Summer Break – 13.8
Author: Wildbow

Summer Break – 13.8 | Pale

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“Three days left.  Three big enemies facing us down.  Three points on the triangle of attack we want to shore up, one point secure,” Verona said.  She crossed off the space on the calendar she kept on the desk.  “Is that still a focus?”

“I dunno,” Lucy said.  She stretched across the bed, being careful not to kick Avery in the face, and opossum-form Snowdrop pounced onto her belly as her shirt lifted up.  Avery laughed.

They had some idea about the conspirator’s plan.  Three areas of vulnerability surrounding John, the plan, whatever.

Point one?  Charles.  Secure in Ray’s custody, hopefully.  A win for them.  The investigation had paid off, Charles had crumbled and confessed, they’d sent him away.

Point two?  Ken.  Part of the plan was to ‘paint the town red’ and Cig hadn’t known enough to elaborate beyond that.  Ken had been created as a weak spot.  Ken would be propped up and knocked down and that gave them some edge and Ken couldn’t even bring himself to suck it up or try.  He’d given up.

Point three?  The furs.  secure in their custody, right?  Right?  Except they had a lot of conflicting information there.  Edith had wanted to protect them and get them back, Maricica didn’t seem to care, Charles claimed not to know anything.

Each of those things sorta interrelated.  In an ideal world, they wanted to cover all three points of the triangle.  Secure Charles, secure Ken, secure the furs.  They had one success, one failure, and one maybe.

They knew who the culprits were.  They didn’t know the plan.  Not fully.

“Thinking about this afternoon?” Lucy asked.

Verona, leaning over the desk, hair still damp from her recent shower, gave Lucy her most annoyed look.  “I wasn’t.  I was trying to distract myself.”

“Oh.  You were lost in thought.  Sorry.”

Verona sighed.

Because it had been hot and the air conditioning didn’t work perfectly, especially with the house being old, Verona had taken the cot.  She’d sweat a bit, and even though the sheets were clean, it had felt mean to kick Avery down to third tier status, sleeping on the cot.

The only reason Verona tended to take the bed with Lucy, like at the Blue Heron, was because they’d had well over a hundred sleepovers together since a time wetting their pants in school was still a possibility.

Now it felt like they were disconnected, a bit.

Avery sat up with her back to the corner, sheets pulled over her crossed legs, Snowdrop on her back, getting scritches.  She’d come over after visiting the shrines and they’d decided to have her stay over.  Maybe a bit because of that disconnection.  She’d kicked off her shorts and fallen asleep in bed, she’d grab Lucy’s clothes for a change of outfit and then go on her way.

Had to get sorted, get past today with the real-life stuff.  Jeremy.  Her dad.  But also Jeremy, she wanted to dwell on the Jeremy part of the day.  She wanted to look forward to that and push out the parts of her that didn’t look forward to the rest.  It was a war she wasn’t winning.  Change of tack.  Lucy and Avery.  The distance between them.  Had to get on the same page with those two.  Had to get one another ready for… for a fight?  For tricks?  For something else?

She tried to conceptualize the bad guys, to put a nebulous ‘hostile enemy’ image out there into her brainspace, along with the other free-floating ideas.  Furs, the various added Others, Cig, Miss, Crooked Rook…

The image that jumped into her mind, seizing all those connections and taking center stage, was her dad in the kitchen.

Frig.  No, another tack…

“Can I talk out loud?” Verona asked, interrupting the other two, who were talking about which Others they wanted to check in with.

“For sure,” Lucy said.

Verona fell silent, instead, her thoughts turning over a scenario in her head.  The other two waited patiently, exchanging a glance that sorta annoyed her.  Just give me a second.

“Imagine it’s a cop movie.  Pretty close to the end of the movie, but we’re like… okay, fifteen minutes left to go, plus credits.  We’ve got the bomb device, that’s the furs in this analogy.”

“Bomb device?” Lucy asked.  “More like… keys to the kingdom.  The codes to take over the systems and put their guy in as supreme court justice.”

“Sure,” Verona said.  “The main culprit and instigator of this entire thing was this guy, too pathetic to really suspect, but we got him, we narrowed it all down, he surrendered, cool.”

“Cool,” Avery said.

“So he’s in the custody of an old friend of his, which is a very movie type thing.  But the big thing left to resolve is that a scheming co-conspirator allegedly wrested the plan away from him, and they’ve got some plan to take down this kinda lame, do-nothing… let’s call him Politician Ken.”

“Who they put into power in the first place,” Lucy said.

Verona was momentarily distracted as the visual similarities between Ken and her dad made her dad the actor in Ken’s place, in her mind’s eye.

She pushed that out of her head.  “The important scheming person we’re likely to run into at the tail end of things is… what is she?”

“That’s a tricky question,” Avery said.

Lucy sat back, extending an arm out to rest on the top of the desk by the foot of the bed.  “Someone with ties to the organized, kidnapping of kids.  Weird, dark drugs and trinkets.  The Dark Fall Court deals with transformations and curses.”

“Trying to move away from these labels and ideas we’ve stuck onto them.  Which is why I’m doing the movie analogy.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.  “Maybe organized crime?  Someone from somewhere else, internationally?”

Verona nodded.

“Hard to pin down, because she’s a… foreign spy type.”

“If we want to try to pin her down, what are Maricica’s motivations?” Verona asked.

“We don’t know,” Lucy said.  “Big plans, schemes, setting up things that set up other things?  When Daniel Alitzer was in the cave with the Fae, that thing with the courts came up.  Maricica wanted Guilherme’s memento from his dead lover, she thought it’d change things in the changeover of the courts, further on, I think?”

Verona nodded.

Avery said, “Charles seems to want to hurt practitioners like Alex and Bristow.  Edith wanted to break a system that… I guess it kept her from having a baby.”

“She started out wanting to help Charles, because he’d helped make her,” Lucy said.

“Then stayed in for the ability to manipulate Matthew?” Avery asked.

Verona was letting them talk, while she did her own thinking, but at that question, they stalled a bit.

“Lis and Cig?” she asked.

“Cig is the guy in the movie who’s always in the shadows, smoking, who knows a ton, tied into conspiracies,” Lucy said.

“Sure.”

“Lis is… a disguise artist henchman?” Avery suggested.

“Not really a disguise artist,” Lucy countered.  “She can’t become someone.  She becomes part of a group.  An infiltrator.  It’s like that show my mom really liked, where a guy could B.S. his way into any role.”

“I got so frustrated with that,” Verona said.  “Because it’d be like, so he has all the knowledge of all these professions?  Nooo.  But he can be a fireman.  How?  How does he do it?  He just does.  It’s a bad premise!”

“It was,” Lucy said.  To Avery, she said, “We had those arguments around the dinner table, families together.”

Her dad and mom had been at the dinner table with Jas and Paul, back then.

Frustration made her want to groan out loud, but she bit it back, because she was way too tired of being the one who was treated as fragile or helpless because of that one time she’d asked for help.

“Jabber?” Avery asked.

“Possible power source.  That unintelligible guy in the back alley who supplies people like Maricica or Charles with power they might need to do their thing?” Verona suggested.

“Smooths over issues with the citizens, too,” Avery said.

“Are you thinking Jabber powers Charles?” Lucy asked Verona.

Verona shrugged.  “Powers magic items Charles digs up or something, would patch the biggest hole in his abilities.  Might be thinking that way because of the recent gainsaying.”

“Mmm.”

“Does having Jabber let them brute force their way in, like having the furs might?”

“I don’t think he’s that strong?” Lucy asked.

“Power comes in flavors, right?” Avery asked.  “Realm-derived.  So abyssal power is better for powering violent and dark magic, fae magic for illusion…”

“Even inside the Fae court, stuff gets divided.  Don’t really want to use Maricica’s glamour to turn into a sunbeam,” Lucy said.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  “Jabber is… alchemical power?  Emotional?”

“Echoes?” Avery asked.

Verona shrugged.

“Edith?  She’s part echo.”

“Edith’s secure,” Lucy said.

