AN: Here you go, a little something to keep progressing with our story.

Yes, the shop men are vulgar and they are "rough". Having grown up literally my entire life in and around shops like the one depicted, I can tell you that they can be a nasty and rough crowd, but usually it's for entertainment purposes more than any real intended malice. That's why much of their ribbing goes on behind the scenes and around only those they think know them well enough to take things for what they are.

I'm thrilled to see that you are still enjoying this story. We've got a long way to go, but I'm excited about it.

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!

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When Sophia got home from school, Carol had been there already, working in the backyard that was supposed to be Sophia's project for the weekend. She had asked Carol what she was doing, and Carol insisted that it was really more of a jungle than a yard and she didn't mind helping to control part of it since she was home early from work and didn't have anything else to do with the afternoon.

Sophia went inside to put her back pack down in the room she called hers and quickly changed her shoes since the shop dust got everywhere, whether she wanted it to or not, and she didn't want to change the color of both pairs of shoes that she owned to the dingy gray.

When Sophia got downstairs, Carol was in the kitchen gulping down glasses of water as she stood by the running tap. Sophia didn't know how long she'd been out there, but judging by what she had accomplished it had either been a while or she'd really put a great deal of effort into what she was doing.

"You keep gulping water like that and you're gonna hurl," Sophia said. She'd done that a few times in her life when she'd been given outside chores and got a little too enthusiastic about them. It felt good when you were doing the chores and you let all your frustration out on them. You almost felt like a different person while you were working. Then, though, when the exhaustion and thirst set in you felt like you were dying and you needed to drink as much as you could as fast as you could. You'd start drinking a little bit, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, chugging the water as fast as it could run down your throat…and it was delightful…right up until you came up for air and your stomach decided it didn't want anything of what you'd just given it. It was a nasty sick.

Carol stopped gulping for the moment, she was panting a little and Sophia assumed it could be the exhaustion of the work coupled with the fact that she probably hadn't been breathing any while she was trying to drink half the water supply of Georgia.

"Are you my mother now?" Carol asked with a chuckle.

Sophia shrugged.

"Fine, barf your guts out," Sophia said. "I don't care. I'm going to the shop."

"Wait," Carol said.

Sophia stopped on her way out the door and backed up, but she didn't turn to look at the woman.

"I just wanted you to know that I went down there," Carol said. "I'm not going to tell you not to work there. I think that the men are fine, other than being perhaps typical men for that kind of location…but if you feel uncomfortable at all or anyone says anything that you don't like, just remember that you don't have to stay there, OK?"

Sophia listened to her, but didn't really know what to respond.

"Fine," she said, finally, and stepped out the door letting it slam shut behind her as she made her way down the drive and toward the road, headed in the direction of the shop.

What had Carol gone down to the shop for anyway? Sophia could do just fine on her own and she didn't need Carol checking up behind her. She had enough sense to figure out whether or not she wanted to work at the shop. She'd been the one that had decided to take the job, after all. It really wasn't any of Carol's business and she may have very well caused Sophia to have to endure more of the ribbing and chuckling from the men that worked there than they'd have come up with on their own.

As for the men at the shop, Sophia didn't mind them. She liked them better, so far, than many of the people she'd met through her escapades with child services. They were assholes and she hadn't seen much work being done besides that that Daryl accomplished, mostly owing to the fact that he kept his distance from the other three, and the little bit that Wren did when he realized the clock was winding down.

The men were mouthy, but they were funny and Sophia liked that none of them had bothered to give her any of the annoying speeches about watching her mouth whenever she was merely expressing herself the way that everybody else did. She didn't believe in this magical age where it was suddenly OK to say what you felt, how you felt it. She didn't think it mattered at all how old you were.

Sophia liked all the men for different reasons. What she liked most about all four of them was that they seemed genuine. There didn't seem to be anyone putting on any shows at the shop, unless it was some sort of performance they were enacting purely to entertain the others. Sophia could appreciate that, above anything else almost, in any of the people that she'd met in her life. She'd seen enough people who pretended to be things they weren't. She couldn't have less interest in people's constructions of themselves if she tried. She liked genuine people, even if they were assholes, because at least they were honest and open assholes.

