Priestess Aishisu: I deleted this fanfiction due to not writing a disclaimer and getting flamed for it, but I now have written one.
By the way, they're thirteen and have been decommissioned, but Numbuhs 1–5 are still friends and Nigel still knows Francine since they live right next door to each other (even though the tree house is gone.)
Marigold=Francine and David's mom, a manic-depressive
Francine=Numbuh 86, no longer a part of the Kids Next Door and without memories, though she still knows Nigel and the others. Her memories were altered, there weren't big blanks or anything.
David=Francine's ten-year-old brother
Nigel=Numbuh One
Hoagie=Numbuh Two
Kuki=Numbuh Three
Wallabee=Numbuh Four
Abigail=Numbuh Five
Disclaimer: I don't own Codename: Kids Next Door or any of the characters. Marigold belongs to Jacqueline Wilson, writer of The Illustrated Mum. Actually, a lot of this story belongs to her. Francine and Numbuhs 1–5 belong to Mr. Warburton.
Marigold started going weird again on her birthday. Francine remembered that she often would on birthdays, so she and David tried extra hard. Francine made a beautiful card cut in the shape of a marigold, using up all the ink in the orange felt tip. She did two sparkly silver threes in her special glitter pen and added 'Happy Birthday' in her best calligraphy. They did calligraphy in Eighth Grade and she was very good at it.
David was still ten and useless at any writing, so he drew a picture of the things Marigold liked best. In the middle he drew himself and Francine. He also drew the Rainbow Tattoo Studio and the Nightbirds Club. Then he added a CD player with lots of Emerald City and some high heels and a bikini and jeans and lots of rings and bangles and earrings. He was getting stuck for ideas by this time and he'd erased so much it was getting furry so he colored it in. He wanted to do marigolds at the border, but Francine had used up the orange so he turned them into roses and colored them red. Red roses symbolized love, and he hoped Marigold would understand.
They got presents as well. Francine found a remixed version of Emerald City's greatest hits for only $12, and David got her a sparkly green hairclip to match her eyes. They even bought a special sheet of green tissue paper and a green satin ribbon to wrap up the presents.
Marigold gave them both big hugs and said they were darlings but her emerald eyes filled with tears.
"Why are you crying?" David asked as Marigold ruffled his brown hair.
"She's crying because she's happy," Francine replied in her Irish accented voice, but she sounded angry. She was angry, but she hid it. She had no choice, after all. "Aren't you, Mom?"
"Mm," replied Marigold. She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was shaking, but she managed a smile. "There, Dave. I've stopped crying, all right?"
David smiled, but Francine knew it wasn't all right. Marigold cried when she heard the Emerald City remix because she said it reminded her of old times. She cried when Francine and David helped her put up her long red hair with the green clasp.
"Look at my neck! It's getting all wrinkly" she cried, touching the taut white skin. Francine was angry, but hid it. "I look so old," Marigold continued while Francine resisted the urge to punch somebody.
"You're not old, you're young," Francine said, and David nodded his agreement.
"I'm thirty-three," replied Marigold glumly. "I wish you hadn't written that right smack bang in the middle of your card, darling. I can't believe I'm thirty-three."
"Look at David's card," said Francine sharply, feeling her fists clench.
"Oh? Oh, yes, darling, it's lovely," said Marigold, hardly glancing at it as she said this. She picked it up and blinked at it, then at David. "What's it meant to be?"
"It's stupid," David said sadly. "It's a mess."
"It's all the things you like best," Francine said quickly. Her insides felt as if they were seething and bubbling with rage. She bit back a shriek of pure fury.
"It's beautiful," said Marigold, staring at it. Then she started crying again.
"Mom!" cried Francine angrily.
"I'm sorry. It just makes me feel so awful. Look at the pub and the high heels and the sexy tops. These aren't mumsie things. David should have drawn...I don't know...a pretty dress and...and a kitten. That's what mothers like."
"That isn't what you like and you're my mother," David pointed out.
"David spent ages making you that card." Francine's statement was practically a snarl. Her outrage was now evident on her face, and her gray-green eyes were narrow.
"I know, I know. It's lovely. I said. I'm the hopeless cause. Don't you understand?" Marigold sniffed again. "Anyway, let's have breakfast. Hey, can I have my cake now? Birthday cake for breakfast! Great idea, right, girls?"
They stared at her.
"We didn't get you a cake," said Francine, now unbearably frustrated. "You know we didn't. We asked and you said a cake was the very last thing you wanted, remember?"