“Maybe this is the wrong angle,” Verona said.  “We’re trying to scrute the inscrutable.  A Faerie plot.  Maybe there’s a way forward or a way to connect dots, but maybe that’s wasted energy and if we figure out A, she’ll have B as a backup plot.  What if we go like… Jabber’s a power source, okay, right?”

“Right,” Lucy said.

“So… maybe we just get more power?  Call in a favor to Ms. Durocher from the Blue Heron?”

“I think that would be like setting off a nuclear bomb onto a tire fire,” Lucy said.

“She might side with Musser too,” Avery said.

“Or- Brie?  Brie has power.”

“Brie does have power,” Avery said.

Verona paced a little, anxious.  “Can we tap that?  Tap the power of the Hungry Choir, call it karma, Charles’ plan undone from the thing he inadvertently made?  Match Jabber’s juice with the power gathered from a decade of horrible death game ritual stuff?”

“It feels like a lot of compromises,” Lucy said.  “What if we let it out and it’s free again, too smart to let itself be bound that way?  Are we willing to undo the first big good thing we did and let the Hungry Choir carry on like it was before we awoke?”

“Risk undoing,” Avery said.

“Yeah,” Lucy replied.  “Sure, yeah.  Do we want to use something that… bloody?”

“If it’s doable,” Avery added.

“It’s karmic, sure, but we’d be using power gathered up from a lot of awfulness and pain.  A lot.  From Gabe, from Reagan, from Collins…” Lucy said.

“Wouldn’t they want us to?” Verona asked.  “If we could put them all in front of us and put them to a vote, asking if they’d rather be used to fight something bad that could hurt others, or not have what happened be of any point at all…”

“That’s- I don’t know,” Lucy said.

“Maybe other options?” Avery asked.

“Securing Jabber instead?” Verona asked.

“That might not go over so hot,” Lucy said.

“Probably wouldn’t,” Avery said.  “Same as the Ken deal.  But we’d need to ask permission and we’d need to talk to the local Others, and they were pretty against us binding anyone even before the Blue Heron thing.  Now?  With Rook sorta on our side, the goblins, the new people?”

“But if it keeps us safe?” Verona asked.  “It keeps John safe, it keeps Kennet safe.  I think.”

“Still a hard sell,” Lucy replied back.

Verona groaned in frustration.

“I’m not saying no, but I’m saying… gosh, that’s a hard thing to do, you know?” Lucy asked.

Verona groaned again.

“Please don’t do that.  Don’t- thunk your head on the kitchen table every time I talk, or groan every time I talk.  We’re trying to work our way through this, and that means talking about the good and bad parts of every plan.”

“I just want a good plan!” Verona proclaimed.

“Maybe don’t shout so my mom gets curious?” Lucy asked.

Verona groaned, stopping short as she saw how annoyed Lucy got with that.

“I’m not groaning at you I’m just groaning at everything.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.

“Maybe a change of subject?” Avery asked.

“Blunt’s still a factor,” Avery said.  “But we’re chalking him up to distraction?  Muscle?”

“Probably,” Lucy said.  “In the movie metaphor, I like the movie metaphor as an idea, by the way-”

“Sure,” Verona said, before making herself add, “thanks.”

“-The goon?  The local mafia boss?  Got muscle, got a few hapless idiots under his thumb?”

Verona nodded.

“Gash included, maybe,” Avery said.

“John said he didn’t think Gash would,” Lucy replied.

“But isn’t like… the reason we usually say I think or might or could is because nothing’s one hundred percent.  There aren’t many things I’m one hundred percent sure of… so why would we be one hundred percent confident in John?”

“We’re not, we don’t have to be,” Lucy replied.  “But there’s a line we need to draw, where yeah, we can keep in mind that it’s hard to know anything for sure, we’ll try not to pin everything on facts that might turn out to be wrong.  But-”

“But-”

“But- let me finish, Ave.  We gotta draw the line somewhere and maybe at the ninety-five percent confidence mark, we just suck it up and say that’s good enough.  Again, we don’t treat it as one hundred percent, but we have to say some stuff’s good enough or we’ll just get super stuck.  I trust John.”

“We’re sorta stuck anyway,” Avery said.

Verona mused aloud, “I feel like if we temporarily banished Ken, bound Jabber, screw permission, just acted like the asshole practitioners at the top, like…”

“We’d lose everyone’s trust?” Avery asked.

“But like… I think that’d be enough,” Verona replied.  She sat on the cot, facing the other two.  “Wouldn’t it?  Be the asshole for one day, take those two key pieces off the board, focus our energies on suppressing Bluntmunch and any surprise ploys from Maricica. If we do that, what can Maricica do on her own?  What allies does she have left?”

“Counter the Fae with brute force?” Lucy asked.

“You’re not on board with this, are you?” Avery asked, a little quieter than before.

Lucy shook her head.

“Okay.  Because Verona saying it has me worried enough,” Avery said.  She moved Snowdrop off her lap so she could stretch out her legs.  As she stuck one leg out from under sheets, there were a multitude of band-aids suck on the back of calf and knee from a recent fight.

“I’m not on board with it either,” Verona confessed.  “It’s more like… if we’re talking about looking for that ninety-five percent certainty, I’m like… pretty close to ninety five percent sure that if we did that, if we rebooted Ken so he wasn’t available at the critical moment, secured Jabber with binding or something, I think we’d make it past this.”

“You think we’d win?”

“I think we’re going to lose, the way things are,” Verona said, quiet, frustration making her voice tight.  “I think we’re in a tight spot, specifically because them?  We don’t have Maricica panicking, we don’t have Edith or Charles losing it in custody.  Nobody’s freaking out or giving up the… goat?  I don’t know the term.  Um, nobody’s cracking because we solved the case, spilling the full story.”

“Charles kinda did,” Avery said.

“Charles kinda did but he also misdirected us, we think.  We’ve caught him in a few fibs,” Lucy said.  “Verona’s not wrong about that.  They aren’t panicking.  I don’t get that vibe.”

“I can’t help but notice how I’m not right, I’m ‘not wrong’,” Verona retorted.  “I’m trying, I’m firing off ideas here, but I keep getting shot down-”

“It’s great, the ideas are great, at least, I like that, I admire that,” Lucy said.  “I said the movie thing was great.  But-”

“But?” Verona countered.

Lucy paused.

“But?” she pressed.

“Can we maybe note the sorta-concerning trend running through this line of thought, where like, we’re talking about tapping into the giant murder ritual for power, or binding Jabber, or binding Ken without permission?  Is the idea we’d do that stuff and apologize for it later?”

“Maybe,” Verona said.

“To do what?” Lucy asked.  “Because Miss has her plan that Avery relayed, right?”

“Putting us forward as role models for what practitioners could be.  Tapping into power by dealing with Others, not long family lines,” Avery said.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.

“What happens if we’re not great role models?  What happens if we’re going to these lengths to stop the conspiracy?  Because we have some idea of what they’re trying to do…”

“Losers and assholes,” Verona said.

“Forsworn and practitioners?” Lucy asked.  “They want to scrap everything, stop the Bristows and Alexanders, even if it catches some of the rest of us in the middle of all that.  And I don’t know about you, but… I agree with the sentiment, even if I hate how they went about it.  It’s a screwed up system.”

“The problem is the damage they’re doing along the way, the fact they’re hurting Kennet, the practitioners who might be okay who are getting caught up in it, the fact they’re hurting good Others like John,” Avery added.

Lucy nodded.  “They’re rushing it hard.  I don’t know if Miss’s plan that’s going to take a hundred or more years to do is a better way, but ‘burn it down and build something on the ashes’ tends to be a really stupid plan, especially if the people doing the burning can’t manage their own shit, let alone something on this scale.”

“And?”