Of the men, though, she like Daryl the best, though she thought he might be the least fond of her. He didn't tease her like the others did, and she got the feeling that around there harassment was the only way that the men showed any kind of interest at all in each other. If they were mouthing off, it meant that all was well…but Daryl didn't join in too often. Sophia got the feeling, more than anything, the he was the brunt of a good deal of the teasing. They'd spent most of the last afternoon giving her a hard time, but whenever Daryl came out of hiding behind whatever he was working on, the attention had shifted to him.

Daryl seemed older than the other men too, though not in actual age. He just didn't seem to take as much entertainment away from things as the other men did, like he'd outgrown it or something. The day before, just as Sophia had been getting ready to leave and was cleaning out one of the cars that Mac had asked her to clean, for example, Wren had come by tossing a rubber roach in her direction in an attempt to make her freak out.

The joke had been on Wren, though, because Sophia wasn't afraid of roaches, and though she'd jumped a little in reaction to something falling in front of her face, Wren hadn't gotten the chuckle he'd been hoping for.

No, Sophia wasn't concerned at all about the men or being in their presence. Carol didn't need to go butting in and show up at the shop checking behind her. She wasn't a kid and she was capable of making her own judgment on people. It wasn't the people that she chose to be around that worried her or had worried her in her life, it was really more those that she'd been forced to be around that were nightmares for her…and surely no one had checked up on them.

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"Weeeendyyyyy!" Wren called out.

Daryl glanced up from his work. Wren was grinning ear to ear and hanging with one hand inside the shop, supporting himself while most of his body hung outside the stall door.

"Like a fuckin' talkin' doorbell or some shit," Daryl grumbled. He couldn't see what was happening outside from his angle, but he could assume that Wren's announcement meant that Sophia was approaching. He hoped that the men minded their manners and didn't run their mouths about the kid's Ma being up there.

"Looks like ya found us again, Wendy," Mac called out. Daryl heard the scuffling of Sophia's shoes on the dirt covered cement and knew she'd approached without the need to look up. "What is it? Three mailboxes to the left and straight the fuck on 'til morning?" Mac said. Wren chuckled.

"See you assholes still aren't doing anything," Sophia said.

"Don't be like that, Wendy," Wren said. "We got plenty done. Spent the whole morning working so you'd have some shit to do."

"See that car out there?" Mac asked. "All ready for you. Just need to pull it up, wash it, and get that puppy washed."

Daryl glanced up then. He knew the car in question and the annoying asshole who owned it had already called six times in the past day and half to find out when it'd be done. It would have been done sooner except it needed some damn special shit they had to send off for.

"Get that shit outta here quick as ya can," Daryl threw in. "Asshole won't quit callin'. Ya'd think he don't speak English ta understand we'll fuckin' call him when that shit's ready."

Daryl couldn't stand the customers who called incessantly or the ones that "dropped by" the shop on an almost hourly basis to check on progress. The truth was that they could fall behind in productivity on a regular basis, but when they had something they were pressed to get out Daryl could at least get Wren's ass in gear enough to go ahead and push the car on through.

Customers didn't seem to understand, though, that sometimes things just took longer than you planned. If you were going to be a super picky asshole about everything too, for instance, and only wanted brand new parts on your car instead of Daryl fixing what he could and making it look damn near brand new, then it was going to take a little extra time. It wasn't like when they ordered that shit it appeared out of the air.

"Ya heard the man, Wendy, hop to it," Mac said, picking at his teeth a little with the toothpick he held between his finger and thumb.

"I can clean it," Sophia said, "but I can't move it up. You'll have to do that."

"Just pull it up," Mac said. "Ain't gotta be perfectly parked for the vac and hose to reach it."

"I can't drive," Sophia said.

Daryl heard the assholes chuckling.

