriend of nearly four months to peer up at his brother, Royce’s eyebrow lifted and his head tipped to the side ever so slightly as he cautiously asked, “What club?”
Miles grinned, “The Whipped Idiots Committee. Butchy started it, I joined later on, and now, you’re here; congrats. If you’re anything like us, you’ll be here for a while.”
Though, as Miles walked off to join the others, Royce’s first instinct was to tiredly roll his eyes in disgust at the thought of Miles - of all people - feeling “whipped” over someone like Carrie, he found himself stopping to think for a moment. He knew from the relatively short amount of time he knew the man that Butchy was truly, inescapably attached to Mick’s hip; she could ask him anything and he would do it at the drop of a hat for her. And though it disgusted Royce to think about Carrie having Miles wrapped around her manicured little claws, he knew for a fact that if she told him to jump, he’d ask “how high”. Was he really any different from either of them?
If Vivien needed Royce for anything, he would be there in an instant and they both knew it. Hell, everyone who knew about their relationship, knew it. And he knew from experience she would do the same for him. Well… him, his brothers, their collective friend group, and even people he couldn’t stand someone like Carrie. Vivien was a naturally selfless person, but Royce knew that she cared about him and he’d be damned if she didn’t know he was crazy about her. He would do anything she wanted or needed him to do; even when they were just friends, he would have done anything for her, and they both knew it.
Thinking for a moment as he watched Vivien help build a castle in the sand, Royce smiled as he realized Miles was right. He was unconditionally, irrevocably, head-over-heels whipped for the brunette girl he was fortunate enough to call his girlfriend. Was that a problem? If you asked Royce, he would say no, no it wasn’t. Not in the slightest. If anything, he was proud. You could’ve put a plastic cap on his head and shoved him into one of the refrigerators at the grocery store alongside the cans of whipped cream for all he cared. He adored Vivien with all he had, and heaven help anyone who said otherwise.
Pushing himself from the steps with a goofy grin that just wouldn’t go away despite his efforts, Royce tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts and made his way across the sand to where Vivien had begun decorating a lopsided, half-crumbling sandcastle with the shells she had pocketed on her earlier walk. The way her tongue poked out between her lips in concentration made his grin split into a smile, but as he watched her eyes sparkle as she turned her attention toward him, he felt as though he could have melted into the sand under his feet and he would have died happy right then and there.
Vivien patted the sand on her right, an invitation of sorts that Royce eagerly accepted, his hands immediately filled with a pile of shells as Bentley continued to spout off ideas about things they could do in the area. Although Vivien’s attention was split between the brothers and the castle before her, Royce found himself listening intently as his gaze drifted onto the eldest of his siblings, finding Miles smirking knowingly at him. Royce rolled his eyes, a soft sigh passing his lips as he relented with a shrug. Yeah, Miles was right, but did he have to act like he knew he was right?
Focusing on the task at hand, Royce slid a seashell into one of the sand walls and listened as Bentley began rattling off about places he enjoyed, “There’s a nature preserve that my whole grade went to and we got to feed the alligators, but I don’t know if we would be allowed to since we’re not with the school.”
“It still sounds cool,” Vivien said with a smile. “Is that your favorite place around here?”
Bentley was quick to shake his head, but Miles began teasing him before he could speak, “No, he prefers hanging out with his little girlfriend at the art museum.”
As soon as the words left Miles’ mouth, Bentley’s face scrunched up as a look nobody could quite decipher filled his face and he shook his head, “Kona and I are just friends.”
“Whatever you say, bud,” Butchy chuckled as he and Mick worked on sculpting a moat.
“Kona?” Vivien repeated with a grin. “Like my car?”
“It’s spelled the same,” Royce shrugged. “She moved here from Hawaii not long after we got here and is in the same grade as Bentley.”
Bentley’s smile returned as he explained, “Her parents own this really cool record shop near where Miles works. Her dad runs a radio station out of it and they live upstairs. You’ve gotta meet her; you would love her.”
Vivien smiled in kind, but couldn’t help teasing the boy as she elbowed his arm, “Not nearly as much as you do, apparently.”
Choosing to simply ignore the girl’s teasing, Bentley said, “She’s got two cats who roam around the store and beg for treats.”
With a nod, Vivien sighed, “I’m not a big cat person, but I bet they’re cute.”
As though snapped from a trance, Royce looked up and found Miles’ gaze already on him, concern filling their locked eyes as Bentley asked, “You don’t like cats?”
Vivien shrugged, “It’s not that I don’t like them - I do and I think they’re adorable - I’ve just never had one around, so I prefer dogs. My mom claims that she’s allergic to cats, so we’ve always had dogs. Personally, I think she just doesn’t like cats because she’s always calling them prissy and aggressive.”
Tentatively, Royce swallowed thickly and turned toward his girlfriend with a hopeful grin, “Would you mind living with one?”
Confused, Vivien shook her head, “No, why? Do you want one?”
“We already have one,” Miles explained. “A black cat we got around Halloween a while back.”
“His name is Binx - like the Hocus Pocus cat,” Bentley added with a proud smile as he stuck a stick into the top of a sand tower. “He likes Cheetos, long baths, and he sits on our shoulders like a parrot sometimes.”
Vivien giggled, while the concept of the boys having a pet had crossed her mind, she just assumed Miles would have a German shepherd or something for protection - if not a breed with enough energy to entertain Bentley’s golden retriever mannerisms. If anything, the only person in that house who she could imagine owning a cat was her boyfriend. Royce was, for all intents and purposes, the embodiment of a Chartreux - quiet, inquisitive, and gentle, yet playful when he wanted to be. He seemed to be the oddball of the group - Vivien’s spirit animal of sorts being the same outgoing, yet calm and perceptive hound who always fell asleep somewhere on her bed back home.
Shaking her head, Vivien grinned, “If you guys don’t have Cheetos at home, we need to pick some up for him.”
Carrie beamed, “They keep a bag just for him.”
“Aww!” Vivien cooed, her smile growing so big it began pushing her eyes closed. Lightly smacking Royce’s arm with the back of her hand, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”
“I thought I had,” Royce admitted shyly.
Vivien shook her head, “I would’ve remembered his name! Hocus Pocus is one of my favorite movies of all time.”
“Sorry,” Royce chuckled, a hand coming up to the back of his neck as Vivien smiled in his direction.
Nudging Royce’s arm with an elbow, Vivien grinned, “That just means you’ll have to formally introduce us later.”
Feeling himself smile as warmth crawled up his neck and spread across his cheeks, Royce nodded and breathed, “Yeah, okay.”
Giggling at her boyfriend’s reaction, Vivien turned to the others and asked, “So, what should we do first? Should we take the day to clean, and then you guys can show me around tomorrow, or…?”
“Well, today’s Saturday, so Kona should be busy helping her dad with his broadcast,” Bentley commented thoughtfully. “And the museums will be packed.”
“Sadly, so will that new mall I told you about on the phone,” Carrie mentioned as Vivien glanced her way. “Saturdays are when everyone and their mother try to get good deals.”
Royce looked ready to argue that he knew all too well that the blonde had already wasted enough money at the shiny new building, but Vivien spoke before he got the chance, effectively shutting down any snide remarks he planned on making as she smiled in Carrie’s direction. “I guess some things never change. My bandmates, Erica and Jade, work at the Mall of New Hampshire and say that they only work weekends so they get to watch the chaos from the food court on their breaks.”
Realizing, to his dismay, that his girlfriend would probably be just as enamored with the new shopping center as Carrie was, Royce asked, “Do you go there often?”
“All the time!” Vivien exclaimed. “It’s not a huge mall or anything, but they have some of the best clothes and stuff. I got my first pair of skates at that mall when I was little.”
“They sell figure skates at the mall?” Bentley asked.
“Yeah,” Vivien nodded. Glancing over at the unsuspecting Butchy, she smirked and added, “We went to Dick’s.”
Butchy looked up, an eyebrow raised at the younger girl as she grinned in his direction. Although he looked ready to speak up and ask the girl how on earth that could be the name of a store, Bentley beat him to the punch as his blue eyes sparkled with glee, “Dick’s?”
Vivien nodded, glad to finally have found a way to evade Butchy’s tax on swearing, but Royce let out a snort as he asked, “Is there seriously a store named Dick’s?”
“Dick’s Sporting Goods,” Mick nodded, fighting back a laugh as Butchy’s head practically snapped toward her, an incredulous look in his eyes. “What? It’s true!”
“You’ve got to be screwing with me,” Butchy muttered.
Carrie scoffed a laugh, her oversized sunglasses lifting as she smirked at Butchy, “What? Can’t handle a few Dick’s being thrown around here and there?”
“Yeah, it’s just a sports shop, big guy.” Vivien smirked, glancing around the group as she thoughtfully said, “I bet you would’ve had a heart attack if you had been with us on that trip my school took to the Hoover Dam.”
Bentley’s eyes sparkled as the third Percy Jackson book dragged to the front of his mind, and he asked, “Did you have to ride the dam elevator?”
Ignoring Butchy’s startled call of her friend’s name, Vivien beamed, “We did, but a few of us had to stop to use the dam bathroom first.”
Having read the books with his brother and girlfriend, Royce grinned as he questioned, “Did you get any dam snacks from the dam snack bar?”
“I bet those dam t-shirts were expensive.” An almost maniacal giggle bubbled up from Vivien’s chest as Mick spoke, her nonchalance causing a ripple of laughter to course through the group as Butchy sighed.
“This is the part where I admit defeat,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.
“I’d tell you to give up while you’re ahead, but you’re definitely not ahead of them by any means,” Miles chuckled, following his friend’s lead before reaching down and offering a hand to his girlfriend. As the kids scrambled to their feet, proud smiles on their faces as Butchy and Mick began the walk to Mick’s bus, Miles asked, “So, kiddies, where to first?”
Vivien took in a breath as both Royce and Bentley turned toward her expectantly, but her first thought wasn’t of adventure; it was of genuine confusion as Miles and Carrie followed the others toward Mick’s Volkswagen. “I thought we were going with you guys. Where’s your car?”
“We walked,” Bentley said with a shrug. “Our house is close enough that we walk or ride our bikes everywhere almost every day.”
“And I left my car at their house,” Carrie added, nudging her sunglasses further up her nose with a smile at the brunette.
Ignoring the blonde’s addition to the conversation with ease despite his girlfriend’s nod of understanding, Royce added, “And Miles’ piece of crap Jeep needs new spark plugs.”
“It’s not a piece of crap if it gets you two to school on time,” Miles sighed, the mere thought of having to put more work into the rust bucket exhausting him.
“What do you need to have done to it?” Vivien asked. “My Grandpa George lets me help him with his old truck all the time; maybe I can help.”
Miles shook his head, “You’re our guest; you shouldn’t be helping me with stuff like that. Besides, it’s mostly simple fixes - new spark plugs, an oil change, that kind of thing. The only thing I need to check on other than that is the clutch.”
“You drive a stick?” Vivien asked, her eyes sparkling at the thought. “Can you teach me how?”
Smiling at the girl, Miles chuckled and nodded, “Maybe one of these days, sure. Now, where do you need to go?”
Sighing as Miles turned the topic back onto her, Vivien shrugged as she replied, “Can we stop at a gas station or something so I can pick up some snacks before we get to cleaning?”
“Then what?” Carrie asked before Miles could ask her what she wanted.
“I don’t know, really,” Vivien admitted as Bentley tucked his arm into the crook of her elbow, her other arm already looped around Royce’s. “I’m just happy to be here with you guys. It doesn’t feel real.”
“I know the feeling,” Royce chuckled, offering his girlfriend a smile. “Having you here is so surreal.”
“Just wait until you meet everyone,” Bentley said, hopping off of a concrete parking block as Vivien laughed.
“You mean I haven’t already?” she asked. “I think I met everyone in town.”
“Not everyone,” Royce claimed, “but there aren’t a lot of people you haven’t met yet.”
“Kona, Zack, and August,” Bentley began.
“Benny’s friends from school,” Royce explained, to which Vivien nodded.
“Don’t forget Sandy, Lake, and Kit,” Miles tacked on.
“Cassandra Wheaton, and Laken and Katrina Dubois,” Bentley explained, tugging Vivien’s hand as he spoke. “Those are Royce’s friends.”
“Sandy is this red-head girl in my grade who constantly picks fights with the teachers if she thinks they’re wrong,” Royce explained. “She’s related to Butchy’s friend, Larry.”
“Lugnut,” Miles stated, holding the door open for the kids to climb in. “That’s what we call him. And, for the record, they’re cousins.”
“Why on earth do you call him that?” Vivien asked with a grin, pausing by the doorway. “Because he’s got bolts for brains?”
Butchy snorted from the front seat, turning to grin at the kids, “That’s one reason.”
As Bentley followed Vivien into the VW bus, Royce said, “She and her family are on vacation this week, though. Lake and Kit, on the other hand, are Lela's boyfriend’s best friend’s younger brother and sister - they’re twins.”
“Lake is usually the one getting into trouble at school, but he gets good enough grades that nobody really says anything,” Royce explained. “Kit, on the other hand, is the only sane one. She’s the polar opposite of her brother in school, but we’re all pretty sure she’s got some kind of rebellious side under her good-girl exterior.”
As Vivien pieced together the web that linked the group together as friends, she smiled curiously, “And they’re your friends from school?” Royce nodded, and Vivien shook her head with a chuckle. “Sounds like my friends - a mismatched abomination that works, for whatever reason.”
Royce smiled, but it was Bentley who spoke up, “You know, Lake’s the only reason Royce didn’t get in much trouble for punching that kid in the face back in February.”
“Really?” Vivien asked. When Bentley nodded proudly, still clearly relishing in how protective his typically calm older brother had gotten, Vivien turned to Royce and said, “I have to say, when I first found out about that, I didn’t believe it, but now that I know it’s true, I’m proud of you.”
Royce looked away as he heaved a sigh, “I could have handled it better.”
“You could,” Vivien shrugged, “but I would have done the same.”
“You would have?” Royce asked softly as the door slid shut behind Miles.
Vivien hummed, nodding in confirmation before smiling at her boyfriend, “Nobody messes with our siblings.”
Royce smiled, a breath of a laugh escaping him as he nodded, “I still feel kind of bad about breaking his nose and tripping the other one down the stairs.”
“You shouldn’t,” Vivien claimed calmly. Leaning her head on Royce’s shoulder, she smirked as she added, “Besides, I kind of like the thought of seeing you get all protective over the people you care about.”
One of Royce’s eyebrows raised as he looked down at the top of Vivien’s head. “Yeah?”
Instead of replying outright, she nodded against his shoulder, tipping her head back so that she could see his face as she muttered, “I would have paid big bucks to watch it go down.”
“I watched it in real time,” Bentley claimed, heaving a laugh as he recalled the day he watched his ever-calm older brother rail his fist into an upperclassman’s face. “It was a wonder Royce didn’t break his fist in Darren’s face.”
“Or get into any more trouble than I did,” Royce sighed as he leaned over to look at Bentley. “It was honestly a miracle I wasn’t suspended.”
Bentley rolled his eyes before grinning at Vivien and explaining, “Lake went with us to the principal and explained that he saw the whole thing. If he hadn’t, we would’ve gone back and forth until the bell rang.”
“Instead,” Royce continued, “they took his word and called Miles to come and pick us up.”
Turning enough to see the kids, Miles mused, “Most terrifying call of my life.”
“How come?” Vivien asked.
“All they told me was that there was a fight and I needed to get the boys,” Miles recalled. With a sigh, he said, “Since neither of them start fights, I figured I’d be dealing with broken teeth and blood everywhere. Instead, I get to the office, find some kid being called into the principal’s office with an icepack on his face, and these two sitting with the nurse, looking relatively unharmed.”
Royce glanced down at the knuckles on his right hand, flexing and clenching his fist as he examined the leftover marks from his first-ever fistfight. Though it wasn’t his dominant hand, his punch to the older boy’s face had certainly made a mark on both him and the older boy - breaking Darren’s nose for the second time that school year. The quarterback was a caricature of the stereotypical jock - obnoxiously loud, rude, and always vying for access to some poor girl’s skirt. Although Royce doubted he had much success with women in general, Darren acted like he had been crowned King of the school anytime he had a girl under his arm, pushing underclassmen out of his way and picking out random things to taunt them with at least once a day. He was rude, uncouth, and, quite frankly, had the punch coming.
“It’s just a miracle his parent’s didn’t press charges,” Miles mused. “Lawyer fees wouldn’t be cheap if we went against the town’s darling little quarterback.”
“It would have been sooo worth it to take them all down a peg, though,” Carrie sighed.
“Why do you even care?” Royce asked with a roll of his eyes. “Just because you would’ve had the money to handle it doesn’t mean all of us peasants could’ve.”
Though Carrie looked ready to fire back something about how money had little to do with the situation or how she cared because Miles cared, she bit her tongue and instead sighed, “I’ve heard enough shit about that family. They’re dicks to everyone.”
“Oh, joy,” Vivien sighed with a roll of her eyes. “I get away from one asshole family at my school only to meet another asshole family at this one.”
“Swear jar,” Butchy muttered from the front, echoed in near unison by his younger sister and Miles.
“Good thing I’m not staying at your place tonight,” Vivien snickered.
Lela glanced at the girl and sighed, “Don’t be surprised if he nails you for it later.”
“That’s not fair,” Vivien huffed.
“Neither is the swear jar,” Miles laughed.
“College fund,” Butchy corrected.
“More like the bullshit fund,” Carrie claimed with a roll of her eyes as she looked out the window at the passing scenery.
“Wait, how come she gets to cuss, but I don’t?” Vivien scoffed in disbelief, gesturing to Carrie.
Twisting in his seat to look back at the teenager in the backseat, Butchy grinned, “Because I don’t care what she does. You, on the other hand, are one of my responsibilities while you’re here.”
Crossing her arms over her chest and preparing her fiercest glare, Vivien smirked, but Miles caught on quickly, smirking as he attempted to placate the girl before she could push Butchy’s buttons any more than he was sure she had already planned to, “I wouldn’t.”
Choosing to ignore Miles’ tame warning, Vivien giggled, “If Butchy can’t handle the heat, maybe he shouldn’t be such a colossal dickhead.”
“Vivien,” Mack cautioned, “be nice.”
“I just want to see where the line is so that I can play jump rope with it,” Vivien claimed somewhat innocently, making Butchy roll his eyes as he turned back toward the road ahead. “Have I crossed it yet?”
“Wouldn’t be the first or the last time you did,” Butchy shrugged.
Vivien’s smile only seemed to grow as she contemplated her next course of action. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she hummed, “How about prick; is that okay, Corporal Shithead?”
“I mean, under certain circumstances, I guess, but-”
“Shit? Damn?” Vivien continued. “How about Dick’s? The sporting goods place, not the anatomy.”
“I don’t have a written list of acceptable swears,” Butchy claimed with a chuckle. “And, yeah, store names are fine. Why do you-”
“How about fuck-nuggets?” Vivien pressed, her eyes practically glistening with joy. “I reserve that one for special people, you know, Señor Fu-”
“We’re here!” Mick exclaimed, cutting off Vivien’s fun as she pulled into the parking lot of a red and white convenience store, rolling up to the side of a gas pump before putting the oversized vehicle in park.
As she jumped out of the van, Vivien stared up at the building’s name with a look of scrutiny, encouraging a snort from Butchy as he smirked at her. “What’s with your face, piccola?”
Without batting an eye, Vivien stared up at the sign and asked, “The fuck is Wawa - some baby store bullshit?”
“It’s a gas station,” Bentley laughed as he followed Miles toward the store, digging into his pocket for some money. “You wanted snacks.”
Nudging the girl with his arm, Butchy grinned, “They have some of the best mac and cheese you will ever try.”
Slowly tearing her gaze from the store, Vivien looked up at Butchy and inspected his expression before softly asking him, “Better than Chick-fil-A?”
Dutifully, Butchy nodded as he brought an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, “By far.”
Eyes widening at the idea of anything being better than Chick-fil-A’s mac and cheese, Vivien swallowed and allowed Butchy to guide her toward the store. “I swear,” she began as he pulled the door open for her, “if you’re lying to me, I’ll strangle you.”
With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Butchy asked, “And if I was right?”
Vivien thought for a moment before shrugging, “I don’t know - I’ll tell Mick to kiss you or something.”
Butchy’s flat stare landed on Vivien as he asked, “She and I have been together for years now; why wouldn’t she kiss me?”
After thinking for a second, she shuddered and made a face at the taller man, “Well, I’m certainly not kissing you.”
Though Butchy pretended to gag at the thought, Vivien giggled, shoving him with her elbow as he guided her toward the wall of buffet-style foods across from the door. Chuckling, Butchy said, “Go check out the food, child. I’m going to pry Lela away from the Slurpee machine before she brings home another abomination that makes her sick.”
“Good luck with that,” Vivien snickered, watching him saunter off with a grin before turning to the food before her. The typical gas station foods - cheap hotdogs, sketchy burritos, and some half-empty trays of pizza - were on full display, but Vivien passed them with ease as her gaze narrowed in on a heated section of deep metal bowls of soups and steaming mac and cheese. Taking in a slow breath, Vivien paused as the smell of the food filled her. Why did it smell good? Gas station food never smelled good.
As a hand landed on her shoulder, Vivien jumped, turning toward Mack with wide eyes. Curious, the woman examined the food before asking, “Looks a hell of a lot better than the stuff we’d get at Cumby’s, doesn’t it?”