"No." Marigold's expression was blank. She had went on and on about how they mustn't get her a cake because she was sure she was starting to put on weight and the icing would only give her a toothache and anyway she didn't even like birthday cake.
"I love birthday cake. You know how much it means to me because I never had a proper party or a special cake when I was a kid. I hate it when you girls don't want to have proper parties and you just want to go to stupid places like McDonalds."
"All right, all right, I'll get you the birthday cake," Francine said, already grabbing the purse. "The cake shop opens early on Sunday." Anything to get out of this house.
"She's cross with me," said Marigold when Francine hurried out, slamming the door behind her.
"No, she isn't. She's getting your cake, that's all." David said quickly, though he didn't doubt that his elder sister was cross. Then again, she was often cross.
"Cross, cross, cross," muttered Marigold, frowning and apparently ignoring David. "That's what they used to say in foster homes. 'I'm very cross with you, Marigold.' This one old bat would bring her face right up close to mine until her eyes were so near they crossed too. 'Cross, cross, cross,' is what she'd say, and her spit would spray my face. She was a real bitch, that one. She never hit us, knew she wasn't allowed, but you could tell she wanted to. Really, really wanted to. She just said stuff. Cross, cross, cross."
"Mom..." David had no idea what to else say. He was always a bit afraid when Marigold would speak like that, muttering fast and playing around with words. He wished Francine would hurry back."
"Just words. Cross words!"
David giggled in case Marigold meant it as a joke. Marigold seemed startled. "We have crosswords at school," explained Oliver quickly. "I can't do them. I'm hopeless at spelling and stuff.
"So am I," said Marigold with a nod. "I hated school. I was always getting myself into trouble."
"Yeah. Same here." David replied, hoping that Marigold was feeling better now. He was ravenous. He found some frosted flakes, and ate a handful dry to keep him going. Marigold helped herself as well.
"I wish Francine would hurry up," David remarked. To his surprise, Marigold burst into tears again. "Don't cry, Mom," he pleaded. "Your eyes will get red."
"Red eyes, ropey neck, maudlin mood. I'm such a mess, aren't I? What have I got to show for thirty-three years? Aside from two lovely children. I always thought I had so much potential and yet I haven't done anything with my life."
"You do bunches and bunches of stuff. You paint and you write storied and you design beautiful outfits and you dance and you work at the studio and—and—"
Again ignoring David, Marigold continued glumly, "If I don't do something with my life soon I never will. I'm getting old so quickly. Come here, Dave."
She wrapped her slender arms around him, her bangles jingling. He nestled against her, breathing in her magical musky smell. Her silky red hair tickled his nose and he stroked it, letting it fan out through his fingers.
"I feel like I'm at a crossroads, Dave," Marigold sighed. Then her eyes, the deep green of summer meadows, lit up. "Cross. Hey, Dave, what if I get a cross tattoo?"
"You don't really have that much space yet," David remarked, rubbing her decorated arms.
Marigold examined herself, peering this way and that. "How about right here, across my elbow? Brilliant! I need a piece of paper." She used the back of David's birthday card, but he didn't really mind. She sketched rapidly, biting her lower lip as she focused. David peered over her shoulder and sighed wistfully at her talent.
Her hand was shaking, but the pen line was graceful and sinuous as she made an elegant Celtic cross with roses and ivy twining around it. "Roses," she said, glancing up from the finished piece. "Like on your card, Dave."
David felt immensely proud, but also worried. He knew what Francine would say. "It's a lovely picture. Couldn't you just keep it on paper? We could get a special frame for it and you could hang it over your bed.
"I want it to be a picture on me," Marigold replied, her eyes glittering emerald. "I wonder if Steve has any early appointments. I can't wait! I'll get him to trace it and do it now. Special birthday present!" She leapt up.
"But Fanny's getting your birthday cake!"
"Oh!" Marigold screwed her beautiful face up in disappointment. "Oh yes. Well, come on, Fanny. Where's she got to? Why did she have to get this cake?"
This was so unfair of Marigold that David couldn't even bear to meet her eyes. It was terrible when she would twist everything up in her head. She always did it when she was in a state. David knew that he should tell Marigold she wasn't being fair to Francine, but he couldn't make himself. It was so special being Marigold and him.
Francine grumbled. The line had been ages. Marigold probably wouldn't even want the cake when she got back. Why did she have to have the worst life ever?
"What are you doing here?" Francine turned in surprise to see a bald boy with blue eyes hidden by sunglasses and scowled. It was her next-door neighbor Nigel Uno. As if she didn't have enough problems already.
