A.N.: So this chapter introduces Violet: she will be very important later on, say, when the Originals are un-daggered, and Rebekah needs a gal-pal. And I'm just watching Prisoner of Azkaban and wondering why the set-designers put a children's playground beside a roundabout on a main road. Bizarre. Also – SIRIUS! WAAAAA! I'm sorry… I need to compose myself… And I seriously want the present Sophia puts together for Violet!

Cuckoo In the Nest

06

Violet

Sophia's life, in the aftermath of Elena's big revelation about her boyfriend, became…lonely. She spent a lot of time in the Art workshop at school, working on her final project. Since the beginning of the semester, they had covered portraiture, photography, PhotoShop (proving the students were superior to their teacher), and in the last part of the semester they were given free reign with screen-printing. For their final project they had to produce a piece of work using a majority of those skills, and Sophia, without the benefit of her friendship with Damon to get her out of the house, spent a lot of time honing the details of her project. She was truly becoming obsessed with screen-printing, designing each layer of the print, mixing the paints to her exacting specifications, touching up the dried layers with hand-painted details. It was meticulous, time-consuming work and Sophia loved it; she could put her headphones on, and everyone would leave her alone during class-time while she was working. Her counsellor thought she should learn to participate more, but she was doing her best to avoid talking to anyone recently.

Who knew how many more monsters were lurking in the halls of her high-school?

It wasn't Elena's fault the brothers were vampires, Sophia knew that. But she had invited them into her life, into their home, and never breathed a word of how dangerous Damon could possibly have been to Sophia. She knew he was a bad boy, she liked his arrogance and self-assuredness, and the brief flashes of a loyal, compassionate man who felt everything so deeply; and it wasn't even Damon himself who had pushed Sophia to freeze him out.

Elena had approached her in the Art studio at school, in the week after everything had been revealed. She couldn't pin Sophia down at home, Sophia wouldn't even acknowledge her, but she had been working on her screen-printing, Tyler Lockwood sharing the worktop with her, trying to put some time in because weight-training and football practice took so much of his time after school, and Sophia couldn't just blank her, even as she just wanted Elena to be wiped off the face of the planet.

"…you get it, don't you, I mean, you haven't talked to Damon since that night," Elena had breathed, aware of Tyler mixing paints across the room; Elena eyed Sophia's work, and smiled softly. "It looks really good… But, you get it, right? Why I warned you away from him when you and Damon first became friends? He's dangerous. And he only became friends with you to get back at Stefan, and make digs to me about you after I found out."

Sophia had felt what Elena had said like a slap to the face, "Only became friends with you to get back at Stefan…"

She had given Elena the iciest glare she had delivered in a while, until her eyelashes had fluttered and she'd started to pout and she traipsed off to catch up with Stefan, lingering in the hall outside the studio snacking on potato-chips. Her eyes burning, Sophia had looked away quickly before he could see her lip tremble, but she clamped her jaw and focused on her screen, not wanting Stefan to see that she was hurt. Only friends with you to get back at him.

But she knew that wasn't true. Damon wasn't who he portrayed himself to others when they spent time together. If they weren't truly friends, he wouldn't sit through Africa episodes, or read her sketchbook entries of fairy-tales, or insist on goofy pictures in the photo-booth in the mall, or come to her jazz-band recital…he wouldn't lend her antique books, or take an interest in her life, comfort her after bad days at the café, or take her out for curly-fries when she was depressed about her parents, or endure shopping with her when she was on a consumerist binge after payday.

The idea that Elena thought the only reason anyone would be friends with her was to get back at someone else hurt worse than learning Damon had never trusted her to tell her his secret that he was a vampire.

She hadn't spoken to Damon since the night everything had come out into the open. Not for lack of desire to… She missed her friend.

And she was so hurt, by Elena, but Damon (mostly by Elena), that she couldn't bear the idea of admitting it.