Cumberland Farms, a convenience store chain most commonly found in the New England region that Vivien proudly hailed from, was known amongst locals for their terrible, grow-hair-on-your-chest type coffee and shitty selection of “hot foods” that workers would hastily throw into the microwave before selling. Despite their food being sub-par, Vivien almost always stopped there for gas and a snack between school and skate practice. This Wawa place was putting her favorite gas station to shame with their fancy displays of food and varied selection of decent-looking snacks!
Nodding at the older woman, she asked, “Why does it smell so good?”
Mack smiled, “Because, believe it or not, it’s good food.”
“You’ve had some?” Vivien asked. When the graying woman nodded, she looked at the array of food and asked, “What do you recommend?”
“Just about anything,” Mack shrugged. “It’s all a lot cheaper than the stuff back home.”
As the brunette woman patted her shoulder and walked away, Vivien’s eyebrow raised, but as she slowly turned her attention back to the food before her, her curiosity was quickly replaced with surprise as she read the prices along the top of the heated cases. Thirty-five cents for a bowl of mac and cheese?! A box of uncooked mac and cheese - not even a good brand, just the generic, store-brand kind - back home was almost two dollars, and you still had to buy butter and milk to make it! Digging into the purse Lela had let her borrow, Vivien dug out her NASA-branded wallet and came to the realization that she had saved a load more money for the trip than she would probably ever need. Feeling a sense of wealth in a gas station - of all places - was surreal, but there she was, standing in front of the gas station’s array of mac and cheeses, feeling like the richest person in the world. Having saved all of her money from her band’s tip jar at their gigs, her allowances, and her part-time work at her family’s winery, she now had just shy of a thousand dollars saved for a trip that would, more likely than not, cost a whole lot less than she had anticipated.
“Are you good, kid?” a voice asked, making Vivien hastily zip her wallet shut as she turned toward Miles, her thoughts running wild at the thought of storming into the nearby mall and buying everything her heart desired without feeling bad for spending a ton on herself.
Vivien scrambled to find the words to say before stammering out, “I-I, uh, I just- I saved money for this trip.”
Miles smiled, a sense of pride filling him as he nodded, “Good job. Is it enough to buy what you want or do you need some change?”
Vivien’s eyes flickered to the sign, its two-digit number startling her once more as she half expected it to have changed since the last time she looked. With a vehement shake of her head, she began, “N-No, it’s not-!” She cut herself off and took in a breath, lowering her voice to a whisper and holding up her wallet with wide eyes, “I think I could buy a house with this.”
Miles glanced at the girl’s wallet and smirked, placing a hand over it and lowering it, “I highly doubt that, but isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah, I think so, but-”
“But nothing,” Miles interrupted, taking the girl’s arms in his hands and forcing her to focus on his words. “You’re here to have fun, not worry about finances.”
Vivien nodded dutifully, but as her gaze fell on her borrowed clothes, she found herself beginning to worry again as she muttered, “I don’t have any clothes.”
“What?” Miles asked, not having heard the girl’s simple statement.
Emerald eyes flickered up to meet Miles’, and he watched as worry filled them. “Mick told me to leave my clothes at her parent’s house and only take what I needed because I’d leave here with more clothes than I could fit in my suitcase. I borrowed all of this-” she gestured to herself, “from Lela. I don’t- I don’t have pajamas for tonight or clothes for tomorrow - o-or any day, for that matter. Miles, what am I going to do? I can’t just run around in the same outfit every day!”
“First of all, breathe,” Miles instructed, waiting until Vivien sucked in a breath before continuing, “and second, relax. You can borrow something for tonight, and I can take you clothes shopping tomorrow.”
Vivien took in the idea and slowly nodded. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way of your plans.”
“You won’t,” Miles decided with a shake of his head. “We’ll worry about all of that tomorrow. Now, go pick out some snacks for tonight before the boys decide to buy half the store for you.”
Allowing Miles to nudge her toward the coolers full of drinks where Bentley and Royce were arguing over which drink they thought Vivien would want, she shoved her wallet back into her bag and allowed their voices to lure her in, glancing around at the myriad of snacks available as she closed the distance between them. “What’re you guys talking about?”
Glad to have someone there as a tie-breaker, Bentley beamed, “Oh, good! Viv, would you please tell your boyfriend that you’d like root beer more than Mountain Dew?”
Switching her gaze from the bottle of A&W in Bentley’s hand to the sloshing, radioactive green liquid in the glass bottle held by the brunet on her right, Vivien opened her mouth to speak, but Royce spoke first, “She’s been talking about having us bring her a bottle of this stuff since January, Ben.”
Choosing to speak up before the boys could argue more about her choice of drink, Vivien asked, “Why not just get both?” When the boys looked her way, she said, “I can have one tonight while we work and another in the morning with breakfast.”
“Soda with breakfast?” Bentley wondered aloud, glancing between Vivien and Royce. “Is that allowed?”
Vivien shrugged as she took the bottles from the boys, “Why not? If Miles can have his crackhead coffee in the morning, I can have a soda.”
Turning on her heel, Vivien headed for the chip aisle, examining the funky fonts with a smile as the boys fetched their own drinks from the coolers. As she picked up a tube of Pringles - the “newfangled” chip in a can, as the container claimed - Vivien tucked it into the crook of her elbow and waited for the boys to pick out their own snacks before following them to the cash register where a middle-aged man in a sweater vest began punching in the prices of their selection. Pulling out her wallet, Vivien began searching for her one-dollar bills, but Royce was quicker as he handed over a few bills and accepted the change from the cashier.
Taking the bag of items from the counter and thanking the man, Vivien allowed Royce to lead her outside before speaking, “I was going to pay for that, you know.”
“I know,” Royce said, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips as Bentley pulled his drink and snack from the bag in Vivien’s arms and took off for the van, “but I also know how expensive things are back in your world and how cheap everything seems here. You and I both know you’ll try paying for anything and everything if you get the chance, and I wanted to be able to say that I paid for at least one thing for you while you’re here.”
Vivien couldn’t argue with her boyfriend’s good intentions. She knew he meant well and, well, he wasn’t wrong. She liked being able to provide for the people she cared about. Taking in a breath and sighing, she relented, “Alright, you’ve got me there.”
“I know,” Royce smirked triumphantly. “I just hope you’ll let me pay for our anniversary dinner.”
“Anniversary dinner?” Vivien echoed. “We haven’t been together a year yet, Rolls.”
“No, but it’s almost our four-month anniversary, and we haven’t had the chance to really celebrate the last three,” Royce stated as they reached Mick’s bus, taking the bag from Vivien and stepping aside to allow her to climb in. “Why; do you not want to celebrate it?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, to be honest with you,” Vivien admitted. “My parents only really ever celebrated their yearly anniversary.” Pausing as she stepped into the bus, Vivien turned back to Royce and said, “But, I guess, if you think about it, they are divorced now. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to follow their lead.”
Royce let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, maybe not.”
Once they were seated, Vivien leaned her head on Royce’s shoulder and asked, “So what did you have in mind for it?”
Royce chuckled somewhat nervously, “Honestly, I hadn’t really planned anything since I thought we would be on opposite sides of the country. My original plan was to see if we could have dinner over video chat or something, but now that you’re here, I don’t know what to do.”
Vivien hummed as she smiled up at her boyfriend, “Well, we have plenty of time to figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Royce nodded as he returned her smile, leaning closer to her with the intention of pressing the tip of his nose to hers in a sort of eskimo kiss. However, the van’s other occupant had another idea.
“Can you guys not be all lovey-dovey and gross when I’m trying to eat?” Bentley complained, interrupting the couple’s interaction and digging his hand back into his snack bag as the others began to return to the vehicle.
Instead of resorting to sitting silently and putting up with the boy’s teasing, Vivien turned toward the blond and pursed her lips, smacking them in an effort to psych him out with her exaggerated kissing noises as she leaned toward him, acting as though she was going to kiss him. Bentley was quick to react, letting out a squeal as he pressed himself as far away from her as possible. As he tossed a handful of Corn Diggers at Vivien, pleading with her to stop, Vivien laughed triumphantly and returned to her seat, pulling a couple of the Bugles' predecessors from her ponytail and popping them into her mouth as Bentley let out a noise of complaint.
“You tossed ‘em, you lost ‘em,” Vivien taunted in a sing-song voice, handing one of the corn chips to Royce as he chuckled beside her.
Before Bentley could complain any further, Mick turned toward the others in the back of the bus and asked, “Everybody in?”
Once everyone gave some form of confirmation, Mick turned back to the wheel before her and twisted the key in the ignition, feeling the vehicle rumble to life before pulling away from the gas pump. As the bus pulled away from the gas station and began to roll down Gulf Boulevard, Bentley and Royce began showing Vivien their town through the windows, pointing out locations as they flew by. Although the glimpses of buildings and hang-out spots wouldn’t satiate Vivien’s desire to explore to small city to its fullest, the palpable excitement radiating off of the boys on either side of her as they rambled and raved about their favorite places made her feel as though she had explored the area alongside them.
To Vivien’s great disappointment, the car ride didn’t last long, and they were pulling into the brick-lined driveway of Butchy and Lela’s Mediterranean-style home within minutes. The red shingles on the roof glistened in the afternoon sun, giving the structure a warm, comforting glow as Mick rolled to a stop in front of the garage. Climbing out of the bus, Vivien looked around at the neighborhood, a collection of one-floor, mid-century homes dotting the streets amidst the occasional larger home and making Vivien breath a sort of chuckle through her nose as she smirked. The pattern of large and small homes distantly reminded her of Morse Code - the larger building becoming dashes and the smaller ones turning into little dots in her head. However, before she could think too much on it, Lela took the girl by the hand and began leading her up the brick walkway to the front door, pushing her way inside before turning back toward the group and calling for Carrie to join them. Lela pulled Vivien inside before leaving to retrieve the girl’s suitcase from the kitchen where she had abandoned it earlier, allowing the younger teen to look around the living room for the first time as Carrie’s platform boots clunked against the hardwood floors. Though Vivien was only somewhat disappointed the home didn’t have a sunken conversation pit for a living room, the patterns and warm colors gave off an inherently sixties vibe that made her smile nonetheless. Turning to Carrie with a smile, Vivien watched as the blonde rolled her eyes, nudging her sunglasses atop her head with a sigh.
“This place feels like something out of I Dream of Jeannie,” Vivien commented with a smile, “or Bewitched or I Love Lucy.”
Carrie looked around and shrugged slightly, her head tipping to the side in a sort of “I guess so,” movement. Then, she beamed, “If you think this is nice, just wait until you see my place.”
“I thought you said you guys weren’t done rearranging your furniture again?” Lela wondered as she rolled Vivien’s suitcase into the living room.
“We’re not,” Carrie agreed, “but it still has one of the best ocean views anyone could ask for.”
“And looks like the inside of a Barbie Dreamhouse,” Butchy poked as he followed his wife into the house and headed for the kitchen with one of their bags from the convenience store.
The half-assed jab at her choice in decor did nothing to Carrie as she rolled her eyes and called after him, “At least I have taste. Your wallpaper is so bright it could blind the people on the moon.”
“Hey,” Mick whined in a mildly offended tone as she looked around her ecclectically decorated living quarters. “I thought you liked the wallpaper.”
As Carrie struggled to find something nice to say about the yellow, floral, somewhat kitschy wallpaper, Vivien quickly turned to the brunette and attempted to cover for the blonde, “I think it’s beautiful, Mickie. Loud and proud, but beautiful. Right, Carrie?”
“Yeah!” Carrie hurried to agree, plastering a smile on her face that only a skilled actress - such as herself - could have pulled off so flawlessly. “It matches the furniture and decor perfectly.”
Wiping her dismay from her face, Mick grinned, “I’m just screwing with you. It’s ugly as sin and we all know it.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Carrie pressed a hand to her chest and breathed, “Oh, thank God.”
“It really is awful,” Vivien muttered as she looked around. Glancing at the coffee table in all of its wiry, metallic glory, Vivien winced at the rug. “I mean, come on, Mick! You’ve got a baby-poop-green rug, for crying out loud.”
Mick leaned against the back of the couch and laughed, “It’s atrocious, isn’t it? We’re going to be redecorating entire ground level soon.”
“Finally getting rid of the poop rug?” Bentley asked in a giggle as he perched himself on the armrest of a chair.
“If that thing’s not the first thing that gets thrown in the dumpster,” Butchy began as he came back into the room with a freshly opened box of popsicles and began handing them out, “I might just pitch myself off of the roof.”
“Promise?” Carrie asked with a smirk.
Digging into the box, Butchy produced a purple popsicle with a grin and held it out to the blonde with a smirk, watching as her expression soured once he pushed the clear plastic wrapper into her hand. “Just for that, here you go.”
“I’d rather drink sewer water,” Carrie claimed, letting the popsicle dangle from her fingers as she pinched the stick, her nose crinkling in disgust as she eyes the offensively purple ice pop.
With a giggle, Vivien pried the popsicle from Carrie’s hand and swapped it for the blue raspberry one she had been given, claiming, “I love the grape ones.”
“More power to ya,” Carrie shuddered. “They taste like these shitty throat drops I had to take before singing lessons.”
Butchy smiled as he slowly turned, ready to hit the blonde with a comment about how her singing lessons were clearly a waste of her family’s money, but Lela quickly intervened with a smile, stepping up to grab a pink-lemonade-flavored pop from the box in her brother’s hands before turning to Vivien and Carrie. “Are you girls ready?”
“For what?” Vivien asked as she unwrapped her purple pop.
“We need to make up a list of all the things you need so that we can go shopping,” Carrie explained.
Vivien shook her head with a small smile, “That’s alright, guys, Miles already said he’d take me shopping tomorrow.”
Not even a moment after the words left Vivien’s mouth, Miles felt the urge to run, hide, melt in to the floor - anything to get away before he felt the stares of the women around him sear holes into his skin. However, to his dismay, he felt rooted in place by an invisible force that he knew could only be described as fear - though he would never admit it. If it wasn’t bad enough that Lela’s mildly bewildered, somewhat upset blue eyes landed on him with an immediate “how dare you” glare befitting of her status as the self-proclaimed, spoiled youngest child, Miles tried not to wince as Carrie’s sharp gaze landed on him, her rarely used, angry girlfriend stare boring into his soul. Miles had hoped he would have the chance to tell at least Carrie about his short conversation with Vivien about taking the chance to shop on a day he and his brothers had nothing better to do. He knew Carrie would have understood and told the others - mainly the raven-haired girl starring daggers at him in the hopes he would croak where he stood - to let things go for the night.
Clearly, however, he hadn’t had the chance.
“You what?” Lela asked darkly, a thinly veiled threat latched onto her words.
“Yeah,” Carrie nodded, her arms crossing over her chest as she watched her boyfriend’s expression flit as he fought the urge to speak up in defense of his actions. “We told you we wanted to take her shipping tonight while you guys worked on getting things set up for her in the spare room.”
Shrugging in a vain attempt to calm the girls’ fury, Miles admitted, “I told her she could just relax tonight and get used to our place a bit before we hound her with shopping trips and adventures. You guys can still take her, but I wanted her to feel comfortable first.”
“He’s right,” Vivien confirmed with a nod as she took a bite of her popsicle, watching in mild amusement as Carrie and Lela’s matching aquamarine gazes fell on her in near-perfect unison. “I wanted to help clean out the room I’m staying in tonight anyway. I like organizing, and, besides, I would’ve felt bad if the guys did all the work when I had already offered to help.”
Carrie hummed thoughtfully, accepting the teen’s statement with relative ease as Lela huffed, “Fine, but we’re taking you out tomorrow - no excuses.”
Raising her hands in surrender, Vivien nodded, “So long as I can crash in a nice, comfy bed tonight, I have no issue with going out tomorrow. You can drag me out of bed, for all I care.”
“Don’t tell them that,” Bentley said quickly, shaking his head emphatically at the brunette. “They take that stuff literally.”
Vivien smiled at the young blond, but found her amusement wiped off her face as she caught sight of Lela’s mischievously glittering eyes. She attempted a glance at Carrie, but found the blonde smiling knowingly in her direction, the actress’ excitement fueled by her eagerness to get the chance to spend time with Vivien and get to know the young figure skater better. Hoping she wouldn’t regret signing up for whatever day-long plans the girls had in store for her, Vivien swallowed and plastered a wary smile on her face as she asked, “Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret agreeing to this?”
“Hanging out with Lela is fun, but you’re spending the day with Carrie too,” Royce stated before taking in the last bite of his popsicle. Quickly polishing it off, he grinned as he rhetorically asked, “Who wouldn’t regret that?”
Though Royce was quickly shut up by Miles elbowing his side and quietly telling him to quit it, Vivien latched onto his words and stared him down with a disappointed frown knitting her eyebrows together. With Vivien’s stare unwavering, Royce opened his mouth to speak before sighing and looking away, his small argument forgotten. Placing a hand on Carrie’s arm, Vivien turned her gaze onto the blonde and smiled, “I’m actually looking forward to spending more time with you.”
“You are?” Carrie asked, echoed bewilderedly by Butchy, Royce, and Bentley.
The smiling brunette nodded, ignoring the boys’ comments and grinning as she admitted, “We haven’t really gotten the chance to get to know each other other than our love of theatre and music, so I don’t doubt we’ll have a lot of fun tomorrow.”
Vivien could tell by her smile that Carrie was happy, but the actress’ eyes seemed to water at her words, tears she was determined not to shed making her eyes burn. Carrie pulled herself together as best she could before nodding, “Lela and I will make sure you have fun.”
“And,” Lela began, sidling up to the pair with a smile and bringing her arms around them, “maybe we can even make a detour to Sycamore Close to check out where Miles and Carrie work.”
Though confused at first, realization hit Vivien like a Mack truck speeding down the highway as she recalled just where Carrie worked. Beaming at the blonde, she asked, “Really? Can we check out the studio?”
Carrie shrugged, a teasing gleam in her eyes as she offered, “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”
As Carrie pivoted on her heel and began sauntering toward the door, Vivien balked and squawked, “You can’t just give me a ‘you’ll see’ and walk away!”
“I just did!” Carrie laughed as she stepped outside.
Vivien made a noise of disgruntled surprise and followed the actress, but was stopped at the doorway by Butchy’s arm. Looking up at the man, she found him smirking at her. Lifting an eyebrow curiously, Vivien followed his gaze to where Lela stood with a suitcase as he asked, “Forgetting something?”
Sighing, Vivien jogged back to Lela, thanking her with a hug as Miles led his brothers out of the house. Dragging her suitcase behind her, Vivien wrapped Mick in an embrace next, thanking her once more in a whisper. Running her hand up and down the younger brunette’s back, Mick grinned, “Anytime.”
As they separated, Mack stepped up and said, “Next week, the boys will be back to school and Brady and I will be going back to California. The choice is yours whether or not you want to stay at their house or come stay here in the spare room, but you should probably talk it over with Miles and the boys before Monday.”
Vivien nodded, glancing toward the door as Miles told Bentley to stop chasing Carrie around the driveway with a worm he plucked from the bushes while Royce laughed. Turning back to her neighbor and friend, Vivien smiled, “I think I can handle that.”
“Good,” Brady spoke up. Patting his pseudo-daughter on the shoulder, he grinned, “Have fun, alright?”
“I will,” Vivien said, tucking herself into the couple’s open arms and squeezing them close before heading back to the doorway Butchy leaned against. She examined him for a moment, taking in his laid-back expression and his knowing smirk before asking, “You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”
Lifting a brow, Butchy asked, “What gave you that idea?”
“You weren’t surprised to see me, but Lela was,” Vivien claimed. “That means that either Mickie told you or you just seem to know things, which would mean I have to go all super spy mode while I’m around you.”
Leaning closer to the girl, Butchy lowered his voice and grinned as he said, “Mick’s great with secrets, but I think we both know that she’s pretty shit at keeping her excitement for surprises under wraps.”
Vivien snickered, a knowing nod following soon after. However, as she took in his words once again, she gasped dramatically, pointing up at him with wide, sparkling eyes, “You swore!”
Butchy rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, “I have been known to, yeah.”
“But the swear jar-”
“Has been decommissioned until you go home,” Butchy interrupted. When Vivien’s accusatory gaze begged him to explain his decision, he simply shrugged, brushing off the matter with ease. “You’re on vacation, piccola - I’d rather you didn’t go broke just because you swear like a drunken sailor.”
Vivien’s expression shifted, a knowing smile taking over her face as she patted his arm, “Whatever you say, big guy.”
Sighing in some form of admittance - at least, that’s how it sounded to Vivien - Butchy shook his head and tugged the younger girl into a hug, smiling as her snake-like arms wound around him in a tight squeeze. “Have fun with the guys.”
“And Carrie,” Vivien tried, a part of her still hoping to mend the blonde’s relationships with both Butchy and Royce during her stay despite the reluctance from all parties.
“Yeah, sure,” Butchy scoffed as Vivien took a step back. Cocking his head in a sort of shrug, he chuckled, “Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun with that empty-headed plaything; the boys aren’t exactly the Barbie-doll type.”
“You’re such a dick,” Vivien retorted, thumping her fist against his chest as she took her suitcase by the handle once more.
“To her, absolutely.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“Is to me.”
Vivien rolled her eyes and nudged her glasses further up her nose before scoffing and allowing the subject to drop. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, right?”
“Maybe after you’re done with your girl’s day,” Mick said with a nod.
“Aren’t you joining us?” Vivien asked.
With a shake of her head and a smile, Mick admitted, “Butchy and I have to help some friends move into their new place tomorrow, but I’m sure you’ll have a blast.”
Although the thought of not having Mick there as a buffer between herself and the other girls made her nervous, Vivien masked her worries with a smile and a nod, and gave the group a final wave before leaving the house, jogging down the front steps and joining the others at the end of the driveway. Miles looked up from his conversation with Royce and smiled, “You ready, kid?”
