It's pretty clear that this adult, like most adults, has no idea what to do with her. Rey can only imagine what they told him when they called him: your granddaughter's been living on her own, parents drove off one day when she was five, and by the way she stole a car.
Still, she waited for this grandfather she never existed—well, that's not technically true; she knew he had to exist, but she never bothered to imagine him—with her nose practically pressed against the glass. The coffee in that social worker's office tasted like toilet water, but Rey didn't care because finally, finally, long after she lost count of the days when she was about eight, someone was coming for her.
And then he was there, the glass door banging shut behind him, a grizzled man with a beard and a peculiar look in his eyes. "Nice to meet you, Rey," he said. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi." And he held his hand out to shake hers.
It wasn't the hug she wanted, but Rey would take it.
"Kind of a summer town," her grandfather says as he drives along a cliff-lined road. Rey peers down the green slopes to see azure water stirring below. Jakku was so arid; the idea of living on the beach blows her mind. "Things will be crazy with tourists."
"That sounds fun to me," Rey says eagerly.
He nods, and says nothing more. Rey clamps her mouth shut and crosses her arms. The car smells of pine air freshener and echoes with the sound of the tires on the road, because neither of them knows what to say.
A zillion questions shoot through Rey's mind. Her mother, her father, her grandmother—and what her grandfather likes to read—they told her he was a professor—whether he likes any sports, whether he likes animals, what his favorite color is.
But the stiff way he holds his shoulders tells Rey she might not want to ask just yet. "How—long have you lived here?" she questions.
"Since I was eight," he answers. "A friend of my parents' took me in after they died."
"Oh!" Rey's heart lifts, as if probably shouldn't after hearing he lost his parents so young, but hey—we can relate! "I'm sorry. That's rough. Did you like it there, with your friend?"
"I did," he confirms. "The time was short, but he taught me so much."
"Like what?" Rey asks.
"We'll discuss it later." He gives her an uneven smile, as if half of his lips refuse to obey.
For a brief moment, Rey fears he's having a stroke, but no, he keeps driving as if everything's fine. She studies her chipped fingernails. "What do you want me to call you? Grandpa? Grandfather? Or something else?"
His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "Obi-Wan will do. For now."
"Oh." Rey deflates. She mouths the word grandpa. Tears prick her eyes. She'd been so excited to use it.
Obi-wan clears his throat. "Do you like music, Rey?"
Rey straightens. "Yes!"
"What kinds?"
"Um—all kinds, really."
"Great." He turns on a jazz station. Saxophones whine and squeal as they drive through what looks like a cute, if kitschy, little town. A building that almost looks like a palace rises on one street, and Rey gapes at it.
"Maz Kanata's bar," Obi-Wan tells her. "Too old for you."
"Of course," Rey says. She wonders again just how much the social worker told her grandfather. What if he thinks she's a delinquent?
A row of houses sprawl across the edge of the beach.
"Very old families live in those houses," Obi-Wan says. "The Organas, and the Damerons, and that house used t be the Naberries' but is now the Huxes."
Rey doesn't recognize any of the names, but she nods along.
"We live a little walk from the beach," Obi-Wan says as he turns down a gravelly path. The car bounces and Rey grips the side of her seat. "About five minutes."
"It's beautiful," Rey breathes, taking in the trees around them. Obi-Wan rolls down his window, and she inhales the salty scent.
He pulls up to a small ranch-style house that sits next to a twin. At the second house, a middle-aged man with a beard lifts his hand, lifts his hand in a wave to Obi-Wan.
"Our neighbors," Obi-Wan says. "Luke Skywalker. He lives with his father."
"The Luke Skywalker?" Rey blurts out.
Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows. "You've heard of him?"
"Of course! Who hasn't? He's done some amazing work as a journalist—he won a Pulitzer and everything!" For his coverage of the rebuilding of the new Republic. Although he hasn't written anything in years, according to what she's heard from Teedo, the bored editor of the Jakku school paper.
Obi-Wan chuckles. "Well, he spends his summers here, with his father."
"Who's his father?"
"No one whose name you'd recognize." Obi-wan emerges from the car, and Rey follows. He pulls her bag from his trunk.
"I'll get it," Rey says quickly.
