One After Another – 10.4
Author: Wildbow

One After Another – 10.4 | Pale

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A headache nagged at her, the issues she’d left behind sticking with her in the form of a surface-of-the-brain noise and a dull throb at the back of her head.  Even when she could take her mind off of things, her stupid human body reminded her of what was hanging over her head.

She drew using a plastic watercolor brush with plastic bristles, water in the handle, dipping it into an ink bottle.  She was probably getting water in the ink but it was the only brand they’d been able to find and it was cheap, so… no biggie.

She finished, blew, then got some white-out and used it to help define the finer hairs and add definition.

Tashlit reached out, touching her arm.

“Can’t show you this one, Tash.”

Tashlit, lounging on a beach towel, reached toward her waist and gestured.

“No, this one isn’t rude.  It’s just… a picture of Sir.”

Tashlit flipped over onto her back and pressed hands to cheeks, or where her cheeks would be if her skin didn’t hang off and around her like it did.  She nudged Verona again, pointing at the notebook.

“If you insist,” Verona said.  She showed Tashlit.

Tashlit gave it a look, thirteen or more individual eyes roving over the page as she took it in.  She gave a thumbs-up, then used one hand to bunch her face-skin up around her face and clawed at the air with the other.

“Mean?  Scratchy?  Hostile?” Verona asked.

Tashlit released her face-skin and shook her head.  She pointed at the brush.

“Oh.  I guess,” Verona said.  “Intense drawing style?”

“Trying to get feelings out on the page.”

Palm facing up, hand shake.  What?

Verona sighed, reached for her bag, and grabbed her phone off the top.  “Pretty sure this is the third most recent email, miss you so much I could cry, come back with everything fixed okay?  Bring Tashlit.  Avery and I need healing.  Witch hunter and ghoul mishap.  Long story, will tell you later.  Love love love, frowny face with tear emoji, heart emoji.  Lucy.  P.S.  Heart.  So I reply, naturally, what the fuck, right?  This doesn’t sound like her, is she okay, what happened, full story, all the question marks.”

Tashlit nodded, expression unreadable.

“Second most recent email, unless I’m mistaken, is her reply, shouldn’t have sent that, was tired and feeling low.  Still tired and still low, but am ok.  Keeping my head down for a few days.  Take care of yourself and get everything set with your dad.  Keep me updated.”

Tashlit held up a finger.  One.  Then the ‘what?’ gesture.

“The first most recent email is a reminder from Ding Phones that my prepaid phone account is almost out of funds, please visit the site to top up.”

Tashlit collapsed onto the beach towel.

“I know, right?  It’s why we’re emailing and not texting.  I went through fifty bucks in the first two days, at fifty cents a text sent and twenty-five cents per text received or something.  Told my mom, might want to bite the bullet and get something unlimited because I’m going to be texting a lot.”

Tashlit did a bobble of a nod, hand moving through air, ending in something firm, like a slap against air.

“Makes sense, right?  Yeah.”

“But she wants me on her work plan, so she said let’s do prepaid for now and after she gets back to Thunder Bay -she said we, as in we get back to Thunder Bay, but no– but she wants to set up the phone once she’s there.”

While talking, Verona put her art aside carefully, so it wouldn’t get sand on it, and screwed on the cap of the little ink bottle.

Tashlit gestured, cradle, question, firm.

Verona quickly chugged most of her water.  She wiped at her mouth, then answered, “I really don’t know.  She didn’t complain or say sorry.”

Verona swished the brush inside what remained of the water in the bottle to get the ink off the bristles.  Tashlit gestured, a general outline of a person, then another question-swish.

“What’s she like?  In what way?”

Tashlit raised her chin, then did a swish near the forehead.

“I… don’t really know what my mom thinks, or how she thinks.  When I was little she was Mom and now it’s been a while.  She surrounds herself with smart people, and she lives for these, like… they’re one on one dinner parties, almost.  Or one on two, if she invites a married couple.”

Verona collapsed onto her beach towel again, adjusted her bikini top, and then wriggled a bit to get comfortable.

“I like to think I’m smart, like, I can pick up on stuff, usually, or I’ll watch a medical show and I’ll be able to figure out what they’re talking about a step before they find some excuse to give the dumbed-down explanation for the audience.  But the discussions they have are way over my head.”

Watch tap, then the point down.

“Now?  Oh, this visit?

“There was the couple I told you about-”

Tashlit was already nodding.

“My mom invited them over and couldn’t cancel on short notice so she ordered in and I sat in and bluuuuuh.  Finance.”

Verona finished wriggling and banged her head against the beach towel a few times.  Sand adjusted under her head and under her butt, from the wriggling.

“My mom tried to give me the dumbed down explanations but it felt a lot like I was in the way.  So I gave the excuse I had to get stuff sorted out.  And then we left a couple days after and we stopped in for a visit with her artist friend and I think that was meant for me.  Like, she thought I would be receptive and I’d get it and stuff, and it was cool to see the guy’s studio and stuff but like, I’m here and that guy’s alllll the way over there.”

She looked over.

Tashlit nodded.

“Yeah,” Verona said.  She stared up at the sky.  “I see it as like… she was maybe trying to find middle ground between something’s she’s into and what I’m into.  She gets her lunch with a smart friend and I get art talk and I didn’t hold up my end of the deal, sorta?  It felt a bit like she was disappointed in me.”

Paff.  A sound of a hand slapping down against sand.  Verona turned her head.

Crossed wrists for an ‘x’, pointing at Verona, then a hand held like a blade against face, dropping down, while shoulders went up.

“Not me…?  Didn’t pick up that second part.”

Tashlit repeated the same gesture as before, hand held up like a blade against where her nose would be, sliding it down her face, shaking her head this time, eyes closed.

“Oh.  Disappointed, but not disappointed in me.  Maybe.”

Tashlit nodded, then settled back down.  She wore a t-shirt and a pair of Verona’s swim shorts from her other bathing suit.  Skin bunched up in what looked like a painful way around the too-tight waistband.

“I guess.  Maybe,” Verona ruminated.  “I don’t know what she thought about the fifty bucks on the prepaid phone.”

Tashlit gestured.

“Ask?” Verona asked, before even looking to get a better look at what Tashlit was gesturing.  Tashlit gave her a thumbs up.  “Yeah.  That’s a thing people do, huh?  Communicating.  Blah.”

Paff.  Hand hit sand.  Verona glanced, but Tashlit had gone limp.

“Blah, yeah.”

Tashlit, head drooped to one side, skin pooled beneath her narrow head, just nodded, ragdoll limp.

They’d found a spot a little ways away from the cabin, on a bit of shore which wasn’t really a beach, exactly.  From the seashells and stones around them, it looked like it was underwater most of the time, workable as a rest spot on the edge of the woods only because the water level was low.  The sand was black, which Verona liked, and the bugs were sorta bad.

But there was plenty of warning if anyone came in by way of boats on water, so it worked as a hangout spot.  Verona was sticking to shade, while letting Tashlit have the sun.  That loose skin was getting tanned, but there were stripes where it folded or where wrinkles were.  Tashlit would periodically massage and adjust it, before closing most of her eyes, leaving the ones that were close to the beach towel peeking out, watching surroundings.

It should have been relaxing.  Art.  Chatter.

The headache burned at the edges of Verona’s brain, reminding her that something was stewing.

Verona tried to get comfortable, created a pillow out of sand beneath her head, adjusted her bikini, then sat up.  Half the eyes on Tashlit’s body opened, some squinting against sun.

“About that email…”

Tashlit nodded.

“…I know it might take you a bit to get back to Kennet.  I don’t have a great way of sending you there.  That’s more Avery’s jam.  They need healing.  I don’t want to sound like I want to get rid of you.  But if you were tired of hanging around with a kid three or four years younger than you…”

Tashlit shook her head.  She sat up as well, then made a gesture, cradling her arms, then slapping her forehead.

“Uhhh… dumb kid?”

“Immature.  You’re immature…?”

Tashlit nodded and then pointed at Verona, and did the same gesture in reverse, hand rocketing away from forehead, the arm-cradle thing dashed away, arms exploding away from body.

“I don’t think I’m that mature.  Case in point… uh…”

Verona grabbed her book, flipped back a few pages, and found the image she’d drawn after Tashlit had insisted she would take every art critique seriously.  It was rude: a crude and rude drawing of a guy hugging a two-foot-wide boner that came up to the top of his head.

Tashlit, with lots of chin rubbing and trying to seem scholarly, had given it a serious critique, in hand gestures, without a hint of a laugh.

Not that she laughed, exactly.  Even in this moment, Tashlit seemed committed to the bit, holding back, giving her chin a slight stroke.

More gestures.

“Sorta mature.  Ok, we meet somewhere in the middle, maybe.  But my point is…”

Tashlit pointed at Verona.