Nodding more for herself than for Miles, Vivien smiled, “As I’ll ever be. Did you guys call a taxi or something to bring us to your place?”
“No,” Miles chuckled with a shake of his head, gently tugging the girl’s suitcase from her hand and pulling it behind him as he began leading the way down the street. “We can walk from here to our house. It’ll take us maybe five minutes.”
“Seriously?” Vivien asked as Bentley took up the hand Miles emptied and began swinging it between them as they walked down Bay Street. “I know you guys said you could ride your bikes everywhere, but I didn’t know you could get where you needed to go so quickly.”
“It must be odd to you,” Carrie offered the younger girl as she fell into step on Miles free side. “I remember when I came to your world that everything in New Hampshire was really spread out. It made everything feel so small.”
Before Royce could butt in with a snappy comment, Vivien hummed, “Yeah, well, most of New England is like that, I think. The area used to be a lot of big farming areas and stuff in colonial times, so when things progressed, the plots of land didn’t, and there are a ton of places where you have to walk a country mile to get to your neighbor’s house.”
“It’s definitely not like that here,” Royce chuckled as Bentley took his hand and began swinging their joined arms between them in time with the other hand the blond had captured along the way to their home. “There may not be a lot of sidewalks on back streets, but in cities and communities like ours, it’s easier to walk places.”
Vivien smiled, “That’ll take some getting used to.”
Bentley grinned, “Nah, you’ll be a city girl before you know it.”
Although Vivien agreed with a nod, allowing the boys to carry the conversation as she let her mind wander. Though she could definitely get used to spending her days lounging on the beach with the boys or shopping with her friends for clothes that would only cost her a fraction of what they would back home, would she truly be able to adjust to wandering a city without a care in the world? In a way, she supposed, there would be pros and cons as there would be anywhere, but safety was something she doubted she had the need to worry about. With them living in a sort of movie universe, Vivien doubted there would be much crime, if any existed in their world at all - a welcome difference from her world.
Maybe staying In St. Pete Beach would be like the stories her grandparents had told her from their childhood - homes being left unlocked all day and night regardless of whether or not anyone was home and kids roaming the neighborhood until the street lights came on. Basically, things that would give her parents a literal heart attack if they knew where - or when - she really was. Would it really be so hard to adjust? Maybe it wouldn’t be half as hard as she was making it out to be. Regardless, as she listened to Bentley ramble about much he loved Florida more than their old hometown in South Carolina, Vivien came to the conclusion that she would try her hardest to feel at home in the small city.
As they turned right off of 64th Avenue and onto Gulf Winds Drive, Vivien found sandy, crack-riddled, cement driveways becoming more and more common than the clean-cut, brick driveways on the street Mick, Butchy, and Lela lived on. The larger, waterfront homes that lined the Boca Ciega Bay became nonexistent - replaced by a handful of one-floor, mid-century-style homes with cheerfully colored exteriors and neatly-kept gardens filled with palm trees, cacti, and other succulents. With a gentle tug on her sleeve and a somewhat apologetic smile, Royce led Vivien toward a pale turquoise house with a matching, topless Mustang parked out front, encouraging her to step over the edge of the driveway that the cement company hadn’t completely flattened out before allowing her to stop as she examined their home in full.
For a while now, Vivien had only seen glimpses of the building in pictures. She had practically memorized the peeled spot in the living room wallpaper from the background of where Bentley had opened his birthday presents the month before, the terracotta tiles of the back patio where everyone seemed to congregate on the weekends for cookouts, and the chipped, peeling paint of the front door that the trio of brothers had taken pictures in front of not long after Royce and Bentley had moved in with Miles. Now that she had their home in front of her and she was able to take in all of its haphazard glory, the idea of piecing together the rest of the puzzle pieces and seeing the rest of the house filled her with a sort of childlike wonder she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Nervously clearing his throat as his girlfriend stared at their house in silence, Royce admitted, “I know it’s nothing big or exciting like what you’re used to - and we’re still working on fixing up the walls and stuff - but it’s home.”
Vivien was quick to shake her head, wrapping her arm around Royce’s and squeezing it as she asked, “What are you talking about? I love it already.”
“Y-You do?” Royce asked in a breath.
“Yeah,” Vivien beamed. “I’ve only ever seen pictures of your house, so I’ve been looking forward to exploring it for months now.”
As Royce struggled to find something to say in response, Miles nudged Vivien and said, “If you’re that excited, the spare key is above the door frame. You can use it while you’re here.”
“Aren’t you guys coming inside?” Vivien asked, her eyebrow lifting in mild concern.
Miles nodded, smiling reassuringly at the younger brunette, “Carrie and I are just saying goodbye for the night. I’ll be in after she heads out.”
“I’ll pick you up around nine, if that’s alright?” Carrie offered as she tugged her car keys from her purse. “The mall opens at nine thirty, so that gives us plenty of time to pick Lela up and stop for coffee on the way.”
“Sounds good,” Vivien agreed with a smile.
“Good,” Miles grinned. “Now, go. I’m sure you’re dying to check out the dumpster fire that is our house.”
Carrie lightly smacked his chest with the back of her hand, scoffing that it wasn’t a dumpster fire now that they had started fixing everything up, but the comment went mostly ignored as the teenagers began making their way up the driveway. Although Vivien’s excitement was obvious and understandable as she began pulling Royce toward the door, Bentley jogged across the sandy grass to the door, his hand-painted key already glistening in the light as he tugged its chain over his head and slipped the key into the handle of the door. Stepping to the side as Royce took the key down from above the door frame and handed it to his girlfriend, Bentley pushed the door open and gestured for Vivien to enter first, “Ladies first.”
However, before she could take a step inside, Miles called out to Vivien from near Carrie’s Mustang, “Make sure the cat doesn’t get out!”
Vivien glanced back at Miles and nodded, but almost as though he had been summoned, a sleek black cat with golden eyes that shimmered in the sunlight trotted up to the door, sitting at the threshold as it observed the visitor before him with silent scrutiny. Without giving Vivien the chance to introduce herself to the cat, Bentley leaned down and scooped him up, cradling the onyx feline to his chest as he asked, “Did you come out to meet Vivien, Binx?”
Eyeing the girl, the cat’s golden eyes slid closed in a slow blink before peeling back open as he meowed softly. Reaching up a hand, Vivien allowed the cat to sniff her fingers with a grin, her smile growing as the cat’s head nuzzled into her hand, giving her permission to pet him. As Royce let out a breath of a chuckle, Vivien turned to him and said, “I think he likes me.”
Royce nodded, unable to wipe the smile from his face as he agreed, “I knew he would.”
Wriggling in Bentley’s grasp, the cat stretched out toward Vivien, forcing the girl to hold him as he climbed toward her shoulder and perched himself there. Smiling at the cat as his purrs filled her ear, Vivien chuckled, “He really is part parrot.”
“Told you,” Bentley grinned.
As the cat sprawled out, curling around the back of Vivien’s neck and resting his head on her left shoulder, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Watching his girlfriend as she nuzzled the top of the cat’s head and scratched between his ears, Royce smiled and spared a glance at the chaos they had left in the house that morning when they were rushing out the door. Miles was right; it was a dumpster fire. Although Royce was certain Vivien wouldn’t care that much about the art supplies littering the counters or the cat toys strewn across the floor, the urge to clean while she was distracted with the cat was strong. However, his time ran out as Vivien turned toward the door, stepping across the threshold and allowing the cat to jump onto the table by the door where Miles always ditched his keys.
As she began looking around, drinking in the details of the house with a smile, Royce stepped up beside her and said, “If we had known you were coming, we would’ve cleaned before we left this morning.”
“No, we wouldn’t have,” Bentley retorted with a snort as he stepped into the house and closed the door. “Miles woke up late because his alarm clock is a piece of junk, Jules picked you up early for work, and I was half-asleep still since you weren’t there to keep me or Miles awake.”
Reaching behind Vivien to half-heartedly slap the back of Bentley’s head, Royce sent him a look that begged for him to shut up as Vivien laughed, “I don't care how clean your home is. It’s your home and it should look lived in, not like some house on Trulia that’s been staged to look good.”
“Well, that’s good,” Bentley said with a grin, pointedly giving Royce an ‘I told you so’ look before taking Vivien’s arm and dragging her into the kitchen, exclaiming something about having to show her the progress report card he had been sent home from school with on Friday.
Royce let out a sigh and turned his attention to Binx as the cat head-butted his arm, asking for attention. “I’m glad you like her, Binx,” he whispered as he picked up the cat, the feline’s golden eyes somewhat calming as Royce took in a breath. “Knowing her, you’ll be spoiled rotten by the time she has to go home.”
The cat’s soft meow encouraged Royce to smile as the front door opened behind him, allowing Miles to step inside as the roaring engine of Carrie’s Mustang faded outside. Petting the cat as he set Vivien’s suitcase by the wall, Miles greeted him before turning his attention to Royce, “Where did they go?”
“Kitchen,” Royce replied with a shrug. Glancing at the door, he asked, “Where did she run off to?”
Brushing off his brother’s snipped tone, Miles answered, “She’s going home to make up a list of everything she thinks Viv might want.”
Royce scoffed, rolling his eyes at the thought, “How could she possibly know what Viv wants?”
“Royce,” Miles sighed softly as he put his hands on his hips, “can we not do this while Vivien’s here? You know she likes Carrie.”
“I don’t see how she can,” Royce commented with a shake of his head. “But seriously, Carrie hardly knows Viv; what gives her the idea that she can make up a list for her without talking it over with her first?”
“All I know is that she’s calling Lela and Mick for ideas,” Miles admitted with a shrug. “Knowing them, they’ll be on the phone all night.”
Running his hand down Binx’s side, Royce refrained from rolling his eyes as he relented, “That’s good. At least they’d take Viv’s interests into account.”
Curious yet cautious as he knew how deep Royce’s distaste for Carrie went, Miles asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, Viv and Carrie are total opposites,” Royce stated as though his brother should have known that a long time ago. “The chances of Vivien liking anything Carrie picks out for her are slim to none.”
Hoping he didn’t appear nearly as happy to correct his younger brother as he felt, Miles grinned as he said, “Actually, Carrie was telling me that Vivien’s borrowed clothes from her a couple of times since they went to that show together; something about Mick being their delivery person.”
Though he didn’t want to believe his brother’s claim - or Carrie’s, for that matter - Royce sighed and chose to drop the subject, determined not to let his distaste for Carrie get in the way of him enjoying having his girlfriend around. Instead, he allowed Miles to bring an arm around his shoulders and guide him to the kitchen where Vivien was looking over a piece of paper. Bentley shifted a few magnets around on the fridge, nudging one from Miles’ work and one with their school’s mascot up to make room for the paper once Vivien was done with it.
As he caught sight of Vivien’s smile, Miles asked, “We’ve got a real genius on our hands, right, kid?”
Vivien nodded, glancing up from the paper briefly to tease the eldest of the brothers, “What does that make it, then; two out of three? That’s pretty good odds, all things considered.”
“Look here, you little shit,” Miles said, his grin still strong as he pointed at the brunette, “I happened to get good grades when I was in school.”
Waving Bentley’s progress report in the air, Vivien pointed at the teacher’s remarks and taunted, “I bet you weren’t this good, though. I mean, come on, Miles! How could you - of all people - possibly beat ‘has an inquisitive and engaged mind’?”
Miles shook his head, his smile beaming as Bentley’s face turned a soft pink at the praise from his friend, and the youngest of the family said, “It’s not that great. I’ve only got one A so far this year.”
“That’s because the American grading system is a pile of hot garbage,” Vivien scoffed, shoving the boy’s shoulder. “Besides, it’s still better than last time, if this is anything to go by. Last time, you had no A’s at all.”
“My art teacher liked me,” Bentley shrugged, hoping to brush off the praise. “This last trimester, I have French, and I just know it’s going to suck.”
“We can work on that,” Royce chimed in as Binx crawled out of his arms and perched himself on one of the kitchen counters. “Miles has been trying to teach me some more lately, so that won’t be a problem.”
Miles hummed, “And English should also be a breeze since Royce had Cushing last year too.”
“And I’m good with math and history, so those are covered,” Vivien added with a smile. Glancing down at the paper in her hands, she tried not to wince at the glaring D in the slot for Bentley’s science class as she said, “All we need to work on after that is science since everything else has a pretty good mark.”
“Science will be a bust,” Bentley huffed as he leaned against the fridge. “I think Mrs. Purington has it out for me.”
“She doesn’t have it out for you,” Royce claimed with a chuckle. “You just hate science.”
“I mean, yeah,” Bentley relented. “It makes no sense! The stuff she teaches doesn’t even come up on our tests, and half the class can’t stand her because of it. Most of our final grades this year will come from the science fair, and nobody knows what to do for it.”
As Miles hummed thoughtfully, a lightbulb flickered on in Vivien’s mind, snapping to life with a jolt as she thumped a fist on the counter and hissed, “Motherfucker!”
The three brothers and their cat jumped, watching as Vivien let out a frustrated sigh. Tentatively, Royce placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just-” she let out a heavy sigh, “I just realized that I left all the stuff for my battle bot project at home. I was going to ask Mickie to work on it with me while I’m here, and I figured Ben could borrow it, but without the motors, the radio control system, and some of the stuff I literally picked up yesterday at school, it’s useless.”
“That’s alright,” Miles reassured as Bentley stepped up and graciously wrapped an arm around Vivien’s back. “We’ll find something to do for his project - and maybe help you with the rest of yours too… if we can find anything for whatever it is.”
Though Vivien looked ready to explain her project, Bentley piped up, “Besides, the science fair isn’t until the middle of next month.”
Vivien grinned at the boy as Royce asked, “The Friday before prom, right?”
Bentley nodded, but it was Vivien’s gaze that locked on the curly-haired boy almost instantly. “Prom?” Vivien asked, earning a nod from her boyfriend. “You have prom in May? My school’s prom isn’t until the beginning of June!”
Though Royce was pleased to know that he would be able to attend Vivien’s prom - if she was willing to have him by her side in front of her entire grade, that is - the thought of her potentially still being in the area for his prom sent a hurricane of rabid butterflies through his stomach as he turned to Miles, a silent question on his lips as he grinned curiously at his older brother. With a smirk and a subtle roll of his eyes, Miles suggested, “Maybe, if you’re still here, you can go to Royce’s prom.”
Though Vivien’s eyes sparkled at the idea of attending another prom, she grinned and shrugged, “Well, he’d have to ask me to go with him first, but I’m sure I could find a place in my schedule for it.”
Royce’s smile widened as Vivien’s eyes met his, a surge of emotions flooding his veins as she smiled back at him. Maybe Miles was right - he was wrapped around her finger like one of her rings. He would drop anything to be with her so long as she would have him. Then, Bentley’s voice cut through their moment like a dagger, “You just got here, Viv. How do you have a schedule already?”
Wrapping an arm around Bentley’s shoulders, Miles chuckled and ushered him out of the room, “Come on, Benny, let’s get to cleaning Viv’s room.”
“But what about her schedule?” Bentley wondered as Binx hopped down from the counter and began following them. “How are we going to take her places if she has a schedule already?”
“She was joking,” Miles chuckled, tugging Bentley into the hall to leave the young couple alone.
“Oh,” Bentley breathed, a wave of understanding washing over his features as he turned back to Vivien, who nodded in confirmation. Beaming back at his brother’s girlfriend, Bentley wiggled his eyebrows at the pair and whistled comically before Miles slapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him away.
As his brothers left the room, Royce closed his eyes, turned to Vivien, and sighed, “I’m sorry about them.”
“Don’t be,” Vivien giggled, tucking Bentley’s report card back under a set of magnets on the refrigerator and turning toward Royce with a smile. “I’m used to their shenanigans by now.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good thing,” Royce breathed as Vivien stepped into his personal space and draped her arms around his shoulders. “They can get a bit wild.”
Vivien snorted, “What, like I can’t?”
“Touché,” Royce grinned, bringing his arms around Vivien’s back. Smiling as he breathed in the scent of her perfume - a light, fruity combination of pomegranates, strawberries, and apple juice that was so distinctly Vivien that it had his attention in an instant - Royce swallowed his apprehension and asked, “Are you thinking of staying here for my prom?”
“If you’ll have me,” Vivien agreed with a nod. After a brief moment of silence, she met his gaze and asked, “Is this your way of asking me to go to prom with you?”
Royce grinned, but shook his head, “Not yet; I want it to be special.”
Grinning so hard her cheeks began to burn, she teased, “So, me flying across the country and entering another world for you isn’t special enough?”
“You know what I mean,” Royce chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of Vivien’s hair as his thumbs rubbed circles on her spine. “As special as all of this day has been, I want to do one of those prom-posal things that are popular in your world. I don’t want to look back at this moment when we’re all old and wrinkly, and regret that I hadn’t been some knight in shining armor for you; riding up to you on a horse and asking you to prom like it was some fantasy ball.”
Smiling as his words came to life in her mind, images of him in blinding silver armor, riding up to her on a Clydesdale with a single question on his mind flooding her overactive imagination, she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “A knight in shining armor, huh?” she asked softly, running her fingers through his curls as she hummed thoughtfully. “I could see that.”
“You could?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, twirling a single curl around her index finger and allowing it to bounce back into place. “But, what I’m more interested in is the fact that you see the two of us growing old together.”
Freezing as his prior statement surged back to the front of his mind, Royce softly asked, “Can… Do you think we won’t?”
“I want us to - believe me, I do,” Vivien stated calmly, “but I guess I always sort of worry about the future. As much as I want a fairytale love like my grandparents’, my only other relationship crashed and burned so suddenly it made my head spin, and my parents’ relationship isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.”
Royce hummed thoughtfully. Vivien had told him enough about her parents and their on-again-off-again relationship for him to know that their relationship wasn’t something worth aspiring for. With a small smile, he said, “Well, if it means anything, I have every intention of staying by your side until you tell me you no longer want me to.”
“That won’t happen,” Vivien said with a firm shake of her head.
“In that case,” Royce began with a small smile, “we’ll have that happily ever after someday.”
“You think so?”
Royce’s curls bounced as he nodded, “I know so.”
Though her fond smile was evident, Vivien couldn’t resist teasing her boyfriend as she smirked, “That was so damn cheesy.”
“You love it,” Royce chuckled, smiling as his gaze flickered between Vivien’s eyes.
“I love-” Vivien’s brain froze as she coughed to clear her throat, her mind struggling to reboot itself as she realized how close she had come to telling Royce she loved him. Pretending to have gotten a hair in her mouth, Vivien wiped at the corners of her lips and made a face before deciding how to respond to Royce’s jest. “I-I’ll always love your way with words, but that doesn’t make it any less cheesy.”
“Are you okay?” Royce asked, taking a step back as Vivien dragged her nails across her bottom lip.
Nodding eagerly in the hopes that Royce hadn’t taken notice of her near-confession, she smiled and breathed, “Yeah, I think I just had some cat hair in my mouth, that’s all.”
Glancing toward the hall Binx had followed his brothers into as he grabbed a bottle of water from the floor by the refrigerator and handed it to Vivien, Royce chuckled, “That happens a lot with Binx. I think he sheds enough to make a whole other cat out of his fur.”
Glad to have moved on from her moment of adoration-fueled dipshittery with relative ease, Vivien smiled and opened the bottle after thanking her boyfriend, “Where is Binx, anyway?”
“He’s a nosy little guy, so he’s probably bugging my brothers while they clean,” Royce shrugged, watching Vivien take in a gulp of water. Holding a hand out to her, he offered, “Want to help me look for him?”
“Sure,” she replied as she capped her new drink. Smiling, she reached out for his hand, her fingertips just barely grazing his as an electrifying jolt ran up her arm toward her chest, forcing her to reel her hand back with a gasp. Royce was quick to follow suit, a noise of surprise leaving him as he jumped, his hand flinching toward his chest as aftershocks fizzled up and down his arm. Laughing as Royce shook his hand to rid himself of the electric tingles, she wiggled her fingers and gasped, “You shocked me!”
“No,” Royce argued lightly with a smile, “you shocked me!”
“Bullshit!” she laughed, shaking the electricity from her hand. “I think you were rubbing your shoes on a rug or something, because that hurt.”
“I could say the same,” Royce taunted as Vivien stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation, which he quickly reciprocated.
Brushing off the zap and their playful banter with a fond giggle, Vivien took Royce’s hand and laced her fingers with his as the static-like tingles pulsed under her skin, “Lead the way, static boy.” Though Royce looked ready to continue their mock-argument and declare, once again, that it wasn’t him who had shocked her, but the other way around, he took in her victorious smile and resigned with a humored shake of his head before guiding Vivien out of the room. Watching with a fond smile as Royce showed her the rest of the house, Vivien’s mind flitted back to her almost confession and she began to wonder why it had come with such ease?
They hadn’t even been dating for four months; how had she been so ready to tell him she loved him? She had dated Lexi for a lot longer and never once felt ready to tell her that. What was different with Royce? Well, actually, Vivien knew a lot of things that were different between the two. Really, there was no comparison. Royce was - in one way or another - a lot of things to her that Lexi never was. Despite their - quite literal - time difference, they never once had any issues with communication, and they had both been quite open with each other about what was going on in their lives, even before Vivien knew about his actual home.
Royce stepped aside as he guided her into the bedroom she would be staying in, allowing her to get a look at where she would be staying for the foreseeable future. Vivien smiled at him as she realized that she now had a lot more questions to ponder than she ever thought she would have while on her little stay-cation. With her luck, she would be up all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark as her thoughts wandered to her relationship with Royce. Letting out a soft sigh as she examined the room before her, Vivien grinned. So long as her thoughts were full of Royce, she really didn’t care if they kept her up all night.