“And yeah, I sorta agree, like, I don’t want Bristows and Alexanders in power.  But this isn’t the way to do it.  And the problem with your route, as you’re suggesting it, is like yeah, okay, let’s pretend it works.  Let’s pretend we bind Jabber and we say ‘oops, sorry, please forgive us, we panicked, we’ll rebuild your trust’?  We banish Ken, bring him back, make the time to make it up to him, reinforce Kennet, make Kennet stronger as a whole.  Let’s say we use the Choir as a backup measure of power, and we assume the people who lost their lives to the ritual would be glad to have not died for nothing, but we’re still practitioners who drew power from what’s basically large-scale manslaughter.  We’re people who bound a wacky Other and banished a city spirit who adamantly didn’t want to be bound.  Let’s say we win that way.”

“Okay,” Verona said, folding her arms to match Lucy’s.  “Let’s say.”

“What have we won for?  We fought people who wanted to stop the Bristows, Alexanders, and Mussers, sure, fine, but we also disappointed Miss and really made ourselves not such great role models for her new plan of cooperating with Others and suggesting a new path.  You’re using the Musser, Bristow, and Alexander methods to save the Mussers, Bristows, and Alexanders.”

“To save Kennet, to save our sanity, to hold things together here, to protect Others in the long run,” Verona retorted.

“Do you realize though that that’s a justification that’s been used for a really long time, in a really condescending way, to trample over human rights all over the world?”

“In the broad strokes?  Maybe.  But no situation is one hundred percent.  Ken’s not fighting for Kennet, I don’t think Jabber is coherent enough to even notice he’s been bound.  Matthew puts him in a box at night!  Every situation is different, and in this situation, maybe, again, not a plan I’m totally committed to, mayyyyybe there’s a scenario where we save us, Kennet, and this whole freaking region of Canada a whole lot of grief by pushing things.”

“I hear you, I do-”

“Do you?” Verona retorted.

“Easy,” Avery said.  She cast sheets aside, and hopped out of bed, stepping between them.  “Can we take a minute?”

Verona made herself stop.  She turned away, pacing across Lucy’s room, stepping over her stray clothes.  She kicked some articles of clothing in the general direction of her bag.

Avery pulled on her shorts, then ran fingers through her hair, fixing bedhead.

“I’m worried,” Lucy said, “That yeah, maybe we could win today-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Avery told her.

“But what about tomorrow?”

“Snow, nip her.”

Lucy fought to handle the opossum that came bounding toward her legs.  Snowdrop became human and collapsed onto Lucy’s legs, hugging one and nipping it with teeth.

“A minute,” Avery said, to Lucy, pointing a warning finger.  Lucy frowned and nodded.

Avery sighed.

“I’m not good at this part of stuff,” Avery said.

“I thought we were taking a minute,” Lucy said.

“Snow?  Bite-”

“Mercy!” Lucy said, throwing up her hands.  “Okay.”

“Give me my shot to talk?” Avery asked.  “Please?”

Lucy sighed, dropping her hands.

“Because when we get into these moments, Lucy, you’re super good at like, being pissed and also making sense at the same time.  It’s great, you’re clever and especially with curses or sounding fancy for a ritual you’re making up on the fly, you’re really good,” Avery said.

“Thank you.”

“And Ronnie, hey, sometimes it’s like you fire on sixteen cylinders and I imagine the inside of your head as filled with all these colors and creative images, and I’m working with only four cylinders and one doesn’t kick in unless it’s needed for sports and running around, and one’s powering a tiny opossum in my head that’s just screaming its anxiety constantly, and one of those cylinders is preoccupied with, like… twenty-four-seven, really wanting a hug from a cute girl.”

Simultaneously, human-form Snowdrop and Verona stuck out their arms toward Avery.  Lucy followed a second later.

Avery huffed out a half-laugh in response, her hands waving them away.  “Nah.  By different standards of cute.  But thanks for the offer.  Nah.  Point is, when you guys start flinging these arguments at each other, I feel left in the lurch.  Same way with the nettlewisp rituals, same way with some other stuff.”

“You know you’re crazy good at a lot of stuff we aren’t, right?” Lucy asked.

“I-I know, I think, maybe.  Sure,” Avery replied.  She looked at Lucy, then at Verona, who had moved to the window and half-sat on the windowsill.  “Working on that.  Recognizing it, giving myself little checkmarks, I think it’s helping.  The screamy opossum in my head is screaming less, these days.  Saving its energy for other worries I can put off.”

“That’s good,” Verona said.

Avery shrugged.  “Doesn’t change the fact I get left in the lurch sometimes.  So, gimme a chance to chime in?”

“Sure,” Verona said.  Lucy nodded.

“I think you guys don’t disagree as much as you think you do.  Lucy, Ronnie’s just exploring ideas.  She’s- thinking big, I think, that’s how she functions.  We run into something huge and hard to wrap our head around it and she thinks of something huge that could solve it, and then maybe we can work our way to a better answer.”

“Okay, but-”

“But- wait wait wait, you were going to let me talk,” Avery said.

Lucy huffed.

“Am I wrong, Verona?  I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“I don’t really think of it that way.  I’m just trying to find solutions, which we don’t have a lot of.”

“Okay.  But you’re not committed to this?”

“I said something like how I wasn’t totally on board with it.  I’m spitballing and I don’t know about you guys, but at least this spit has a chance of getting us through tomorrow.”

“Okay, hold on, okay, thank you for answering,” Avery stuttered her way through the sentence.  “Lucy?”

“I hate to bring up bad stuff, but… Bristow,” Lucy said.

Verona shook her head, arms folded.

“We were in a pinch, he was pressuring us, he didn’t seem to want wild practitioners like us at the Blue Heron, and he was squeezing us.  Squeezing Kenet.  And you came up with an idea.  Honestly, it was more half-assed than what you’re talking about here.  But then we found ourselves in a pinch like… less than an hour later.  I forget the exact timing.  But all of us agreed to put that plan into motion.  Bristow leaned into it instead of getting scared off, and it ended with him condemned to Brownie… Brownie hell?”

“He chose that, kinda,” Avery said.

“Sure, but we’re definitely dealing with a bunch of weird personalities here.  Musser is one.  So’s Maricica.  So’s Toadswallow,” Lucy said.  “If I don’t argue against the stuff now, if we don’t call out the dangerous flaws in the plan when we’re talking about the plan… what’s it to stop it from happening again?”

“It feels a lot like you’re expending a lot of energy on shutting down my plans and calling me out constantly,” Verona said.

“Because you’re this- this-” Lucy struggled to follow through.

“Better not be calling me an idiot or something.”

“You’re a bundle of great and dangerous ideas in a small package,” Lucy said.

“Petite,” Verona replied, arms folded.

“Petite package,” Lucy clarified, dead serious.

“I’ll allow it,” Verona replied.

“All of this, this practice stuff?  It gives you the ability to fire off an idea and do so much with it.  So quickly, so dramatically.  You’re good at it.  But it’s like… when we went into the Hungry Choir thing, we just automatically found our roles, right?  Barely talked about it, did what we were comfortable with.  Avery on the flanks, running forward, me in front, you hanging back with tricks and stuff ready.  Sometimes you just solve stuff, sometimes you’re the girl with the, let’s call it a rocket launcher all the way in the back.  But in situations where it’s not a fight, exactly, it’s not a rocket launcher.  It’s an idea with rocket launcher consequences.  And I feel like my job is to let you go full tilt, but also shout ‘don’t aim that rocket launcher of an idea there.'”

“Why does it feel like that mostly ends up being people shouting me not to do stuff and it’s been so long since I got to do stuff that, like, here I am, and you guys have grown as practitioners, you’re kinda finding your roles, and I’m like… not?”

“You’ve probably grown way more than you think,” Avery said.

Verona scrunched up her face for a second and shook her head.  “Then why do most humans treat me like I can’t handle anything on my own?”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Lucy said.  “We’re saying you’re too good at handling stuff, sometimes.”

“I can study this stuff, I study it more than either of you.  I might be reading up on practice stuff more than both of you combined, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Lucy said.  “Probably.”