“…You could go and heal them and it’d be cool.  I don’t know why you’re pointing at me.”

Tashlit kept the finger extended.

“Not getting much clearer, sorry.”

Tashlit pushed the finger closer to Verona.

Her friend nodded once, firm.

“I’m… I dunno.”

Tashlit tapped wrist, pointed down.

“Right now?  I’m…” Verona trailed off.  She made some hand gestures like Tashlit did when referring to vague sentiments, wrist limp, drawing lazy circles in the air.

Tashlit put her hands on her hips.

Verona’s headache buzzed around her brain, a pulsing throb bruising her thoughts.

“…I could really-”

Verona stopped before her voice could crack.  She paused, went to drink water, and remembered it was inky.  Blah.

She looked back at Tashlit.  “I guess I could use the company.  But that feels selfish.”

Tashlit shook her head, then settled down on the beach towel, hands behind her head, getting comfortable.  One hand pulled away, pointing at each of them in turn, then pointing down.

You and me, here.

“Okay.”

She wanted to articulate the leftover feelings and it didn’t feel like a resolution, but Tashlit seemed firm and that let her put some of the feelings aside.  If this was what Tashlit wanted to do…

It eased things a little.  Maybe in fifteen minutes, the headache would be a little less.

Since she had the sketchbook out, she resumed drawing, experimenting with using the very watered down ink to do a wash on the page first.

Tashlit fumbled with the music player Verona had brought, and gregorian chants playing over rock music began blaring out.

“Turn it up!”

Tashlit did.

Verona drew Lucy and Avery in the same picture, switched from doing one to doing the other, starting from background before doing the details, narrowing things down every step of the way, with less and less water on the brush.

Water lapped against the shore, sun shone through the trees, and the headache burned against her brain.

Tashlit touched her arm, and Verona jostled awake.  She hadn’t realized she’d dozed off.

Tashlit pressed the phone against her shoulder.  It was vibrating.  Verona took it.

“Did I get a sunburn?”

Tashlit shook her head.  Pointing.

Tashlit had a tent with her, stowed in her pack, and she’d put it up against the side of the trees, blocking sun.

Verona had really been out.

“Thank you.”

The phone had an alarm.  Verona had given herself fifteen minutes for a ten minute walk.

“Ugh,” Verona grunted.  She turned off the alarm.  “I gotta go.”

Thumbs up.

“You need anything?  Want anything?”

Head shakes.

“What are you going to do?”

Tash’s finger pointed to water.  She plucked at her skin, turning it inside out, and showed Verona sand that was stuck to the raw underside of skin.

“Mannn, that’s gotta be super annoying.”

“With all those eyes, it makes me think of getting sand in your eye, whole body.”

“And with the underside of the skin being all raw and textured… it’s like sand in your vag at the same time.  Whole body.”

Tashlit laughed, lower eyelids rising, body rocking.  Verona laughed as well, doubly so when Tashlit gave her the finger.

“Take care of yourself, eh?  Thanks for watching over me while I napped.”

Thumbs up.

“Oh, wait, wait, before I go… meant to send this…  Can you take a picture?” Verona asked.

Tashlit took the phone.

Verona held the sketchbook up against her front, with the picture of Sir.  “Do I look gross?  Is my skin greasy?  Gross beach hair?  Smudges or sand in weird places?”

Tashlit gave her a dismissive wave.

Verona adjusted her posture, then adjusted how she held the sketchbook.

Tashlit tilted her head, then began giving her some stern finger-waving and gestures.  It was very one-or-the-other.  She plucked at her own top, then a square.

“Can’t it be both a picture of me in a swimsuit and a sketch of Sir?” Verona asked.  She held the sketchbook up higher, so it acted a bit like a push-up bra.

Tashlit stepped closer, moved the sketchbook so Verona held it up in front of her chest, instead, for the opposite effect of the ‘push-up bra’, then adjusted Verona’s posture a bit.

“Is it still nice?” Verona asked.

“Okay.  I trust you.”

Tashlit needed two tries to take the picture, with the loose skin on her fingers.

Verona took the phone back, then sent the picture to Jeremy, not looking at it too much, in case she got self-conscious.  Self-validation was a bottomless well with anxiety boiling at the bottom.  External validation was easier.

Probably not healthy but whatever.

“Gonna go.  You enjoy your swim.  If you see the forest spirit thing, tell her I say hi.”

Tashlit nodded, taking Verona’s beach towel and hanging it up.

“Later!”

The little nook of beach was cut off from other areas by trees, so she had to wade through some rocks that were slippery and uncomfortable underfoot, and some knee-deep water, carrying her phone, sketchbook, and other stuff.  A bit hazardous, but doable.  Then lighter trees, bit of shore that was more mud than sand, water lapping by, and then after about five minutes, there was some beach with people on it.  Some guys were sitting around a very unnecessary seeming campfire, beers planted in sand, while others swam.

Jeremy replied.  I don’t know how to respond except pic just made my week.  Have some pics of Sir.

The pics came rolling in.  Verona smiled.

Verona rearranged the stuff she was carrying so she could type while walking, peeking at the ground to avoid stepping on stray sticks and anything the college-age guys might have left around.

You’re a wise person, Jeremy Clifford.

The cabins were really basic corrugated siding and flat tops, box-shaped with little wooden stairs, rigged up on stilts so they wouldn’t flood if the water level rose too much.  It felt like a waste that they weren’t wood, but the focus seemed to instead be on keeping things durable.  There were three beaches, one shared by three cabins, another by two, and then at the mini-peninsula, one slightly larger cabin with a narrow beach between rocks and a long dock.

These twenty-somethings were about eight people sharing two cabins that would have probably been crowded with two people each.  Having the cabins meant they got a bit of a claim to two-thirds of the longest beach.  Locals sometimes came by and nobody got especially territorial, but Verona still felt like she was intruding as she headed up, ascending stairs onto grass.

Out in the water, a guy, grown and older than Booker, shrieked in a ragged way.

Verona turned, looking.

“Dead body dead body dead body!” he screamed, thrashing to get away.

“Dude, there’s nothing!”

“It’s under the water!  I touched it with my leg!”

“There’s nothing there!”

Verona laughed.

That’d be Tashlit.

Her mom had rented one of the two cabins at the second beach.

Verona giggled as a mental replay of that ragged scream passed through her head.

“There you are.  I was thinking about calling you,” her mother said.  She stood on the front steps, looking down the path.

“Am I late?”

“No, but you might want to get ready.  I didn’t think you’d be coming straight from the beach when I gave you the time.”

“I have a few minutes.”

“Maybe pull a shirt on, and run a comb through your hair?”

“I like the shaggy look.”

Her mom looked like she was going to say something, then said, “If that’s what you want.”

Verona dipped her feet in the tray of water by the door to get sand off before going inside.

The cabin was about one-and-a-half times the size of Verona’s bedroom back at her dad’s, but had a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, two beds separated by a partial wall and a curtain, and a bench.  The floor was all tile, the walls super simple and freshly painted.  It was very white.

Verona put her stuff on the bench and stepped into her ‘room’, pulling the curtain closed.  She pulled a v-neck tee on over her bikini top, looked at herself in the mirror, and combed her hair with fingers, instead of a comb or hairbrush.

The headache buzzed more intensely as she looked at her face.

“I love this picture,” her mom said.  She’d come in after Verona.

Verona pushed the curtain aside.  Her mom stood, hands clasped behind her back, leaning over the bench and looking down at the sketchbook.  Verona had drawn other stuff after but had turned the page back to Sir.

“Thanks.”

“Can I look through?”

Verona thought of the ruder and harder to explain pictures.  “Uhhhhhh… no.  A fair bit of it’s inside jokes.”

“I don’t mind if I don’t understand it, I’m just curious what you’re up to and how you’re progressing.”

“Just leave it,” Verona said, more curt than she’d intended.

Her mom left it, straightening.

Verona had the sense her mom was hurt, even with the small smile that was sent Verona’s way, and offered, “I can show you some select stuff later if you want.  After I’ve gotten rid of the random crap.”

“I’d love that.”

It felt like she’d offered but her mom wouldn’t ask out of fear of pressuring her and she wouldn’t ever feel like saying out of nowhere ‘Hey mom, want to see those pictures?’, and there wouldn’t be a situation that made it any less out of nowhere.

So it was empty, and that sense of faint hurt from her mom was still there, and the headache throbbed at the back of her head.

She hiked up shorts over her bikini bottoms, and walked over to her mom while doing up the button fly.  Another look from her mom made her feel like there was disapproval over the fact she was still putting on clothes while walking over, but like, why?  Practically, why was that weird?

Or was there other stuff from her dad poisoning interactions?