Notes - Last night, I went to my first-ever DND game with my oldest nephew, and it was incredible! It's supposed to be every other week, but we're doing it again this upcoming Saturday, and the storyline is giving me so many ideas that I could use for one-shots and stuff! Also, my sciatic pain is going away. It's moved from going all the way from my spine to my right knee to just my right hip, so that's an improvement! Anyway, this was just shy of 50 pages and would have been posted sooner if I had the moodboard and divider transferred to my computer, but I didn't, so here we are lmao! The divider I've used is just temporary until I can sit down and work on one I think suits the vibe, but until then, it is what it is. Also, I hope your finals go well! I believe in you!!
April 14th - the day RMS Titanic struck the iceberg.
Usually, on this day every year, I would be prepping for a Titanic watch party and making sure everyone was ready for it, but that’s just not how it’s going to go this time around. After I get out of school today, it’s officially spring break, and I couldn’t be more excited to finally get away from this endless rain despite the deviation from my annual Titanic anniversary get-together. Riven already offered to give me a ride to school this morning, but since Mom asked me to give Abby and Olly one, and Erica’s piece of shit truck can’t go over puddles without breaking down, he’s giving her and JJ a ride instead. I have to remember to pick up stuff for my battle bot before I leave school, so I’ll tell Abby to remind me - she’s good at that kind of thing. Maybe if I take my notebooks with me on my trip, Mickie and the guys can help me figure out some ideas for what I want to build. Then, I won’t have to come up with something when I get back! Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do!
Vivien snapped her journal shut and tugged her headphones off before turning them off and tossing them onto her desk alongside her journal. With a sigh, she found her gaze in the mirror that hung on the back of her closet door as she made her way toward it. Despite the hair sticking in every direction, the blanket marks lining the arm she had fallen asleep on, and the wrinkled pajamas she wasn’t quite ready to rid herself of, she looked ready to start her day. Although she highly doubted she would need a cup of coffee that morning as her excitement for the day was propelling her forward like a cup full of espresso shots, Vivien knew she needed to at least look like she was half as ready as she felt.
Her reflection smiled back as she pushed the door of her closet open, but as she pulled the clothes she had set aside the night before down from her hangers, she found herself wondering if she should have put more thought into the outfit she had chosen. Would her typical choice of jeans, a witty graphic tee, and a brightly colored long-sleeve be a good choice in the long run? She would stand out like a sore thumb in the sixties, but nobody at her school would, frankly, give a shit what she wore. Her dad’s signature triple knock on her bedroom door gave Vivien no chance to change her mind as she hollered back that she was almost ready to go. He left after letting her know that he had to leave for an early morning meeting, wishing her a good morning and telling her that he would see her at lunch before leaving to tell the twins the same.
Sighing as she stretched her tired limbs out, Vivien set her cell phone on her dresser, asking Siri to put on one of her playlists as she debated on what to do with her hair. Glancing at the clothes she had yet to pack for her vacation, Vivien cringed as she realized just how much work she’d forced on her after-school self. For once, she was tragically unprepared for a trip. There was a lot she would have to do in the small amount of time between her release from school and Mick’s family picking her up. Pulling her shirt over her head with a huff and freeing her hair from under the collar, Vivien found her phone screen illuminated as a text came in from the girl who had invited her on her family’s trip in the first place.
Mick’s text was simple - a picture of four plane tickets to the John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California. Then, as Vivien smiled at her phone, another message came in, asking her if she was ready. A flutter of eager anticipation flew through Vivien’s text as she replied, telling the older brunette how excited she was to finally be able to spend time with the people they both cared about. Once the message had been sent, Vivien found an ABBA song on her playlist, turned the volume back up, and sang softly to herself as she finished getting ready for the day.
After brushing her teeth and taking the time to detangle the hair she had forgotten to ask someone to braid the night before, Vivien gathered her things for school, shoving her overstuffed folder full of homework and project notes into her backpack before grabbing her permission slip for the regional battle bot tournament and shoving it into the back of her bag where it would be kept relatively safe until the end of the school day. Tucking her school laptop into her bag, zipping it shut, and throwing a strap over her shoulder, Vivien scurried out of her room, just barely remembering to turn off the light as Oliver mumbled out a good morning on his way to the stairs. Chuckling as she wished her brother a good morning, Vivien stepped back to allow Abby to parade by with her backpack on one shoulder, a book in her free hand, and her hair pulled back in a migraine-inducing high pony that Vivien was sure she would hear the girl complaining about later in the day.
Following her siblings downstairs as Abby muttered her oral report to herself, Vivien took in a slow breath and hoped her mother had already left for her meeting with some city council board as the smell of slightly charred bacon wafted through the air. Their mother had a habit of making perfect bacon and sausage for herself and everyone else but would sometimes forget Vivien’s and her ex-husband’s in the pan while she took the time to ensure her twins had everything exactly how they liked it. Vivien never bothered to bring up the issue; instead, she gave the charred bacon strips or sausage patties to Riven as he was practically a walking garbage disposal and seemed to enjoy the blackened breakfast meats. Her siblings had tried to bring it up before, and Vivien knew her father had tried as well, but to no avail. The woman wouldn’t argue much with her younger children and always denied anything being wrong, pointing out the fact that Vivien never brought it up herself, but even when Oliver argued that the disgust on Vivien’s face was obvious, nothing changed.
Entering the kitchen, Vivien smirked as Oliver turned back toward Abby and began spouting random historical facts to throw his twin off her train of thought. Abby was quick to fight back, whacking her brother with her book as she told him to shut up and let her focus. Their mother was quick to jump in and tell her only son to leave his sister alone before handing them both their lunch boxes and telling them to get going before they were late. Abby sent Vivien an apologetic look as the eldest of the O’Brian kids took the only remaining lunch box from the counter, and their mother ushered them toward the coat closet. After giving the twins a quick kiss on the forehead and telling Vivien to drive safely, the woman grabbed her jacket and left, heading out to her car and taking off while the kids were still pulling on their spring coats.
With a sigh, Vivien grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and held the door open for her siblings, but it wasn’t until they were in the pale blue Hyundai Vivien had received from their father after passing her license test that any of them chose to speak up. Oliver huffed as he slid into the back seat, buckling his seatbelt before stretching out across the bench seat and sighing, “I don’t get Mom’s issue.”
“Olly,” Vivien sighed, a soft reprimand that she hoped would keep her brother from ranting the whole way to their school.
“No, Viv,” Abby cut in before Oliver could speak, “we all see she treats you differently, and it isn’t right!”
“It isn’t,” Vivien agreed as she pushed the key into the ignition and started the car, turning the defroster on to keep the windows clear, “but it isn’t worth the effort of trying to change her. Besides, I’ve got you guys and Dad.”
“And Auntie Hayley and Aunt Charlie,” Oliver piped in.
“Exactly,” Vivien nodded, smiling at her younger brother as she backed out of the driveway.
Abby huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching in her seat as she complained, “Still. I wish we knew what her problem was.”
“I have a few theories,” Oliver claimed.
Abby grinned, “We know. You’ve shown us your corkboard of conspiracy theories.”
“Yeah,” Vivien snorted, putting the car into drive and taking off down their street. “I swear, introducing you to MatPat and Shane Dawson at a young age was a bad idea.”
“Seriously,” Abby agreed teasingly. “If I have to be subjected to another three-hour rant about the government brainwashing us through Justin Beiber’s music, I just might pitch myself off of the water tower.”
“First of all, that’s not what my theory was about,” Oliver chuckled, “and second, I meant about Mom treating Viv differently.”
Shifting so that she could see both Oliver and Vivien, Abby said, “Well, you’re the conspiracy theorist here. What do you think is the issue?”
Excited to finally have the chance to blather about the ideas he had been bouncing around in his head for a while, Oliver beamed as he began his spiel, “My first thought was that she’s jealous that Vivien has a better relationship with Auntie Hayley and is upset that she’s not Viv’s birth mom, but that wasn’t an issue when we were little, so why would it be now?”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Abby nodded thoughtfully, sparing a glance at Vivien, who nodded as she slowed to a stop at an intersection. Turning back to her twin, Abby pressed, “So, what else you got?”
Oliver sighed, “Sadly, I think the most likely reason is that she’s just pissy because she thinks Viv forced me into the ‘Alphabet Soup Community’ and is scared she’ll do the same to you, Abs.”
Abby’s expression shifted, a disgusted wince tugging her eyebrows together in frustration as she took in her brother’s theory. It made sense, but she didn’t want to admit it. Though Vivien had come out as bisexual years ago, their mother never truly seemed to accept it until Vivien began dating Royce a few months ago. When Oliver came out as gay, the woman had taken the news out on her eldest child, pulling her aside and blaming her for “poisoning her baby brother” with her “disgusting beliefs.” Abby had unintentionally overheard the conversation, listening proudly to her older sister as the brunette fought for her brother to be treated better than she had been. When Abby later told Oliver what she’d heard, the pair found themselves in Vivien’s room, showering their sister with kind words of gratitude and love that the older girl seemed to relish in.
Ready to rant about their mother’s blatant homophobia, Abby scoffed; however, it was Vivien who spoke before her sister could rage for the rest of the drive, “Sadly, that could be right.” Vivien placed a hand on top of the one Abby had placed on the center console, gently squeezing her hand as she continued, “Even though I hope that’s not the case, it could very well be. She’s always been a little… uptight about that sort of thing.”
“A little?” Oliver chortled, finding Vivien’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Abby laughed, “You couldn’t pull a needle out of her ass with a tractor!”
“Abby!” Vivien reprimanded despite her laughing at the girl’s choice of words.
“It’s the truth!” Abby argued. “I’m sure she would’ve sent you guys to conversion therapy or something if Dad hadn’t said something.”
Vivien sighed as she turned onto School Street, “Still. She’s our mom, and until we move out, we have no choice but to put up with her bullshit.”
Oliver shifted in his seat, ready to crack a joke in order to lighten the situation, but Abby huffed, “I just don’t get why your sexualities matter so much to her. It’s not like it has anything to do with her in the first place.”
“Maybe she-”
“And why should she care if I’m straight or not?” Abby continued, cutting off Vivien’s statement with a scoff. “Is she just going to drop all of us if I someday decide to come out of the closet?”
Once he was sure his twin was done ranting, Oliver shrugged, “Maybe. Like Auntie Hayley said, Mom can’t stand that we aren’t her little dolls who do whatever she says now. I wouldn’t put it past her if she chooses to up and leave if this becomes a three-for-three situation.”
Taking in the wounded expression on her baby sister’s face as she pulled into an empty parking spot, Vivien smiled reassuringly and said, “I doubt you have much of anything to worry about anyway. Even if you came out as bi like I did, you and Malachi have been dating for, what, almost a year now?” When Abby nodded wordlessly, Vivien continued, “Well, Mom only chilled out when she found out I was dating Royce. Since you’re dating a boy already, I doubt there would be a problem.”
“Besides,” Oliver began as he pushed open his door and picked up his bag from the floor, “you’re straight - you have nothing to worry about.”
Plastering a smile on her face as she tugged her bag up from the floor, Abby nodded, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Patting Abby’s hand with a grin, Vivien opened her door and stepped outside, grabbing her backpack from the backseat and locking the car once the doors were closed. Once her keys were safely tucked into the front pocket of her backpack, Vivien followed her siblings to the front door of the school. Before she could step inside, however, a honk from a nearby car made Vivien jump, whirling around to see Riven’s red Miata pulling to a stop by the sidewalk. Telling her siblings she would see them later, Vivien headed over to the car as the passenger’s side door opened, and a head of emerald hair stepped out before pushing the seat forward.
“Hey, Viv,” Jade greeted with a smile as she tightened her ponytail.
As Erica tumbled out of the backseat, the seatbelt wrapped around the ankle of her Doc Martens, she peered up at the brunette and beamed, “Oh, good! I was hoping to catch you before first period.”
“Mission accomplished,” Vivien chuckled as Erica hobbled her way away from the car. As the car door closed and the window rolled down, she leaned over and teased, “That’s the only car full of ladies you’ll ever have, isn’t it?”
Riven sent his best friend a grin and gestured to his fellow bandmates as he spoke, “Blues Clues over there can hardly be considered a lady, and considering JJ is the only cheerleader who has ever given me the time of day, probably.”
Chuckling, Vivien rolled her eyes and said, “You’re an idiot.”
“Love you too.”
Before Vivien could return the sentiment, Erica placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Alright, dipshits, let’s go before the bell rings and we get told off.”
Jade chuckled as she tossed her Chapstick into her bag, “By who; Viv’s dad?”
Vivien snorted at the thought of her dad reprimanding them, but Erica beat her to the punch as she turned toward her girlfriend and said, “I was thinking Coach Boogeyman.”
Leaning over the passenger seat, Riven wondered, “I thought Bogman was forced to leave after the color guard claimed she was spying on them in the showers.”
“She was supposed to,” Jade huffed, “but until they find enough evidence to take her to court, she has to finish out the year.”
“Sadly,” a voice sighed from behind the group. Turning toward the voice, Vivien smiled as her father spoke, “Until we have her on camera, there’s nothing we can do. Besides, she’s been pushing off retirement for years. With this accusation, we should be able to finalize everything at the end of the year.”
“Good,” Erica snipped as Vivien stepped around her. “She’s always given me the creeps.”
“Understandably so,” Damien chuckled softly, smiling as his daughter slotted herself under his arm. “Hey, babygirl.”
“Hey, Dad,” Vivien beamed. “Did you come to walk us to class?”
Damien shook his head, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder as he replied, “Not quite. I saw you four chatting and figured I would try to get you inside before anyone else came out and started yelling.” Leaning forward enough to see Riven, he asked, “Are you joining us, Riven, or are you just going to do virtual lessons today?”
“No, I’ll be in,” Riven quickly replied, glancing toward the parking lot with his signature grin. “Just have to find a place to park.”
“Make it quick, bud,” the man stated as he glanced at his smartwatch. “The bell rings in ten minutes.”
Riven nodded, checking to make sure his path was clear before pulling away from the curb, his Miata drifting toward the parking lot as Damien began leading his daughter and her friends inside. After handing her lunchbox off to her dad so he could put it into the staff fridge until lunch, Vivien waited until Riven came running up to the front door before stepping inside behind him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her toward the stairwell across from the main office, waving goodbye to their friends and her father as they propelled up the stairs. Riven dragged her up to the next floor, where their lockers resided, before letting her go as he began twisting in his locker combination. Meanwhile, Vivien pulled her keys from her backpack, slipped a purple-painted one into her lock, and freed it, popping open the metal door with a sigh and placing her bag on the hook inside.
“You know,” Riven began, “it’s days like today that I wish my birthday wasn’t after the school cutoff.”
“Rough morning?” Vivien asked with a grin.
Riven scoffed as he tugged his social studies workbook down from the shelf he had shoved it onto the day before, “I slept through my alarm, and Dad was already at work, so he couldn’t help. Then, I woke up to Erica screeching about needing a ride, only to have my phone die mid-call. And, to top it all off, I’m about eighty-three percent sure these sweatpants are yours from the weekend.”
Vivien’s eyebrow lifted, but as she glanced down at the navy blue sweatpants Riven donned, her eyes widened. Sure enough, the stars and planets she had embroidered around the pockets and hemline of her sweatpants now stood as a glaring reminder of the clothes she had tossed into the wash at Riven’s house. They had been cooking stuffed shells, and she had dropped the jar of sauce, splattering chunky, red tomato sauce all over the floor and their legs. After putting the food in the oven, they got a majority of the stains out in the sink but threw their clothes into the laundry afterward to get rid of the smell. She had forgotten the pants in her rush to get out the door on Monday morning, having told Riven she would take them back when she went back to his house after spring break was over. Holding back her bark of laughter, Vivien grinned at the thought of Riven rushing around his room that morning, throwing on whatever he could find before leaving the house and somehow missing the colorful threads lining his legs.
“Yeah,” Riven breathed, rolling his eyes at Vivien’s not-so-discrete snort of laughter. “Erica thought it was hilarious.”
“It kind of is,” Vivien giggled softly. At Riven’s dismayed sigh, her grin faltered, and she glanced down at her pants as she offered, “Do you want to trade? I’m pretty sure I stole these from you over the summer.”
Riven spared a glance at the jeans Vivien had worn and grinned; the cuffs were rolled up toward her ankles to prevent them from being stepped on, and she had to wear a belt just to keep the waistband in place, something Riven had no issue with in the slightest. With a snort, he shook his head, “I think I’m good, Pip. You made these and, despite them being on the shorter side, I’m only here until lunch. I can run home and change before work after I’m done eating. Besides, they wouldn’t match your outfit.”
Vivien’s eyebrow lifted into her bangs as she asked, “Since when do you care if clothes match?”
“I don’t,” Riven shrugged as he closed his locker, “but I know you do. Now, come on, it’s almost time for the bell.”
Scrambling to grab her books for the next two classes so she wouldn’t have to run to her locker between bells, Vivien slammed her locker shut and walked alongside Riven until he reached his class. They wouldn’t see each other again until she was allowed to head to the cafeteria for lunch, but their mornings in the halls were something she had cherished for a while. Joining a few of her classmates on their way to their first period of the day, Vivien caught a glimpse of the oversized clock on the wall and sighed. She had four periods until lunch, and only two were on the same floor, but she had planned to use her study hall block to join her friend Emily in the drama wing of the main floor.
Emily - or Emmy, as she was often called by her relatively small friend group - had been begging her for the last two weeks to join her for the auditions in some musical the school was putting on. Originally, Vivien had no desire to audition as she hated the thought of having so many eyes on her, but when Emily pointed out that the auditorium was in close proximity to the cafeteria, she relented. If it meant she didn’t have to run from her study hall on the top floor all the way down to the main floor to eat, she was in.
Her first block was spent listening to Mrs. Adams - the only social studies teacher who actually seemed to enjoy teaching - ask everyone what their plans were for spring break. She loved to make the class hard as most of her students were either on the honor roll or enrolled in advanced placement classes, but Fridays were the one day a week when everyone got some reprieve from her constant stream of tests, exams, and droning lessons. By the time the bell rang, everyone had broken off into groups, writing out their plans for the week as their teacher sat at her desk with a smile, grading the last few papers on her computer. Vivien had made up a story on the fly, writing out her plans for the trip to California she told everyone she was going on, but as the bell rang, she closed her notebook and shoved it into her desk before grabbing her book for the next class and following her friend, Carter, down the hall toward the French class she had signed up for at the start of the semester.
Although she struggled a lot with the language - finding her old Spanish and German classes easier than French - the teacher commended her many times for at least trying. She wanted nothing more than to learn the language her boyfriend’s family knew, intending to surprise them on her trip. However, she knew her attempts were fairly futile. French just wasn’t her strong suit. Grateful her grade for the class wasn’t going to affect her final grades for the year, Vivien slumped into her chair in the middle of the room and hoped the class would go by faster than it usually did so that she could escape to the auditorium.
Thankfully, it seemed as though the teachers were of the same mindset as the students - eager to escape the concrete and stucco walls and leave for vacation. After answering a one-sided paper of questions in French about how their week had been, the teacher let them wander the halls, allowing Vivien to dump her books in her locker before making her way down to the auditorium. The auditorium was hardly ever used unless they had a guest speaker or a show being rehearsed, but the doors were almost always left unlocked, making it easy for Vivien to slip inside and make her way to the front row of chairs.
The auditorium would be empty for a while before the audition time came, but as Vivien had all the time in the world until her friend showed up, she didn’t mind the silence. Opening the notes app on her phone, she began typing out all of the things she would need to pack when she got home. Her list was already relatively short as she had put her essentials into her suitcase after using them that morning before school - her toiletries taking up the small pouch in the front of her luggage to leave room for the clothes she was still up in the air about. Although she knew that clothes weren’t really necessary as Mick had told her many times that she would be able to borrow period-typical clothes from them upon her arrival, she still needed to shove some summery clothing into her suitcase to make it seem as though her time had truly been spent in the California sun.
With a sigh, Vivien realized she also needed to leave room for the souvenirs she would be bringing back and any potential shopping she did in either world. By the time she had whittled down her list to just necessities, her journal, and some extra changes of, well, every article of clothing she owned, people had begun to fill the auditorium, ascending the stage and beginning vocal warm-ups that would have impressed Sharpay Evans. Vivien tucked her earbuds in as the noise in the room began to grow, only pulling them out when Emily appeared in the seat next to her, excitedly tugging Vivien out of her shell and onto the stage with her as she rambled about the show they were going to be performing for the end of the school year.
Checking her blood pressure on her watch, Vivien sighed as the drama teachers, Mrs. Kaisla and Mr. Doyle, began telling everyone where to stand before giving them the run-down of the show. “As you all know by the posters in the halls,” Mr. Doyle began, “this year’s final show will be Hairspray.”
“I really want to play Tracy or Penny,” Emily squealed in a whisper mere inches from Vivien’s ear. Grabbing Vivien’s shirt in a fist, she added, “Imagine if Colby gets picked for Link or Seaweed - it would be perfect!”
Chuckling at the girl’s obvious crush on the dark-skinned football player who had been in their friend circles since kindergarten, Vivien whispered back, “I admire your enthusiasm, but is he the only reason you’re auditioning? I mean, you hate being the center of attention as much as I do being on stage; why would you wish for the lead?”
Emily’s sparkling smile faltered as Vivien’s words sunk in but quickly reappeared as the teachers wrapped up their short spiel about the show, “That’s why you’re here.”
“To make sure you don’t look like the worst performer here?” Vivien questioned teasingly.
Emily scoffed, elbowing Vivien in the arm, “Shut up. You’re not that bad.”