Damon had made all the awful so much more fun; in the wake of her parents' deaths, Damon's friendship had drawn her out of the safe cocoon of isolation she had nurtured for herself, surrounded by her fairy-tale characters, her makeup, her bi-weekly shifts at the café and babysitting Violet. He had drawn her out of her shell, admiring of her daring in cutting all her hair off into a pixie-cut, of her exceptional personal style and the fact she listened to jazz and old-school punk rather than Katy Perry. She appreciated his taste in literature, his self-confidence and the gentler side he sometimes slipped into almost unconsciously. She liked it when he made her pasta, and she enjoyed meeting him for donuts after jazz-band: she liked that he didn't get annoyed when she took her dear sweet time trawling the vinyl record store, and she had always wondered how he knew exactly where she hid the box of caramel-turtles to sneak one at a time whenever he stopped at her house.

"What was that about?" Tyler asked quietly, glancing over at her as he arranged things on his half of the workbench. Their class had less than fifteen kids in it, so they all had to pretty much talk to each other, especially when they had group projects, but Tyler was a popular jock, and Sophia was Sophia. Although she'd noticed he'd been looking at her a lot more often since she cut her hair all off; most people did. Nobody expected wallflower Sophia Gilbert to do something that radical.

"Just me wishing I was an only-child," Sophia said quietly, not wanting to go into the details. How did she explain to a complete stranger, one who was actually one of Elena's oldest friends, that she couldn't stand the sight of her sister – not even her sister. Some girl her parents had taken in, too desperate to be parents they couldn't wait three days for Sophia to arrive. That Elena had caused her parents' deaths, that her vampire boyfriend had put her life over those of Sophia's mom and dad, that Elena had invited vampires into their home. That she had endangered everyone – Sophia, Jenna, Jeremy, even her own best-friends, Bonnie the witch, Caroline who still didn't know – so she and Stefan could play Twilight.

"You doing okay?" Tyler asked, and Sophia's eyebrows rose, surprised, as she glanced at him. Feeling the tiniest bit lighter for someone asking her, she licked her lips, glancing away.

"No," she admitted on a soft sigh. Tyler sighed heavily.

"At least it's not affecting your art," he said, nodding at her screen. She was in the middle of printing another layer to one of the t-shirts she had designed, a Dumbledore's Army "poster" with a phoenix motif border, and on the back, aneerie Thestral and foal in mid-flight, a handful of gold Galleons, colourful Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs and a tumbling pile of glowing glass prophecies, the words Still Recruiting daubed like graffiti on the phantom background of stonework. She had drawn it all inspired by Mucha and Edmund Dulac, moody, slightly romantic, fluid.

She smiled slightly, observing her screen. She had already completed two of the t-shirts she had designed, using her character Margarita the Bantam chicken (who believed she was a triceratops), with the caption, If History Repeats Itself, I am SO Getting a Dinosaur. One of the t-shirts was child-sized, which she was intending to give Violet as a part of her Christmas gift, and the other was to hand in for her final project. She had designed a handful of t-shirts to print, and was enjoying every meticulous, time-consuming layer she printed with the paints she mixed by hand. Her favourite was the one she had been inspired by Violet to design – initially, she had just done some artwork, incorporating a dragon, a mermaid, a golden egg, a broomstick, a banner made to look like a Daily Prophet heading, all in a style that was influenced by antique coats of arms, Mucha and Trina Schart-Hyman, drenched in her own quirky style. On the back, she had printed Triwizard Champion.

She and Violet had read Goblet of Fire over the summer: if there was ever a person more obsessed with Harry Potter than Violet, Sophia would pay to watch a gladiatorial battle to the death while they sorted out who the bigger fan was. Violet was obsessed: they were now reading Order of the Phoenix and Violet wholeheartedly supported Sophia's desire to be product developer for Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes: rather than use a house-elf, Violet had suggested she test the twins' inventions herself.

Violet was the charismatic eight-year-old Sophia babysat every week, and it was she who got Sophia through the worst of Elena's betrayals, and her revelation about being adopted. Violet was obsessed with vinyl records (old-school punk, big band and The Kinks), dinosaurs, victory-roll hair 'dos, cameras, swing dancing, painting nails and science: she also consistently slaughtered Sophia at Monopoly every time they played. And when Sophia babysat her, it was more like a sleepover with a very petite friend – Violet was young, but she was precocious, and funny; she was also clever, intuitive, and liked to learn. She also liked to call up and chat with Sophia on the phone at least twice a week, and for the past year had asked Sophia for her help with all her school science projects, knowing that Violet's awesome mom Alyn would invite Sophia to stay for dinner, and Violet would be allowed to stay up an extra half-hour while Alyn taught Sophia how to apply vintage eyeliner with a brush.