This small cabin with the two of them felt like Avery’s house with Avery’s whole family, except it was the opposite of noisy.  A fan in the corner whirred and the laptop chugged along, dusty fans straining to cool it off in the summer temperature.

“Were you having fun?”

“Some.”

“Same friend?  The one you met on the beach?”

“In the woods, but yeah.”

“I’d like to meet her.”

“Maybe.”

“Anytime you want to bring her over.  If she brought her parents we could eat outside.”

“Her family situation is…” Verona reached for a word that summed it up.  “Complicated.”

“I see.  Just her, maybe?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay.”

Her mom turned away, back to Verona, and got the broom.  Sweeping up sand that- Verona looked.  She’d trekked it in even after washing her feet.  She hadn’t been aware.

Her mom didn’t complain, but the action of sweeping felt like a rebuke.  Probably an unfair interpretation, that one.

“My computer’s set up.  It looks like you have a minute.”

Verona nodded.

“I was asked to give you two some privacy.  I’ll step outside, but I’ll be in shouting range if you have any technical difficulties or if you have to ask a question.”

“Okay.”

Her mother went to the little pull-out table in the kitchen and checked the computer was unlocked. She gave it a minor adjustment, then picked up her book from the top of the microwave.

“Be honest, be open, they want to help.  I like her, from my first call with her.”

“Okay.”

Her mom nodded, then stepped outside.  She grabbed a folding chair and took it and her book out toward the beach’s edge.  Verona looked through the screen door at her mom as she settled in, wearing a one-piece, sarong around her waist, sun hat and sunglasses on, chair on grass and feet on sand, reading.

She looked back at the computer.  She sat.

The headache burned and her stomach did a little gurgle-flip to remind her she hadn’t eaten lunch.  Acid reflux felt like someone was pressing a thumb hard against the base of her neck, just above her collarbone.

The clock hit 3:00.  The scheduled time.

Verona got up, got some water to see if it would help clear the acid in her throat away.  It didn’t.

She checked around for food, found some cheese to nibble on, then got her sketchbook, sitting sideways in her chair while flipping through, deciding what was mom-appropriate.  Not that she felt like she’d end up showing her.  There was still that barrier of her mom probably not being the type to ask and Verona not ever having the moment to show her.

It was still a distraction.

She got up, got the broom, and got some sand her mom hadn’t.  She checked her body and realized there was still a stripe of black sand clinging to her side, and stepped outside to brush it off.

Her mom took notice of her stepping outside and started to stand, and Verona motioned for her to stay.

She returned to the computer.  3:04.

The speech bubble popped up in the corner.  She clicked it.

The video call took up the screen, blurry and choppy in the first few seconds.

Then a guy, orange scruff on his chin, gray temples, badly receding hairline.

“Hello!  Hello, are you Verona?” he asked.  His voice was not great, through the speakers.  Verona made adjustments.

“Hello.  Can you hear me?”

“Can you hear- yes, I hear you.  Hi there.”

“Hi,” she said, settling.

“Hi, thank you for making the time,” he said.  “Is the video call okay?”

“You’re clear enough to see.  Sound’s okay.”

“I could have come all the way to see you or asked you guys to come by and see me, but I didn’t want to interrupt your vacation.  Is this okay for you?”

“It’s good.  Probably better.”

“Okay.  And do you have company?”

“My mom’s out on the beach.  I can wave her over.”

“No need.  That’s great.  So hi, I’m David, I’m from CAS.  Do you know what that means?  CAS?”

“I think I’ve got the gist of it.”

“Try me.”

“I think you’re child protective services?  You’re supposed to help with the dad thing.”

“Yes, the dad thing is an interesting way to put it.  But okay, cool.  My job as part of the children’s aid society is to make sure you’re safe and that things are okay, and if they’re not okay, then I will either help your family figure out a plan or I’ll work with a judge to.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect, great.  I’ve had short conversations with your dad, mom, and two others…”  He looked down and off to the side.  “Parents of your friends, let’s see…”

“Yeah.  Jasmine and Avery’s parents.”

“I have one down as Yasmine.  With a ‘Y”.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Jasmine pretty much everywhere that isn’t paperwork for the last eight or nine years, I think.  Easier.”

“Got it.  Making a note.  While I was doing that, talking to your friend’s parents and your parents, I was trying to figure out what happened, or what’s been happening, over time, and I’ve been trying to get a sense of you.  All along the way, I think well, I’d like to talk to you to get your version of things, but how do we approach this conversation, right?  That’s my line of thinking.”

“Makes sense.”

She appreciated that he was outlining this, because she liked knowing how systems worked and it was clear he had a system.  At the same time, this was dragging out and that made the headache throb more.  She kept her expression neutral.

His smile was fixed, his eyebrows creased in regular concern.  The dull filter of the low-resolution camera made him look like a bit of a doll instead of a person.

“Your mom, dad, and friend’s mom Jasmine all said you’re a very intelligent girl.  And a creative one?”

“Yep, I guess.”

“Here.  There’s a drawing program… it’s in browser, let me send you a link.”

The link popped up.  She clicked it.

“Go to room… M-U-X-I.”

A blank canvas.  Like a basic paint program.

“If you want it, it’s there.  Sometimes it’s easier to draw something than to use words.”

“Can I just draw?” she asked.

“Absolutely.  I’ve got you on one screen and the canvas on another.  I can participate if you want me to.”

She didn’t want him to, so she settled in, sitting askew in the chair so she could reach around with the mouse, on the relatively small table.

“Can you tell me about yourself in general, Verona?”

“In general?”

“How are you doing?  Where are you at with school, friends, anyone you’re interested in, boys or girls, extra-curricular activities.”

Extra curricular activities.  Verona smirked.  That was a thing.

“School is meh.  But isn’t it meh for everyone?”

“No, not everyone.  But for most, I think.  How is it meh?”

“Takes so much time out of the day.  Obviously I’m not in school right now.”

“Are you enjoying your summer?”

“With everything going on?  I sorta was.  Then no.”

“I can tell you right now, our conversation is going into a report, it’ll be your input and everyone else’s, and it goes straight to a judge.  I won’t be sharing with your family or friends.  All I want is a picture of where you’re at, who you are, what’s going on.”

“I don’t really care if you share it around.  Or I might but I’ll say not to,” Verona said.  Her headache buzzed.

She drew her mom, halfway off the page, on the right edge.  Silhouette first, then details filling in.  It was hard to draw with the mouse.

“Where are you at with your mom?”

“Cabin up at the lake.  It’s nice enough.”

“Can I see?”

“Turning you around?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She unclipped the camera from the top of the laptop and slowly rotated it around, showing him the cabin.

“Very nice,” he said.

“Bit small.”

“It is, but it looks like you’ve got what you need.”

“And you get to subtly confirm I’m here alone, no parent signaling me or whatever?”

“I see a bit what your parents and friend’s mom were talking about.”

“Mostly that’s Lucy influencing me.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah,” Verona said.  She thought of Lucy being hurt and needing Tashlit, and how she hadn’t immediately sent Tashlit back.  “Lucy’s cool.  But she’s sharp like that, about that sort of stuff.  I’m not a good enough friend to her.”

She felt like she was rambling a bit.  She drew Lucy.  Pink hair.

“How so?” he asked.

“Just… she needs backup, and Avery too, and I’m being selfish.”

The acid reflux pressed on her throat and upper chest.  She wondered how the guy would react if she threw up mid-interview.

Drawing helped a bit, even if it wasn’t feelings-on-the-page kind of drawing.  Like the slightly angry, bold-strokes version of Sir.

“Have they said that?  That you’re selfish?”

“No, and they probably wouldn’t.  They’re really good friends and good people and I can’t-”

She stopped drawing.

“Can’t?” he prompted.

“Can’t… it has to be priority number one, I can’t give them up, I can’t leave them.  Lucy’s been there for me more than anyone and Avery… the fact Avery’s almost at Lucy’s level when Lucy’s been there since kindergarten is huge.”

“Huge, yeah.  If only everyone was that lucky.”

“So whatever happens, that’s pretty much a number one thing,” she said.  “They’ve been there for me and if I can’t be there for them then that’s a… it’s a no-go.”

Her voice was whisper quiet by no-go.

“Is that a concern?”

“Priority one.  I can’t leave them hanging.”

“What’s going on there?  Jasmine mentioned her daughter had a tough year at school, brief mention as part of something else she was saying, but…”

“Tough year sums it up pretty well.  The toughest.  And Avery came out to her parents and everyone.”

“Good for her.”

“Mmm.”

There was so much more in the way of reasons she couldn’t articulate.  It pressed on her, even as she tried to hold it together.  She outlined Avery, then Snowdrop.  Simple drawings, dots for eyes, lines for eyebrows.  Lucy frowning a bit, Avery open and looking off to the side.