“Says you,” Vivien replied as Mrs. Kaisla began ushering some students toward center stage. As soon as she was sure neither she nor Emily were part of the group selected, she added, “There’s a reason I only ever sing in the car or the shower.”
With a sigh, Emily nudged her friend closer to the front of the stage and said, “And there’s a reason I asked you to come with me instead of literally anybody else. You have a beautiful voice. Besides, I need someone here who makes it easier to be in the spotlight. Now, shush!”
Vivien rolled her eyes but smiled as Emily hushed her, urging her to watch the others as they were instructed on what to do. Minutes flew by as the group took turns singing popular songs played over a bluetooth speaker one of the boys had brought to the school. Before she knew it, Vivien felt her stomach clench anxiously as her name was called, and Emily practically dragged her to the center of the stage. Taking a deep breath as the others took turns singing, Vivien tried to think of a song - any song - she could sing at least fairly well, but any titles she knew seemed to flee her brain as her mouth dried up as she resorted to biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from fidgeting under the blazing lights.
As Emily’s choice - an 80s hit that had made an appearance in the last season of Stranger Things - began to play, Vivien realized just how doomed she was, and her mind flickered to the cell phone in her back pocket. Surely, her Spotify would have something she could work with, right? However, to her chagrin, as soon as the device was free of its jean prison, Vivien found the music had stopped playing, and she was forced to choose a song without any assistance. Had she really taken that long to decide? Clearing her throat, Vivien smiled tersely as she gave up the only song that had found its way to the front of her brain in time - ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me.
The teachers she hardly knew seemed to smile as they talked amongst themselves, and although a part of her was sure they were talking about how easy the song was to mess up, Emily’s encouraging smile from the side of the stage somewhat assured her that all was fine. Closing her eyes as the music began playing, Vivien attempted to force her fears down as she sucked in a deep breath. All she had to do was get through a section of the song, and she would be free to leave as everyone else was. Pretending she was just singing in the car with Riven, Vivien allowed her voice to carry over the music, her enjoyment of the song obvious as she began to sway to the beat, the lyrics flowing out of her like water.
Once the chorus had left her, the music began to fade, allowing the teachers to be heard as they scribbled something on their clipboards. Looking up at her, Mrs. Kaisla smiled and said, “Thank you, Vivien. You’re free to go.”
“Remember to check the cast list when we come back to school,” Mr. Doyle added before gesturing toward the side of the stage, where Emily received her with a hug and a squeal.
The two made their exit relatively quickly, Vivien practically pushing Emily through the double doors so that she could find a source of oxygen in the halls. Once the auditorium doors had closed with a click, Vivien sighed, checking her blood pressure as a wave of anxiety-fueled dizziness washed over her. After making up a quick excuse as to where she was going, Vivien told Emily she would see her after lunch before making her way to her locker, where she kept her water bottle. Sitting on the floor by her locker, Vivien sipped at her water until the bell rang, forcing herself to calm down as she scrolled through Pinterest.
Before long, Jade and Riven appeared, having left the same class Vivien would have to attend after lunch - World History. They hauled her off of the floor, and Riven tossed his books into his locker before draping an arm around Vivien's shoulders and guiding her toward the stairs while Jade rattled off about the teacher - Mr. Smith - being the most boring teacher in the school. After retrieving Vivien's lunch from her father, she joined her friends at their usual table by the windows on the far wall of the cafeteria, spending their lunch block playing a segment of their Dungeons and Dragons campaign on their phones while eating.
After a while of playing and eating, the bell rang, and they cleaned up their table before tossing Vivien's now empty lunch box into Erica's locker near the gym before saying goodbye to Riven and splitting off to their respective classes. For Vivien, the rest of her classes went by without a hitch, time flying by the way she had hoped all morning that it would. Once her final class of the day ended, Vivien sent a quick text to the group chat she and her siblings had created, telling them that she had to drop off her form for the battle bot tournament and would meet them at the car. Making her way from the top floor to her locker, Vivien gathered her belongings, shoving her water bottle and a small bag of Cheetos her Trigonometry teacher had given her into her backpack before slinging her backpack onto her shoulders.
Once she was back on the main floor, Vivien scurried across the hall, rounded the entrance to the office, and took the stairwell across from the vending machines down to the school's basement. As she descended the stairs, dampness and mildew filled her nostrils, making her nose wrinkle in disgust as she pushed the door to the bottom floor open. Hardly anyone visited the basement unless they had to, as there was little to see, but there were a select few who found comfort in the almost eerie silence and smell the basement offered. While the basement wasn't overly dark or dreary, it never quite felt warm enough to give off the same welcoming feeling the upper parts of the school gave.
Perhaps it was the piercing white light of the fluorescents or the steady beeping from the computer lab that sounded almost exactly like a hospital heart monitor that kept people away, but regardless, there were only a handful of students who enjoyed the ominous, cold, almost abandoned feeling the basement radiated. Vivien was one of those odd students. After years of exploring abandoned buildings with Riven for his photography blog and her Instagram, the smell and cold environment of the school's basement did little to drive her away. If anything, it was almost calming.
There weren't many reasons for most students to visit the basement, as there were only three labs and two committees that met there. The chemistry, robotics, and computer laboratories were in a triangle-like formation at the very end of the hall, while the photography and student politics groups met at the other end of the hall, their rooms across from each other and sharing a single wall that was thin enough to hear conversations happening in the other room. Vivien hummed to herself as she stepped around an old projector that had been wheeled into the hallway, grinning fondly at the memory of having to haul the old machine up the stairs to the top floor for one of the summer school teachers while helping her dad out in the office. Stepping into the Bermuda Triangle of classrooms at the end of the hall, Vivien scanned the names beside the doors before making her way toward the left-most room.
The door to the robotics lab had been kept open with a hunk of metal the teacher, Mr. Kevin Hill, had welded in his free time one summer. Mr. Hill was one of Vivien's favorite teachers of all time. Mr. Hill was a short Irishman with a fondness for taking things apart and rebuilding them, something Vivien could appreciate. There were a few other students in the room - Vivien's bandmate, Erica; Damon Perry, a vitiligo-skinned freshman who hardly spoke around upperclassmen unless he was spoken to first; and Preston Osborne, a senior who thought his shit didn't stink because he had more money than he knew what to do with.
Unlike the rest of the handful of rich kids at their school, Vivien had known Preston by extension for years. He had been something of a nightmare for the school system, using his daddy's reputation as a hotshot lawyer in the city to be a dick to anyone who dared push back against whatever he wanted. According to Erica and Jade, Preston wasn't horrible until middle school, when the older kids began picking on him. One threat of a lawsuit later, Preston officially became known as someone nobody wanted to trifle with. Over the years, Vivien had heard her father complain about the boy and had heard horror stories from teachers who'd had him, but Vivien hadn't known him personally until she became the youngest person from their school ever to win the regional battle bot championship.
In her first year fighting back in seventh grade, she had beaten Preston by a long shot, her little, ladybug-shaped robot tearing Preston's robot apart with its electrified saws. Preston, of course, seemed incapable of taking the news well, having argued with the competition's judges until he was forced to either accept defeat or be disqualified. Ever since that day, Vivien found herself with an upperclassman who thought of her as nothing more than his arch-nemesis. Though she found him obnoxious after a while, Vivien hardly played into his made-up game of tug-of-war unless provoked, something that seemed to piss Preston off more instead of making him see how ridiculous he was being.
Rolling her eyes at the imbecile's glare, Vivien signed her name on the clipboard on the teacher's desk, taking a glance at the competition as she allowed her backpack to slide down from her shoulders. The robotics teacher was supposed to supervise from his desk as Erica, Preston, and Damon scoured the materials the teacher had laid out for them to take, but Damon had somehow managed to ask a question that kept the old Irishman talking while Erica and Preston searched the scrap bins the teacher had left out for them to rifle through. The bins would be there until the day of the competition, giving Vivien plenty of time to come up with a model and a mock-up before she started digging through the bins of scrap metal that, hopefully, wouldn't be sending anyone to the hospital for a tetanus shot that year.
As Mr. Hill stepped away from his conversation with Damon, he found Vivien standing by his desk as she dug through her backpack for the paper she swore she had left in the front of the biggest pouch. "Ah," the teacher began, "Miss O'Brian. I was wondering when you would show."
Vivien peered over at the teacher and smiled before resuming her search, "Well, better late than never, right, Mr. H?"
The graying man smiled with a short nod as he sat in his chair once again, "So far, I have only received a couple of sign-ups, so your competition from our school is looking rather small. Do you have an idea for what your battle bot will look like this year?"
"You know I can't tell you, even if I do," Vivien stated as she tugged her permission slip out and handed it to the teacher. As Mr. Hill glanced over the paper with mild interest, Vivien stepped away from his desk and looked over some of the objects the teacher had prepared. She picked up a few metal pieces she could use for either a weapon or a protective shield and placed them in a plastic Walmart bag that Mr. Hill had left out for the students to use. "Besides, I wouldn't dare divulge my secrets to my enemies," Vivien claimed theatrically as she glanced around at the other students in the room.
Erica leaned forward just enough to stick her tongue out at Vivien, placing a couple of springs in a plastic bag the teacher had given her. Damon simply smiled but kept quiet as he signed out a workshop tool that he'd need to return in the next two weeks. Vivien returned his smile and chuckled; in the few years she had known him, Damon had always seemed to be a very quiet, reserved person, but he seemed to come a little bit out of his shell when it came time for battles such as this one. However, as opposed to his silent competitors, Preston Osborne scoffed at Vivien and rolled his eyes as he turned toward the brunette.
He used the wrench he was holding to point at Vivien, watching her with scrutiny as he spoke, "After last year's height requirement debacle, I doubt anybody would take your advice."
"What?" Vivien began sarcastically, her voice taking on an infantilizing tone. "Are you still upset that mine was bigger than yours?" Ignoring the snorted bark of shocked laughter from her blue-haired friend, the brunette, never one to back down from a fight with the arrogant male, moved so she could look Preston as straight in the eye as her shorter stature would allow. "At least you could see mine in the ring. Everyone needed a pair of binoculars to see yours; it was so small."
Preston stared down his nose at Vivien before chuckling condescendingly, "At least mine didn't need a judge to do a height check last minute."
"Yeah, and? Who won that battle again?" Vivien asked rhetorically. Gasping dramatically, she placed a hand over her chest and answered her own question, "Oh, right! Me."
"You just don't know when to shut up, do you?" Preston retorted with an arrogant scoff. Then, his voice lowered as he hissed, "My dad could sue the shit out of your family. I'd run you and your whole family out of town."
"I don't know who told you that, dipshit," Vivien laughed, "but your daddy's got no power here and neither do you. In fact, I bet your 'big city lawyer' father would love to hear all about how often you try to threaten people in this school. Threatening bodily harm is a potentially jailable offense, you know. I can see the headlines now!"
Vivien pretended to gag as Preston leaned closer, his breath polluting her face as he snarled, "That big mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble if you don't shut it."
"If you think my mouth is big, I feel bad for your girlfriend." Vivien paused, gave a mock gasp, then added, "Oh, wait, you don't have one. Do you, shrimp dick?"
"Look, you little bitch, I-"
"Mister Osborne, Miss O'Brian," Mr. Hill interrupted, rising from his seat before the argument could get any worse. "I believe this argument will get you nowhere. Mr. Osborne, as you have already gathered your things, I suggest you sign out any tools you may need and leave before this ends up as another after-school detention for you. Miss O'Brian, please continue looking around for any particular parts you may need."
Vivien nodded and waited for Preston to back down and storm off before she resumed her perusing, allowing the teacher to handle Preston as he approached the desk. Mr. Hill was one of the teachers who always formed his own opinions of the children who came into his class, regardless of their notoriety. The man didn't care about who the kids' parents were; he would treat him the same way he would treat any student. Vivien knew from Riven's occasional photography classes at the community college that Mr. Hill had taken opportunities to float around the different universities in the area, teaching robotics and photography when he wished; if he got fired from this school for not babying Preston or some other Karen's spawn, it probably wouldn't be a hard blow. Maybe that was why Vivien, Erica, and most of the other students who didn't like Preston liked Mr. Hill so much.
Soon, but not soon enough, Preston left and took his bags with him, and Erica flipped him off as he disappeared down the hallway. Turning toward the grinning Vivien, she beamed, "Bitch, you handled him so much better than I would have."
Vivien smiled as she tossed a handful of small springs into her wagon. "Thanks. I just- I can't stand him."
"Who can other than his parents?" Erica scoffed, "His head's so far up his own ass, I'm surprised he can walk straight."
"I have to agree with you," Mr. Hill piped in as he sat back in his seat. "Although Preston makes fair marks as far as I am aware, he rides on his father's reputation to keep himself above everyone else. Though, as a teacher, I must advise you change your approach, a couple of wounds to his pride will, hopefully, do him well over time."
"I doubt he'll change," Vivien said, shaking her head, as she examined a small shell-shaped piece that could be used as a cover for her robot.
The teacher returned to the book he had been reading, and Erica nodded in agreement before taking a battery holder and putting it inside her bag. She looked at Vivien's bag and shook her head at how much the younger girl had already stored away. "Well, I'm looking forward to being annihilated by you again this year, as always."
Vivien knew the other girl was only joking, as Erica had told her before that she only entered the battles for fun and found it interesting to see how far she could get. With a smile, Vivien chirped, "And I look forward to annihilating you, as always."
Erica laughed, giving Vivien a quick hug before leaving, claiming she and Jade were getting a ride to work from one of the girls on the cheer team who worked at the mall with them. Once her friend was gone, Vivien went back to picking out parts for her robot, picking out items she thought could be of use and tucking them into the bag that had begun to weigh her arm down. The brunette spent another handful of minutes in the classroom before deciding she had enough things. As she placed her heavy bag inside another, she tied the handles in a knot and said, "Well, Mr. Hill, I believe I'll be on my way."
"Actually, Miss O'Brian, I have to go over the rules for the battles before you leave," the teacher claimed, tucking a bookmark into the novel he was reading before pulling a paper from his desk drawer. "Normally, I would wait until I have you in class, but since we won't be back in school until after spring break, now is as good a time as any."
Vivien accepted the paper from the teacher, reading over the first couple of rules before nodding to herself. "Did they change them or something?"
"Not exactly." Mr. Hill stood and made his way around the desk, sitting on the other side of the surface as he pointed out some of the notes at the bottom of the page. "The officials are new this year. They've agreed to keep the three-foot height acceptance, but they've eliminated the use of robotic arms that can be used to puncture another robot from the maximum height - as you can see here."
"Let me guess, that rule was made because of my robot from last year?" Vivien pondered.
"That would be my guess as well," the teacher agreed with a grin. "While that robot of yours was quite impressive, you have to keep it short if that's your plan this year."
Vivien shook her head, knowing that wasn't her idea at all. She liked to change things up every year, never showcasing the same attack twice. Thinking for a moment, Vivien scanned over the jumbled nonsense on the page that she would probably hand off to Mick the moment she saw her and asked, "Are saws and shields still allowed?"
"Yes, of course," Mr Hill said, nodding insistently. "It would be very hard to take that ruling out. Just remember that you need to have your robot done by the first of June. The following week, the judges will go through the ruling process. Any final adjustments will have to be made before the end of the school day on Friday, the ninth. The first day of battles will be Saturday, and Sunday will be finals and awards, as per usual."
Vivien allowed herself a brief moment to process the information before nodding, a smile lighting her face as she spoke, "That sounds good to me." Picking up her backpack from the floor, Vivien folded and tucked the paper into the pocket of her jeans and headed out of the classroom. It wasn't until she was near the stairwell that she heard her name being called again. Turning toward the voice, she found Mr. Hill standing in the doorway of his classroom. "Yeah?" she called in return.
"Just something I meant to tell you before you left." The teacher held his book up a little, a gesture that made Vivien believe he was going to quote something from it, yet, without looking down, he began speaking once more. "Those who are willing to work hard - day in and day out - to achieve their goals are the true winners, regardless of the scores or the judges' opinions. I don't doubt that you are one of those hard-working people, Vivien; you know what you're doing. Your skills never cease to amaze me, and I hope you prove me right again this year."
With a raised brow, Vivien asked, "Prove you right, sir?"
"I've been an AP Robotics teacher here for twenty-three years," Mr Hill said. "It's not often that I have someone in my class throughout junior and senior high school. Other teachers said I should have booted you down to the regular class with Miss Denis, but since the day you first walked into my class, I knew you had potential. Since then, you've proved them wrong every step of the way. I commend you for that."
Vivien stood in place for a moment, stunned at her teacher's kind words. "Thanks, Mr Hill. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't, Miss O'Brian. You never do. Have a nice evening," he replied before turning back to his book and stepping back over to his desk, leaving Vivien standing alone in the hallway.
Vivien stared at the spot Mr. Hill had previously occupied, letting out an airy laugh as a brilliant smile found its way onto her face. Taking in a deep breath, she straightened her posture and turned toward the stairs, propelling herself up them with newfound confidence. Her bag of assorted metal bits jangled, clanking together in a symphony of scrapes and tings as she ascended the stairs. Once she had reached the main floor, Vivien retrieved her lunch box from Erica's locker. The girl's four-digit code - 8104, Erica's birthdate and year combined - was one of the many Vivien kept in her notes app in case her friends ever forgot them, and even though she was sure Erica couldn't possibly forget her locker combination, Vivien enjoyed knowing that, if her friends needed her to, she could help them.
After tugging the lunch box out from the chaos that was Erica's locker, Vivien rushed to the office, saying a quick goodbye to her dad before heading to the main entrance, pushing open the first set of doors before lifting the hood of her jacket over her head and hoping her siblings had gotten the spare key to her car from their father as rain poured from above. Shoving open the door to the outside world, Vivien watched as rain slammed down in sheets, taking a deep breath before bolting into the freezing rain, letting out a shrill screech as she scurried across the parking lot to her car. She threw the door open and jumped inside, grateful her siblings had already started the car's heater, as she slammed the door shut behind her.
Abby smirked at her sister's reflection in the rear-view mirror as Vivien shivered in her seat, and with a snort, she asked, "Bit chilly, sissy?"
Turning back toward her little sister, Vivien nodded and sighed, "You could say that." Hauling her backpack and Walmart bag of metal parts over the gap between her seat and Oliver's, Vivien asked, "Can you hold onto these for me, Abs?"
Peering back as Abby placed Vivien's belongings on the seat next to her, Oliver asked, "You're doing the championship again this year?"
"When doesn't she, Olly?" Abby asked rhetorically as Vivien backed out of her parking spot. "She fights every year, and every year, she wins."
"I know that; I'm not stupid," Oliver retorted.
"Debatable," Abby shrugged.
Ignoring his twin, Oliver said, "I just thought that, since she was going on vacation, she wouldn't be participating this year."
"I'll have plenty of time," Vivien claimed, putting the car into drive and steering it toward the parking lot's exit. "Besides, I'll be with Mickie for a whole week. If my battle bot isn't at least halfway done by the time I get back, then one of us either got sick, somehow got pregnant, or died."
Oliver let out a snort, "I mean, fair enough, but aren't you going to do anything fun while you're in California?"
"Building things is fun," Vivien retorted, flicking on her turn signal and glancing both ways before pulling out of the parking lot, "but yeah, we're going to the beach, checking out some museums, and we might visit Disneyland if we have the time."
Leaning forward between the front seats, Abby asked, "How is it possible that Oliver and I might have a more entertaining spring break than you?"
Sparing a glance at her siblings, Vivien asked, "What do you mean?"
With a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame, Oliver announced, "I'm going with Markus' family to New Jersey so we can check out that American Dream place with the indoor water park and ski slope."
"Really?" Vivien asked. Muttering more to herself than anything, she added, "I'm surprised Mom allowed that after you broke your ankle the last time you went on a trip with them."
Abby hummed in agreement before speaking, "And I'm going with Brynna's family to Great Wolf Lodge for her birthday."
"Those sound fun and all," Vivien admitted, "but how is that more fun than literally going across the country?"
"Because you're going to be doing nerd shit while on vacation while we're having actual fun," Oliver stated blandly.
As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, Vivien turned toward her brother with a knowing look, "You say that like you won't be spending hours upon hours researching some cryptid or something with Markus in the hotel room." Peering in the rear-view mirror, Vivien found Abby's gaze and said, "And, Abby, we all know that you and Brynna will spend your time playing with her little siblings instead of just hanging out."
Abby opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it again as she let out a soft sigh, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Just because it's spring break doesn't mean we somehow magically turn into party animals once we're on vacation," Vivien claimed with a shrug as the light turned green, and she continued onward. "We've been ingrained to be responsible regardless of where we are, but I'm sure we'll all still have fun being boring with our friends."
Although they constantly joked about going to big house parties at their friends' houses and getting absolutely trashed on whatever alcohol they could find, none of the O'Brian siblings had actually ever gone to a big house party or willingly gotten drunk. Most of the people at their school weren't interested in big parties either as it would be increasingly difficult to get all of their friends in one town. Since their school was regional, kids from towns almost an hour away would be shuttled in on the handful of school-choice buses, making it hard for big parties to really be a thing. Besides, many, if not all, of the friends the O'Brians had made at the school were relatively introverted kids who cared more about their studies than getting wasted, making their running joke of getting drunk with their friends even more preposterous.
Abby peered out the window at the rain as Oliver said, "You know, I kind of like that we're boring."
"Oh, yeah?" Vivien asked, glancing at her brother as she checked whether or not she could cross through the intersection.
"Mhm," Abby nodded in agreement.
"It means our parents let us hang out with pretty much anyone without really caring," Oliver claimed. "Even if our plans were to go out and do dumb stuff at a friend's house, they wouldn't think anything of us going over there."