"That's all?" the social worker had asked, befuddled, as if they couldn't believe Rey didn't want more keepsakes from her threadbare life. Obi-Wan now looks as if he feels similarly nonplussed.
"Okay," he says, allowing her to hoist the duffel bag over her shoulder. Luke Skywalker watches, and Rey freezes. She waves tentatively. What did Obi-Wan tell him about me?
Did he tell him that I'm a car thief?
Journalism was always something Rey was interested in, but never anything she had time for. She tried to join the school newspaper, but Unkar Plutt had about forty chores waiting for her every night, and so she had no time between classes and homework and Teedo would only accept well-written articles. She did get two published, submitted after working on them a tthe expense of her sleep and her grades, but they weren't much.
But here, maybe…
"It's not much," Obi-Wan says, gesturing to her room, small and covered in an aqua quilt. "Luke's sister helped decorate it."
"It's perfect," Rey says, hope blossoming.
"Your mother said to tell you that we are having dinner with the Damerons, and that is that, and having to start your internship early in the morning is not an excuse that will fly," reports Threepio, his mother's prim assistant, hands folded in front of him.
"I bet my father won't be here though, will he?" Ben shoots back as he kicks his suitcase. It's bad enough that they have to leave the city to come to Yavin every summer. It's a miracle he's been able to find a decent internship with Snoke and the First Order newspaper, even if it looks cheesy with its coffee mug slogan. But dinner with the Damerons and their insufferable son is an experience akin to getting his toenails ripped out one by one, as pleasantry after pleasantry will be hurled at him with the intent of dragging out some hideous gossip.
"Your father is set to arrive tonight, but yes, he will probably miss dinner," confirms Threepio. The man wears so much bronzer he almost looks yellow.
Ben has no idea why his parents even stay married if they only visit each other one weekend every month Well, except for summers, where they actually spend time together. Kind of. "Just divorce him already," he snapped at his mother last time his father missed their reunion weekend.
"I know it seems hard to believe, Ben," she responded with that look that meant she was trying hard to keep her cool. "But your father and I love each other, and this arrangement works for us and our work schedules."
Well, it doesn't work for Ben's schedule, but they never asked him, so.
"A half an hour," Threepio reminds him.
Ben flips him off, and the assistant gasps. "Ben Solo! Your mother will be appalled when she hears of this!"
"Pretend she doesn't flip the bird at least three times a day, sure, go for it," Ben calls after the old man. He wouldn't want to be a driver who cut his mother off. "Is my uncle coming?"
"No, he's staying in with his charge," Threepio's voice comes drifting back.
His charge. Ben's been forbidden from saying the truth: that, for whatever reason, the esteemed writer Luke Skywalker all but retired to take care of Darth Vader, an ex-cop whose life is straight out of every filmmaker in the gangster genre's dreams. At least from what he knows about it. His mother won't let him talk to the man, and Uncle Luke seldom brings it up in Ben's presence. How Uncle Luke developed such compassion for a man like that has never made sense to Ben.
As Ben arranges his laptop for the morning, he wonders if Uncle Luke had something to do with Snoke hiring him. He could always text, but… nah. He'll see his uncle eventually.
At any rate, it's good to be away from Coruscant. Ben hates that town with its shiny cars and pristine houses, the way the kids hurl insults and fists at anyone they feel threatened by, anyone they feel isn't up to snuff. Which often includes him.
For someone whose uncle is so famous, I thought you'd get better than an 88 on that paper.
I think your mom wouldn't be happy if she heard you were trying cigarettes. Think of what it'd do to her career! It was a cruel taunt from the blonde girl who liked to laugh and needle Ben with her faux-concern, fluffily wrapped around threats as her usual.
And usually, a fist to his stomach would accompany the taunts. And Ben would punch back, and he'd wind up in the principal's office, accused of starting another fight or of stealing the phone where the other kids would be recording everything. And Dad would talk to Mom about how worried he was about Ben. Not that he's really worried. If he really cared, he would come home more.
He makes it downstairs to meet Mom two minutes late. She crosses her arms.
"Don't even," he snaps.
"Would it kill you to be polite, Ben?"
"Possibly." He tosses his dark hair and scowls. He hates Poe Dameron.
And when he sees Poe again, he knows the kid hasn't changed much. Shirt perfectly tucked it, leather jacket, styled hair and a wide, easy smile. Ben can't imagine what it's be like to be that ready to smile, all the time.