“What’s your take on what’s going on, Verona?”

“Had an argument with my dad.”

“Yep.”

“Jas and Avery’s parents probably relayed it.  My dad probably did.”

“That’s secondhand though.  I’d like to hear it from you.”

Verona contemplated drawing a fire rune or something.  What would even happen?

What was going to happen?  That was the biggest source of the acid in her throat and the growing discomfort in her midsection, and the throbbing pain on the back of her brain, the rest of her brain crawling with mild pain.

“Is my dad going to jail?”

The words left her lips before she realized she’d asked.

“Is that another priority, Verona?  That your dad be punished?”

It was subtle.  The tone a little cooler than before, less warm.

Oh.  She’d fucked it.  She’d thoroughly fucked it, hadn’t she?  Because now the idea was in David’s head.  That she’d had an argument with her dad and things had gone wrong and now she was a manipulator or she was trying to get back at him and he was a tool for her to do that.

Fucked it.  Fuck it.

Acid choked words out of her throat.

“Punishment is reserved for pretty extreme cases, and it isn’t something I do.  If there was something actionable, the judge or police would handle that, and I could supply information.”

Still faintly cold, compared to before.  Formal, laying out steps.  None of the warmth or interest in her remained.  She switched windows and he was looking off to the side, writing a lot, shuffling papers.

She’d fucked it.

It was hard to breathe.  She shifted in her seat, and looked out the window, tongue between her teeth.

“Is there something actionable, Verona?” he asked.  “Was there more that you didn’t tell Jasmine, Avery’s parents, or your mom?  Has he ever hurt you?”

The tone made it sound like he didn’t really think there was anything like that.

The way he looked off to one side here and there made her wonder if he felt like his time was being wasted, now.  Or misused.  He kept taking notes when there wasn’t anything to take notes on.

“No,” she said, voice quiet.

“I can’t hear you, sorry.”

“Nothing actionable, probably,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I’m not- it’s not- I just want to know, um-”

“I didn’t track that.  Sorry, can you repeat?  Take your time.”

She took a breath and it hurt, with the pressure on her chest.  And when it wasn’t the pressure of the breath being taken in, holding the breath made her stomach feel uncomfortable.  Every part of her felt affected, her arms weaker for it, her legs jittery.  And in the time she was absorbing all of that she wasn’t breathing and her breath got irregular.

If she was a divine practitioner like Amine or Ulysse then this kind of feeling could reach the powers they talked to.  But this was just some dude on a computer screen, not even looking at her as he took notes, head turned down and off to the side, pen faintly scribbling.

Not that there was much to see, beyond her discomfort.  She could see herself in the little sub-window.

“I want to know what’s going to happen.  Like… what’s the most extreme possibility and what’s the least?”

“Jail probably isn’t a possibility, Verona,” he said, looking at the screen again.  “Unless there’s more you haven’t told people.  Most likely, if things really were as bad as Jasmine and Avery’s parents feared, you might go live with your mom.”

She kept her breathing managed.  Still breathing hard, feeling a lack of oxygen, but controlling the rate of breaths so it wouldn’t be obvious.  “I can’t leave Kennet.”

“There’s a range of other things we could do.  Voluntary service agreements, temporary changes of custody… the least extreme thing that could happen is I could talk to people, finish interviewing your teachers, and make a note in the file in case anything else pops up in the future, for context.”

“Okay.”

“Why is it important to you that you know what might happen?”

“Because… if it makes the difference between you guys saying I have to go live with my mom and me staying in Kennet, then I might leave stuff out.”

He looked at the screen again, studying her, then turned to make notes.  It felt different than before.  “What sort of things?”

“That’s defeating the purpose, isn’t it?”

“If we think there’s reason for concern, or that you’re leaving out a great deal-”

“You can’t, though, can you?  Even if you’re super suspicious, if I’m not saying and my dad’s not saying, it’s not something you can do, right?”

“Let’s backtrack, this is getting into hypothetical territory.”

She nodded, lips pressed together, expression firmly, fiercely neutral.  The headache throbbed.

“What’s going on?  Tell me about you and your dad.”

“In the argument, or-”

“Generally.”

“It sucks.  It’s… he sucks.”

She was fucking it further.

“Sucks how?”

“He’s-”  Her thoughts failed her.  The headache crowded them out.  “He sucks at being a dad.  He sucks at… he has no friends, he has no money, somehow, despite two jobs, he… sucks and I end up dealing with it.”

“Dealing how?”

“Dunno, he vents, gets down on me.  He cries at me-”

“Cries?”

“Sits in bed and sobs and tells me everything I’m doing wrong and everything he’s doing wrong and stuff about my mom.”

“Okay.  How often is that?”

“Two to six nights a week, except when I’m away, or like, not nights but in the kitchen after he gets home from work, he’ll start telling me I didn’t mow the lawn or whatever and then it gets into how much his coworkers suck.”

“Was the argument like that?”

“The argument was… I guess.  It was a lot of stuff piled up that got shoved into the moment.  Felt different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… he wanted to have the fight.  He was all ready for it and I’ve been screaming at him because he doesn’t ever listen and he was so ready to scream back he didn’t wait for me to scream first.”

“How unusual is that?”

“It’s… stuff’s happened before.  Handful of times a year.  This year was too much.  The stuff I’ve been doing with Lucy and Avery…”

“Exacerbated by life circumstances?” he asked.  He started to take a note.

“Not- no,” she said.  She watched him continue to take the note, ignoring the ‘no’.  She could imagine that penned down ‘life circumstances’ taking all the heat out of what she was saying.

She could be so good with words and when it came to her dad and her mom that totally went away.  Nothing.

“He broke my stuff,” she told him.  “Swung my bag into the counter because he couldn’t win the argument.  A mask my friend made me was broken.  I have it.”

“Has this happened before?”

“This was important.  It was a really important mask to me,” she told him.

“Okay,” he said.  He didn’t pen that down and it felt like he really should.  He looked at the screen.  “Has it happened before?”

“Yeah,” she said.  “Three times before.”

“Three times.  Broken your things?”

“Yep.  Once after I forgot his birthday, because I spent the break with Mom.  Lucy- Jasmine’s kid, she knows about that one.  She was there to see my stuff.  My art shelf.  Um.  Once, right after the divorce.  He wasn’t really himself, he threw out a bunch of my mom’s stuff and some of it was stuff I wanted to keep and some of my stuff was in there.  Clothes.”

He took notes.

“There’s no proof of that.  I’m not lying though.”

“It’s fine.  You said there were three incidents?”

“The third was- we went shopping and I got on his case, called him a bad dad and stuff.  I pushed his buttons on purpose, because I could.  And he freaked and stopped the car in the middle lane of a three lane road and made me get out.  Cars were honking their horns and passing on the left and right.  And I had icecream I’d bought for myself I was too full to eat and it melted while I walked home.  I guess that doesn’t count when I think about it.”

“When was this?”

“Christmas.”

“And what did he do?  During or after he made you get out of the car?”

“He just stayed there, crying, in the middle lane, and I went home feeling like crap.  He got home before I did, so he didn’t stay there that long.”

“What happens after these incidents?”

Verona thought of screaming at her dad for the first time, spitting in his face.

“It goes back to normal.  Or… normal.”

She tried to give the word the inflection it deserved and felt like she’d failed.

David wrote down a note.

“It simmers.  It doesn’t really go back to normal.  Comes out later when he cries at me.  He still brings up the missed birthday.”

“Anything else?”

“He walks into my room without knocking and he never thanks me for chores.”

It felt so hollow saying it like this.  Ineffectual, like it didn’t convey how much it sucked to do chores day after day…

“I meant, ah, incidents.  Big bullet points.  I’ll make a note of that too, though.”

“No, uh.”

How could she even put it into words?  It was pressure and pressure over years.  It was telling her dad about her problems and it never mattering because he always one-upped her, and that added up little by little.

“Not really,” she said.  “There was a time Avery was in a bad spot, I asked for help, and he didn’t…”

So ineffectual.

“Okay,” David said.  “Is the house okay?”

“The house?”

“Home?  How are things there?  I may come by for a visit, depending on how things go, check in, but I want your take.”

“It’s a house.  Nothing too bad or good about it.  I do the cleaning and I cook most nights, so… if it’s dirty or if something’s wrong, that’s on me, right?”

“Your dad doesn’t cook?”

“Sometimes.  He’ll do a big pot of chili or spaghetti or curry and I do half the work and we put it in tupperware and that lasts us a month or two.  Mostly when I make dinners I reheat that or I do frozen stuff out of a box.  But I’m fed.”

“Okay.  You get enough sleep?”

“Mostly.  Unless my dad keeps me up an hour or two late, doing that stuff I talked about before.”

Verona rejiggered the questions in her head.  Picturing what he was doing on the other side.  A checklist of basic needs.