Abby thought for a moment before saying, "That's true, but we also would feel pretty bad if we took their trust in us for granted."
This time, it was Vivien's turn to hum in agreement, "Yeah."
For the first time since her parents gave her permission to join their neighbors in their house in California, Vivien felt wary about her decision. Although she knew that they had no qualms about her going to California as they had known the Birch family longer than Vivien had been alive, they had no idea about the other universe they would be taking her to. She had no plans of telling them about it as she had promised to keep it a secret from literally everyone she knew, but the thought that she was, for the first time in her life, taking advantage of her parents' trust to go off galavanting in a world they had no idea about. Even though she had no plans of doing anything wrong or illegal while there, a knot began to form in her stomach at the idea of letting her parents down for keeping such a large secret from them.
Taking a deep breath as she pulled onto their street, Vivien pushed her thoughts aside, allowing her excitement to fill her once more. She could worry about it later when she had Mick to talk her through every insignificant problem her mind could sprout up. For now, she had to get ready for the trip, and with a limited amount of time to get all of her clothes folded, she needed to focus on that. As Vivien's blue Kona pulled into the driveway, their mother stepped outside with a few umbrellas, making her way to the end of the walkway and waiting for Viviebn's car to stop. As soon as the car was in park, Chelsea held her umbrella over the passenger's door and opened it, handing her son an umbrella as he stepped out with his backpack.
Wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself, Abby tapped Vivien's arm and said, "I'll take your metal stuff in so it doesn't get wet."
"Are you sure?" Vivien asked in return as Abby handed her the purple backpack she had kept an eye on during the trip home. "I can take it."
"That's okay," she replied. Once the front passenger's door closed, she quickly took hold of the Walmart bag's handles and added, "I don't think Mom bothered to bring out your umbrella, and I don't want them to get wet."
Hoping to save her sister from having to lug the heavy bag inside, Vivien tried to gently argue, "I'm parking in the garage, Abs, it's not a long walk to the door."
"That's okay," Abby shrugged. "I've already got it. I'll bring it up to your room for you."
Before Vivien could say anything to the contrary, Abby grinned, pushed open her door, and slid out, taking and opening the umbrella her mom handed her before slamming the door and rushing to the house with their mother not far behind. Left with her mouth still open, Vivien breathed, "Thanks," before shaking her head fondly and pressing the button to open the garage. Once her car was parked in the spot furthest from the door, Vivien slid out of her seat, pulling her backpack with her. Glancing out at the pouring rain, the brunette sighed, hauling her backpack onto one shoulder and gripping her keys in her free hand as she rushed into the downpour with a squeal, closing the overhead door with a single click as she raced toward the front door of the house.
Once inside, she closed the door, grateful for the warmth of the house, as she trudged her way to the coat closet and began taking off her now-soaked sneakers. Loki soon joined her on the floor, licking the water from her cheeks as she tossed her sneakers onto the drying rack alongside her siblings' shoes. Running her hands through the dog's fur, Vivien felt herself calm as she thanked the dog for his warm welcome. Pushing herself from the floor, Vivien ascended the stairs with her backpack and her Saint Bernard, grateful her bedroom was near the landing, as Loki shoved his way into her room and onto her bed. With a sigh, Vivien rolled her eyes at the oversized puppy and dropped her backpack onto the floor at the end of her bed, plopping herself onto her mattress as she debated how much time she had to pack.
Not even a minute into her procrastination party, Abby stepped into the room without so much as a knock, snickering at her older sister's dawdling as she passed by. "You know, lying there like a limp spaghetti noodle isn't going to help your bags get packed."
"Okay, Mom," Vivien huffed with a smirk, missing the way Abby visibly winced at being compared to their mother. Taking in a heavy breath, Vivien pushed herself from the bed and sighed, "Is it weird that I'm not ready for this now that I'm leaving?"
"Not really," Abby shrugged as her sister entered the closet and pulled her suitcase down from the top shelf. "You get this way before out-of-state competitions too."
"This is different from comps," Vivien said as she placed her suitcase on the end of her bed and opened the shell. "I don't usually go far without you guys."
Stepping up behind her sister, Abby placed a hand on the older girl's back and smiled once she had Vivien's attention, "You'll have tons of fun and you know it. I'm sure you'll forget all about us once you land."
"That's impossible, Abs," Vivien breathed, pulling the lighter-haired brunette into a hug. "I love you guys too much to not miss you."
Lifting her head enough to see her sister's face, Abby replied, "Trust me, you'll be sick of us by the end of the week. Dad will keep you updated with pictures of Loki every morning like he does when we go to camp, I'll send you pictures of the lodge and everything interesting I see, and I'm sure Olly will send you paragraphs of random facts he and Markus found online while they're away. By the end of vacation, you'll be so sick of us that you'll want to get away the minute you come home."
Vivien laughed, "Probably, yeah."
Stepping out of her sister's hold, Abby grinned and said, "Now, come on, we have packing to do."
Allowing her sister to take the reins, Vivien headed into her closet to figure out what clothes she wanted to bring, hauling her plastic bins of summer clothes down from the top shelf as Abby headed into her en-suite bathroom to pack up the essentials Vivien had typed out on her phone. Once Vivien had fished out a handful of clothes she wanted to bring, she brought them to her desk and dropped them in a heap in her chair. By the time Abby finished getting stuff out of the bathroom and into the suitcase, Vivien was halfway done folding her clothes, something Abby had helped finish in record time. After reassuring her sister that she would be borrowing swimwear from Mick's closet upon her arrival, Vivien threw a couple of pairs of shoes into the mesh pouch on the lid alongside her journal and the astronaut-shaped galaxy projector she kept on her bedside table as a nightlight.
With her packing done quicker than she had anticipated, Vivien sent a text to Mick that she was all set before grabbing a dry hoodie from her closet and hauling the suitcase to the main floor of the house, leaving it near the coat closet so that she could slip on some shoes and get out the door as quickly as possible. Once everything was in place, she and Loki joined her siblings in the living room, where Oliver had begun setting up Mario Kart on the Switch. Sitting in the space the twins had left for her, Vivien took the purple joy-con from the coffee table and slouched into the comfort of the couch cushions as Loki took his place on the floor by her feet.
As she chose her usual character, Yoshi, Vivien's phone dinged, and she pulled it out of her pocket, giving her siblings the chance to argue over who got Baby Bowser. Unlocking her phone, she opened her dad's text and smiled. Peering over Abby's head to where their mother was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at her freshly-made smoothie while she presumably scrolled through her Facebook, Vivien rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation, thanking their dad for his offer of dinner and asking if he could pick them up their usual McDonald's orders before tucking her phone between her thigh and the couch and picking up her joy-con once again. Breaking up her siblings' argument with ease, Vivien started the game. Once they figured out who got which character, the three of them quickly got immersed in their battle for the first place.
As Oliver overtook Vivien for second place in Coconut Mall, leading the oldest of the siblings to cuss him out and jab him with her elbow, the front door slammed shut, alerting the whole house to the new visitor. Loki let out a bark as he rose from the floor, abandoning his post as the protector in favor of following the smell of french fries and cheeseburgers to the front door. The kids called out greetings to their father as they entered the final lap of their race, getting a chuckled response as Damien made his way through the entryway to the kitchen. Damien set the flimsy drink tray and paper bags plastered with golden arches on the kitchen counters, ignoring the look his ex-wife sent him as he began pulling fries and boxes from the bags and setting them out according to which family member had ordered what.
By the time the kids had finished their race, Chelsea had begun arguing with Damien about the quality of the food he had brought home, but the man seemed unbothered by her attitude, pushing aside her frustrations as the children approached. Stepping aside to allow them access to their meals, Damien accepted quick hugs from each of his children and asked them how their school days had been before following them to the living room. As Abby began to explain how her usually strict English teacher had them watch a movie as he had a migraine, Vivien sat cross-legged in her usual space on the far end of the couch and put one of the throw pillows over her lap so that the plate she put her food onto wouldn't fall.
After her siblings had rambled about their days, Damien turned to Vivien and asked, "What about you, babygirl? Anything fun happen today?"
Vivien shrugged, swallowing her mouthful of french fries before replying, "Not really. I signed up for the battle bot tournament after class."
Before her father could say anything, Abby butted in, "Alix said they saw you at the first round of auditions for the musical. I told them there was no way 'cause you hate being on stage, but they said it was true."
"It was," Vivien admitted before taking a bite of her burger.
Oliver choked on his chicken nugget, coughing a few times before swallowing thickly and asking, "Wait, seriously?"
Nodding, Vivien dipped her sandwich in a pile of ketchup and said, "Yeah. Emily wanted to audition, but didn't want to go alone, so I stepped in. It's not that big of a deal."
"It's a huge deal!" Abby squawked, twisting so that she could see her sister better. "Alix said the drama teachers were thinking of cancelling the other auditions because of you."
"Bull," Vivien scoffed, carefully avoiding the rest of her accusatory cuss as she felt the growing heat of her mother's gaze. "It wasn't even a meaningful audition. I sang some ABBA and ran for the hills; there's nothing impressive about that."
"But Alix said-"
"Alix could have heard wrong," Vivien argued, cutting off her sister's statement before it could spiral out of control. "Besides, even if they do choose me - which they won't - I'll just step down and let the understudy take whatever role I get."
"That would be for the best," Chelsea stated as she stabbed her fork into the grilled chicken salad her ex-husband had bought for her. "We've all seen how you get on stage at your grandparent's camp; putting you in any leading role in front all those people would be so much worse."
Ignoring their mother's statement with a roll of his eyes, Oliver turned to Vivien and said, "You can't back down."
Vivien grinned, sending her brother a curious look as she asked, "Why not?"
"Because!"
"That's not a reason, Olly."
"But it is," Oliver claimed. "We've all heard you sing in the car and you love theatre. This is your chance to see what it's like on Boadway."
"Who says I want to be on Broadway?" Vivien asked with a laugh.
Oliver thought for a moment before saying, "Well, nobody, but-"
"But the school is petitioning to get the Titanic Musical for the April show next year," Damien piped up, eyeing his eldest daughter out of his peripheral vision as she froze, her handful of ketchup-soaked french fries hanging in midair as she processed his claim. Smirking, he added, "If you have at least one show under your belt, they might consider you for one of the primary roles when the time comes."
Excitedly watching the wheels turn in Vivien's head, Abby grabbed her sister's free wrist and wiggled it as she said, "See! If you back down now, you'll never get to be in Titanic next year."
Vivien sighed, green eyes shifting from mild annoyance to fondness as she turned to her younger sister and slipped her fingers between Abby's, "As much as I would love that, there's no chance of me getting the lead."
"Would you at least try out for Titanic next year?" Oliver asked. "That would be right up your alley."
With a snort, Chelsea chortled, "She would probably spend all her time critiquing the accuracy of everything."
"Actually," Vivien began, finding a sliver of courage to meet her mother's gaze, "the show is fairly accurate when it comes to representing the people aboard the ship that night. The historical details are only slightly manipulated to add more drama, and-"
"See," Chelsea began, glancing between her children and ex-husband, "she's already at it."
Abby opened her mouth to argue, but Vivien's grip on her hand tightened, telling her to back down before things could get worse. Abby's bluish-brown eyes found Vivien's emerald gaze, and with a shake of her head, Abby resigned, returning to her food with a barely audible sigh. Refusing to let their last family dinner before spring break be soured by the cutthroat words of his ex-wife, Damien took the remote from the coffee table and switched the input back to the Roku before letting the kids decide between two of the movies on their watchlist - The Outsiders and The Truman Show.
With the rather unanimous vote of The Truman Show, the family settled in once more and relaxed as they watched Jim Carrey's character come to life. Not long into the movie, Abby shifted between Vivien and their father, and it wasn't long before she was sprawled out over the two with her head on Vivien's lap and her legs on their dad's. Once Abby had settled into a comfortable position, Vivien began absentmindedly running her fingers through the girl's lighter hair, calming both of them at once as Truman watched his dad get shoved into a bus and taken away. However, further into the movie, as Truman began drawing a spacesuit around his reflection, Vivien's phone began to ring, and she quickly stood, shoving a somewhat disgruntled Abby off her lap and taking her trash with her to the kitchen before answering the phone.
After checking the caller ID, she smiled, tossed her trash into the bin next to the refrigerator, and quietly said, "Please tell me you're on your way."
A snort came from the other end as Mick replied, "Hello to you, too. I mean, damn, child, are you that willing to run away from home?"
Vivien glanced at her family and chuckled, "Maybe a little."
"Well, good," Mick replied. "We're pulling into the driveway now, so come out when you're ready."
Snickering to herself, Vivien said, "I thought you already knew I was bi, Mickie."
"Look, rugrat," Mick snipped, though Vivien could clearly hear the humor in her tone. "We're parked by the garage, but bring a rain coat or something; it's pouring."
"Still?"
"Yup."
Vivien sighed, "Alright, I'll be out in a few." She sucked in a deep breath and smiled to herself as Mick hung up her end of the call. Vivien headed back to the living room and grinned as she noticed Oliver holding the remote, keeping the movie paused until her return. Ruffluing her brother's hair, she cooed, "Aww, Olly-bear! Did you pause the movie just for me?"
Shoving her hand away, Oliver ran his hand through his hair and scoffed, "No, I just didn't want to have to rewind it for you."
"Yeah, sure," Abby drawled sarcastically as she punched her twin's thigh.
Chuckling as the twins began arguing over Oliver's ability - or lack thereof - to show kindness, Damien twisted in his seat, found Vivien's gaze, and asked, "Was that Mick and her parents?"
"Yeah, they just pulled up," Vivien nodded, glancing toward the front door.
With a smile, he asked, "Are you ready to go, babygirl?"
Vivien excitedly nodded, but her excitement seemed to dim as Chelsea asked, "Go where, exactly?"
"To California," Vivien explained. "You know, for spring break?"
"I never said you could go," Chelsea stated, finally looking up from her phone with steely eyes. "A trip like that requires planning, and I highly doubt you, of all people, are prepared to fly three thousand miles across the country for a week in some random city you've never been to."
Before Vivien could argue, Damien turned to his ex and said, "She asked both of us months ago, and, actually, she's had everything planned out since I gave her permission. Vivien's a smart girl; she wouldn't jump into something without proper planning."
"She even helped Abs and I plan our trips with our friends," Oliver piped up.
Placing a hand on her dad's shoulder and glancing toward her brother, Vivien thanked him with a smile before turning toward their mom and saying, "And, since Dad gave me permission, I can go, right, Mom?"
Chelsea took in a deep breath, glancing between Damien and Vivien with a stare that would end wars, but finally, she picked up her phone and huffed, "Fine. Go."
Hoping to get out the door before her mother could change her mind again, Vivien began making her way to the door, only to hear footsteps rushing up behind her. Turning, Vivien smiled as Abby and Oliver jogged up to her, Abby wrapping her in a hug as Oliver stood to the side with a grin. Squeezing her older sister, Abby pleaded, "Take lots of pictures for me, sissy."
Letting out a breath of a laugh, Vivien waited until Abby stepped back before taking her keys from the hook by the door and pushing them into the palm of her sister's hand. At Abby's confused look, she said, "Can you put them in your lockbox for me? I don't want Mom to use my car while I'm gone just 'cause it has lower mileage than hers."
Nodding in understanding, Abby softly asked, "Do you want your diary in there too?"
Vivien shook her head, "I'm taking it with me, but thank you."
Oliver shuffled closer, hinting at his desire for a final hug before his oldest sister's departure as he asked, "What about your fancy rocks?"
Wrapping her arms around Oliver's shoulders, she replied, "I took a few with me, but I doubt Mom will do anything with them because most of the ones I left are big and would be obvious if they went missing."
"If you're sure," Oliver mumbled into Vivien's shoulder before patting her back and slipping out of her grasp.
Once she took a step back, Vivien reached into her pocket and pulled out two colorful crystals, holding one out to either of her siblings, "For Abby, some charoite. It's good for keeping away negativity and helping you see a new side of yourself. Hopefully, it'll help you relax while you're away."
Abby smiled at the purple rock, shifting it in the light to see the different hues before thanking her sister and pocketing the crystal. Then, with a roll of his eyes and a smirk, Oliver accepted the smooth green lump and said, "Let me guess, this is some hard-to-pronounce rock too."
"Actually, no," Vivien snickered. "It's green aventureine and it's good for creativity, luck, and opportunities. I figured, with all the activities you'll be doing, and the theories you'll be picking apart, it would be nice to take with you."
Rolling the crystal around in his palm, Oliver allowed his smirk to spread into a smile as he handed Vivien her raincoat and said, "Have fun in Cali, Vivi."
Vivien smiled but didn't have the chance to respond as her father entered the room and said, "She will. Brady and Mack reassured me that they had a fun week planned."
Finding her dad's tired eyes, Vivien slotted herself in his arms and asked, "Will you be alright here without us for a week?"
"I'll be fine," Damien claimed as he ran a soothing hand over Vivien's hair. "Your mother is going on one of her work trips on Monday, so I'll be alone most of the time you kids are away."
Peering up at her father, Vivien smiled, "A week of empty-nesting, huh? That'll be interesting for you."
Damien pressed a kiss to Vivien's forehead and smiled, "It'll be over before I know it. Now, do you have everything?" Vivien nodded. "Are you sure? You've got your toothbrush, hairbrush?"
"I'm sure, Dad," Vivien chuckled. "And, before you ask, yes, I have the taser pen Riven's dad gave me. I took the batteries out and everything, just like he taught me."
Nodding, Damien sighed, "Good. I know I'm overthinking this, but I don't want you to be in a strange city without protection."
"I know," Vivien said with a knowing smirk. "And I don't blame you. It would be stupid of me to go without anything."
Damien hummed before smiling at his oldest girl, "I had your sister sneak something into your bag from the three of us, but promise me you won't open it until you get where you're going and have the chance to settle in."
Glancing at her sister, wondering when she could have slipped something into her luggage, Vivien smiled and said, "I won't, I promise."
"Good," he said, more for himself than his daughter. Then, patting her arm, Damien told Vivien, "Alright, well, get going before I chicken out."
"Alright, alright," Vivien snickered as she rolled her eyes up at her dad. "I'm going."
Allowing his daughter to step away and pull the zipper of her raincoat up as far as it would go, Damien pulled up her suitcase handle and held it out for her to take as he breathed, "Have fun, sweetheart."
"I'll try."
Placing a hand over Vivien's, he smiled, "You will." Once Vivien nodded in agreement, he requested, "Let us know when you land, okay?"
"Of course," Vivien beamed, anticipation bubbling up in her chest as she nodded excitedly. "I'll let you know when we get to their house too."
As Oliver opened the door and Vivien stepped out, Abby said, "I'll let Mom know you said goodbye."
Vivien crossed the threshold of the house and dragged her luggage with her, waving to the Birches and saying, "Thanks. I'll see you guys in ten days."
"Have fun!" Abby called as Vivien rushed through the rain to the Birch family's minivan.
"Enjoy the sun!" Damien said as Brady helped Vivien haul her suitcase into the trunk before closing it.
"Don't get wasted on the beach!" Oliver added, earning him a middle finger from his oldest sister and a tap on the back of the head from their dad. "What?" he asked rhetorically as Vivien hopped into the van and rolled the window down. "I'm just saying."
As the vehicle began to roll down the driveway, Vivien leaned out as far as the seatbelt would allow and yelled, "Love you!"
As her family called back in kind, Vivien rolled up the window and relaxed in her seat, earning a chuckle from Mick as the older brunette greeted her, "You look like a wet dog."
Laughing breathlessly, Vivien pushed her stringy, wet bangs away from her forehead and sighed, "I probably smell like one too, to be honest with you."
Mick pretended to sniff the air before grinning, "Only a little bit."
Vivien smiled and tipped her head to the side, finding Mick's gaze as she sighed, "I hope I don't look like a drowned rat when Royce sees me."
Mack laughed from the passenger's seat, leaning over the center console to see Vivien as she reassured her, "You won't, sweetheart. We'll make sure of it."
"I mean," Brady drawled as he pulled out onto the main roads, seemingly weighing his options until Mack slapped his arm with the back of her hand.
"Brady!"
"Kidding!" the man chuckled, somewhat proud of his playful jibe as the girls in the backseat snickered.
Vivien sighed contentedly as she relaxed into the van's faded, somewhat worn fabric seats, "I've missed this."
"You won't be saying that for long," Mack claimed. "By the end of the first week, you'll be begging us to send you home."
"Doubtful," Vivien replied with a smile. The idea of spending any length of time in the world Mick had been talking her ear off about since the day she discovered it back in December had been like something of a fantasy for Vivien. Now that she actually had the chance to see the places in her friends' pictures, the thought of cutting her stay short for anything other than the most dire circumstances was bizarre. "I'm pretty sure you'll have to drag me away kicking and screaming."
"Well, we certainly won't be doing that," Brady laughed.
"Yeah," Mick agreed, taking Vivien's hand with a brilliant smile. "You can stay there with us for as long as you want."
"And time here won't change, right?" Vivien recounted.
"Right," Mack agreed. "That machine will allow you to stay as long as you like without anything changing."
Mick nodded, watching Vivien's thoughtful eyes flicker behind her circular frames as she explained, "We turn the time control mechanism off while we're in this world so that they can enjoy life normally there, but we freeze time here so that we can enjoy things without having to go back and forth to pay bills and stuff like that."
Vivien grinned, "Like taking random teenagers into different dimensions without their parents feeling the need to call everypolice department in the tate to see if they can send out search parties?"
"I guess you could say that," Brady snorted as he pulled onto the turnpike and pressed the gas pedal further toward the floor.