Jenna, who had been changing Violet's diapers before Sophia started babysitting her, got all mushy whenever Sophia talked about Violet; she thought their relationship was absolutely adorable. Every week, Sophia would burn a new playlist on a CD for Violet to investigate, the recycled-card cover for which she would always illustrate by hand with her fairytale characters. Violet had the same quirky sense of humour and imagination that Sophia did, and she enjoyed having a little friend. When Violet had had her appendix removed last month, Sophia had been invited for a sleepover: at Violet's request, they had watched Swing Time with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, had soda-floats and a serious discussion with her mom about future career-paths – Violet had decided upon fire-eating, after considering being a Ben & Jerry's ice-cream namer, a tiger-breeder, a chocolate-bar wrapper, a movie-critic, and a professional anti-heroine vigilante (costume designed by Sophia, "nothing strapless" being Alyn's only stipulation). Violet's personality was sweet, easy-going, charismatic and gentle, despite a heavy tomboyish streak Sophia and Alyn both associated with childhood, and she had a quirky imagination.

With winter vacation approaching, Sophia had organised a sleepover weekend with Alyn, inviting Violet to stay at her house for the entire weekend: Alyn was headed to New Orleans for a cosmetics convention, and it fell on the weekend Sophia had purchased tickets for Violet's birthday in August, to see the Royal Opera House's production of the Alice's Adventures in Wonderland ballet, streamed live from London to over 1,300 theatres worldwide, in 23 countries. Sophia and Violet had read through the book during the summer, and Violet loved dancing. Every week, she and her mom went to a swing-dance lesson, and Sophia had been invited a few times and enjoyed it, though she was still too shy and uncoordinated to put herself out there. But Violet was already an amazing dancer, she was fearless and an unstoppable flirt, she would dance with anyone. So Sophia had bought the tickets earlier in the year, and Violet had been counting down to seeing it. She had asked Marcia for that Saturday off to spend with Violet, and because she was picking up so many shifts overtime through vacation and after school leading up to it, Marcia had agreed.

Friday-afternoon, Sophia had walked to the elementary-school to pick Violet up; Alyn had already dropped her weekend bag at the house, and they walked home, with enough time to "get tarted up", as Violet called it, put on their going-out clothes, and Jenna had given them a ride downtown to the cinema. It was a long, fun ballet, and Sophia had already paid for mini-smoothies for them during the intermission, brought to their seats by an usher; Violet had enjoyed taking "mani-cam" Instagram pics of Sophia's manicure, their smoothies, her own sparkling fingernails, taking goofy pictures and some really pretty ones, Violet lamenting she couldn't wear winged-eyeliner until she was thirteen and her mom taught her how to "put her face on", but Violet, in a floaty violet-printed skirt, a burgundy Crybaby "The Drapes – Baltimore" t-shirt, a customised denim jacket and mini combat-boots, was the epitome of cool, with her little amethyst backpack, Dr Pepper chapstick-stained lips and her balmy sunshine-blonde hair drawn up into a lazy bun. She had given Sophia advice on how to do her eye makeup, right down to the amount of MAC pigment she needed and what shade of lipstick she should use to show off that she wasn't wearing her braces, and had picked out Sophia's grey chandelier-embellished J Crew sweater, her fuchsia lip-stain and gold bar earrings – she had also advised Sophia do "something more punk-rock" with her pixie-cut – Sophia had let her go nuts with some styling balm, and had eventually managed to tame it down again, even after Violet had attacked her with Sophia's Body Shop "Sparkler" atomiser. Shimmer everywhere.

"Sophia…"

"Yeah."

"Why did you cut your hair off?" Violet had her intense face on, frowning and thoughtful. Sophia sucked on her straw, getting a hit of strawberry, banana and something fizzy.

"I wanted to."

"But you're a girl."

"Uh…yes?"