“Clothes are okay, I get an allowance.”

“How are things with your mom?”

“They’re okay.  I’m not sure what to say.”  She really wasn’t.  Could she or should she throw her mom under the bus?  Did throwing her mom under the bus help her stay in Kennet or did it make her out to be a complainer who was exaggerating?

“What have you been up to?”

“Beach.  We met her artist friend.  Watched a movie.  Mostly we do our own things.  We’re not close.”

“Are you and your dad close?”

“No.  I think he wants us to be.”

“How does he want you to be close?”

“Hanging out, watching movies.  He’d rather I didn’t see my friends and instead went with him.  I think he’s lonely.”

David made another note.

It felt like every time he was making notes, he was taking down the statements or arguments she felt were weakest and most unimportant.  Or stuff that made her dad seem more okay than he was.

Dad’s lonely, wants to bond with shitty daughter.

The headache throbbed.  It felt like a dark cloud that enveloped all of her brain except for her mind’s eye, a narrow window of thoughts that were only capable of conceptualizing a very little at a time, when she took ideas and put them directly in the front and center of her forehead.

Where was the line drawn, in strategizing this?  Where was she meant to stop, in drawing the line at getting them to…

…She wasn’t even sure what she wanted.  She wanted to land this entire thing in the zone where she left her dad’s and went to Jas’s.  That was the perfect outcome.  It’s bad, gotta take this girl out of there, it’s crushing her and making her feel small and broken.  So we pick her up and take her… no, that’s too far.  Where’s a place we can put her that’s out of the house but not that super far away… Jas’s house!

It was impossible and the moment the thought crossed her mind that it was impossible she couldn’t breathe.

And even if it wasn’t impossible she couldn’t burden Jas like that, especially if Jas had a job she wanted and no time or money.

A tear slipped out of her eye and she turned her face toward the window so he couldn’t see it.

“And what are the arguments like?”

She cleared her throat.  Words didn’t come.  She surreptitiously rubbed at her eye, then looked at him.  “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Kind of, Verona, but run it by me.”

“It’s… I’m like my mother, my mother’s awful, I don’t do enough chores.  That argument he said, um, I don’t try, I don’t care about people, but I do.”

She was doing such a bad job of communicating it.  Words didn’t carry the weight of it all.

He took another note.

“It’s constant.  It never stops.”

“Okay.”

“I told him I almost died and he just didn’t even listen, he- he just went on about how work was killing him.  He doesn’t really listen, it doesn’t really matter to him.”

“Almost died?  Tell me about that.”

“At this thing I went to at the start of summer.  I don’t want to get into it, it… it scared me, a lot of it scared me, but I can’t tell him that stuff.  What I’m saying is he doesn’t listen, really, he doesn’t change.  I can scream at him and it doesn’t really change things from if I’m listening and patting his back while he cries.  He just… he gets more frustrated, but it’s the same general thing.”

“Okay.  Listen, Verona, I’ve only got so much time, so I’m going to go over my notes here, and talk to you some more about what’s going on, so you’re equipped.”

She swallowed around the lump of acid in her throat.  Another tear welled up and she got rid of it under the guise of scratching at the corner of her eye.

“Can you call your mom in?”

She took a deep breath, composing herself, then stood, going to the door.

Her mom stood up right away, leaving book open on the chair.

“She’s coming,” Verona told David.

“Okay.  Thank you.”

She smoothed out her shirt, shuffled over, and dragged a chair around.  Her mother washed her feet in the pan and then dried them on the towel that hung on the railing, before coming inside, removing hat and sunglasses.

“I didn’t expect to be participating,” Verona’s mother said.  The space in front of the laptop was tight enough that their arms touched.

“Verona and I are done for now, I want to outline what’s going on and what’s ahead of us,” he said.  He sorted out papers with an audible rustling.

“I stay in Kennet.  Priority one,” Verona said, quiet, interrupting him just as he started to deliver what he was going to say.

“Okay,” he said.  “That’s certainly in the cards.  Based on what you’re saying, I don’t think your dad’s going to jail.”

“That wasn’t ever a priority thing, don’t make a big deal of it,” Verona said, shrinking down a bit.

“Okay,’ he said, glancing at her, then looking down at his notes.  “After preliminary interviews to determine the situation, CAS decided we would pursue the investigation.  That’s, ah, in a case with absolutely nothing wrong we’d drop things there.  We decided there’s stuff to work on, here, so we pursued that.  We did this without needing to interview you, Verona, so we spared you that hassle.”

She nodded, breath tight, throat choked.

“Right now we’re in a middle stage, deciding what the immediate needs are.  It doesn’t sound like you need to be removed from the home, and it doesn’t sound like you want to be removed from the home.”

“I want to leave that house.  I don’t want to go back,” Verona said.  “But can’t I go to Jasmine’s, instead?  Can’t- isn’t there a way to-” Breath hitched.  She was aware her mom was sitting next to her.  “Can’t we- you guys give money to foster parents, right?  So couldn’t I go there, and couldn’t, um, you could give her money and I wouldn’t be a burden, and she’s a really good mom to Lucy and she’s lovely.”

“That’s not really how this works,” Verona’s mom said.

“We try to keep children with their parents wherever we can,” David said.

“But it would be perfect, I’d stay in Kennet and stay with my friends for when they need me and Jasmine loves me and I really don’t think she’d mind.  I’d do everything she needs me to do.”

Verona’s mom hugged her, one hand on her head, pulling her over, stroking hair.

“The cases where-”

“Please please please please.”

“Shhhh,” her mom said.

“Can you move, can you go to Kennet, then, please?  If it’s money, I can find a way to help out.  I think you’d be surprised.  I can tell you- I can tell you stuff.”

“No, honey.”

“Then it has to be Jasmine, I don’t see any other way.  Please.”

“Mrs. Hayward, can we take five minutes?  See to Verona, then come back for a one on one meeting?”

Verona drew in a shuddering breath.  “Please.”

Her mom got up, helping Verona to her feet.

There was nowhere in the cabin that wasn’t close to the laptop, so they went out to the stairs.  Nobody was really close enough to see.

Verona’s mom hugged her.  Verona sobbed, face in her mom’s shoulder.

Verona didn’t know what to say when what she’d already said and how she’d reacted had probably hurt her mom, and her mom didn’t say anything.

They took five minutes like that.

Her mom spoke in her ear.  “What do you want to do?  You could go lie down in bed, take the laptop, and I could call him.  Or you could go sit by the rocks or beach.  Or we could call your friend- was it Tasha?”

“Tash,” Verona said.  Every breath between words hurt.  “Not right now.  Can’t call her.  I’ll sit.”

“Okay.”

“Let me-” Verona pointed at the inside.  Her mom opened the door.

She got her sketch stuff and bag.  Her mom went to the table, sitting, watching her as she got sorted.  Verona put her inky water bottle aside.  “Don’t throw that away.  I’m using it for washing brushes.  I don’t want to add plastic to the environment.”

“Got it,” her mom said.

Verona got her regular water thermos and filled it, then took everything outside.

“Love you, Verona,” her mother said, through the screen door.

Verona shot back a teary-eyed smile, then shut the door.

Sketchbook.  Rune.  Sound rune, connections… she used a Pisces sign to pair it to a matched, mirrored sign.  Then more symbols on the paper.  Strokes measured, firm, everything in its place.

She pressed one sheet against the wall by the window.

Then she ran down to the beach chair, where she sat, finishing the mirrored page.  She set her bag down and put her mom’s book on top of it, saving the page.

There, she curled up in the chair, ear to the rune.

“…doesn’t want to stay with you?”

“We’re not close.  It’s my fault.  And Brett’s, I suspect.”

“Would you want to push for custody?  Sometimes the child will refuse, especially in cases of parental alienation…”

“I want what Verona wants.  She wants to stay in Kennet for her friends.  Lucy’s- they’re paired.  Ever since kindergarten.  It’s too important.”

“Okay.  Let’s see.”

“Is it possible?  To give Verona what she wants?  I don’t imagine the money from the system going to her would be possible, like she suggested, but if we could divert child support, maybe?”

“I’m surprised you’re so open to that.”

“I told you, I want what Verona wants.  I hate- I hate seeing her like this.  I’ve never seen her so distraught.”

“There is such a thing as a temporary care agreement.  That would give CAS the ability to direct care of the child, of Verona, until roughly the new year.  Then we would have to reassess.  But that requires both parents to sign, Verona’s older than thirteen, so she would need to agree as well.  We would then place her in foster care, probably in Thunder Bay, as I don’t think there are any available families in Kennet.  That would be until we could survey the suitability of Mrs…”

“Ellingson.  Jasmine.”

“Jasmine’s home.”

“That would require Brett to sign.”

