A/N: This story is COMPLETE and will be published gradually over the next several weeks. I wrote it a while back along with several other stories focusing on these characters and their families. This is the one I wrote first. If you all enjoy this one, I will post the rest. Cheers, y'all! All rights go to JKR.
Martha McKinnon stared at the police station ceiling. Her bare legs slapped against the cold metal chair as she nervously bounced them up and down, her too-small yellow jogging shorts riding up tightly around her legs.
There was nothing interesting about the ceiling, really. Apart from one water stain blossoming around a rusty sprinkler, it was indistinguishable from any other police station ceiling. Not that she had ever seen another police station ceiling. Granted, she also couldn't even see that well. Her frizzy mass of dishwasher-blonde hair had over taken her face, blocking most of her vision. Although she started the night with sleek, straight platinum locks, her thick curls returned with an extra dose of frizz. She knew the hair potion was temporary, but didn't expect to morph so quickly from Farrah Fawcett into an electrocuted poodle.
The fountain probably didn't help. Nor the parrots. Nor jumping off of the motorcycle which, looking back, was definitely the final blow to the sleek look advertised on the bottle.
Were Lily and the others in a different part of the station? Her gaze toward the ceiling intensified as she half-hoped to develop latent telepathic powers to communicate with her friends. It was their fault that she even left the house in the first place.
"Miss…. Hey, miss… Are you listening to me?… GIRL!"
Martha snapped out of her reverie, head jerking to center and legs falling back to the metal chair with a plop. The police station came back into focus. Martha was even more aware of the bright florescent lights and the smell of cigarette smoke than when she first entered the building. Both made her want to throw up. It even took her a moment to realize that the harried-looking policeman sitting on the other side of the desk was talking to her, and most likely had been for the past few minutes.
"Well then," the policeman continued. He was a thick-set, ruddy man who would have appeared kind if it weren't for his utter exhaustion and the overly-starched collar of his uniform. "Now that finally I have your attention, Miss… Martha, was it?
"Yes."
"You got a last name to go with that Miss Martha?" the officer wearily picked up a pen preparing to make a note on the blank report in front of him.
"Errr –"
"Oh yes, I forgot," the officer drolled. "You teenagers don't have last names. You all want to be like Cher, is that it?"
"Well, I –"
"No matter, no matter," the officer said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's not important at the moment."
He put down his pen and leaned forward slightly with his hands folded in front of him. "Will you tell me how you came to be in Jennison's Grocery?"
"You asked me that a dozen times already!" she snapped, her nausea now rattling her entire body. "Don't you have something better to do? Break up the murderous hate group operating under your nose, maybe?"
Before she even finished her sentence, Martha clasped both hands over her mouth in shock. That level of insolence to adults was uncharacteristic of her. Not to mention that there was no way she'd be able to get out of there by being combative. Was she still drunk?
"I'm so, so sorry, sir!" she apologized frantically, brown eyes bulging.
"That's quite alright," he replied leaning back in his chair, as if he were afraid of another outburst. "Why don't you try to answer again?"
"Yes, of course, sir," Martha sighed, pulling nervously at the hem of her purple button-down shirt. "I truly don't know what happened. I was in the alleyway looking for my….cat. Yes! My cat! His name is… Peter! Poor Peter. I saw the open back door and thought that's where he must've gone to, so I went inside. I was looking for him around the store until you came in, sir."
Feeling like a genius for creating a cat on the spot, Martha worked up some extra courage to bat her eye lashes in an attempt to channel her sweeter, more pitiable friends like Lily or Mary. She quickly stopped, figuring that she probably looked less like an innocent puppy and more like she had a twitch. Yes, Martha decided, she was definitely still drunk.
"So, you're telling me," continued the officer cautiously. "That you were in an alleyway alone at three in the morning to look for your cat?"
"Yes, sir."
"A cat that you happened to bring with your from out of town? You did say you didn't live around here, yeah?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that the back door to Jennison's Grocery was left wide open long after the business closed?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"And tell me, Miss Martha," the officer leaned forward again, his ruddy face marked with skepticism. "You did all of this in your knickers?"
"Thank you again for these spare shorts, sir. It is quite keen of the station to keep extra clothing."
"Don't change the subject."
"Yes, sir."