"I mean, you're like a real girl, one who likes eye-shadow and pantyhose," Violet said, her voice hushed as if she was cussing. Sophia smirked.

"So, what does that have to do with me cutting my hair?" she asked.

"I thought all girls who are real girls like their hair long like Rapunzel," Violet said, rolling her eyes.

"I just wanted my hair short," Sophia shrugged.

"Billy at school says girls who cut their hair off are dykes." Sophia reached over and flicked Violet's ear.

"Don't use that word," she scolded lightly.

"I don't know what it means!"

"It…" Sophia squirmed. Violet loved doing this to her, making Sophia explain the awkward stuff. "It means a woman who likes other women, rather than men. A lesbian. Except, it's derogatory."

"Why?"

"Well, it's like…calling someone African-American the 'N' word, that's the same kinda way calling a gay woman a 'dyke' is offensive," Sophia said, then winced. "Well, not exactly as bad, but it's just not a very nice word; it's ignorant."

"I don't like Billy," Violet said, pursing her lips. Then she frowned. "Why would Billy think…lesbians cut all their hair off?"

Sophia stifled a groan as she hung her head. Rolling her neck, she tried to think of a polite explanation. "There's a lot of stereotype – you know what stereotypes are, right?"

"Yeah. Like all pure-bloods are Malfoys," Violet sniffed, and Sophia hid a smirk.

"Right. Well, there was a stereotype for a long time that gay women who were more masculine in the way they acted, would dress like men and cut their hair short like men," Sophia said.

"But you've cut your hair all off," Violet frowned. "You're not a lesbian."

"No, I just wanted to have short hair," Sophia said, shrugging. "When someone calls you bad names, it usually means they're ignorant."

"So…you're poking a stereotype in the eye, cutting your hair off but not being a lesbian?" Violet asked, still frowning thoughtfully.

"I suppose. It's like you."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"Well, you say you're a tomboy, y'know, because you love soccer and all that stuff, but you also love swing dancing and glitter nail-polish and reading," Sophia said. "People love to try and put you into little neat boxes, conform to things."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I suppose it's easier to impose rules on how you're supposed to act, when you're a 'tomboy' or a 'geek' or a 'jock'," Sophia shrugged. "Social rules are different. People don't really like to be surprised. It's uncomfortable."

Elena: the ultimate girl-next-door, thoughtful, compassionate and sweet.

Stefan Salvatore: the loner jock with a boy-next-door vibe.

Damon Salvatore: seductive, irreverent party-boy with a dark streak.

Sophia: the quirky artistic musician, hard-working, not academically-oriented but motivated, adventurous with fashion but a bit of an introvert.

Which of these four is the only truthful assessment? she thought.

"Well, I like it," Violet beamed, reaching out a dimpled hand to stroke Sophia's shimmering, "punk-rock" 'do. Sophia knew Violet liked her hair: for her birthday in June, Violet and Alyn had put together a "Pixie's Guide to Grooming" hamper, full of products and accessories to maintain and style a pixie-cut, things from styling balm to glitter hair-mascara to tiny clips and headbands Blair Waldorf would mug her for. Violet sighed and settled into her seat, expression still contemplative. "I think it's okay for women to want to seduce other women." Sophia snorted and smirked at Violet.

"Oh, really?"

"I mean, if she wasn't my mom, I'd be all over Alyn," Violet sighed lustily, and Sophia laughed loudly. "What?! She's a hot piece!" Sophia choked on a slurp of her smoothie, laughing.

"You are so odd," she choked, grinning, and hooked her arm around Violet's little shoulders, dragging her closer so she could place lots of kisses on Violet's cheeks. "I love it!"

"Thank you," Violet preened, brushing her shoulder. "Why's there paint on your fingers?"

"I finished my final project for Art today," Sophia said, smiling proudly. She didn't want to brag, but she was feeling very confident about her grade – compared to most of the other kids in her class, she had gone above and beyond. Mostly because she was so enthusiastic; it wasn't just a grade for her, she'd enjoyed every minute of the project.