“Yes.  Lawyers would be involved in any case.  In the case of something as significant as the care of a young teenager, I would expect you and Brett to have legal counsel to see you through the process, and if Brett refused to sign it could go to court.  In some cases it’s a very cut and dried process, we can say there’s clear and imminent danger, rescue the child from the home without that signing.  It’s not cut and dried here.”

“And Verona’s in foster care in the meantime?  If this was to move forward?”

“That’s likely.”

“How likely is it that the court would turn over custody?”

“I think, in a case like this, where problems are hard to define, it’s not for me to say, but…” he trailed off.

“Okay.  Slim hopes.  What happens next?”

“In a scenario like this, generally speaking…”

“What is the scenario here?”

“I told Verona I would keep her confidentiality.  She said it wasn’t important, but I do feel it is.  In taking into account that Jasmine, yourself, and Brett have all indicated problems here, what we’re looking at is a VSA.  That’s a voluntary service agreement.  That would mean that Brett, and you to a degree, would all agree to abide by certain rules, standards, and services.  For Brett, an online parenting class-“

“How will that do anything?” Verona whispered, curled up in the chair, ear on the book.

“-anger management classes, and a schedule of in-home visits.”

“It isn’t anger,” Verona whispered.

“Anger isn’t the issue, is it?” her mother said.

Verona wasn’t sure it was love, exactly, but the appreciation she felt in her mom echoing her sentiment and getting it was pretty profound.  She curled up tighter.

“…might not be the apparent emotion but the skills one learns in these classes are applicable across the board, when it comes to managing outbursts and the emotion one directs at children.”

“Won’t work,” Verona whispered.

“Okay,” her mother said.

“We’d be looking at… the schedule’s tight.  This looks like, hm, three at-home visits over three months.  During those visits, I or someone else with access to the file would be checking in to make sure that all course participation is maintained, that the house is safe.  I would check in with Verona.”

“Only three visits?  She’s so upset right now.”

“Resources are stretched thin.”

“You’re sending her back to that house?”

“I would hope that after two weeks of Verona being away, things will have cooled off, Brett’s had time to reflect…”

“I can’t- if she’s this upset when I drop her off, I don’t think I can let her out of the car.  No, options, let’s talk options.  Please.”

“There’s no clear indication of direct and clear danger that would make us remove her from the house, and past that point, it comes down to your custody arrangement.  You’d have to go to court to change the custody terms, and we would keep tabs on that but it would ultimately be up to the court, not CAS.”

“She wants to go to Jasmine’s.  It’s where she feels safe and happy.”

“As we’ve already said-“

“Informal.  Something.”

“Informally… parents can leave children with trusted adults and family members.  If both you and your ex-husband agreed…”

“Okay.  Okay.  I- I’ll talk to Brett.”

“It shouldn’t be for too long.  Two weeks would be best.  At the very least, when the school year starts…”

“Understood.  I’ll talk to Brett.”

“In terms of your end of the VSA, I’d like to mandate some more contact between you and Verona.  Video calls at the very least, or visits.  I know it’s a trip.  But the situation can only be improved if she feels like going to you is a possibility.  That starts with a connection.”

“Okay.  I won’t lie, I’m- I’m glad.  That’s a positive, not a negative, for me.”

“I’ll be in touch about specifics.  I’ll be in touch with Brett for a follow-up interview, piecing things together… you let me know if you arrange for a informal custody situation, with Jasmine looking after Verona.  Brett must agree.”

“I’ll work it out with him.”

The sound cut out.

Verona lifted up her face.

Moisture from her eyes had ruined the rune on the paper.  No more listening in.

Before it could be ruined further, she drew the rune paired to what she’d put on the corner of the page by the window, in the center of her palm.  She checked nobody was close enough to look.

With a movement of her hand, she pulled the page away.  She moved her hand and arm, and put the paper in the water.

It was littering, but it would decompose.

She sat, watching the water.  She thought of texting Lucy or Avery and she didn’t have it in her.

She sat, caught up on the backlog of cat pictures from Jeremy, checked there wasn’t more from the others…

Things are worse than they’re saying.  They’re quiet because they don’t know what to say, Verona thought.

Then she watched the water some more.

The other family had kids come out to swim, and in the time Verona sat, waiting, no longer listening in, the kids swam, played, and then went back inside.  The sky changed tints.

Her mom’s approach was nearly silent, but there wasn’t much else to listen for.  She turned her head, and her mom hugged her from behind.  Then kissed the top of Verona’s head.

“You like this haircut, huh?” her mom asked.  “I thought you would have grown it out.”

“I like it.”

“I finished talking with David Williams.  Then I called Jasmine, and I called your dad, and I called Jasmine again.”

Verona looked up.

“She’ll take you until the end of summer.  Your dad agreed to it.”

Verona hiccuped her relief, tears finding their way to her eyes again.

“Your dad is going to go to anger management group and do an online course.  A bit of a refresher in how to be a parent.  CAS will come with you as you go from Jasmine’s to your dad’s, check everything’s alright.”

“I don’t think it’ll make him change.”

“Then we’ll reassess.  You and I are going to have video calls and some visits.  Hopefully by the end, you’ll feel comfortable keeping me up to date, so we’re more on the ball with handling anything like this.”

“So you do think it’ll happen again.”

“I don’t know, Verona.  I don’t know.  Your dad wasn’t like this when we were married.”

Her mom straightened.  Fingers combed through Verona’s hair as her mom stood behind her.

“What was he like?”

“We were mismatched, that’s all.”

It didn’t feel like that was all, but her mom didn’t like talking about her dad, so Verona didn’t ask.  She was kind of done with all of this for now.

She was going to Jasmine’s.  What came after could be saved for after.

The headache was gradually easing.

“It’s about an hour before dinner.  Want to go somewhere as a treat?  Or any special requests?  I could do a quick shopping run.”

“Anything easy.  I’m pretty tired.”

Her mom stroked her hair.  “Come on.”

They went back to the cabin.  Verona got her stuff, hiding the rune on her sketchbook from her mom, got her water, and drank greedily.

She claimed the laptop for herself, and went to bed, lying down for what might be her second nap of the day.  The laptop rested on her stomach, and she used the mouse to browse, too tired to even reach up to the keyboard.

She found the browser page still open, connected to the drawing app, and she finished the drawing.  Her dad.  Angry, leaning over the counter.  She gave it extra attention, then filled out the rest.  Details.  Little things.  Leaves for Avery’s top.  Jas behind Lucy.  She gave a little more care and attention to her mom, who was barely in the frame.

A chat message popped up in the corner.  She went still, cursor stopping.

Can I save this? – David.

She adjusted the position of the laptop.  Typed.

Sorry, had it open still.  Best drawing I’ve seen anyone do on this program.  It’s hard to draw with a mouse.  – David.

It is.  And no problem, same, I figured you were gone.  I don’t mind.  Hang it on your fridge or whatever.

Can I ask? – David

Why is he screaming at the cat?  – David.

Beneath her dad, who leaned against the counter, feet a bit away, chest and arms braced against the edge, head tucked in to look down in the space between his arms, face tinted redder, was a small black cat, defensively curled up into the corner, looking up with purple eyes.

The cat symbolizes me.

Why are you a cat? – David.

Why wouldn’t I be a cat? she replied.

“So he gave my mom a preliminary plan of three visits from CAS over three months, right?” Verona told Tashlit.

“And that’s now going to be twelve over six.”

Double nod.

“And originally, anger management classes and parenting classes.  Now it’s anger management classes and parenting and therapy.”

Thumbs up.

“I don’t know if it’ll work, but…” Verona crossed her fingers.

Tashlit tried to cross her fingers back, and had to grab the fingers with her other hand to manipulate them into a crossed position.

“Your finger okay?  Is it-?”

Tashlit showed her.

Empty nail bed.

The skin was loose around the finger now.

“That recent?”

Nod.  Tashlit tapped her chest.  She had a bag there, tied to a string.  She tugged on the string.

“Keeping them?”

Nod.  Tap to the mouth-region.

“That have your old teeth too?”

“I hope that goes okay.  Let me know if you need anything.  Could be we could do some limited binding or whatever, like Brie is doing to keep the Choir inside her.”

“You going to be okay?”

Exaggerated nod, shrug, dismissive wave.

“Okay,” Verona said.

Tashlit’s finger pointed skyward, and then her hand made a ‘c’ shape.

Tashlit moved her hand through the air, drawing a picture.

“Crescent.  Traveling at night.  Good, makes sense.  I just worry with the others having run into witch hunters.”

Tashlit flexed an arm, fingers pushing loose skin on the narrow limb up into a bicep shape.

“Good.  I know.  I just… yeah.  If you end up in a fight you gotta fight extra hard, because I need you to be okay.”