"Hey, man," Poe says, shaking Ben's hand. "Good to see you."
Cut the bullshit. Ben grunts in response.
"When is Bail coming, Leia?" Kes Dameron asks as he serves grilled chicken and summer squash, seasoned with Italian herbs. Ben hates to admit that it smells good. They sit around the table set up on the Damerons' deck, the ocean breeze calm this evening.
"In a few weeks," Leia answers as Shara Bey pours her a glass of wine. "How's school, Poe? Thinking about college yet?"
Poe nods. "I'd like to study aerospace engineering, actually. How about you, Ben?"
Ben grits his teeth. "Writing," he says without blinking. "Journalism." Judge me for being impractical if you want.
Poe grins. "Cool. Runs in the family, I'd guess."
Ben stuffs a bite of chicken in his mouth.
"He's got an internship with the First Order. He starts tomorrow," Mom says with a smile.
She's not really proud of me. The thought turns the squash to ash on his tongue.
Of course she isn't. She just wants to use Ben as a tool to compete with. Like all these rich families, competing to see who can be the most awesome.
"You wanna go down to the boardwalk?" Poe asks as they finish dinner. "Or do you want to sleep early? I have to walk my dog, Beebee-Ate."
"Poe's kind of a night owl," Shara Bey says.
Poe grimaces. "Parents," he mumbles.
Ben shrugs. Mom gives him a pointed glare as the sky deepens to gray, with a rosy ring around the horizon. "Fine."
"What kind of stories will you be working on?" Poe asks as they head over, the sand crunching beneath their shoes. It may be summer but Ben's still wearing Doc Martens.
"Probably just editing."
"Hey, we all have to start somewhere, right?" Poe grins.
"Hey, Ben," calls a sly voice behind him.
Oh, please no. Ben turns around to see Armitage Hux beaming at him, beady eyes glittering with rage so dark Ben doubts a therapist could shine a light on it. "Heard you're interning too at the First Order."
"Too?" Ben echoes.
"You didn't think you were the only one who got an internship this summer, did you? And I don't even have my family's talent as a reason why," Hux continues as he brushes past.
"What a dick," Poe comments.
Ben glares after him. The lights of the boardwalk come closer.
It's not true. He's talented, all on his own.
Ben's knuckles throb in protest, and he unclenches them.
"C'mon, Finn," calls Nines, his brash coworker. "Try for a little more energy."
Finn rolls his eyes. Across from him, he sees the elderly owner of the ice cream store waving at him. Finn met Lor San Tekka just earlier that day, when the man wished him good luck at his first job. It's not much, but it is a job.
"Not shocked," snorted Phasma, the supervisor who towers over him even though she can't be much older in years. "Yavin's got a history of working with abandoned children."
"Real kind," snapped another boy, who introduced himself as Slip. Within an hour, it became clear that Finn was at least better at manning the game booth than Slip, and Phasma sent him home.
Guillt gnaws at Finn's stomach. He didn't want to alienate the one person who treated him with kindness. Well, the second person, if you count Lor San Tekka.
But he already doesn't like it here, despite the beach and the carefree atmosphere. Because the ice-cream-mustached, grinning kids always cry when their darts don't pierce the balloons. Except his social worker insisted it would be a good opportunity, and really, what other options does he have?
"If you switch out the darts for sharp ones except for when I give you the signal, I'll fire you," Phasma told him as she explained things just after noon. "Newbies don't get to decide who wins."
Even when there was an adorable girl with pigtails and a bright smile who gushed about how happy she was with her purple cotton candy, Phasma refused. Probably out of spite, Finn figures. Phasma's got to be heartless. How else could she force the grinning girl to lose?
And Nines wants him to be more enthusiastic recruiting people into this dumb trap. For once, Finn just wanted to make people happy, instead of living as a sad tale for his social worker to tell. He's sick of being pitied, and he's sick of the sight of him making people purse their lips and shake their heads.
"Oh, darts!" Finn hears a voice say, and his heart sinks. "You ever play?"
"Yeah. When I was like six." A tall boy wearing a black sweatshirt despite the heat scowls at the game booth, ignoring Finn.