It had been almost two weeks ago that Elena had come to the Art workshop to tell her Damon had only befriended Sophia to get back at his brother. Just this afternoon, Sophia had finished the last t-shirt she'd wanted to screen-print, after designing the artwork by hand, refining the designs and adjusting the colours on PhotoShop, taking a screen-print to show every step of the process for credit when she handed everything in, then planning each layer to print, hand-painting the details onto each before she printed the next layer.

For a while, the project had kept her consumed; she could focus on the details, and she anticipated Violet's excitement when she opened the gifts Sophia had planned for her kept her almost giddy despite everything. She could almost pretend she didn't miss Damon goofing off with her after he'd planned an epic scavenger hunt in the mall for her on a whim, because The Grill had been closed for three days for refurbishment and he was bored.

Memories of the scavenger-hunt, and taking goofy pictures in the photo-booth every month with Damon, tugged at her heartstrings as she and Violet trawled the mall on Saturday: Sophia had promised to take Violet shopping so she could buy gifts for her mom for Christmas. Alyn had supplied Sophia with a list of approved gift options! They had gone to Tortilla for naked-burritos for lunch, and after shopping they were headed home to learn how to temper chocolate for Violet's winter-break science project. They were going to make truffles, watch Home Alone and practice the dance-moves Sophia had learned the last time she went to the swing lesson with Alyn and Violet. Sophia had picked out some last-minute stocking stuffer bits – Pez dispenders, Pixie Stix, fake moustaches for Jeremy (a dig that he needed to start shaving), and fun temporary tattoos to add to Violet's gift, she had found bacon-flavoured tooth-floss, and a "soda-can safe" Jeremy could hide his stash in. She had bought Big League Chew and knotted hair-ties, flirty nail-polish, ceramic travel coffee-mugs and a couple great novels, a bunch of e.l.f. lip glosses and colour sticks, cherry-scented dry-shampoo, Rifle Paper Co. monogrammed notecards for Jenna. But the best gifts she was planning were for Violet, the bright star in a whole lot of darkness.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…" Michael Bublé crooned, as Sophia wandered through the frantic holiday crowds pushing their way through the mall, loaded bags taking out people's shins unexpectedly, tantrums in every toy-department, a mad crush at Sephora for the last Naked3 palette. The glittering decorations, the sales, the scent of peppermint hot-chocolate wafting from Starbucks, the Christmas playlists on a constant loop, even the cute window-displays seemed like a proverbial slap in the face as she wandered through the mall.

Winter break had begun, and Sophia was feeling the implications keenly. Winter break meant Christmas; it meant Christmas with her family. Donning the new awesome gloves, hat and scarf her mom had bought her to go out and pick the tree with Dad; and coming home to the entire house smelling of Mom's two-dozen special holiday cookies, after spending the day in the snow with Jeremy. It meant Founders' parties and the winter dance; it meant watching the other kids at school getting candy-cane-grams, and exchanging presents with squeals of delight. It meant wandering the Christmas Fête to the scent of mulled cider under the twinkling of white lights; it meant boots and hot-chocolate and a new lip-gloss in her stocking with some earrings and a bar of artisan-quality chocolate and a mini jigsaw puzzle to keep her entertained. It meant candy-apples and picking out Secret Santa names for the goofy little gifts they gave each other for dinner on Christmas Eve; it meant the Lockwoods' Christmas cocktail-party. Mom would always buy them a complete party-outfit that was so on-trend, glamorous and personal to their style to wear to the party; Elena would inevitably disappear with Tyler, Caroline, Matt and Bonnie, and Sophia would spend the night avoiding being dragged onto the dance-floor by her dad, sampling from the buffet and hanging out with Jeremy playing games with the little kids in the games-room. Carol had put her in charge of the games and prizes last year; and this year, she had taken Sophia for a hot-chocolate when she'd asked Sophia to organise it again.

Mrs Lockwood didn't realise how much her mom had helped her put it all together last year.

Every year, they traditionally blitzed Dad's office downtown, turning it into an explosion of festivity; and a new photograph was grudgingly taken with Santa at his grotto, framed in the office. Christmas meant Sophia was asked to illustrate their cards; and the giddiness of shopping for gifts. Sophia weirdly loved buying wrapping-paper, the cuter and quirkier the better, and always illustrated her own cards and the tags on presents. She always found more joy in finding little personal gifts for other people than receiving presents.