"Mac just pull the fuckin' car up," Daryl growled. "Shit like this is why we got them fuckers callin' ta check on their shit all the damn time. Girl can't drive yet an' she'll be pulled the fuckin' car through the shop door on accident. Just move the piece a' shit so we can get his ass up here ta get it 'fore closin' time."

"Oh…" Mac said. "Yes ma'am…I'll get right on that ma'am."

Wren chuckled and Daryl heard the crunch and grind of Mac's shoes as he headed out to move the car. He shook his head a little. Daryl finished sanding the piece he was working on and got up cracking his knees as he stood.

He watched for a second, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as Mac got out and started instructing Sophia on the proper technique of washing a car.

Every body man that new a single damn thing about getting a car ready for presentation knew that there was a certain way that you washed a car. Daryl remembered himself the first time he'd been taught, by the old man that ran the first shop he was a hand in, how to do it. He'd washed probably the first twenty cars he'd done after that repeating the damn order like it was some kind of life saving mantra. After that it faded into habit and there simply wasn't any other damn way to wash a car.

Mac, though, Mac could drive you insane with the shit. Daryl had been washing cars for a good bit of his damn life now but he cringed when he had to wash one and Mac was around. Mac seemed to think he was the only one in the shop that knew what the hell he was doing and he wanted to supervise everything, especially washing cars. He'd tell you that you were doing it wrong, even if you were doing exactly what he wanted.

If Sophia survived washing cars with Mac, then the girl was a damn trooper and very much deserved some kind of badge for making it through Asshole 101.

Daryl walked away from their little instructive lesson and made his way to the drink machine to wrestle himself out something cold to drink. He leaned against the work counter and sipped at the soda, somewhat catching bits and pieces of the squabbling that was breaking out between Mac and Sophia.

"Couldn't Wendy fly?" Wren asked suddenly while shuffling through some of the contents of one of the tool chest drawers.

Merle chuckled from his spot working on the engine of a car they had propped up. He surfaced from below the hood an stood there a moment, his forearms resting on the car.

"Don't know what the fuck ya doin' 'sides sippin' on that bottle ya think ya got hid in the office, Wren, but I believe Wendy walked her skinny fuckin' ass over here. She can't drive so she sure as fuck can't fly," Merle said.

"I know that you dumbass," Wren shot back. "I weren't talking about that Wendy. I was talking about her namesake. The bitch that was banging Peter Pan…couldn't she fucking fly or some shit like that?"

"Ehhh…" Merle growled, looking for the moment like he was seriously thinking about what he could remember of the life and times of Peter Pan. "Damn sure could… yeah…bitch could fly."

"Like a bat?" Wren asked, chuckling. Merle laughed in response and Wren started shrieking like he thought a bat sounded. Daryl shook his head. The bat noise had echoed around the shop since Carol had left earlier. It was now their favorite sound to make and Daryl wouldn't have minded it all so much except for it echoed off the concrete walls and gave you a headache after a while.

"Shut up, assholes," Daryl said. "Fuckin' Wendy couldn't fly no damn way. That shit was fuckin' Tinkerbell and she had spread her fuckin' fairy dust or whatever the hell it was for any of 'em ta fly. Weren't like no damn bat…and Wren knock that fuckin' squeakin' off 'fore I knock ya damn teeth down ya throat. Givin' me a headache."

Wren chuckled in response.

"Easy there Double D," Wren said. "Didn't know ya was so damn touchy 'bout'cha girlfriend an' her pets."

Daryl looked at him, narrowing his eyes at the little man. He had never actually had to fight any of them besides Merle. Wren and Mac usually would push him and anyone else right up until their breaking point, but they would back down. Daryl hoped that Wren knew he was tired of the joke. It was time to lay that shit to rest.

"Warnin' ya, Wren," Daryl said.

Wren chuckled again and nodded. He reached back into the drawer that was open and came out with the socket wrench he'd been looking for earlier.

"Alright then," Wren said. He looked toward Merle. "You heard the man, enough is enough. Mind your ps and qs." Wren walked back across the shop toward the car he'd been taking apart for the past hour or so. "Got that car taped up for ya in the booth," he said. "You know, if I didn't know no better, I'd think it bugged ya that we was talkin' about your girlfriend."