“I get this stuff, I’m good at this stuff, and don’t jump in- I see you ready to reply, don’t jump in and say I’m too good at this stuff, because I’m behind!  I’m falling behind, I fell further behind when I got gainsaid, I fell further behind when I didn’t do the demesne ritual!  But oh, no, wait, I’m too strong at this stuff, I’m too over the top at that stuff, I’m a kid who cooked most meals at home since I was twelve, that’s me being too adult, I did all the laundry, I didn’t get sent to camp or anything, I had to do it myself, unless you were going and I got dragged along like a kid!  So no, wait, I had to go and find my own hobbies and stuff myself, while everyone else was getting pushed together!”

“Verona,” Avery said.  “Sorry, this might be me having a hard time of tracking the conversation, but… you’re too far behind, except-?  I don’t think I track.”

“Just… I’m too far behind or I’m too far ahead and I’m that way because of stuff I can’t control!  But the moment I try to take control I- I have people who are used to me being behind or being weak or asking for help and they want to jump in and give advice and help me out… or they remember the times I got too far ahead and oh no, gotta hold Verona back.  Can’t let Verona outline a big plan with practice stuff without jumping in with counter-arguments before she has the ability to get there.  Can’t let Verona have fun time with a boy without double checking, is she going to hurt him, oh no, poor boy.  Like, you want to talk about condescending approaches to practice?  Because these are condescending approaches to Verona, from both ends!”

“There’s more to it than that,” Lucy said.

“Sure,” Verona said.  “Sure, yeah, no, I bet.”

“I mean there’s more to it that’s… me dealing with crap.  I’m going to try to go easier on you.  I talked to John some, and Dr. Mona, and there’s stuff I haven’t let go of, that had me more…”

“Argumentative?” Avery asked.

“…Kneejerk protective of Jeremy than I should’ve been.”

“Okay,” Verona said, feeling for a moment like she was floundering, like she wanted to keep being annoyed and mad and now she couldn’t.  “That’s great.  Thank you.  But it doesn’t change the fact you were getting on my case when I already had some mega huge stuff to stress over.”

“Sorry,” Lucy said.  “I am.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.

“No, no, it’s- fuck, I hate being a complainy-pants.”

“Sometimes being a complainy-pants is totally necessary,” Avery said.  “If I wasn’t one, then my parents might never have known how lonely I was.  Well, maybe eventually.”

“Me crying in front of Aunt Heather and losing it with Paul opened the door to like, me getting to talk to Dr. Mona and Booker about stuff.”

Verona nodded.  “Frig.  I barely slept last night, I’m all over the place.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy said.  “Sorry we were hard on you.  Just like… all of this is hard, y’know?”

Verona looked away but nodded.

The back of her head throbbed, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, clouding the back of her thoughts.  She took in a deep breath and sighed it out, trying to release that tension and exhale the mounting headache.

“I want to ask, I don’t know if I should, but is the stress and lack of sleep because of-” Avery started.  Verona shut her eyes and held her breath, and Avery stopped.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  She opened her eyes.  “Dad stuff.”

“Okay,” Avery said.  “Because, I don’t mean to overstep, I don’t want to be like… condescending.  But… want to talk it out?”

“Nope, not at all,” Verona replied.

“Or… okay.  Sure.  I just know when I have anxiety, I tend to overthink and replay scenarios in my head-”

“Definitely not what I’m doing,” Verona replied, terse.

“Okay,” Avery said.  “You going to be okay?”

“Probably not,” she replied, words delivered fast, no nonsense, no emotion.

“Anything we can do?”

“Not right now.”

“Okay,” Avery said.  She looked at Lucy, as if for help.

“I’m planning to bottle crap up, I’ll deal with the meeting somehow, I hope, and I’ll deal, I hope.”

“Jeremy time in the meantime?” Lucy asked, careful.

Verona dipped and raised her head in a silent nod.  Then she looked at the clock.  “I should go now.  Hit the shrines before noon, then hopefully distract myself until this afternoon.”

“Maybe take Tashlit to the shrines for some backup?” Lucy asked.

“Already the plan.”

“Okay, cool, right, that giving you advice thing when you would’ve gotten there yourself.”

“Already got there before you brought it up.  It’s dangerous to be out alone, and I don’t have a familiar.  Hoping to make some time to set up the area before Jeremy shows up, in case the beasts ambush us.  So you know where I am.  Then I’ll be back here to change and whatever before the meet with my dad.  See?  I can be responsible.”

“Sure,” Lucy said.  “Good luck, you know?  With everything?”

“I’m going to freaking need it, apparently!” Verona exclaimed, as she scooped up her bags and papers, and left her friend’s bedroom.  She shut the door a little more firmly than she meant to.  Halfway between a close and a slam.

She paused, opened it, then looked at the two.  “Love you, Lucy.”

“Love you too.”

“Love you, Avery.”

“Same.”

“You’re cool, Snowdrop.”

Sneeze sound.

She closed the door, firm, not a slam.

Ugh.  Ugh, ugh ugh.

She was so tired and so wired and if she was mowing a lawn right now it would already be on fire from her frustration at it all.

She took the last few stairs two at a time, hopped down to the ground.

“Verona,” Jasmine said.  “Doing okay?”

“Not even barely.  I’m going out to hang with another friend.  Giving those two a break from me.”

“Can we talk for one minute, discuss the day?”

Verona groaned.

“Please?” Jasmine asked, from the living room.

Verona meandered into the doorway, and leaned against the frame.

How many nights had she stood in the doorway, where her dad could talk to her from his bad, complain at her, cry at her.  Standing far enough away as was possibly allowed?

Jasmine smiled sympathetically at her.  “Want to talk any?”

Verona shook her head.

“Expectations, hopes-?”

Verona shook her head.  “Don’t got any.  Expect the worst, be pleasantly surprised by any good.”

“Have you given consideration to other options?  If you pushed to go back to your mom, I think she’d be willing to fight for custody.”

She doesn’t want you.  The voice in her head wasn’t her own.  And it was probably a lie.  One she felt as truth in her heart at the same time.  Drilled into there.

She thought of her dive into the Carmine Furs, of that world where she’d made that decision.  The safe decision.  The decision that took her further from a world of magic.  Maybe it was the world she’d have ended up in if she hadn’t found practice.  If Miss hadn’t found her.

“Nah.  Not an option, really,” she said.  “Can I go?  I really need… something that’s not this.”

“The meeting is scheduled for two.  It’s going to happen in a neutral place, the CAS worker will be there.  So will your dad.”

“I know.”

“If I let you go out this morning, you need to come back on time.  You can’t skip the meeting, whatever your feelings.”

“I won’t skip it unless injured, dead, kidnapped, restrained, or cursed by some magic wolf or something along those lines.”

Jasmine gave her a wary look.

That stuff wasn’t working as hot anymore.

“Keep in touch by phone?”

“Sure.  Can I text Lucy?  I’m usually letting her know anyway.”

Jasmine nodded.

“Okay.  Bye.  Love you.”

“You too, honey.”

Verona fled the house, closing the door more firmly than she’d meant to.

He came trudging through the bush, pushing branches out of the way of his face.  Shirtless, one end of the top he’d been wearing stuffed into a pocket and draping down to his knee.

“Scrawny boi!” Verona cheered, lolling her head back, looking at him upside-down, as she lay on a beach towel.

“Pretty girl,” he replied.

“Ooh, good line.”

“Thank you.  Good to know, I worry sometimes about the delivery,” he said.  He found his way to the patch of rock that was either flat or sloped down to burbling water, in a very inconsistent way.  He dropped his bag, then thunked down to a sitting position beside her.

Awkward and skinny and unmistakeably boy.

She writhed, moving gradually, inch by inch, tugging the towel she lay on as she moved, to turn herself and the beach towel ninety degrees, in an agonizing and inefficient process that took about ten times as long as standing out, casting down the beach towel, and laying down on it would have.  Jeremy gave her a funny look as he set down his beach towel.

“How are you?” she asked, still fidgeting and reorienting herself.

“I’m wondering what the heck you’re doing.”

“That’s a usual thing though.”

“It’s not unusual,” he replied.  He sat down.

“Is Melissa making you help her shop and stuff?”

“Some.”

“Taking advantage of you?” Verona asked.