She had a few shopping-bags at her fingertips, little ones filled with goodies, but they had had a family-meeting in the kitchen on December 3. Traditionally, Mom had always gotten the decorations out on December 1. She would coax Dad into putting the lights up outside, sending some kind of bat-signal to Jenna, telling her it was time to go boot-shopping with the girls.

This year, Sophia didn't want to do Christmas. How could they, when the people who made it were gone? Elena had pouted, not getting it: Jeremy held the same opinion Sophia did, that there was no point doing Christmas. It wouldn't be the same; and ultimately she knew she would feel a hundred times worse than she already did, when they did it all and it didn't fit right. Half the excitement of Christmas had come from Mom and Dad making it so extraordinary.

The idea of Jeremy on a ladder, stringing up Christmas lights whilst stoned had Jenna and Sophia grimacing at all the things that could and probably would go wrong. They had agreed to attend the Lockwoods' Christmas cocktail-party, to which Jenna had invited Mr Saltzman as her date. The consensus was that on Christmas morning they would sleep in, then have a movie-marathon in pyjamas with junk-food and whatever leftovers they had in the refrigerator for dinner.

They had also agreed to do stockings. They were each going to buy the others a handful of little personal gifts, wrap them prettily and stuff them in their stockings to open while they watched It's a Wonderful Life and Home Alone on Christmas morning. She also had to do something for her Secret Santa at the café; they had already exchanged Secret Santa gifts for Jazz-band: the newly-assembled JV soccer team had only had four games – the first, on 9 December, the last, the Thursday before school let out for break – but they had all been invited to Team Captain and extrovert Bridget's house for an unconventional Christmas party of tinsel headbands, Thai curry and pot brownies, concluded with another Secret Santa. Sophia played left-forward on the JV team, a petite little spitfire – when she remembered her inhaler.

She had pulled Vithya's name – notoriously high-maintenance and forgetful – so Sophia had put together a post-game survival-kit to put in her duffel, full of things like blister-packs, pocket-notes, clear nail-polish, bobby-pins and knotted hair-ties, scented dry-shampoo, a mini sewing-kit, Tide-to-Go, Tic-Tacs, a lint-roller, a nail-file and buffer, bronzer from e.l.f. and an eyeliner, scented hand-santisier from Bath and Body Works, a mini tub of Vaseline and Pepto-Bismol, a gorgeous blush-nude NYX soft-matte lip cream called "San Paolo", Tampax Compak, and an empty "Smalls" Altoids tin she had prettied up and added a layer of sponge to, for Vithya to poke her earrings into when she inevitably forgot to take all of them out before the game, some granola bars, lotion, cute Kleenex and spray deodorant, Band-Aids and a couple colourful gel pens, all tucked into a Vera Bradley hanging organiser she had bought at a huge discount: she had put it all together within the $30 limit, still with a couple bucks left over for a Starbucks gift-card to feed Vithya's pumpkin latté habit.

She was a bit dubious about the soccer team Christmas party, mostly on account of how cliquey the other girls could be, most of them on the cheerleading team in the Fall, but on the team they included her; she had earned her stripes as left-forward – her head-on collision with an opponent and the ensuing bloody mouth last year had made the yearbook, scoring three goals despite her mouth being torn apart by her braces, refusing to succumb to the stereotype of soccer-players being complete pussies – and she had been making the effort to be included.

And then, there was Violet. She'd been working on Violet's Christmas gifts for over a month, enjoying every second of planning the details, the presentation, and her Art teacher had said she could earn a little extra-credit by putting together a second one for part of her final project, since it fit in with the theme of the t-shirts and things she had screen-printed.