"Can it," Daryl said, draining the last of his drink. "I ain't got no girlfriend but ya gon' be awful damn sore at yaself ya let Sophia hear ya talkin' that shit an' ya hurt her feelin's."

Daryl tossed his drink bottle at the trash can and excused himself from the shop. Wren was likely to keep Merle in line for at least a little while. Wren was an asshole, and he loved to give people hell about all kinds of shit, but he was odd in that he didn't like to genuinely hurt anyone's feelings. Daryl figured that he'd be mindful with Sophia and his stupid bat jokes. Daryl surely hadn't heard the last of them, but at least he could escape the screeching until closing time.

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When Sophia got back to the house from the shop she was tired and she was dirty. She'd gotten soaking wet because Mac's stupid ass had made her was the same fucking car six times. She'd figured they were going to wash the paint right off of it before he was satisfied that it was clean and lived up to his expectations. She noticed, though, the whole time she was washing it so that she could learn how to do it like a real "professional" like himself would do it, that Mac didn't do much more besides lean his bony old ass against the fading whitewashed wall of the shop and criticize her.

On top of being wet, she'd had to sweep after that and stirring up the bits of nastiness that littered the shop floor along with all the dust, had resulted in forming a thin layer of gunk that she felt covered every square inch of her. She was pretty sure that there was nothing left visible on her body that wasn't heavily coated in the shop crud.

When she'd walked in the door Carol had been cooking dinner. She'd turned around long enough to lay eyes on Sophia for a fraction of a second and told her that dinner could be held off until she'd had time to take a shower.

From the looks of her, Sophia thought Carol wouldn't exactly suffer from a little soap herself. She was covered in dirt and grass clippings and looked like something that had just crawled out of the woods. Sophia hadn't argued, though, and had slipped directly up the stairs to bathe, probably leaving gray footprints all the way there.

They'd eaten in relative silence and then Carol told Sophia she was going to watch some old ass movie that was coming on television and invited her to sit with her. Sophia hadn't exactly been thrilled by the idea of the movie and her shop time had meant that her homework was still undone in her back pack upstairs so she'd taken a rain check and left Carol with the dishes and her film.

Now Sophia was finished with her homework and she wondered what time it was. She could tell by glancing out her window that it was late since it was pitch black outside, but she didn't have a clock in the room and she didn't own a watch.

Sophia got off her bed and repacked her things in her back pack. She went to her suitcase and unzipped it, digging through and pulling out her doll. She kept the doll hidden in her suitcase at all times except when she was sleeping. She didn't want anyone catching wind of it and giving her hell about the fact that she was almost sixteen and she still slept with a ragdoll.

The doll's name was Maddie, and Sophia didn't know where the doll's name had come from. She'd had it as long as she could remember and honestly she felt stupid to admit that she felt like the cloth thing was her best friend. She'd kept it hidden ever since she'd gone into the system, though. A lot of the other kids had "sleep toys" as the workers called them, but they still teased each other mercilessly about them and sometimes the rougher and meaner ones who had been there the longest would steal them and desecrate them.

Sometime before Sophia learned to keep Maddie hidden, someone had drawn a black eye on her with a magic marker. She'd once had a pretty dress too…Sophia could remember it. It had been red and white checked and had a red ribbon bow on it. But one day the dress was gone and Maddie was naked now except for the red bottoms that were painted on her skin.

She had a tear in her too…where one of her seams was coming undone. Sophia didn't have any way to fix the doll, so she simply woke early ever morning and stuffed back in whatever stuffing had come out before she hid her back in her suitcase underneath her clothes.

Sophia ran her finger along the doll's forehead. The cloth there was soft and smooth and almost worn down from rubbing and kissing. Sophia put Maddie on her bed and decided to slip downstairs for something to drink and some of the peanut butter cookies she knew were down there. She figured that Carol was asleep by now, not being much of a night owl, but she didn't figure the woman would mind her having a snack. Carol was something of a food pusher to say the least, and Sophia figured it was because she barely ate herself and must take some kind of pleasure in watching Sophia eat.