“Some.  It’s okay though.  It got me some time with Sir, and that got me cat pictures, which I’ve brought for you.”

“I might be okay with this arrangement,” Verona said.

She finally got herself so her beach blanket was ninety degrees to him.  Poised with one hand and two feet tip-toed on the rock beyond the bounds of her towel, she used her other hand to move it adjacent to Jeremy’s.  She finally settled down, laying her head down sideways on his leg as a pillow, looking down toward his feet and the water, then sighed.

“Good?” he asked.

She took his hand and placed it over her eyes.  He used his other hand to fix her hair, pulling her too-long bangs out of the way.  The hand she’d put over her eyes shut out the light of the nearly-noon sun.

“Getting there,” she said, after that delayed process.

“Wallace mentioned-”

“Hey,” she interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Am I taking advantage of you?  Like, not in the jokey, silly Melissa way, but generally?”

“That’s a heavy question.”

“Am I?” she asked.  “Just, you know, checking.”

“I thought you checked already.”

“Double checking.  Just, um, for my sanity.  Which is dipping a bit lower than usual lately.”

“Okay.  I’m good.  I don’t feel taken advantage of.”

“You gonna be okay a week from now?  Or a month from now?”

“No idea.  I think so.”

“Okay.  Had to check.”

“It’s all good.  This is nice.”

“Mmm.”

“Wallace, uh, mentioned.  He didn’t know specifics, but apparently Lucy said you were stressed.”

“Well, that’s kinda annoying,” Verona murmured.  “Yeah.”

“Dad stuff?”

“Dad stuff.”

“Okay.  I’m not sure what to say or do.”

“Just uh, I’m cranky.  And I’m tired.  I didn’t sleep and I’m kinda freaked, and there’s stuff about the end of summer that has me on edge, and… don’t let me be a bitch to you, okay?  I’m gonna try and channel tired dozy cuddly cat Verona, but I could see a world where I slip.”

“Okay.  I’m regular old Jeremy who likes the idea of… what was that?  Dozing cuddly cat Verona”

“Dozy,” she said, rolling her face and the side of her head against his leg.

“Dozy.”

“You’re such a good guy, bringing me cat pictures.  Gosh.”

“Want to see?”

“Nah, save ’em.  What would’ve you been doing this afternoon if I hadn’t asked you to come out to the middle of the woods?”

“The way you phrase that makes you sound like a murderer.  Come out to the middle of the woods, Jeremy Clifford, so I can axe murder you.  Bwahaha.”

Verona gave her best cackle.

“That’s a pretty good one.”  Jeremy’s thumb stroked her forehead, hand still cupped over her eyes.

“I know.  What would you’ve been up to?  I hope I’m not taking away from your summer.”

“Video games, probably,” he said.  “And definitely not.”

“Anything good?”

“Brought some with, in case you were late.”

After a bit of coaxing, he got the game out of his bag.  They rearranged themselves, Jeremy sitting with their two bags behind him, a towel set so he wasn’t lying against sun-heated plastic or sitting on hard rock, and he held the game in his lap, a short distance from Verona’s face.

His fingers booped the controls of the handheld cartridge, his elbow and arm resting against the side of her chest and she only realized she’d been dozing off when one particularly hard and sudden press jolted her awake.

“Don’t let me fall asleep and miss my appointment,” she told him.

“I’ll try not to,” he said.

“This is helping me stay sane,” she said.  “Taking my mind off stuff, a bit.”

“Good.”

“Sorry if this is boring.”

“Very not boring.  I could watch paint dry with you in the room.”

“Bwuh.”

“And at least here I’m actually playing better than I ever have because I’m trying to not lose ships or take dumb chip damage while a cute girl is watching.  I might actually clear six-five.”

She made an amused sound.

“I’m worried about how much I’m sweating, though.  It’s thirty-three degrees out, I don’t want you to get sweat in your eye or the part of my stomach you’re leaning against gets too slick and you smack your head on the rock.”

Verona laughed, and with the physical contact, he laughed too.  He paused the game so it wouldn’t mess him up.

“I don’t mind.  I can go for a swim.  I probably will.”

“Cool.”

“Want to play?”

“Not right now,” she said.  She sighed.

“Sanity still getting the fix it needs?”

“Yeah.  Getting there.”

“Wallace was asking what was up.  I wasn’t sure what to tell him.”

“Mm.  Truth?  Or part of it?”

“Maybe,” Jeremy said.  “I’m not sure I know the whole truth?”

She wasn’t dozing anymore.  “What’s up?”

“Like… I got this idea in my head in the middle of watching my dad fix a stove burner, but we’re not dating, right?”

“No,” she said.  She was fully awake.  She watched water burble.  “Friends and fooling around.  The dates and long-term stuff are a… I don’t want to say never, but I’m worried if I say anything else, I get your hopes up.  I thought we went over this.

She didn’t want this to go in a sucky direction.

“We went over it.  I just… I was watching my dad do his thing and the idea hit me out of nowhere, and… if you find the right situation, would you hang out with another guy like this?”

She sighed, thinking about it.  “Hmmm.  Probably no.”

“No.  Like… maybe that ‘would‘ would change in some situation later on, if our dynamic changed, or as we got older, or something.  But ninety nine percent no, I think.  I think, um, number one, I’d let you know.”

“Cool.  And cool, thanks.”

“And number two, I don’t see why I would.  I’ve got everything I want right here.”

“Everything you want?”

“Can’t think of much else I’d ask for,” Verona said, moving her head slightly.  “Cuddling like this, curiosity sated when I feel curious.  You’re nice, you’re friendly, you show me cat pictures.  You’ve got a manly side, backing me up like you did with the bag.  I sure like that.”

“I’m scrawny and awkward though.”

“I adore the scrawny awkward look.  Can’t think of what I’d change.  Somewhere down the line you’ll probably get fed up with me and move on, and okay.  I hope it doesn’t hurt you any, when you gotta tear off the Verona band-aid. Maybe that’s today, maybe it’s two years from now.”

“Not today,” he replied.

“I really don’t want it to hurt you any, I like you and you’re a good friend,” she murmured.  “I hope the good of us hanging out makes up for any of the bad.  I really do.  You let me know if there’s anything you need or want that helps this be extra good.”

“I will.”

“But for me?  I’m a satisfied girl, boxes all checked, this is pretty close to being everything I want, no more necessary, please and thank you,” she said, before reaching up to give him a pat on the leg.  “If and when you move on because you want more for the long run, I’ll probably spend a long, long time looking for someone who checks the boxes like you do.”

“I know that’s like… meaningful, but when you said ‘boxes all checked’ my ego got hit with a rush like you wouldn’t believe, and then you kept talking and it got more intense.  It might be years before my ego deflates.”

“Oh good.  You deserve an inflated ego.  Now play your game.”

He unpaused the game.  “I might have to quit soon though.  I’m straining my eyes playing with sun shining a bit on the screen.  I’m playing great, just… might go home and have a migraine after.”

“Can’t have that.  Put it down if you have to.”

“You want to play, or?”

“Nah.”

“What’s got your sanity running out?” he asked.

“Stuff.  Dad stuff.”

“In the interest of deflating my ego, I still have flashbacks to that moment we left your house, that night I brought Sir to your room, and your dad was in the driveway.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Like, sinking feeling in my gut.”

“You’re in trouble now, kid, but as a feeling?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Verona whispered.  “That’s normal.  Every time my dad pulls into the driveway, pretty much, I’d get that feeling.  Let myself into the house after school, do my thing until he gets home at some random time, never regular.  Sometimes it’s four, sometimes it’s six, sometimes it’s after dinner, depends if he’s meeting his bosses for his second job or something.  But he’d pull in and I’d feel just like that.  Sinking feeling, you’re in trouble.  Didn’t matter if I did something wrong, didn’t matter if I put hours of my time into chores.”

“Did he like… actually… hit you?”

“No,” she whispered.

The video game booped and beeped.  Jeremy piloted a ship through an asteroid field.

“Not sure what to say,” he said.  “I feel like a doofus at times like this.”