Despite everything, though, Sophia was enjoying the unique aspects of this year's Christmas season. Her parents weren't there; they hadn't decorated the house; it didn't smell of marzipan, nutmeg and mulled apples; and she wasn't traipsing around the house in a new set of Christmas pyjamas. Because she was going out. Every year, she usually ended up spending every day of her break at home. This year, though, she had been asked by Marcia if she wanted to do extra shifts at the café to earn a little extra money. She was doing a shedload of babysitting for Violet and other kids in the neighbourhood while their parents went to Christmas parties; the kids she taught art at the local library every week were having a little party their parents had put together and invited her; there was the annual Lockwood Christmas cocktail-party; and Marcia had organised something very fun for their staff Christmas party, apparently. Joshua had invited Sophia to drop in on a New Year's party he and a bunch of his friends were hosting when they returned from college; and Violet and Alyn had invited Sophia to a "tea dance" in Richmond – full vintage outfits required.

Sophia couldn't wait. And she was enjoying the hell out of herself with Violet. Her quirky little friend was a tomboyish flirt, too precocious for her own good. The boys at her elementary school sure thought Violet had it all going on: she had four boyfriends.

"Gal's gotta have options," her mom always teased, rolling her eyes indulgently at Violet, so cool and tomboyish and oblivious to her own dimples and sweet little tush. As they walked hand-in-hand through the mall, enjoying window-shopping and picking out cute gifts, Violet didn't stop chattering about how all four of her boyfriends had given her candy-cane grams on the last day of school.

"One of 'em pushes me on the swings; and DJ gives me a piece of candy every day; Spencer shares his iPod with me during morning recess," Violet grinned.

"That's only three," Sophia reminded her.

"I'm considering whether there's room in my life for the fourth one," Violet said, with a serious frown and a long-suffering sigh. "But he left glittery turtle stickers in my cubby and he asked if I wanted to go to the Aquarium."

"The Aquarium's cool," Sophia observed. Violet paused in front of the window-display at See's Candy.

"Yeah," she sighed gently. Her little face lit up, eyes sparkling, "Did you know they have dinosaur skeletons at the Smithsonian?" She sighed, her features softening into a wistful smile. "I love dinosaurs. Do you have Land Before Time? I think we should watch that."

"We could do that," Sophia smiled. She hadn't watched Land Before Time in years. "Dinosaurs, chocolate, makeovers."

"Makeovers?!" Violet squawked indignantly, and Sophia smirked because she had known how Violet would react. "I hate makeup!"

"Says the girl who spent twenty minutes combing over the lipsticks in Sephora," Sophia smirked, poking her playfully. Violet shivered away from her, grinning.

"They were pretty colours," she said, shrugging her little shoulders. "Mommy's lipsticks are prettier, though."

"Your mom has excellent taste, that's why," Sophia said, smiling. "Women like Ava Gardner, Elizabeth Taylor, Lauren Bacall, they would've mugged your mom for her cosmetics." Violet's mother owned a tiny store in Richmond, where she sold loose-leaf tea, handmade tea services, homemade small-batch cordials, jams and organic soaps, honey-based beauty products, artisan chocolate-bars from a local chocolatier and her own vintage-inspired cosmetics. It was all about quality and unique appeal, in Alyn's store. The cosmetics were Alyn's baby, older than Violet herself, inspired by Alyn's adoration of vintage, and a desire to return some glamour to women's morning rituals of putting on their faces.

"Oh, Lauren Bacall!" Violet gushed, a hand to her heart, her shopping-bags swinging. "Can we watch To Have or Have Not?"

"Either we watch Ducky or we watch Bogie – your choice," Sophia smiled. "Did you know Lauren Bacall scolded her granddaughter and told her to watch Nosferatu instead of Twilight?"

"I already know she's a goddess," Violet smirked, and Sophia chuckled. "Didja know she's one of the four actresses they modelled Jessica Rabbit off of? I read that when I looked up Who Framed Roger Rabbit? after you made me watch it."

"Made you? You begged me!" Sophia smirked. "And you liked it. And Uncle Buck." Her phone started to ring, as Violet started giggling to herself over her favourite scenes in Uncle Buck (Sophia's were the hatchet scene, and the bowling-ball in the closet), and Sophia extricated her cell-phone with difficulty from the little purse clamped over her shoulder, dislodging several shopping-bags onto the floor at her feet, people milling about: Violet stood guard over the bags, and Sophia flexed her reddened fingers before accepting the call from Jenna.