"I could ask you the same thing, Nigel."
Nigel frowned. She always had a hatred, a disdain when she said his voice. He didn't really understand why she disliked him so much, but he didn't really like her either. "My mom had a promotion, so Dad and I are picking out a cake for her." He pointed to his father. "Now answer my question. I don't see how you could like cake, seeing as how there's nothing sweet about you."
Francine's teeth ground, and her eyes flashed angrily. "Shut up, you stupid boy." Without thinking, she swung the box with the cake around with all her might.
It struck Nigel hard in the stomach and he stumbled back, crashing into a shelf of muffins. Heads turned as the shelf toppled backwards. Francine turned and ran.
When Francine finally returned to the house, carefully balancing the box containing the cake in her upturned hands, Marigold had to make an extreme effort.
"Fanny, dear! You've been such a time, sweetie!"
"Sorry. There were heaps of people, and some of them were quite...unpleasant." She wrinkled her nose, eyes flashing angrily, and David wondered what had happened. "I didn't know whether to get the fruit or sponge cake, and I decided to get the sponge because it was cheaper...but maybe you'd prefer fruit?"
"Whichever," Marigold replied uncaringly. "Come on then, let's just eat." She was already pulling it from the box, not even bothering to get a plate. She rummaged through the drawer for a knife.
"Make a wish!" said David. Marigold shut her eyes and her lips moved slightly. Then she started hacking away at the cake and gulping her slice so quickly she sprayed crumbs everywhere.
"What's the big hurry?" asked Francine, and David stopped eating. The cake suddenly felt very dry, a thick lump in his throat which he couldn't get rid of.
"I'm going to try to catch Steve early, before he has any customers," Marigold replied, not noticing David's apprehension. "I've just designed the most amazing symbolic tattoo."
"No!" cried Francine, rising to her feet. "Not another one!"
"But this is such a beautiful design, my darling. It's a cross, you see, because I'm at a crossroads. Look at it, Fanny!" Marigold waved the exquisite design.
"You've spoilt Dave's birthday card," Francine accused.
"No she hasn't," David interjected quickly. "I like the design, it's beautiful!" But for the third time that day not a single person even seemed to hear him.
"You said that it was sick and pitiful getting yourself tattooed again and again! You said that you would save up for laser treatment to get them removed! You said." Francine's voice was rising.
"I said a whole load of stuff just to keep you happy, my darling. But I love my tattoos, you know that. They're all so special to me. They make me feel special."
"Well, they make you look like a circus freak," snapped Francine.
There was a sudden silence. They stared at each other in disbelief and embarrassment, unable to believe what Francine had just said. Even Francine seemed astounded.
"All right, so I'm a freak," Marigold replied shakily. "I don't care. I don't have to conform to your narrow view of society, Fanny. I've always lived my life on the outside edge."
"Now you're sounding like some cheesy old film. Why can't you just be ordinary?"
"I've never been ordinary in my life," Marigold replied truthfully. "I don't want to be ordinary. I can't figure out why you do. What's the matter with you, Fanny?"
"Maybe I'm growing up. When are you going to grow up?" Francine seized her slice of cake and crumpled it, then she brushed the crumbs from her hand and ran into her bedroom.
A few hours later she came out, being certain that they were gone. She turned on the television and didn't speak to them when they came back, though she screwed her face in disgust when she saw Marigold's bandage.
They had the rest of the birthday cake for lunch. Marigold had bought wine for herself and juice for Oliver and Francine. "So we can all drink to the birthday girl," she said brightly.
She finished the entire body in less than half an hour and went to her room, saying she was sleeping. Francine wouldn't speak to Oliver so they both watched television. After a few hours, Oliver went to Marigold's room.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, fine, never finer!" sang Marigold, exiting the room. She was dressed in her shortest skirt and her highest heels, a black chenille sweater hiding her bandage.
"You're going out," Francine said flatly.
"Of course I am, darling," replied Marigold, smiling at Francine. Her eyes were outlined in black so they were bigger and greener than ever. "I have to celebrate my birthday.
Francine sighed heavily.
"Oh, don't be like that. I'm just nipping down to a pub. I'll be back in a couple hours, I promise." No reply. "I promise." She touched her arm gingerly. "I'm at the crossroads. I'm going to turn the right way this time. You'll see. I'll be back by ten. Half past ten at the latest."
They stayed up until midnight. Then they gave up and fell asleep.