“All good,” she said.  “You ever, um, super fuck up, with your mom?  Or your dad?  Like, accidentally wreck something, or fail to listen to them and they stop being parents and they like… cry?  Or they lose it and they yell at you and there’s no filters?”

“When we had the floors refinished, there were like, two hours we weren’t supposed to walk on them, and I tried to jump from the stairs to the living room carpet and I didn’t make it.  Big shoeprint that wouldn’t go away.  Probably the maddest my mom has been, especially since she hates the smell.”

“Three to five times a week, about,” Verona said.  “Doesn’t matter what I do.  Doesn’t matter if I actually screwed up.  Just… sits there and cries, throws a tantrum, gets mad at everything I haven’t done in the way of chores.  Except it doesn’t really matter if I do ’em.  And the rest of the time, it’s like… like he’s holding back, he’s strained, he wants to throw the tantrum and cry but he doesn’t, so it’s almost like silent treatment, or there’s a bunch of stuff unsaid, even while he’s telling me about work and stuff.  Three to five times a week, he just keeps me hostage for hours so he can get the feelings out.”

“That sounds pretty unbearable.”

“For years.  And later this afternoon, I’ve got to go and see him and I’ve got to play nice, and he’ll play nice, and that way I can go back to… to that.  Because any other thing I do, it means I lose Lucy and I lose Avery.  I lose you, this boy who’s a friend who I like experimenting with.  I lose Kennet and people who are teaching me stuff and empowering me, I lose… having a purpose.  So I gotta fake it, later.  Need all the sanity I can get.”

Jeremy paused the game.  But he didn’t say anything.

He was a bit sweaty, just from the ambient heat and humidity, but so was she.  She sat up, rubbing at the side of her face and the corner of one eye where moisture had gathered, then fixed her hair.  She wasn’t crying, she had the emotions on lock.  She looked him in the eyes and shrugged.  “Don’t you dare let me saying this make you treat me any different.”

“Okay,” he said.

She reached over for her bag, and he leaned forward to let her take it.

“I thought um, I thought I might show him stuff.”

She pulled the cat mask out of her bag in the three pieces, then held the three pieces together between two hands, holding it up to her face.

“Suits you.”

“Broken,” she said.  She let the pieces come apart, laying them across her legs.

“Could fix that with glue.”

She shrugged, staring down at it.  “He broke it, last time I really saw him.  I thought maybe, today, I’d bring it, I’d lay it out on the table.  The broken glass, I’ve got the stuff in a larger plastic jar, broken feather, spoiled artwork.  Just… put it out there, while this child services person is keeping him accountable.”

“Yeah?”

“Except I think if he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing, then the child services guy doesn’t let me stay home.  And if he doesn’t react or doesn’t reveal his true self, then I’m going to do or say something that ensures I don’t get to stay home.  So maybe showing you like this… I dunno.  Showing someone was something I was supposed to do today, bit of a cheat.”

“I really don’t know what to say.  It’s a cool mask.”

“Super important,” Verona murmured, looking down at it.

“I want to keep checking boxes and be a good friend but… I kinda suck right now.”

“You’re cool,” she replied, still staring down at the cat face.  She put it back in her bag, then put her bag back behind Jeremy, adjusting a bit.  Jeremy watched her throughout.

She got the bag positioned right, patted it to make sure there were no hard parts poking in the direction of Jeremy’s back, then pushed him back into a reclining position.

“That’s monumentally sucky,” he said.

“Yeah.  Just… don’t treat me different.  I figure you should know and maybe that helps you figure out the riddle that is me.”

“Thanks for sharing?” he asked, like it was a question.

“Yeah,” she said.  She still knelt on the towel beside him.

He started to move his arms, hesitated, then leaned forward, wrapping skinny arms around her in a hug.

“Sweaty,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said.  He started to pull away, but she wrapped arms around him, keeping him from pulling back.

“It’s fine.  I’m damp too.  I just don’t want pity, you know?”

“Okay.  I just figured, you know, we’re friends?”

She nodded, ear rubbing against the side of his head.

“I’d feel like a bad friend if I didn’t hug you.”

“Okay.”

“Just let me know when you get fed up of this.”

She didn’t.  She closed her eyes for a bit.  Boy hug.  Hug from a boy.  It was nice, reassuring, different from a Lucy or Avery hug.  Different from a Jasmine hug.

She liked boys.  Objectively.  Aesthetically.  Boys got her curious and revved up.  But when it came to dating she… there was nothing.  She wanted to date even a guy like Jeremy about as much as she wanted to date Lucy, or Melissa, or Gabe, which was not at all.

“Let me know when you’re ready to call it quits, because this is an awkward position and I’m happy to hold it if you’re getting something out of it, but y’know…” Jeremy said.

“Hey, you want to try boning?” she asked.

He ended the hug and sat back on his heels.  “Bone?”

“Garble my goblin?  Meet past halfway?  Move in downstairs?  Confuse the definitions?”

“I’m definitely confused, but in the upstairs.  In the brain.”

“Kinda the point,” Verona said.  “I thought a change of subject would help, y’know, get us off the ‘poor Verona’ thing.”

“This is definitely a change of subject.  I don’t know of many that’re that drastic.”

She shrugged.  “I liked, uh, that day you came to my room with Sir.  Felt, like, empowered, a bit.  I could do with more of that mojo.  So do you wanna?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied.  “Uh… more than yeah, definitely want to.”

She perked up.  “I’ve got protection.”

“But, uh…”

She perked down.

“The way you describe stuff… today sounds like it’d be a sucky day, meeting your dad later.”

“Could be a sucky day with high points,” she said, giving him finger guns.

“Could be.  But I think I’d rather it be a good day with high points, when we go that far.  Just, uh… my overinflated ego demands it.”

“Drat,” she said.  The disappointment was a punch to the gut that mingled with other anxieties.  Artificially bright, she said, “okay.  Another time?”

“I, uh, yeah.  Definitely, if you’re up for it.”

“Sate that curiosity of mine,” she said.  She moved the beach towel, laying a portion of it on his side, and then went to lie down, the towel between her and his skin.  She paused before using him as a pillow again.  “This okay?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool.  Did you beat six-five?”

“Paused.  I took a bunch of damage before pausing, I think it’s doomed to fail.”

“Darn.”

“Yeah.  It’s okay.  I know what to do, it’s just a question of getting there.”

“Maybe, uh, take another try at it?” she asked.  She turned over and looked up at his face.  “And I’ll distract you?  Tickling?  Pinches?  Whatever else?  And then I get a turn when you die?”

“And I distract you?”

She nodded.  “And whoever makes it further gets to do something to torment or tease the other.  A punishment game.  Or dare.”

“You know I’m like… pretty experienced at this game.  Hundreds of hours.  I’m probably going to beat you.”

“Unless I’m very distracting,” she said, coy.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll beat you no matter how distracting you are,” Jeremy said.  “You want a handicap?  Maybe you see how far you get level one-one, and I see how far I get level six-five, and we compare?”

“Nope.  No need,” she told him.  “A bit of unfairness the other way, as a change.  ‘Cause you put up with me a lot.  Just about anything we do is okay, I think, so long as I can get my mind off stuff.”

“You might change your mind about it being okay when I make one of the torments me deleting pictures of Sir without letting you see them.”

Aghast, she sat up, looking at him wide eyed.

He smiled.  “Oh, wait, even better, making you say the alphabet backwards, but every time you slip up, I delete one.”

“You’d better pretend to delete them.  Are you actually evil?  Have you been this evil all along?”

“We’ll see how evil I get when the time comes.”

“You’d better not delete them for real..”

“But can we postpone the game?” he asked.  “Swim first?  I have sweat in my eyes.”

“Swim,” she said, smiling.  “We’ve got a few hours.”

The hours passed too quickly.  The clock felt like it ticked down.  It was a feeling that had sat with her at school, the countdown to the end of the school day, the countdown to freedom.  The countdown to the weekend.  At home, that countdown to the time her dad probably got home, the countdown to the time he inevitably would be home by.  The countdown to the next blow-up and crying fit.