The conversation seemed to split from there as Mack pulled up the directions to the airport on her phone, telling Brady to slow down before they reached a particular spot the state troopers liked to park in order to catch people speeding on the turnpike. Watching trees and distant buildings fly by as the car sped up, Vivien pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked the Discord chat she had with her bandmates, sending them a selfie of herself and Mick before hastily typing a message about them finally being on the road.
Erica was the first to respond - her text of "bitch, you bettr not become a fuckign valley girl!" appearing just before Riven's "Have fun, Pip! Don't get eaten by a shark; I need you for comp" and followed soon after by Jade's ever-calm message of, "ignore their bs. we love you. stay safe. xoxo." Vivien snickered as the trio began blowing up her phone; Erica starting an argument with Riven about sharks being harmless while also telling Jade to fuck off for being the responsible one.
"You good over there?" Mick asked, her humor evident as Vivien glanced up from her phone.
Holding out the device and leaning over so that they could both watch the drama unfold, Vivien explained, "Erica's being a bitch, Riven is a sarcastic shit, and Jade's acting like a mother hen, so Erica picked a fight with both of them."
Mick watched as Erica sent a wall of text that only consisted of the middle finger emoji, snickering, "So, a normal day, then?"
"Pretty much," Vivien agreed. As they watched conversation bubbles appear and Erica's rant spiral into nonsense, her smile faltered. She would miss them while she was away. Even when her family went on vacations, Riven would go with them, and she could text the girls anytime she wanted. This time, her ability to message them and ask them for advice on things would be revoked the minute she entered the other world. With a heavy sigh, she admitted, "I'm going to miss them."
Taking in the girl's expression, Mick reached up and placed a hand on Vivien's back, rubbing circles into her plastic raincoat as she said, "It'll suck for a few days, but after a while, you sort of get used to it."
Peering up at the older girl, Vivien allowed herself to smile, "You're talking from experience, aren't you?"
"Sadly," Mick confirmed. "My instincts were to take pictures of everything to show my friends when I got back, but then I realized I couldn't. It took a while to adjust and my phone is still full of pictures nobody else has seen, but after a while, I got used to just saving the memories for myself."
Nodding in understanding, Vivien breathed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can send them some pictures when I get back, but until then, I can keep them to myself."
Pivoting in her seat, Mick turned toward Vivien and asked, "So, what are your plans for Royce? Are we doing a casual surprise where you just walk in and say hi or are we doing something grand in front of everyone?"
"I don't know," Vivien shrugged. "I haven't really given it a lot of thought. I was more concerned about my mom keeping me from going."
"Well, now we've got time to think it through!" Mick exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
“Not much time,” Mack explained. “We’ll be at the airport in about five, maybe ten minutes, and since we have a private flight, we’ll be in the air within the hour.”
“You guys never told me you have a private jet,” Vivien stated. “Like, I knew you guys had money, but damn.”
“It’s not ours,” Mick shrugged.
“One of my friends from school became a pilot,” Brady explained. “He’s offered us free trips whenever we need it since he knows how often we travel to the East coast and it gives him the opportunity to visit some family of his in Vermont.”
Vivien hummed, more to herself than to anyone in the vehicle, “That’s nice of him.”
After a moment of relative silence, Mick patted Vivien’s hand and told her, “Anyway, regardless of what you decide to do, Royce will be surprised.”
“You think?” Vivien asked. “I thought someone would have told him by now.”
Mick shook her head emphatically, beaming proudly as she explained, “Actually, I haven’t told anybody that you’re coming.”
Vivien’s eyes glittered with excitement as she asked, “Seriously?”
Mick nodded, her wavy hair bouncing with the movement, “I'm not the greatest at being sneaky, so the only person who might know is Butchy, and he’s not one to spill things like that.”
“That’s insane!” Vivien exclaimed, a laugh tumbling from her lips at the thought of surprising her friends with her sudden appearance in their world.
“I know, right!” Mick giggled. “But that means we have endless possibilities for surprising people. It all depends on where they are at the time.”
“When we land, it will be about one in the morning, Pacific Time,” Mack explained. “On a commercial flight, we usually stop a few times along the way to swap planes or pick up new passengers, but since this is private, we’re going to stop in New Jersey for a few minutes due to busy airways, and then get back in the air.”
“That will give us plenty of time to think about it,” Mick said cheerfully.
“And give both of you the chance to sleep,” Brady reminded his daughter, peering at her in the rearview mirror before he pulled onto the street that led them to the airport. “We don’t need both of you to be zombies when we touch down.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mick brushed off with a wave of her hand, her excitement over the whole situation outweighing the concept of sleep. “Anyway, I’ve got ideas for both options, and we can talk about them on the plane, if you want.”
Sending the older girl a smile and a nod, Vivien watched Mick smile and relax in her seat; pulling out her phone as Vivien took in a slow breath and glanced out the window. As they passed the Mall of New Hampshire, Vivien snapped a quick picture of the building and sent it to the group chart that had begun to quiet without her presence there to encourage the chaos, sending a cheeky message teasing the two girls who worked within the large, stucco and concrete building. Jade was the first to respond, her video message of her waving to the camera, arriving on Vivien’s phone as they pulled up to a gated parking lot. As Brady began speaking to the guard, listing the passengers and which flight they were on, Vivien sent a private message to Riven, telling him how nervous she was about being on a private plane.
‘You have nothing to worry about, Pip,’ was his reply. ‘The Birches know what they’re doing and wouldn’t put you in danger like that. Just breathe. You’ve got this.’
Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, Vivien sent back a reply of gratitude and tried to relax as the car lurched forward and moved past the gate. Mack popped open the console between herself and Brady, pulling out a trio of passports before turning toward Vivien and asking, “Do you have your passport ready?”
Reaching under her rain coat and into the pocket of her hoodie, Vivien pulled the navy blue booklet out and handed it up to Mack, who added it to the stack in her hands. As they rolled down the tarmac, Vivien watched through the windows, trying to guess which aircraft they would be in. Narrowing it down the further they got, Vivien let out a noise of surprise as Brady turned to the side, lurching her toward the door as he pulled to a stop in a parking space. Looking around in confusion, Vivien followed the others out of the car, following Mack to the back of the vehicle, where they pulled their luggage from the trunk.
Mick grabbed Vivien’s free hand, pulling her toward a jet that had the door open and a set of stairs waiting. Pushing the handles of their suitcases down and picking them up by the straps on top, the girls boarded the plane, pushing their suitcases to the side to be scanned before finding seats to collapse into. Nudging Vivien into a window seat, Mick took the seat across from her and relaxed, waiting for her parents to board before instructing the younger girl to buckle up.
After the pilot came to greet them, telling them all the basics he needed to go over before the flight, he returned to the cockpit and announced that they would be leaving as soon as he had permission from the traffic control tower. With much reassurance from the others, Vivien began to relax, snapping pictures of the plane and the setting sun to send to her friends and family. After another announcement came over the speakers about taking off, they were in the air, and Vivien’s phone returned to her pocket as the seatbelt lights turned off. Peeling off her rain coat and shoving it into the seat next to her, Vivien huffed a sigh of relief as she realized the part she had worried about the most was now over.
Watching as the ground below grew smaller and harder to see, Vivien turned her attention to Mick, who had folded her arms on top of the table between them, leaning closer with a smile that told Vivien she didn’t want to know what the girl was going to get her into. “Do I want to know?” she asked the older brunette.
Vivien could hear the girl’s feet thumping against the base of her chair as she swung her legs back and forth, but Mick’s smile refused to dissipate as she explained, “I’ve been cooking up ideas for you.”
Nodding to herself, Vivien rolled her eyes, “Yup, didn’t want to know.”
Ignoring the girl’s statement, Mick said, “I was thinking-”
“That’s dangerous,” Brady chuckled from his seat on the opposite side of the plane.
“Dad,” Mick sighed dramatically. When the older man snickered and struck up a conversation with his wife, Mick turned her attention back to Vivien with a roll of her caramel eyes. “I figured that, once we land, we can-”
“Go to sleep?” Vivien interrupted.
“Ha!” Mick laughed. “No.”
“Yes,” Mack said, her motherly tone giving Mick little to no wiggle room as she deflated slightly.
“Okay, yeah, that too,” Mick relented. “But we can pick out some cute outfits from my closet and make sure you feel beautiful before we go.” Pointedly turning toward her mom, Micxk asked, “Right, Momma?”
“So long as you two aren’t up all night, yes,” Mack replied before taking a sip of the water bottle she had taken from the cabin’s mini fridge. “Now, Vivien, did you have anything to eat, sweetheart? They have sandwiches and things in the fridge, if you’d like.”
“That’s alright,” Vivien brushed off graciously. “Dad brought home some Mickey D’s on his way home from work.”
“I’m surprised he made it through the warden with that,” Brady said in a scoff.
Vivien smirked as the other two women gave their own forms of agreement, simply glad she wasn’t the only one who found her mother’s strict food control to be something of a nightmare. “Yeah, well, he didn’t exactly give her a choice. He came in, gave her a salad to shut her up, and let us get our meals without letting her anger break him down.”
“Good for him,” Mick grinned.
“Glad to know he’s finally growing bigger balls than hers,” Mack added. “I think we’ve all been placing bets to see how long that would take.”
With a hum of agreement, Vivien allowed the conversation to flow between topics, absentmindedly bringing up the subject of the battle bot project she wanted to work on when they got the chance, something that made Mick practically vibrate with excitement. Brady brought up the idea of using his tools if need be, which inspired Mick to go off on a spiel about possibly going to either Butchy’s or Miles’ place of work to utilize their welding kits and use some of the metal scraps they had tossed aside. By the time Mack had managed to pull them away from the topic at hand, they were starting to make their descent at an airport in Newark, New Jersey.
Before the plane took off again, Vivien sent a few relatively dark images and some quick messages to the people who knew she was leaving before stepping into the bathroom of the jet to call her aunts before they went to bed. They discussed the trip and spoke for a while about all of the activities Vivien was looking forward to before they wished each other a good night. Vivien promised to let them know when they landed before ending the call and scurrying back to her seat as the captain announced their approaching departure. Once they were back in the air and allowed to roam about, Mick showed Vivien how to recline her seat and find a comfortable position to sleep in before offering the girl a blanket and promptly passing out in her chair.
One by one, Vivien watched as the Birch family succumbed to the land of dreams, but despite her growing exhaustion and yawns tumbling from her mouth every other minute, she couldn’t find it in herself to actually sleep. She could have easily chalked up her inability to sleep to her nerves, but that wasn’t quite right. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that there was nothing to worry about. Royce and Bentley would love to drag her around, Carrie had promised to take her to the lot they were filming on if she ever found herself in their world, and even Butchy and Miles had discussed dragging her to their respective jobs to show her knowledge of old vehicles off to their respective coworkers. There was nothing for her to be worked up over.
Forcing herself to take in a deep breath and push her unfounded fears aside, Vivien allowed another yawn to overtake her as she stretched. Reclining her seat and tugging her blanket around her shoulders, Vivien slouched into a more comfortable position, tucked her cell phone into her pocket, set her glasses on the table between herself and Mick’s slumbering form, and waited until the soft humming of the plane’s machinery lulled her to sleep. To her dismay, what felt like only a few minutes passed before Vivien found herself being gently shaken awake, grumbling at the interruption as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
A chuckle came from a blurry form as Vivien searched blearily for her glasses, listening to the person apologize in a soft voice before handing her the glasses she was searching for. Finally peering up at the person, Vivien found Brady smiling back at her, offering her a hand as he told her, “We just landed, kiddo. Time to go home.”
Chuckling exhaustedly as she stretched herself out like a cat rising from a comfortable position in the summer sun, Vivien muttered, “Am I too old to ask for someone to carry me?”
Brady let out another soft laugh, “Never, but I haven’t carried anybody in years, and I’d rather not drop you down the stairs of a plane.”
Vivien snorted and pushed herself from her seat, “Yeah, let’s not do that, then.”
“Smart girl,” Mack advised, patting the teenager on the back as she passed her on her way back from the bathroom.
As Brady worked on waking Mick from her slumber, Vivien folded up the blanket she had used, made sure she had everything she brought with her, and followed Mack to the front of the plane, where they received their belongings. Yawning as she followed Mack down the stairs, Vivien welcomed the warm California air with a tired grin. “It’s nice out,” she muttered as Mack led her toward a pale blue Jeep that had been brought onto the tarmac for them.
Accepting her car keys from the driver who brought the car over, Mack chuckled, “My phone says it’s fifty-something right now.”
More than content with the idea of the summer-like weather, Vivien sighed happily as she hauled her suitcase into the trunk of the car alongside Mack’s, “Like I said, I think you guys will have to drag me kicking and screaming from this place.”
Bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders, Mack smiled, “Just wait until you see how close we are to the beach.”
Vivien’s eyes glittered as the woman brought her to the side of the car, encouraging her to climb inside as Mack slid into the driver’s seat. However, before she climbed inside the vehicle, Vivien pulled out her phone and took a picture of the plane they landed in, sending it to the group chat with her bandmates before sending a message to her family members, letting everyone know they had landed safely in Santa Ana and were on their way to the Birch family’s home. Once she was sure the messages had been sent, Vivien slid into the backseat behind Mack and pulled the seatbelt across her body. Once the others had found their way to the car, Mack started the engine and pulled away from the plane, heading through a series of gates before making her way to the street and pulling away from the John Wayne Airport.
Unable to fall back asleep as they pulled onto the San Diego Freeway, Vivien watched with wide eyes as she took in the glow of the city. Throughout the half-hour drive, Vivien took a myriad of pictures. Glowing palm trees, buildings in the distance that appeared to touch the sky, and, as the freeway pulled them through San Juan Capistrano toward the beach, pictures of a seemingly endless night sky over the water. Smiling as he watched the girl take another picture, Brady encouraged his wife to take the long way home without saying a word, and Mack took the next exit, pulling onto Pacific Coast Highway and following it until the first set of lights she could turn at. At the next intersection, she turned onto Park Lantern and followed the street toward the water until it merged with Coast Highway.
The couple suppressed their laughter as Vivien gasped, leaning over their daughter to take pictures of the water that was still covered by a blanket of stars in the nighttime sky. Once houses began to block her view, Vivien relaxed, but her excitement was still very much palpable as the car glided down the highway. Turning toward the backseat, Brady kept his voice hushed as they slowed to a stop at a red light, “If you want a good shot, our street sign is right up here.”
“Really?” Vivien whispered.
Brady hummed in confirmation, “It’s on the light post up here on your side.”
Sure enough, as Vivien leaned closer to her window and squinted up at the post, she found a green sign with the words “Camino Capistrano” in thick, white writing. Although her cell phone refused to see the sign in the dark, Vivien smiled and kept her eyes on it until they had turned onto the aforementioned street and could no longer see the sign. Smiling more to herself than anything, Vivien watched with bated breath as Mack drove further up the street, past a traffic light, and through a curve. When they finally pulled to a stop in front of a fancy black gate with a Mediterranean-style roof and a few doors on either side, Vivien felt her jaw hit the floor.
Contrary to popular opinion, Vivien’s family had money. For a while in her childhood, her family had lived in an apartment that barely gave them enough room to live, but they had enough money to put food on the table and buy new things here and there. After her grandparents offered them the opportunity to move into their old house and take over the winery while they moved closer to their beloved summer camp, Vivien felt as though she was the luckiest person on the planet. While they weren’t exactly Elon Musk-level rich, the winery her parents operated and her grandparent’s summer camp made them more than financially secure. Knowing she had the chance to take on their jobs in the future, Vivien thought she would become richer than she had ever previously thought possible. However, as she got her first look at the Birch’s house, she realized she didn’t know shit about rich people.
Being well off on the East Coast meant having a home you owned, a car or two, and potentially a pet if you felt like it. Most people back home enjoyed taking up residence in old, colonial-style homes that would set them back a good hundred thousand dollars at least and were originally built for families with eleven or twelve children. East Coast wealth was classy, clean, and, well, antique. West Coast wealth, on the other hand, was a new kind of expensive. Stepping out of the car once they rolled to a stop in the four-car garage, Vivien couldn’t help but feel poor in every sense of the word.
Although Vivien had seen bits and pieces of the house over FaceTime with Mick, the sheer size of the house was astonishing. Following closely behind her friend, Vivien’s eyes scanned from the large, orange roof to the various balconies, to the swimming pool that seemed to wrap around the side of the house, and the various water guns and toys strewn about in the yard that were evidence that her friends from another world had visited before the Birches had come to collect her. Entering the house, Vivien waited for the lights to turn on before looking around at the pristine entryway. A large glass chandelier hung above the entrance, glimmering rays of light throughout the hall and part of the living room.
Although Vivien felt more than awake and ready to explore the luxurious home, Mack and Brady urged her to follow Mick upstairs once she had taken her shoes off by the door. Relenting despite her excitement, Vivien followed Mick up the hardwood stairs, grinning at the various childhood photographs of Mick and her friends along the wall as they climbed. Coming to the landing, Vivien found herself taken aback once more by the view. Across from the top of the stairs was a panoramic view of the beach across the street, a comfortable lounge area settled facing the floor-to-ceiling windows with a television mounted on the right wall - the only one without windows.
Before she could take a moment to process the kitchenette on one side of the staircase or the gaming area on the other, Vivien found herself taken by the wrist around the banister to a short hallway with three doors. They passed a room with Mick’s initial painted on the door, but Mick didn’t so much as glance toward her bedroom before opening the door to another room at the end of the hall and stepping aside for Vivien to enter.
With a yawn, the short brunette explained, “This used to be one of our guest rooms, but the boys usually take it when they stay with us, so a lot of Bentley art supplies and Royce’s books stay here.”
Looking up at the coffered, waffle-esque design on the ceiling and the various signs of life in the room, Vivien let out a disbelieving laugh, “This is insane.”
Mick took a look around and sighed at how poorly she had cleaned the room before leaving the week before, “Yeah, I know it’s not the cleanest right now, but we can pick everything up in the morning if you-”
“No, no, no!” Vivien said with a quick shake of her head, turning back toward her friend with a smile as she stood her suitcase by the end of the queen-sized bed. “Mick, you don’t understand.”
Confused in part by the conversation and part by her lack of sleep, Mick’s head tipped slightly to the side as she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I thought my house was big and that we were well off,” Vivien began, twirling around as she examined the room before finding Mick’s gaze again, “but I think yours just bitch-slapped my whole family onto the poverty line!”
Mick let out a snort, shaking her head fondly, “Well, don’t start comparing dick sizes just yet, gremlin. Save that for a time when I can actually think straight.”
“I hardly ever think straight,” Vivien smirked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed she had been given.
With a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, Mick teased, “Believe me, I know. Now, try to get some sleep. You don’t want jet lag to knock you out on your ass later.”
Raising her hand to her forehead in a mock salute, Vivien said, “Sir, yes, sir.”
Chuckling, Mick wished the younger girl a good night before disappearing into the hall, leaving the girl’s door open so that she could see the dimly lit lights in the hallway. Taking in a deep breath in the silence of her new room, Vivien hefted her suitcase onto the bed beside her and unzipped it, pulling out her astronaut lamp and setting it aside before tugging a pair of celestial pajama shorts and a matching tank top from one side of her suitcase. Picking up the luggage, she carried it over to a chair and left it open in the seat, changed into her pajamas, plugged in her lamp, and slipped under the covers with her headphones in one hand and phone in the other.
Putting on her headphones and listening to one of her favorite ASMR channels while watching the stars dance across the ceiling, Vivien finally found herself able to fall asleep relatively quickly. Dreams of surfing cerulean waves with her friends filled her night, and by the time the sun had begun poking through the curtains on either side of her bed, Vivien felt well-rested and ready to start her day. After hastily getting dressed in something appropriate for the eighty-three-degree weather her phone forecasted, Vivien took her time examining the house as she made her way down to the kitchen. Mick’s bedroom had already been vacated, and if the voices floating up the stairs were anything to go by, she was with her parents.
Making her way through the house to the kitchen, Vivien smiled as she listened to her friend’s family converse. The energy in the Birch’s house was always somewhat calming to Vivien, an environment where she could relax and feel at home regardless of what they were up to that day, but the feeling of belonging never wavered, no matter how far apart they truly were. Watching Mick dance around with her mother to the music on the radio, Vivien smiled as she leaned against the island counter. Brady nudged her arm as the song changed, beaming at the new addition to their household before offering her his hand.
Without much hesitation, Vivien placed her hand in Brady’s and allowed him to lead her in a bouncy dance that twirled them around the kitchen as Vivien giggled. Mack and her daughter stopped after a while to watch the pair, listening to Vivien half-sing, half-shriek her way through the lyrics as Brady spun her around the kitchen with ease. As the song came to an end, he twirled Vivien away, grinning as she laughed over the voice of the radio host.
Once her vision had stopped spinning, Vivien giggled, “Good morning, America!”
Brady chuckled, “Good way to get the blood pumping early in the morning, right, kiddo?”
Vivien nodded, but it was Mack who spoke, “We find it’s nice to do something fun before you start your day.”
“Speaking of starting your day,” Mick began as Vivien climbed onto one of the stools on the side of the island, “are you feeling up to leaving yet?”
“Makana,” Mack scolded lightly, “let the poor girl wake up first.”
Vivien smiled as Mick sighed dramatically, but she shook her head as she turned to the older woman. “It’s alright, Mrs B. I think I’m too excited to be tired.”
Sighing as he opened the fridge, Brady said, “Well, that’s good because I think we’re going to have to have breakfast at Butchy and Lela’s house this morning.”
Mack appeared confused for a moment before realization dawned on her face, “We forgot to pick up food last night.”
Mick shrugged, “It was two in the morning.”