Nod.  Tashlit reached out to rub Verona’s arm with a mushy-skinned hand.

“I could have lost my mind if I didn’t have your company.  Thank you for coming.”

Tashlit hugged her.

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

They sorted things out.  Verona brought some stuff for Tashlit.  Tashlit took some stuff in resealable bags, carefully putting it in her bag before tying everything up.

“You’re lovely, Tashlit,” Verona said.

Tashlit pointed back at Verona, then held up two fingers.

Then she walked into the water, fully clothed, bag with tent, clothing, and stuff in sealed plastic slung over her back.  She disappeared beneath.  Faster to swim in daylight hours than to hike.

Verona sorted out her things, packed, and then hiked into the woods.  Normally she took the shore, but she was wearing pants and she had places to be.

Nature spirit, sitting in a clearing.  An androgynous figure with green-tinted skin and what looked like leaves tattooed on flesh, except the leaves had raised edges that rose up off of skin.

Verona bowed.  “Thank you for your kindness.  It was nice to meet you.  I have offerings of art and a lock of hair.  The art is effort, investment and care, and the hair is- I thought of food but you provide food, and that felt crass. it-”

The spirit approached, took both, and then kissed Verona on the forehead.

Verona moved on.

There were some goblins at the edge of the campground.  She dug into her bag and got some stolen beer.  They were wary of her, but she put the beer down.

“There.  Don’t be too terrible to humans, okay?  Some of them don’t deserve it.”

A rat spirit had made a shrine in the trash.  She put some peanut butter on a cracker, then put it on the ground just far enough away from the trash to not be trash.  It stared at her from the darkness beneath the archway made where cans heaping with detritus leaned into one another.

She jogged the rest of the way to the car.

“Say goodbye?”

“For now.”

“For now is good.  I’m glad you’re staying in touch.”

Verona nodded.

They got in the car.

Heading back to Kennet.

“Not again, not- come on.”

The car engine died.  Verona’s mother steered off the road and into a parking spot.  They were between a convenience store with a peeling sign and a bait shop.  There was a little burger stand with both a patio and an indoor area.  Rain drizzled down from a bright dark blue sky.

Something to keep in mind for the future, Verona thought.  Traveling gets harder.

Verona and her mom climbed out of the car.  Her mom popped the hood.

“Can I go to the store?”

“Can you buy me some water?”

“What about tap water from the bathroom, as a refill?” Verona asked.

Her mom made a face.

“It’s the same water, pretty much.  And it’s better for the environment.”

“Let’s skip the water, then.  Go, don’t dally.  I’m hoping this doesn’t take too long.”

Verona crossed the road.  She went into the store, bought some salty and sour snacks, and then asked to use the bathroom, getting the key from behind the counter, going inside, and filling up her thermos.

She stepped outside, looking around.  The car had stopped for a reason.

“Hello there,” a man said, in a voice lacking affect.

She turned.  The man had oddly spaced features on his face, his clothes not entirely fitting him.  It made him hold himself awkwardly.

“New here?” he asked.

“Are you the welcome committee?”

He glanced left, then right.  “Yep.  I guess I am.”

“If it’s okay, I’m just passing through.  No hostility, will keep practice to a minimum.”

He frowned.

“Not good enough?” she asked.  “I have minor tokens of favor.”

“I don’t know what that is.  But practice is important.”

“Oh.  Okay… uh, do you need anything?  Or the Lord of this area?”

“Lord?”

“Or whoever’s in charge, whatever power structure there is…”

He shook his head, slightly odd features clearly bewildered.

“Just you?  Do you need anything, or…?”

“I’ve got everything I need.  On Thursdays, Kyra gives me leftover slices of pie from the Barn Pit.”

He indicated the burger stop.

Verona flushed.  “Oh dang.  That’s a nice deal.  Kyra sounds super.”

“She’s the best,” he said.  “And the pie is great.”

“Maybe I’ll get some.  She’s nice?”

“Very nice.  She’s super.”

“Super,” she said, nodding, still flushed.  “I’m thinking pie and I give her a nice tip.  What do you think?  A nice tip for a nice person?”

“That sounds good,” he said, smiling.

“Great, cool.  I’m Verona, by the way.”

“That’s a pretty name.  I’m Tyson,” he said, with clear pride.

“That’s a good name too.  Is there anything to do around here?”

“Nope!  There’s pie and if you go to the next town over, there’s a fair and flea market sometimes, they have cool things.”

“Cool.  Hopefully they’re open when my mom and I pass through.”

“You drive safe.”

“I don’t drive but I think she will.”

“Don’t drink and drive.”

“Good plan, that.”

“Gonna go,” he said.

“Thanks for the tips about the pie and stuff,” she said.

He ran off.

Not an Other.  Just a regular dude with a disablity or two.  She flushed.

A low chuckle sounded behind her.

“I was hoping nobody saw that,” she said.

A man, spindle-thin, twenty feet tall, wearing old fashioned clothes, was peering around the back of the convenience store, hugging the corner.  He smiled, chuckling.

“Verona Hayward, just passing through-”

“I heard.  I’ll let our minor Lord know.  Go freely and with goodwill, no obligations.”

She went to buy the two dollar pie, left a five dollar tip and a mention of Tyson’s recommendation, and then headed to her mom, who gave her that look, disapproving or even disappointed but not saying anything.

“Try to start it up?”

“I haven’t figured out what’s wrong.”

“Try?” Verona asked.

Her mother climbed in, tried the ignition, and the engine rumbled back to life, no issues.

“Granna’s car giving you some grief, huh?”

Her mother leaned into the steering wheel.  “Get us to the motel tonight, at the very least.  Ideally, let me take my daughter to Jasmine’s.  Then you can break down all you want.  I’ll endure.”

“I bet we’ll run into a problem when we get to the next area,” Verona said, brightly.

“Don’t say that!”

They drove out to the next area.

They weren’t stopped as they got to the sleepy town with a population of 200.  There was a single motel, and it was actually in decent shape.  Verona still drew some runes to ward off bugs and put them inside her pillowcase when her mom wasn’t looking.

She dallied, looking around to make sure no Others were looking for her, because she didn’t want to seem like an intruder and she was practicing a bit.  She sent texts to Lucy and Avery, and the responses, while friendly, felt like they were leaving stuff out, still.

She returned to the room.  Two beds.  One TV.  She claimed the laptop and let her mom pick what to watch.

“Channels,” Verona said, scrunching up her nose.  “Who uses channels anymore?”

“Old people,” her mom said.

Verona cackled.

“You’re enjoying that bad joke a little too much,” her mom said.

“Yeah, well…”

“I’m glad you’re more yourself than you were.”

Verona shrugged, sitting on her bed, legs kicking.

Her mom sighed, sitting up and moving a pillow so she had something to lie against.  She tucked a foot underneath herself.  “I hope, um, if we do more regular video calls, and them ordering the calls makes it harder to…”

“Shirk?”

“No, um.  I think we’re similar, Verona.  We go off, we do our own things in our own way.  And I love you, I really do-”

“But?”

“No but,” her mother said.  And there was that look.  Disappointment, but not disappointment at Verona.  “I hate that we go off and do our own things and we don’t cross paths.  And it is entirely my fault as the mom that I let it happen.  A part of me hoped my situation would change or we’d grow into new interests that did have those overlaps… I did with my mom.  It took until I was seventeen or eighteen before I could talk to her, adult to adult.  But I screwed up.”

“You could’ve stayed in Kennet, couldn’t you?”

“I couldn’t, I can’t.  None of the things I enjoy, none of the people that make me thrive, I know you’re thinking of Jasmine, and she’s a lovely woman, but- I was dying in Kennet.  I was getting mean, I was frustrated with everyone, your dad included.  The divorce drove home how small people are.  I’m- I have to live in a city.  I would love, at some point, for you to experience that with me.”

Verona shrugged.

“Call.  Anytime, any reason.  I would move heaven or earth for you.”

“But you wouldn’t move,” Verona said.  She saw her mother’s expression, then added, “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be a complete and total you anymore?”

“That’s one way of putting it.  You’re so clever with words.”

“Thanks, I guess.”  Verona settled on the bed, lying on her side, looking at her mother.  Abandoning the laptop.

“Do you want to pick something?” her mother offered.

“Blehhh.”

“Bleh, huh?”

Her mother turned off the television set.

“Want to turn in earl-” her mom said, at the same time Verona said, “Want to look at my art?”

“I would love to,” her mom replied.

Verona picked up the sketchbook.  “I tore out all the pages with wangs and stuff on them.”

“Wangs?” her mother asked.  She gave Verona a disappointed look, this time aimed at Verona.

Verona cackled.  She crossed the room and lay on the bed next to her mom.

Something moved at the window.  She kept an eye there, watching, wary.