Counting days to the holiday.

What she was experiencing these days, three days from the end of summer, was that intensified a hundredfold.  The dad stuff included.

What they didn’t get was that in that litany of are you okay, are you prepared, are you ready, do you need to rehearse in your head in advance… she was ready.  She was prepared.  She had no reason to expect this to be different.  She had no reason to expect this to be anything more than the same, and so long as she didn’t count the stuff like what had happened in the kitchen… she was pretty used to this.

She just needed people to not pity her, or get in the way of her dealing with it.  Turning a part of her brain off so the time away from her dad wasn’t poisoned by the point in time after the countdown had ended.

She’d gotten back at quarter-to, showered, changed, reapplied sunscreen, dealt with being treated like a broken doll, and then the CAS guy had come at two.  Fifteen minutes of talking and prep, then he took her for a ride.  To neutral ground.

A picnic bench in a broad patch of grass near the foot of the Greensey ski hill without a flake of snow on it.  Some kids were kicking a ball between them at the far edge of that patch of grass.

David sat on the bench beside her.  Which meant her dad would be facing her.  There was probably something intentional about that.

She spotted her dad’s car at a distance, and she watched as it traveled to them.

It parked at the end of the lot.  She watched her dad get out, one hand at his side.  That stomach thing hadn’t fully cleared up, apparently.  Or he was playing it up for sympathy.

“He looks skinnier.”

“Does he?” David asked.  “Hm.”

“Older.  Or maybe he looked old and I didn’t see it.”

“It’s funny, seeing someone after a bit of a break.  How do you feel?”

Verona shrugged.

Like I told Jeremy.  Sinking feeling.  Like I did something wrong.  She kept her expression neutral.

Her dad approached.  She wished she wasn’t sitting down, because it made her feel smaller.  She wished she’d been the one who arrived later than David or her dad, because there was power in being the last one to arrive, to set the terms.

“Hi, Verona.”

“David, hi.”

David stood to shake her dad’s hand.

“Hi, Mr. Hayward.  Please have a seat.”

Her dad set himself down on the bench, and for a second it felt like the picnic table would upend, lifting lift Verona off the ground, flipping her forward.  It wasn’t that her dad was that heavy- just… picnic tables were like that, and he weighed about as much or a bit more than her and David combined.

“Are you having a good time at Lucy’s?” her dad asked.

“It’s okay.  We had a fight, but I think it’s better now.  Too much time in each other’s company.  It’s still nice.  I’d stay there for longer if I could.”

Her dad nodded.  It was hard to tell if his expression was hurt or if he’d gone to that feeling so often that the grooves had worn in.  It looked like he was thinking about how to respond and what to say.

“Good.  I hope you’re getting something out of this summer.”

“Yep, sure.  Uhh, we’ll see what happens in the next three days.”

“With you coming home?  If that’s in the cards?” her dad asked.

“With other stuff.  Getting the most out of summer,” Verona replied.

“I see.  Sorry for assuming.”

She wondered what David saw.  If he saw that the way her dad sat and the way he was, his hands were over the halfway point on the table, with how he leaned forward, forearms braced against the slightly uneven, weather-worn wood.

The headache from the morning had returned.  Banished by Jeremy’s company, now there, pressing, a throb against the back of her brain.

“I’m humiliated,” her father said.  “This has been a reality check.”

“It’s been something, all right,” she replied.

“I was childish.  A bully.”

“Yeah,” she replied.

She felt like every word was being scrutinized by both David and her dad.  What was the right answer, what was the wrong one?

“There’s no handbook.  But I’ve been doing pretty bad, even for an improv job.  I’m not entirely sure where things stand, what decisions are being made.  I just know I’m sorry.  I’m going to try to be better.”

“Do you have anything you want to say?” David asked Verona.  “There’s no obligation, there’s no expectation, you could ask questions, you could share frustrations, you could ask about the process.”

“I mean, honestly?” Verona asked.  “I kinda want this over with?  I don’t care what he has to say, much.  It’s nice to hear, maybe, gives me some hope, but… just give me a place to live, food, the essentials.  If therapists say he’s better, sure, let’s give it a shot.  If he’s truly better, then maybe a few years down the line we have a warm and fuzzy daddy daughter relationship and… I guess we try to forget this ever happened?”

“You and I can have a one-on-one talk about things after, to go over this meeting, and talk about next steps, Verona.  There’s no pressure to say anything here.”

“It’s mostly fine, I think,” Verona said, shrugging a shoulder.

“On a similar note, Brett, you and I will be in touch, but not to share what Verona’s told me.  Just to talk next steps, the reunification plan, safety, and check-ins.”

“Okay,” Brett said.  “Work’s heavy, but I’ll set aside the time.  Are you set for the new school year?”

“Mom took me for clothes, I have books, papers.  Might need books and binders for school, maybe some pens.  First day at school is usually a hi, I’m your teacher, here’s what we’re doing, fun activity, whee, I figure I’ll get the rundown and figure out what I need.”

“Maybe less fun activities on the first day so now that you’re in high school?” her dad asked.

“Maybe.  Hope not.  It’s kinda nice that they ease you in.  They did last year.”

“So there’s not much need for more shopping, no-”

Verona was already shaking her head.  “Mom did a super job when we went on vacation.”

Maybe she was needling him a little bit.  Like, making sure.  Testing to see if like, things were worse after everything, if pushing a button she knew was a button would help make sure that they were going back to normal.  Because if pushing the button now made him lose it while CAS was watching, maybe she had to be more cautious.

“And Jasmine?”

“She’s been cooking the meals, mostly, except when she works nights, but it’s super nice not having to do most meals.”

“You didn’t cook most, don’t distort the truth.  You put leftovers in the microwave to reheat, half the time.”

“But I was there for the cooking of them in the first place.”

“It’s a bit of an exaggeration,” her dad said.  “And I will be cooking more.  I’m taking steps to reduce workload, and make the time needed for you.”

Why did that make her more anxious and not less?  Nevermind the very different versions of reality they had.

David was looking at her.

Verona felt a bit put on the spot.  She felt like there was a fifty percent chance that David could see through her dad, and giving the wrong answer would be a warning bell.  She doesn’t realize he hasn’t changed a bit, she’s not equipped to go back.  Too weak, too frail, too behind.  She needs protecting.  Send her to her mom to save her.

Fifty percent chance he could see through her, and if she forced a reply without the needed trepidation, maybe he’d realize she was trying to go back, even though she was nervous.  Too advanced, too smart for her own good, best to send her to her mom to save her.

She shrugged.

The entire thing, one big shrug.

Alpeana had started to give her dad a nightmare, back in May.  Verona had called it off.  She’d wondered a bit what would happen if her dad had gone through with the nightmare.  Even knowing Alpeana had given him ones before and since.  Maybe that would’ve been the one.  Maybe Verona being there could have supplied resources or influences.  Something to inspire change.

Maybe therapy could be that.  Her dad was going, he was going to anger management.  She had no idea what was being discussed, what was happening.

He just felt like her dad here.  He looked older and thinner and more tired but he still felt exactly the same and the impact of his being here still made her stomach sink a bit.

Expect the worst, be pleasantly surprised if there’s a positive change?

She couldn’t imagine a positive change that wouldn’t be, like, Bridge the watch Other possessing her dad’s body, with a metaphorical gun to his head to make him play nice.

She wasn’t sure that’d be better, though.

The silence lingered between them.  There wasn’t any conversation.  No familial chemistry.

“How long is this meeting?” she asked.

“I allocated an hour in my schedule,” David said.  “But we can end early, just let me know.”

“Sure.  I’ve got stuff I’d rather do, important stuff with my friends.  If my dad’s cool and the therapists are signing off on stuff, that’s a positive sign, right?  I go back at the end of summer, we move on?”

Her dad smiled at that, nodding a bit.

“Things are rarely as cut and dry as a simple sign-off, but sure,” David said.

“This whole thing was kinda not run by me when it was scheduled, so like… kinda awkward timing.”

“Okay.  Sure.  Brett?”