"It's hard to win," says the boy beside him, a handsome Latino kid. They both look to be around Finn's age. Undoubtedly they have happier lives. They probably belong to those ancient families who populate the beach houses.
The emo boy nods. "I've never one."
"Oh. I've only won twice." The handsome boy smiles, but the emo boy looks as if he'd like to shoot a dart into the other boy's skull.
"Finn," hisses Nines. "Get going!"
"Want to play?" Finn asks, spreading a fake smile onto his face.
"Sure," says the handsome boy. A short-legged, fat Golden Retriever barks below him. "You want to, Ben? Maybe break your losing streak?"
Anyone could tell that the boy meant no harm by what he said, and yet the emo's eyes flash as if he just insulted the past three generations of his family.
Finn's eyes slide towards Nines, who took over for Phasma. He motions for the emo boy—Ben— to win and the kind one to lose.
Screw that. Finn can't resist jumbling the darts in his hand as he hands them over.
"Yes!" exults the other boy as his dart pierces the balloon. Nines narrows his eyes at Finn, and he shakes his head, feigning innocence.
"Shit," grumbles Ben.
"Hey, it's okay," says the other boy. "You'll do better next time."
"I swear this thing's rigged," he mutters, and Finn flinches as he grabs the white teddy bear prize and hands it over.
"Thanks," the boy says cheerfully. "Hey, I don't think I've seen you before. You new this summer?"
Finn nods. "Name's Finn."
"I'm Poe, Poe Dameron." Poe grins, and then yelps as his dog somehow manages to leap up and grab the teddy bear in her mouth. "Okay, whatever, Beebee. Guess it's yours."
Finn laughs. "She bite?"
"Not unless she doesn't like you." Poe winks. "You can pat her if you want."
Finn crouches, ignoring Nines as h scratches the dog behind her ears. She continues to tear at the stuffed animal.
"How are your parents doing, Ben?"
Finn cranes his neck up to see Lor San Tekka emerging to chat.
"They're—" Ben looks as if he's trying not to spit names. "Them."
"Them, huh?" asks Lor San Tekka, raising his eyebrows. "I heard your father—"
"I don't want to talk about my goddamn parents, old man."
Finn's jaw drops. He can't imagine ever talking to any of his foster parents or his teachers or social workers like that.
Judging from Poe's raised eyebrows, neither can he. "You should apologize!"
"It's fine, Poe Dameron," says Lor San Tekka, waving his hand. "He'll figure it out in time." And then he shuffles back into his shop.
"Why did you have to act like such an asshole?" Poe snarls.
"Why do you have to be so upset about it?" Ben snaps, folding his arms so that it almost looks as if he's huddling in on himself.
"It's nine," Nines says, coming up behind Finn. He grins at his own pun. "You can go. See you tomorrow?"
"One o'clock," Finn confirms, taking off his hat as Nines turns the lights off. He heads up the boardwalk, following the two bickering boys. The dog growls at Ben.
"Shut that stupid thing up!"
"Don't insult my dog!" Poe yells, and then there's a crack.
Finn springs forward to see Poe doubled over, blood pouring through his fingers, which cover his nose. "What the hell?"
"Who are you?" snarls Ben, but his gaze twitches.
"You just hit him?"
"Go to hell!" And Ben takes off.
"Good riddance," Finn says aloud. He kneels down. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Poe's voice comes out garbled.
"Lor San Tekka's probably got ice packs—"
"No, I don't want him involved. Not worth it," Poe mumbles, blood still leaking down his arms.
"Do you need help at all?" Finn asks, starting to back away. He can take a hint.
"Wanna walk Beebee-Ate home?" Poe coughs. "I wanna make sure my nose stops bleeding. If you could take her leash—I live just a few minutes from here."
So he is one of those rich beach kids Phasma warned him about. But not a rude one. "Sure," Finn says.
Maybe it won't be a lonely summer after all.
"Sure," Obi-Wan says when Rey asks if she can take a walk. "Just don't be gone too long. And don't—get in any trouble."
Sounds like her social worker was honest after all. Rey grimaces. "I'll be back soon." She presses open the screen door, stepping outside into the sweet night air. Gravel crunches under her feet as she walks.
She can hear the crashing waves and draws closer to the ocean. Maybe later this week she can actually go in. Not that she knows how to swim.