Sophia slipped down the stairs and was surprised to find the electric flicker of the television lighting up the living room. The sound was barely up, but whatever was playing could still be heard. Sophia eased around the banister and saw Carol on the couch, but she quickly realized that the woman was slumped over and very clearly fast asleep.

Sophia walked over, closer to her, to ensure that she was indeed asleep. In the flickering light she thought that it was strange how small Carol looked, curled up on the couch, one arm flung under her head and the other flopping off to the side. Sophia wondered if she'd seen any of the movie at all. She had all the appearance, position wise, of someone who had begun watching something and decided to rest their eyes for a moment, only to fall into complete oblivion.

Her attempts to tackle the jungle that was the backyard had no doubt exhausted her and now she was dead to the world. If it weren't for the sound of her breathing, in fact, Sophia might have just assumed she was dead, period.

Sophia stood there a moment looking at her and wondering if she should wake her up. She didn't know how Carol reacted to being woken up, but if she stayed in that position very long she was probably going to wish she was dead when she finally woke up.

Sophia had a strange feeling wash over her when she looked at her. She wanted to reach out and touch the woman. She wasn't sure why she wanted to touch her, or really what she was going to do if she did, but she kind of just wanted to touch her…about like she'd just done when she'd absentmindedly rubbed her finger across Maddie's forehead.

It was strange for Sophia simply because Sophia didn't care for touching. She didn't like to be touched by others and she didn't like to touch others. It was sort of a rule she had established for herself over the years. She had, in the beginning, been fine with touching, but the older she got the more she disliked it.

There were too many things that went along with touching that she didn't care for. She didn't like hugging either. She especially hated the grabby, huggy people like the cardboard cutout foster parents she'd had that were damn near hug monsters. They'd grab you up, nearly choke the life out of you, and hug you all the damn time. And their hugs were always fake and the falsity behind them made them cold and uncomfortable.

Sophia didn't like touch at all. She almost considered it to be painful. She cringed most of the time when she saw someone who even looked like they had it on their minds. She hated it so much, in fact, that she'd convinced one of her foster families…one of them that had seemed like some kind of hippie couple and looked especially given to touch…that she had some rare skin allergy that made her allergic to all kinds of touch and if she were exposed to it too often she would die from anaphylactic shock.

But at the moment she wanted to touch Carol as she lie sleeping on the couch. It was almost like a morbid curiosity…almost like she wanted to assure herself that the woman she was sharing a house with was real and that she was warm to the touch.

Sophia swallowed a little and reached her hand out, extending her finger just a little. She figured she could get away with it, since Carol seemed to be quite asleep. She touched the hand that was hanging off Carol's body and off the couch as well. She rubbed her finger tip on the soft skin just above her thumb. The skin was soft and Carol's hand was cold. She stirred as Sophia stroked the skin again and Sophia jumped back, her breath catching, not wanting to be caught in the act.

As Carol opened her eyes and started to take in her surroundings and her situation, she sleepily looked at Sophia, almost looking like she didn't recognize her.

"You should go to bed," Sophia said. "It's late now."

Carol blinked at her a second and moaned a little, clearly not awake.

Sophia backed up quickly from being in front of Carol and decided that she no longer wanted anything from the kitchen. She just wanted to go back to her room and to lie down. She didn't say anything else, but as she turned and started toward the steps, she could hear Carol shifting around, popping one joint or another, apparently in an attempt to get up and move to a place that was more comfortable to sleep.

Sophia mounted the steps quickly and stopped in the bathroom. She turned on the sink and filled her mouth twice with the cool tap water, drinking it down.

She stood in the bathroom for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. Then she held her hand up, looking it. She took her fingertip and traced it gently over the soft skin above her own thumb for a moment before she shook her head and flipped the switch, bathing the room in darkness. She headed back down the hall in the blackness toward her bedroom, wondering if downstairs Carol was crawling into bed at the same time.