“Whatever she wants,” her dad said.  His gaze lingered on her eyes for a second before he looked away.

“Yeah, no, uh, we will be in touch about further steps, judgement will come from talks with my bosses and colleagues.  Reach out if you have questions, sometimes I’m busy, please don’t hold it against me.  Same goes for you, Verona.  Or ask Jasmine and she can pass it on.”

Verona nodded.

“Okay.  Verona, do you want a ride back?” David asked.

“I figured I might walk.  It’s not far to Jasmine’s.”

The table lurched as her dad stood.  That feeling it might flip occurred again, but the opposite way.  The headache throbbed.

“Good seeing you,” her dad said.

She nodded.

“Be well,” he said.  “Thank you, David.”

“I’ll be in touch,” David said.  “Verona, stick around a minute.”

She did.  She slipped hands into the pockets of her denim skirt, and her sandals scuffed the grass.  David gathered papers.

When her father had climbed into the car, David addressed her, not looking up from the papers he was sorting into a file.  “How did that feel?”

She shrugged.

He nodded.  “Comfortable?  Uncomfortable?”

“Would anyone ever answer comfortable?  Been two weeks, here’s some guy supervising your visit.”

“Some.  But I hear you.”

“Yeah, well.  That’s what it is, anyway.”

“Therapists sign off, everything’s okay, you go back, you move on?”

“That’s what you said, if I remember right.  Just trying to get a sense of what you’re thinking.”

“I guess.  I mean, I hope that’s the way it goes.”

“Moving on?”

She shrugged.

“Moving on can mean you’re not handling what happened.”

Her dad had smiled for the first time, really, at the suggestion of moving on.

“Okay.  Part two of the plan could be another visit.”

She groaned.

“You don’t want to?”

“Just… eating up my summer.  And I’ve got stuff I want to do.”

She felt like every answer was a wrong one, which it kind of was.  Because she just wanted to get past this, get to a equilibrium.  Somehow.  Even if she had to use practice to do it  David couldn’t do much more than, like, obstruct that.

Which felt bad because he wasn’t a bad guy and he was trying to help.  She was pretty sure.

“What would you say to an unsupervised visit?”

“It’s just… time.”

“What about a stay overnight?  A trial run, from dinner to the next morning.  Maybe tomorrow night?  Then you go back to Jasmine’s.  It’s not eating up any time that wouldn’t be well past curfew.”

“I want to have sleepovers with my friends, milk the summer, not like…”

“You don’t want to test whether things are okay at home?”

“Because you don’t want to go back at all, or because you don’t want to test it?”

Why did it all have to be so hard?

She gave him a look, frowning, and he seemed to give up.  Like the question was its own thing and it didn’t need a response.  Like maybe he knew.  Or maybe he didn’t care.  She wasn’t sure which.

How many other kids like her did he deal with?  Who were making decisions that probably weren’t the best, that they knew weren’t the best.  But that were necessary for various reasons?  To protect friends or protect siblings, to be there for one parent, or because they knew they’d be taken away from everything that mattered?

The headache pushed pain into the back of her skull.  She tried not to let it show.

“Like I said before, this is an ongoing process.  It doesn’t end if we reunify you and your dad.  There will be check-ins.  Your dad is still working on things behind the scenes.  I want you to maintain contact with Jasmine, you can let her know anything.  You’ve had video calls with your mom?”

Verona nodded.

“The people I work with might push for that visit to happen, just to test the waters.  It might be a supervised one, at the house.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asked.

The look was penetrating.  Looking past her, through her.  No Sight, just sight.  A guy trying to see the lie, see the signs of the headaches she’d never told him about.  A sign she wasn’t super great.

She nodded, because a voiced affirmative would be a lie.

“There you are,” Avery said. “Luce!”

Lucy wasn’t far behind.

The only light in the House on Half Street was candlelight.  Verona sat in the middle of the living room, surrounded by open books.  It was dusk outside.

“What the heck, Verona?” Lucy asked.  “You didn’t let us know how it went.”

“I don’t know how it went,” Verona replied.

“Did it run long?” Avery asked.

“No.  Ran short.  I called it quits early.  I don’t know if that counts for something, good or bad.  I hope not.”

“I realized it’d been too long, went to your dad’s house to see he was there, and you weren’t.  Went back, saw the connection block you set up, and realized you’d disappeared,” Lucy said.  “Then I thought what’s going on, where are you, are you off fighting Witch Hunters?  Are you dealing with Musser?”

“Jeremy,” Avery said.

“I needed to process,” Verona said, looking up at them.  “Doing my own thing without being second guessed.”

Lucy frowned.

“Sorry,” Verona said.  “I realized it got dark but sorta didn’t mentally connect that it was that late.”

“It’s not that late but it’s late,” Lucy said.

“What are you doing?” Avery asked.

Verona looked around at the books, reminding herself of which was which, then put a bookmark in one and closed it, showing it to Avery.

“Demesnes,” Avery said, as if Lucy couldn’t read over her shoulder.

“It’s like, you know, if I need a person to retreat to, real life, Jeremy’s pretty cool,” Verona told Avery.  “If I need an Other to retreat to, Tash and Peckersnot are tops.  They’re great.”

“And us?” Lucy asked.

“I trust you to have my back in a tough spot.  For sure.  But to retreat?  I dunno.”

Lucy frowned some more.

“I just thought, you know, if maybe your mom’s place is out, I can’t go showing up at some awkward times.  It’d ring alarm bells.  And if I’m showing up but it’s only by connection blocker that gets weird.  It’s like I’m a ghost haunting your house.  I just thought it’d be nice to have a place.  When things get bad, then so long as there’s a way out, it’s a lot easier to deal you know?”

“You think it’s going to get bad?” Avery asked.

“I don’t think it’s going to get better,” Verona replied.  “He said he felt humiliated and the more I go over it in my head… I’m almost positive.  It’s like I humiliated him, with all of this.  Like he’s angry.  And it makes little hairs all over my body stand up.”

“Are you sure, though, or-?” Avery said.

Lucy put a hand on Avery’s arm.

Verona shrugged.

“I think we can take your word for it.  You were there,” Lucy said.

“I think I realized that even if things were perfect, if he really clued in, if he worked at it and really got to being an average dad again, I don’t think I could get over some of what’s happened.  I could deal, maybe, and I think I’d be happier doing that, short of most options that aren’t me staying with Lucy forever, but I don’t think I could one hundred percent let go of my stomach sinking every time I hear the car door slam in the driveway.”

“So you want to do the ritual?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah,” Verona said.  “More than yeah.  Absolutely.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Can’t though,” Verona said.  “Or shouldn’t.  Or… no.”

“No?” Avery asked.

“It’s a challenge.  You put out a call and you say hey, this is my turf, if you disagree, come fight me.  If you want something for ceding this ground to me?  Come fight me.  And to put out a fair challenge, to make this a place spirits can come and be active, you have to open the way.  Which means letting people in where they could see the furs.  While the challenge runs, anyone could storm in and seize the furs.  Maricica, someone working for her.”

“We could move them,” Avery said.

“And take them out of this one secure place?  They’d probably get snatched up.  It might be just what Maricica’s waiting for.”

“There’s always after,” Lucy said.

Verona shrugged.

“Between the Carmine event and you going to your dad’s.”

“That’s still a few days I’d be wondering if this works okay or not,” Verona said.  “I really hoped I could figure something out and just… be done with this, done worrying.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.  “I really wish you could’ve, I really wish it was done.”

Verona shrugged.  She closed more books, stacked then, and then got up before picking them up, moving them to the kitchen.  Lucy and Avery followed.

She shelved the books on the shitty modified bookshelf she’d made.  The alchemy apparatus spread out across the counter.

“It’s okay,” Verona told them.  “Got that out of the way.  We’ve got, what, just a little over two days?”

“Two days and five hours, give or take a bit,” Avery said.

“I can worry about the dad stuff later,” Verona told them.  “We’re running out of time.  This is it.  It takes a day to get to the trial, which means these last two days are the days that matter, the days they’ve gotta move if they’re going to make moves.”

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