Ahead, past the sand dunes, Rey spots the lights of the beach houses, and out at sea, if she squints, she can make out the lights from some boats. The guttural motor of a jet ski cuts through in the air.
She's used to heat, but not this sticky kind of warmth, the kind that makes her feel as if she's been stitched into her t-shirt and shorts. Rey kicks up some sand.
Something shuffles to her side. Rey freezes, her mind racing through all of the close encounters she had in Jakku. Unkar never bothered to buy her pepper spray, so she learned to defend herself.
Footsteps.
Someone rounds the sand dune and Rey kicks her leg out, colliding with something soft.
"Hey!" groans a boy's voice. "What the—"
"Who are you?" Rey demands, heart still pounding. She remembers grabbing the wheel, stomping on the gas pedal. And the sirens.
"Not someone who wants to attack you," ekes out the boy, pulling himself to his feet.
"Oh." Rey gulps. "Sorry."
"No problem; I'm sure my spleen will recover, or not." A cute black boy raises his eyebrows at her. "Name's Finn."
She hesitates. You aren't mad at me? "I'm Rey."
"What're you doing outside at night if you're so skittish?"
"I'm not skittish!" Rey glares at him. "I just got here today."
"I'm new too," the boy says, shifting. The moon emerges from the clouds, and Rey squints. Is that—
"You're bleeding!"
"What?" Finn looks down at his hands. "No. Not my blood. My—this boy—got his in the nose."
"By you?" Rey asks sympathetically. She's been in enough fights; she knows how it goes.
"No, by a jerk." Finn rolls his eyes, wiping his hands on his black shirt. "I work at the boardwalk. Are you in that program too? For foster kids?"
"No," Rey says, blinking. "There's a program?"
"For summer jobs—"
"I used to be a foster kid, too," Rey blurts out.
"Really?" Finn's eyes light up.
I might really have a friend, Rey thinks. She nods.
"Used to, though?" he questions.
"My grandfather found me. Or they found him." She shrugs.
"Wow." A smile splits Finn's face. "That's great for you."
"Where are you staying?" she questions a she starts to head back up the path, away from the beach.
"Back towards town," Finn answers. "You been yet?"
She shakes her head. "I just got here today."
"Cool." Finn nods. "Well, maybe we can see it together some time."
Rey nods. "What's this program thing?" she asks, kicking a pebble on ahead.
"It's to get summer jobs for—" Finn starts, and then cuts himself off. "Oh, shit."
"What?" He stops, and Rey stops with him. A tall figure heads towards them.
"That's the guy who punched my—friend," Finn hisses.
"What?" Rey narrows her eyes. He looks as if he's a goth wannabe. "Really?"
Finn nods. "Think he's one of the wealthy older families—"
"What are you two up to?" the other boy's voice interrupts.
"I just took Poe home," Finn retorts, straightening his shoulders. Rey can see his hands trembling slightly. "You know, because of how you hit him."
"I'm—" The boy's eyes dart to Rey. Up close, he doesn't look like a hulking monster. Emo, sure but almost sensitive. Nothing like the bullies Rey had to fend off in Jakku. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he demands, brow furrowed as if he really can't understand why she might not like him.
Entitled prick. "Did you really hit his friend?" Rey asks.
"I—he was—"
"I don't like bullies," Rey informs him. "Stay away from Finn and from—"
"Poe," Finn supplies.
The boy glowers at her. "Look, I don't even know who you are, so—"
"I'm Rey Kenobi," she says.
"Kenobi?" His eyes widen.
He must know my grandfather! Rey shakes off the hope that burst through her. He's a jerk. "Don't punch my friends again."
"Pick better friends next time!" he yells as she grabs Finn's arm and drags them along. "You can do better than—"
"Do you even have friends?" Rey yells over her shoulder.
He sticks his middle finger up in the air and storms off. Finn covers his mouth. "According to Poe," Finn manages. "Ben doesn't. At least not in town."
Really? Rey hadn't meant it. She knows what it's like not to have friends. The idea that Finn, and maybe this Poe, too—her heart leaps. She looks back for Ben again, but he's already gone.
Thank you for reading! This story will be updated Tuesdays and Thursdays. Going forward, it will contain extensive, chapter-long flashbacks (which will be clearly noted) to Luke and Leia's story, Anakin and Padmé's, and Jyn's.