But she showed her mom.  Cat pictures, figures, attempts at hands, feet, and faces, sketches of Lucy and Avery.

They chatted, talking about little things, friends, friends her mom remembered from school.

Another movement at the window.

“Who’s the boy?”

“Jeremy.  I sent him a picture where I was wearing a bikini and he sent me cat pictures back.”

“Verona!”

Verona cackled.  “Kidding.  The bikini was secondary.  I was showing him a picture I drew of Sir… this one.  And he sent me pictures back.  See?”

She showed her mom on the phone.

“Is he nice?”

“Cat pictures.  Evidence.  Right here.  Yeah, obviously.”

“Is he nice aside from sending you cat pictures.”

“His parents raised him right.  He’s all respectful and stuff.  Clever, creative too.”

“Boyfriend material?”

“Blegh.  No.  Not what I’m after.”

“A boyfriend?  Are you-?”

“Nope.  No, I wish.  It’d be nice.  No, it’s not the boyfriend part of that.  It’s the material part of that.  I’m immaterial.  Maybe I’ll get there, maybe I won’t, but not right now.  Lucy and Avery keep saying stuff like ‘uh oh’, poor Jeremy.”

“That doesn’t sound friendly.”

“It’s sorta accurate.  Because we’re hanging out and he likes me and I don’t like anyone like that, so…”

“Okay.  I see.  However you figure that out, don’t do what I did.  If you’re going to make a mistake with an ill-fitting relationship, don’t stick it out for thirteen years.”

Verona rested her head on her mom’s shoulder.  She paged through more of the art.

“We keep doing this,” Verona said.

“This?  I don’t think so.”

“This, like… we meet, and it’s so awkward, and it’s like we don’t mesh at all and our lives don’t intersect and then right toward the end of the visit we have really good conversations and connections and stuff.”

“Maybe with the regular video calls and face to face meetings, we won’t forget how to talk to one another.”

“Hope so,” Verona said.  She sighed.

There was another movement at the window.

And the fact she could see it and her mother couldn’t…

She sat up.  “Gonna go to the vending machine.  Want anything?”

“I thought you were being careful about plastic.”

“There’s stuff that isn’t plastic.  I’ll be back.”

“Okay.  Money’s in my purse.”

She got the money, then went outside.

Verona looked around, checking, and didn’t see any signs of Other or practice.

She crossed the mostly empty parking lot to reach the vending machine.

A figure stepped out of darkness, and it wasn’t the local Others come to check in with her or welcome her to the area.

Avery and Lucy dropped into existence in the midst of a loose shower of bricks.

Verona clapped, smiling.

“Verona,” Lucy said.

“Was that a path?  Did I miss out again?”

“City magic,” Avery said.  She looked weary, squinting a little too much against the sun.  Still, she had the vigor to move and to reach Verona, hugging her.

They met at the ridge, on the hill just far enough away that Kennet was in the distance.  A road, two lane, with lots of gravel on either side, enough for trucks to park on.  Some fencing and stuff cordoned off the area.

Verona had stopped her mom’s car and used a bit of practice to distract her long enough for this face to face.

“Hey.  Hi,” Verona said, hugging Avery back.  Lucy, a little slower on her feet, joined in on the group hug.  “City magic is cool.”

“It’s very cool,” Avery said.  She leaned back, Verona’s arm moved, and Lucy winced audibly.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy said.

“What happened?  What did I miss?” Verona asked.  “Ghoul fight?”

“Ghoul,” Lucy said.  She pulled up her shirt and showed Verona the scars, two at one side of her ribs, one at her stomach.  “Chloe was provoked into losing it.”

“There’s a lot to cover,” Avery said.  “They’re actively sabotaging each other.”

“It’s not even about just holding the perimeter and keeping the city safe anymore,” Lucy said.  “It’s doing both those things while also watching your back.  John just got waylaid twice, Nibble’s hurt, Chloe’s going to be out of it for a while.  Even Guilherme got burned.”

“Damn,” Verona said.

“Some goblins died,” Avery said.  “Nobody we’re close to.  Snowdrop’s there for the huddle, she’s going to say some words.”

“Crap,” Verona said.  There were words that conveyed the feeling better but they felt too ill-fitting.  A ‘shit’ felt the opposite of pithy, even if it was goblin appropriate.

“Upside, good news type stuff,” Lucy said.  “Just so you don’t get too down, you know?  Wanted to cover the good, too.”

“Did your mom get the job?”

“My mom got the job but-”

“She got the job!  She got the job!” Verona bounced.  She hugged Lucy, careful with the injured parts.

“It’s great.  It’s one of the only great things that happened this week.  But that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Yay!”

“Your mood’s better,” Avery said.

“I’m going to Jasmine’s.  At least for a little while.  I hope that’s okay-”

“It’s fine, it’s good,” Lucy said.  “But we got clues, Verona.  About who did it.  We’re close.  The reason things are so tense is they’re being forced into a corner.”

“Because we took the furs?”

“I don’t know.  But we’re figuring stuff out and that’s definitely playing its part.”

“Good,” Verona told them.  “I think I have you beat.”

“Do you?  Getting the furs out of there wasn’t enough?”

“You tell me.  Look what I found, or well, look who found me while I was out there!”

At that cue, Miss stepped out from behind the power pole.  Wind picked up and dust from the roadside hid her face.

“Miss!” Avery said.  “Hey.  Are you okay?”

“I’m well, Avery.  You settled on your familiar, did you?  And Lucy has her implement.”

“Yep,” Avery said.  She looked at Lucy, who nodded.

“And you brought a friend?”

“We what?” Lucy asked.  “Did we-?”

She looked back.

Out of the dust further down the road, Crooked Rook stepped forth, one hand gripping the head of the cane.

“Friend?” Lucy asked.

“A good one,” Miss said, walking past the girls.  She walked up to Rook, and the two of them hugged.  “Hello, it’s been some time.”

“I go by Crooked Rook with them,” the old woman said.

“That works just fine,” Miss said.

The two of them turned toward the girls.  Rook held the mask she normally kept near her lower face out in front of Miss’s face, her arm covering her own mouth as it stretched across, eyes peering over like a crocodile’s peering over water.

“Have you been looking after my practitioners?” Miss asked.

“In my own way,” Rook said.

“What is this?” Lucy asked.  “Why do this?  How are you okay with us if you hate-”

“Practitioners in general?” Rook asked.  “I was under the impression you three weren’t the biggest advocates of practitioner society in general, either, especially after your stay at the Blue Heron.”

“I asked Rook to make sure you three were more or less alright until I could find my way back.  She has, I hope.”

“She said she didn’t want to associate with us.”

“Maintaining that position let Matthew, Edith, and the rest draw their own conclusions about my intents and goals,” Rook said.  “And it helps keep this secret right here.”

“Rook,” Miss said, sounding more than a little upset.  She turned her head Rook’s way, and Rook adjusted the position of the mask perfectly, in accordance with that.

“You should have known what you’d get when you asked it of me,” Rook told her.

“And out here?” Avery asked.  “Why are we outside of Kennet?”

“That is a good question,” Miss said.  She turned to look toward Kennet, standing on the other side of Rook, who blocked their view of her face until Rook could move the mask back into position.  “A plicate spirit, or a spiritual horror, has taken up claim over the boundary.  He influences everything inside Kennet, only for brief times, but-”

“Miss is sensitive to having patterns imposed on her,” Verona finished the explanation.  She looked at her friends and gave them a sad half-smile.  “As long as Montague could seize control of the diagram at any time, on Matthew and Edith’s request… Miss can’t come into Kennet.”

“It’s one of several moves they’ve made,” Miss said.  “We have to work out the remainder before summer’s end.”

“If you can’t, then you will lose,” Rook said.  “And we lose with you.”

Avery huffed out a sigh.  “My head hurts too much for this.”

“When we’re done here, I’ll find Tashlit,” Miss said.  “I’ll bring her to you.”

“Please,” Avery said.  “This is supposed to take up to thirty days to go away, and I can’t function like this.”

“Sorry I didn’t send her back earlier,” Verona said.  “Selfish of me.”

“No, not at all,” Avery said.  “That’s like being mad at me for not sending Snowdrop to deliver cuddles.”

“I mean, now that you mention it…” Verona said, elbowing Avery.

Avery had less playfulness in her, not really being receptive to the elbow.

“And you?” Verona asked Lucy.  “Best friend, buddy old pal.  What’re you thinking?”

Lucy looked at Verona, and reached out to give Verona’s shoulder a squeeze.

Then she turned her full attention to Miss and Rook.

“I’m thinking back to a few nights ago.  At the factory.  Edith pretty much sent Chloe right at us.  She was aggressive with the furs, she’s been testing the rules.  What if we dealt with her, like, right away?”

“Let’s,” Rook answered.

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