With a shake of his head, Brady turned to his daughter and asked, “Do you mind us using your kitchen?”
Before Mick could reply, Vivien asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier to go to Big Momma’s for breakfast since we have to go there anyway?”
“It would be,” Mick replied with a nod, “but by the time we pry Lela off of you, it’ll be time for lunch.” Turning back to her parents as Vivien nodded in understanding, she said, “Butchy and I can make up something while everyone gets settled in.”
Mack nodded and turned her attention back to Vivien before asking, “Would you like to go now, then? Do you have anything you would like to bring with you?”
Vivien thought for a moment before nodding, “I brought some stuff with me that I wanted to show everyone. Can I run up and grab it?”
“You don’t have to ask, Vivien,” Brady insisted. Nodding toward the stairs, he said, “Just go; we’ll still be here when you come back.”
As Vivien slid out of her seat, Mick patted her arm excitedly and said, “Just put your clothes on the bed and take your whole suitcase. I’m, like, ninety-three percent sure you’ll leave with more clothes than you came with.”
Her excitement surging at the idea, Vivien nodded and hurried for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time and pushing aside her desire to explore the large home as she headed for her room. Moving her suitcase from the chair she left it on to the end of her bed, Vivien began pulling out a majority of her daily clothes, leaving her essentials, headphones, charger cords, astronaut lamp, the envelope with her name on it that her siblings and father had given her before she left home, and a few items of clothing Carrie and Lela had let her “borrow” and never got back. Once she was certain she had everything she wanted to bring with her for however long she would be away, Vivien zipped up her bag and took in a deep breath. Glancing out the window at San Clemente, Vivien smiled at the knowledge that, within mere minutes, she would be transported into a world she had only ever heard in stories and seen in a movie.
Grabbing her suitcase by the handle, Vivien left her bedroom and headed for the stairs, lifting her bag before her descent and taking the handle once she’d reached the landing. Practically skipping to the kitchen, Vivien beamed at the Birches as she cheered, “Ready for liftoff!”
Happy to show off his work to a new person, Brady clapped his hands and gestured toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard, “After you, kiddo.”
Vivien took the lead, opening one side of the door and sucking in a sharp breath as she was hit full-force with the heat of Southern California. Mick snickered, wrapping an arm around Vivien and guiding her toward the shed at the back of their property as she chuckled, “Welcome to California.”
‘Ugh,” Vivien groaned, “is it always like this?”
“Not always, no,” Mick claimed, “but believe me, summers are much worse in Florida.”
Hoping the older girl was simply joking, Vivien remained quiet until Mick ushered her into the shed, and she was made to carefully toe her way around scrapped projects and stray tools until she reached the yellow, tube-shaped behemoth pressed securely against the back wall. A large flower Vivien recalled seeing on a surfboard hanging on the wall in the Birch’s home was engraved into metal at the very top of the machine, wires and metal bars sticking out behind it in a haphazard yet efficient way. Pulling the handle on the right side of the machine, Vivien stepped back as the rounded glass panel at the front slid back into the left side of the machine.
With a gentle nudge from Mack, Vivien stepped into the machine, followed soon after by the family who had brought her there. As the glass door slid closed again, Mick took her friend's free hand and told her to hang on to her belongings before instructing her to watch out the window to see things change around them. Somewhat cautious of the machine as it whirred to life, Vivien watched as a vibrant glow from above seemed to illuminate the otherwise dark mechanic's shed. A soft hum filled the air as colors began to swirl outside the machine, a kaleidoscope of hues coming to life in a vibrant array that faintly reminded Vivien of a show she had seen as a child. The colors grew brighter and more vibrant, rivaling the LED lights Vivien knew Oliver had lining his ceiling before slowly dimming and allowing Vivien to see her first glimpse of another world.
Although she didn't want to appear let down by the view she was given, Vivien couldn't help her quirked brow and immediate response of, "It's an old pickup in a dark garage. Cool."
Nudging her friend with her elbow, Mick stepped around her to open the door and snorted, "It's Butchy's. Now, come on."
Taken by the hand. Vivien was dragged into the house and pulled toward the kitchen, where running water could be heard just over the sound of Chubby Checker's song The Twist that played over the radio. As she came to a stop, Vivien felt a smile split her face as she took in the striped wallpaper and yellow cabinets, the vibrant colors of the room making it feel even more inviting than she thought it would. Tilting so she could see around Mick, Vivien held in a laugh with a hand over her mouth as Butchy turned off the faucet, and Lela's voice could be heard as she danced to the music beside him. It wasn't until the music came to an end and the radio host began speaking about the next song that the raven-haired girl noticed the new figures in her house.
Lela jumped and pressed a hand to her chest, her instinctive reaction to cuss out her sister-in-law cut short as she spotted the taller brunette standing behind Mick. Letting out a screech so shrill Butchy flinched behind her, Lela rocketed forward, all but shoving Mick out of the way in order to wrap her arms around her younger friend. Rocking Vivien from one side to the other, Lela excitedly asked, "What are you doing here?!"
"It's spring break back home," Vivien explained as Lela moved back just enough to squish her cheeks in her hands. With her lips resembling that of a goldfish, Vivien continued, "I wanted to surprise everyone."
Prying his sister's hands away from the sixteen-year-old's face, Butchy smiled, "If this is anything to go by, I think Royce might end up having a heart attack when he sees you."
"Let's hope not," Vivien chuckled somewhat nervously. "I don't particularly feel like killing him."
"Sure," Butchy chortled sarcastically. "You know, I've seen some of those crime shows you love so much, piccola. You'd be arrested in an instant if you tried to kill anyone."
Smirking, Vivien said, "First of all, I watch those enough to know how to not get caught at this point. And, second, one of these days, I'm going to figure out what you're calling me, big guy."
"I'm sure you will," Butchy grinned, allowing the girl to step forward and bring her arms around him as he ruffled her hair. "It's good to see you again, Viv."
Staring accusatorily at the man as she took a step back, Vivien asked, "Is the swear jar still in place here?"
Confused as to what that had to do with him being glad to see her, Butchy slowly nodded, "Yeah, why?"
"In that case," Vivien huffed, "I'd say it's nice to see you too, but maybe I shouldn't just yet."
"Oh yeah?" Butchy questioned. "Just because of the swear jar?"
"Mhm," Vivien nodded. "You keep that thing in place and I'll be broke by the end of my first week here."
Butchy chuckled, but before he could formulate a response to Vivien's jab, Lela spoke up, "You're staying for more than a week?"
Turning to the shorter girl, Vivien shrugged, "I was hoping to, if that's alright."
Mick chuckled as she began pulling things from the refrigerator, "She is. I don't think her staying is the problem."
"What do you mean?" Lela wondered.
Butchy stepped up to the counter to help Mick make breakfast before answering, "After letting the boys know she's here, it'll be nearly impossible for them to let her return home."
Lela breathed a noise of understanding before taking Vivien's hands and saying, "We need you to look as normal as possible before you go see the boys. How do you feel about borrowing something of mine?"
Smiling, Vivien nodded, "You're the boss."
As Lela let out a noise of excitement and began pulling her away, Butchy called out, "See you in three hours."
Vivien barely got the chance to look around on her way up to Lela's room, pulled up the stairs faster than she thought humanly possible as Lela began babbling about all the things she wanted to do with the younger girl. Although the girl's excitement was evident, Vivien couldn't help but feel astonished at how fast Lela could talk when she was happy. As Lela pulled her into her bedroom, Vivien couldn't help but look around in wonder at how different it was from the movie. Despite everything looking fairly similar, there were touches of modernity that stood out against the mid-century style of the room - pictures from modern times that had made it back in the girl's luggage, an old iPod Vivien was sure Mick had given her, and some items strewn about that Vivien recalled seeing the older girl buy in her world.
Before Vivien could ask her about anything she saw, Lela pulled her over to the closet, where she revealed a room that had Vivien convinced she had somehow ended up transported to Mia Thermopolis's closet from the second Princess Diaries movie. Two plush chairs sat against the far wall, racks of clothes illuminated by little dome lights lined the walls, and shelves of shoes and accessories filled the empty space. Lela scanned the racks of clothing as Vivien looked around in wonder, picking up a pair of oversized sunglasses with a smile before setting them down and moving on to the shoes.
Moving with practice ease through her color-coordinated clothing, Lela pulled clothes down by their hangers and began stacking them on her chair. Once she felt satisfied by the selection she had laid out, Lela turned to Vivien and smiled as the girl looked at herself in the mirror with a pair of elbow-length gloves, cat-eye sunglasses, and a large sunhat that flopped in front of her face. Stepping up behind the girl, Lela said, "Time to play dress-up."
Vivien giggled, pulling the sunhat off of her head and lowering the sunglasses as she said, "I think I already am."
"And you look fabulous," Lela claimed with a smile before stepping aside and gesturing to the clothes on one of her chairs. "However, I put aside some clothes for you to try on."
"Ooh," Vivien sang as she turned around, setting her accessories aside in favor of the large pile. As Lela began setting things in their rightful places, Vivien picked through the clothing and quickly found herself lost in the myriad of colors, fabrics, and styles. "You want me try on all of this?"
Lela glanced at the dainty watch on her wrist that her uncle had gifted her for her birthday before answering, "Well, I think we'll only have time for a few before they bring us something to eat, but yeah."
Shifting a pair of shorts onto the arm of the chair, Vivien mused, "I'm surprised you didn't want me in a dress today."
"Normally," Lela began as she made up the distance between herself and the brunette, "I would have, but where most of my dresses would be far too short on you, I figured we could make up for that at the shops later. For now, I figured pedal pushers, tees, and some shorts would be more comfortable for you."
"You're definitely not wrong," Vivien smiled. Turning to the older girl, she asked, "Where should I try these on?"
"Right here," Lela beamed, unhooking a curtain from the wall and letting it fall between herself and Vivien. "If you find anything you feel suits you for the day, let me know and I'll come help you look for accessories. In the meantime, I'll be doing my morning skincare."
Excitement flowed through her like an ice-cold drink on a hot summer day, and Vivien thanked Lela before turning toward her pile of clothing and sorting through everything. Setting aside bottoms she could put together with various tops, Vivien began picking out options and trying them on, examining her reflection before trying on something new. After trying on different outfits for a while, Vivien finally settled on one - a pair of striped, white and lavender shorts with a matching purple tank top that covered far more skin than that of the tank tops back home. Lela was quick to offer assistance with the rest of the outfit, deeming Vivien's classic, black and white, doodle-covered Converse acceptable before selecting a handful of necklaces and bracelets for the brunette to choose between.
Once they had taken a break to eat breakfast, Lela began working her magic on Vivien's hair. After making sure her bangs were separated from the rest of her hair by a curler, Lela brushed out Vivien's hip-length locks before pulling them up into a ponytail and securing them with not only an elastic but also a ribbon. Lela curled the very ends of Vivien's ponytail so that it all ended in a uniform ring before spraying it down with enough hairspray to poke a hole in the ozone layer and pulling the curler out from under Vivien's bangs.
Grinning in disbelief at her reflection in Lela's vanity, Vivien thanked Lela for putting in more effort than she ever did back home, "I could never do anything like this."
"You could," Lela argued as she placed the cover back on her canister of hairspray and set it on the corner of her vanity. "It just takes practice, that's all."
"And far more patience than I could ever manage," Vivien chuckled, rising slowly from the bench Lela had practically shoved her onto. "Seriously, though, Lela, thank you."
"Anytime," Lela beamed. Checking her watch once again, she clapped her hands and said, "Now, I believe it's time we show you off to everyone at Big Momma's."
"What about Royce?" Vivien asked hesitantly as Lela began to leave the room. "Shouldn't we go see him first?"
Turning back to Vivien as she opened her bedroom door, Lela smirked knowingly, "His shift starts early on weekends."
"His shift?"
But Lela was already on her way out of the room, a wink being the only response Vivien could pry from the girl as she followed Lela out of the room and down to the living room where everyone else was waiting. With everyone else decked out in their finest sixties regalia, Vivien didn't feel half as out of place as she assumed she would be as she followed them outside, where a blue Volkswagen bus waited. As Mick climbed into the driver's seat, Vivien was allowed the seat beside her, and once everyone was inside, they took off down the road. Taking in the sights of the beach town as they rolled down the street, Vivien found it impossible to wipe the smile from her face.
The look of everything in the area was so different than what she was used to back home - mid-century houses with slanted roofs and fun doorways lined one side of the street while small businesses with typically fifties and sixties fonts in their windows lined the other. Turning toward Mick, she said, "I think I'm already in love."
With a laugh, Mick's gaze flitted toward the brunette before settling on the road again as she turned into a small parking lot where a few cars and motorcycles had parked, the expansive beach and a large building with a thatched roof within walking distance of the lot. Confused, Vivien followed the others as they climbed out of the car, but as everyone headed around the building, Vivien found herself dragged by the wrist toward the back entrance. Mick held the door for her younger friend and guided her through the kitchen before depositing her by the refrigerator and telling her to stay low until she came to get her.
Resigning to her fate of being stuck between the fridge and the trash can, Vivien crouched low to the floor, observing the people in the kitchen as they moved around, seemingly without noticing her presence. The smell of freshly cooked fish and baked potatoes filled the air, contrasting the stench of the food scraps piling up in the trash next to Vivien as she inched as close to the fridge as possible. However, as a blonde waitress entered the kitchen through the swinging door Mick had left through, Vivien found herself caught. With a hesitant smile and an awkward wave, the blonde neared the fridge with a tray and gathered colorful bottles of soda from it before placing it on a stainless steel counter and glancing over her shoulder at Vivien.
"Are you supposed to be back here?" the girl asked, a thick, southern twang accenting her voice.
Vivien swallowed thickly, offering a shrug as she explained, "My friend pushed me back here."
"Why?" the blonde questioned as she began popping off the lids of the sodas.
"I'm trying to surprise my boyfriend," Vivien explained. "I'm from New Hampshire and he doesn't know I'm here."
The blonde glanced around the kitchen, seemingly looking for someone, before settling her hazel eyes back on the girl crouched on the floor. Lowering her voice, she said, "Be grateful Big Momma isn't back here. This place is supposed to be staff-only after the soda geyser incident that happened a few weeks ago."
"Soda geyser?" Vivien repeated, mildly curious as to whether or not that had anything to do with the Mentos experiment she had shown the boys over Facetime not long ago.
"It was a huge mess," the blonde said before waving it off. Kneeling down to the brunette's height, the girl held out a hand and asked, "What's your name?"
Latching hands with the girl, Vivien smiled and said, "I'm-"
"Vivien, it's time!" Mick whisper-yelled as she pushed open the swinging door. Finding the girl on the floor and the blonde in front of her, Mick stalled, the gears in her brain turning for a moment as she processed the scene before a smile appeared on her face. "Oh, hey, Juliet."
"Hey, Mick," Juliet greeted. Turning back to the girl before her, she asked, "I presume that makes you Vivien?"
Vivien nodded, "And you Juliet?"
"Guilty as charged," Juliet smiled, her teeth a blinding white in comparison to her peachy lip gloss. Pulling the younger girl to her feet, Juliet asked, "So, what's the plan? How're we surprising this lucky mystery boy?"
"Well, I was thinking Viv could go out and pretend to be a waitress to surprise him," Mick claimed.
Glancing through the serving window, Juliet asked, "What table are they?"
"It's Miles' little brother, Royce," Mick explained. "He should be on his lunch break with his brothers now, right?"
Juliet's wide-eyed gasp shocked Vivien as the blonde whirled around, "Wait, for real? You're with Royce?" When Vivien slowly nodded in confirmation, Juliet let out a soft chuckle, "Everyone thought he was pulling our legs when he said he had a girlfriend. Especially 'cause he said she lived in a different state."
"Well, he was telling the truth," Vivien smiled nervously.
"I guess so," Juliet beamed. Turning to Mick, she said, "Anyway, I just got all their drinks together. If you want to head out now, I'll take Vivien here with me and say she's a new trainee."
Mick thought for a moment, but it didn't take her long to decide, "Honestly, that's a better plan than mine. I'll go back to my seat, and I'll see you out there in a few!"
As Mick hurried back through the door, Juliet turned to Vivien and asked, "So, newbie, are you ready for your first day at work?"
"I guess so," Vivien said, sucking in a deep breath.
With a smile, Juliet took a spare waist apron from the hangers on the wall and tied it around the younger girl before picking up her tray of sodas and asking, "Think you can carry this to their booth?"
"I can certainly try," Vivien offered, eyeing the collection of colored liquids.
Once Juliet was sure Vivien had a good hold on the tray, she said, "Just stay behind me and don't say a word until I introduce you. The less chance he has of seeing you, the better chances you have of surprising him."
Vivien nodded, and without another word, Juliet began to lead the way out, holding the door open behind her for Vivien before leading her through the busy restaurant. Vivien didn't get the chance to look around much as they walked, more focused on not spilling any drinks than exploring. However, as Juliet stopped at a booth along the far wall, Vivien looked around, hoping to see some familiar faces among the crowds.
Clearing her throat, Juliet spoke, "Hope y'all don't mind, but we've got a new girl with us this noontime and I figured I'd show her the ropes while Royce here takes his break."
"That's fine, Jules," Vivien heard Miles say. "What's her name?"
"I figured I'd let her introduce herself when she's ready," Juliet said, glancing over her shoulder at Vivien before stepping aside.
Finally able to see the group in the booth, Vivien took in the look of surprise on Miles' face first. Miles quickly got Carrie's attention by squeezing her hand, getting her to look up from the menu in her hands. Cerulean eyes glittered like fireworks as Carrie saw the girl standing at the end of the table, and she hurriedly tapped Bentley's shin under the table with the toe of her shoe, making him lift his head from the crayon drawings he had begun on the back of one of the disposable, paper placemats. Somewhat annoyed at the interruption, Bentley lifted his gaze with a question on his lips, but as Carrie pointed to the end of the table, his question died, and his mouth dropped open, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
Before anyone could signal Royce to lift his head from his arms as he yawned tiredly toward the table, Vivien smiled at his tangled curls and said, "Hey, handsome."
Without bothering to look up, Royce decided that, since nobody else cared to speak, he would, and mumbled, "Believe it or not, Miles has a girlfriend."
Vivien fought down a laugh and said, "Believe it or not, I wasn't talking to him."
The first to pull himself out of his shocked stupor, Miles grinned and said, "Royce has one too."
"I don't see her anywhere," Vivien said, placing the tray of drinks on the end of the table. "Maybe I need a mirror."
Royce rolled his eyes, lifting his head from his arms enough to take his soda from the tray as he said, "Not interested."
"Royce," Bentley began warningly but was quickly stopped by Miles as the oldest of the brothers placed a finger to his lips and gestured for the boy to stay silent.
"Damn," Vivien sighed as Royce's forehead rested against his arms once more. "And here I thought we would have lasted at least half a year before you decided to break up with me, Rolls."
Startled by the choice of nickname, Royce's eyes peeled open, and through the corner of his eyes, he found himself looking at a pair of Converse with faded doodles on the white of the toe, but it wasn't until he saw the tiny ship charm dangling from her laces that he began putting pieces together. As he slowly lifted his head, Royce found himself frozen with shock. Sure enough, standing before him was his girlfriend, but she looked as though she had stepped out of a magazine. Her typical jeans and T-shirt were replaced with clothing he was used to seeing on some of his friends at school, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail he knew she would normally complain about at the end of the day, but she didn't seem upset by it in the slightest. Her round glasses caught the light above their table perfectly, glinting magically as the light above another nearby table casted a golden halo around her from behind. For a while, Royce was convinced he was seeing things - Vivien couldn't be in his world; it was impossible! She would have told him she was coming! - but then she smiled down at him and said something he couldn't hear over the thoughts running rampant in his head.
Swallowing as he blinked up at her, Royce softly asked, "Vivien?"
The girl before him laughed, and while that beautiful symphony was all he needed to hear, her nod dispelled any further doubts he could have had. Rocketing up from his seat, Royce lunged forward, bringing his arms around her as far as they would reach, nearly lifting her from the floor as she giggled by his ear. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity before Royce backed away enough to take her face in his hands, examining her as though it was the first time.
"Hey," she breathed, as eloquent as ever.
"You-" Royce cut himself off with a laugh, "You're real. You're real and you're here. How are you here?"
Vivien shrugged, "Magic."
Scoffing a laugh, Royce shook his head and brought her back into an embrace that she quickly returned. Looking over her boyfriend's shoulder at the group, who had now pulled themselves out of the booth to greet her, Vivien smiled and gestured for Bentley to join them. Needing no further encouragement, Bentley was quick to attach himself to the pair, ducking under Royce's arm as it came around his shoulders and smiling as Vivien's snuck around his back. The trio refused to separate until Miles asked for his hug, making Vivien pry herself away from her boys for long enough to give Miles and Carrie a greeting as well. Then, just like magnets, the trio fell back together again. This time, however, they separated after a minute, and with Vivien's hands locked firmly in theirs, the boys began showing her around to anyone and everyone who would give them the time of day.
Vivien couldn't help but smile as she was dragged through the restaurant, her face burning like a neon firetruck. As much as she hated being the center of attention, she tried to swallow back her growing anxiety at being surrounded by strangers in favor of allowing the boys to introduce her to the people they cared about. She was sure her growing nerves and embarrassment at being shown off like a prize horse would wear off over time once the boys began to settle, and she wasn't about to complain to either of them until they were calmed down a bit. After all, they had waited long enough for this. Besides, what was the harm of a little embarrassment? If it meant the boys' gleaming smiles never left their faces, she would deal with it a thousand times over. Catching Royce watching her fondly as Bentley introduced her to some of their and their brother's friends, Vivien smiled.
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