"Hey, guys, I'm out front – there's no parking, so you'll have to dive into the car as I drive past," Jenna said. "Did you get everything you wanted?" Sophia glanced down at the loaded bags at her feet; she playfully slapped at Violet's little fingers as she tauntingly peeked into the bags.

"Everything but the kitchen sink. Outside Macy's?"

"Yeah, I'm right out by the doors by the doors to the women's clothing section," Jenna said. She hung up the phone, grabbed her bags, and she and Violet made their way, chatting about dancing, and vintage milkshake bars, Violet's dad in the bayou and the next chapter of Order of the Phoenix they were going to read later.

Jenna loved Violet, thought the little girl had oomph and made their stomachs hurt laughing too much at her witty banter, so of course, she had agreed to having Violet to stay the whole weekend; Violet would be sleeping in Sophia's room on the fold-out camping mattress, and Jenna had promised Alyn that Violet would at least be fed and bathed semi-regularly.

Jenna had promised them a ride home from the mall, after Sophia and Violet had walked there in the morning after breakfast at the bagel shop; Jenna dropped them off at home – after listening, per Violet's request, to a Cee-Lo CD – and Sophia disentangled Violet from her coat, scarf and fluffy-lined Ugg boots. She hooked up her iPod to the stereo, putting on her favourite playlist, and as she got the things ready for Violet's science-chocolate project, Violet practiced her swing moves in the hall.

"Get your little butt over here," Sophia called, and Violet twirled into view, grinning. "Alright, I've got my iPhone all charged to take pictures, we'll take some each step of the process, so you can put a big board together for your presentation, and here's the decorations and moulds…" Sophia was probably more excited than Violet to work with the chocolate, even if it was Violet's project; she finally got a chance to use the TARDIS chocolate-mould tray she had been given as a stocking-filler last Christmas. Her mom had a thermometer-spatula from making fudge, so they were all set, and listening to TheRolling Stones, Glenn Miller and Paloma Faith's new CD Do You Want the Truth Or Something Beautiful? they had a great time learning how to temper chocolate, make flavoured ganache (using a cinnamon stick and vanilla pod), dipping their fingers into melted dark-chocolate, and Violet had fun decorating the finished chocolate-dipped truffles. Sophia's phone had a load of photographs she could upload to her computer, and after she had made them an easy pasta dish for an early dinner, she turned the stereo off, hooked up the old VHS machine and put on a very crackly copy of The Land Before Time, taking sage wisdom from Littlefoot's mom.

As her phone rang, again, Violet, lips smeared with marshmallow-residue after they had sipped hot-chocolate with a spoonful of Fluff on top, picked it up, giving Sophia a quirky look.

"Why are you ignoring your boyfriend?" she asked, showing Sophia the screen; she had six missed calls from Damon, and a couple texts. She'd thought he had given up trying to contact her; didn't he understand that she was hurt?

"I'm not ignoring him," Sophia said, and Violet gave her a look. "I'm pretending he doesn't exist." Like my blinders, she thought, with a sigh. She could no longer take the world in at face-value: the supernatural world was real. And she hated that Damon was a part of it. Hated that Elena could imply he only befriended Sophia to get back at someone else. Not because Sophia had any qualities that could make her worth befriending.

At eight years old, Violet was precocious and tomboyish despite her love of glittery MAC glosses; but she still had to go to bed before eight p.m. and sat zombie-like if she was allowed to stay up too late, especially after their late-night at the ballet. So Sophia made the effort to get them both to bed at a reasonable time, bathed and in their pyjamas, tucked beneath duvets or snuggled inside sleeping-bags, and she read from Order of the Phoenix until Violet's snuffling little snores created a soft melody to which Sophia fell asleep. She was anxious, though, that she hadn't heard Jenna's return – and hated that, with what she knew of the world now, her first instinct was that she had been attacked by a vampire.

Not that she had probably spent the night in sin with Mr Saltzman.

A.N.: So, I know this chapter was a bit jumbled and not much actually happened, but as I said, Violet's important later on, and I just wanted to show that Sophia's life without Damon, although a bit lonelier, isn't Bella-pathetic (like, say, Elena's becomes when Stefan leaves with Klaus!)