"We get your kind all the time around here. Drifting in from god knows where, for who knows what reason. Weirdos, the lot of you. Trying to get your kicks before school starts again, eh? God, I hate summer." Martha made an attempt to interject, but the officer was caught up in his own momentum.
"There's so much lack of decency in kids these days," he rambled on. "You were probably breaking into the store on a dare weren't you? Without trousers! Why do the strange ones always come to Stowey? What is it about this place? None of the officers across the river ever have it this bad."
"But," the officer sighed with visible exasperation. "Nothing has been reported stolen. You didn't vandalize anything. I can't even get you for public indecency because you were indoors and no one has reported a half-naked girl running amuck in the town square. The only thing I could do is trespassing as a minor, which between you and me, is not worth the paperwork." He paused, vigorously massage his temples.
"Just call your parents had have them pick you up," he sighed. "They're usually the best to sort you lot out in these cases."
"My parents," said Martha as she fiddled with the lining of her button-down. "You want me to call them? On the telephone, sir?"
The officer raised his eyebrow. "Yes, as one does."
"The thing is… it's terribly late. I'd hate to wake them. Plus they live so far. I planned to take the bus home anyways. It leaves so very soon. I can just go then, sir. No need to trouble yourself," said Martha quickly as she began to rise, ready to head straight for the door. The officer quickly stood up too.
On her feet, Martha remembered that she was taller than the officer. She knew that even in her strappy platform shoes and too-small shorts, she could out run him.
The station was near empty. There would be no one else pursuing her. The officer didn't even have her full name. And there was no way in hell she would ever come back to this town. If Martha could just give him the slip and hide until the others found her, she could vanish for good.
But her situation would complicate staying hidden. She had no money, no wand, and didn't trust herself to apparate while still even slightly drunk. No one knew where she was. There could still be Death Eaters roaming the streets. She was stuck. There was nothing to do but continue to stall and hope the others would actually start looking for her.
There was one thing she knew for certain – she'd blame Lily and Bim for this.
~8 hours earlier~
"I'm telling you, Martha- you'll regret not going."
Lily Evans stood hands-on-hips over Martha McKinnon, half of her auburn hair in curlers. Martha sat on her fraying pink bedroom carpet as she changed the film in her camera, trying not to be bothered by her indignant friends. The conversation had been going in circles for half an hour and yet Martha could sense the other two girls growing more stubborn by the minute.
"Lily's right, McKinnon," said Bim Liu from in front of Martha's bedroom vanity as she applied shimmering eye shadow. "We've been planning this for weeks. You can't bail now."
Martha snapped a film canister shut. "Why are you both being so pushy? If I don't want to go, I don't want to go. Leave it."
"We want you to come," said Lily impatiently. "We came over to your house to get ready."
"I thought you came over for my top-notch chicken casserole?" said Martha in an attempt to lighten the mood. But, as had been the case all afternoon, none of Martha's attempts to change the subject could dissuade them. She'd hoped they would accept her change of mind without question, merrily heading on their way with Martha waving goodbye. If they just left it now, she wouldn't need to actually explain herself.
"You're being difficult and you know it," interjected Bim in a matter of fact tone. "If you didn't want to go, then why didn't you say anything before today? We've been planning on going to this concert since school let out."
"Okay, okay, okay!" Marta exclaimed loudly as she collapsed onto her back. "I want to go, but can't. I have a swim meet early in the morning and I really, really want to do well in my races."
"But – "
"I know what you'll say…again. Sure, I've gone out the night before swim meets in the past." Martha continued heatedly from the floor. "And I know it's 'just a few hours.' And I bet it will be loads of jolly good fun and you lot will have great stories to tell me tomorrow. But I can't go."
Her hands clasped over her eyes as she continued, voice raising half an octave. "Everything is positively mad right now! Absolutely insane! How am I supposed to have fun when things are like this? I just want my swim meet to go well without gasping for air the whole time. Is it too much to ask to have control over this one bloody thing?" Martha took a deep breath and paused. She slowly sat up and looked at the ground to avoid the alarmed looks she knew her friends would be giving her.
"I know I can have a great swim tomorrow if I just get some rest." Martha's voice had grown quieter and almost apologetic.
Lily and Bim exchanged a quick, meaningful look. Both girls knew the true cause of their friend's moodiness. And it wasn't swimming.
"Martha," said Lily gently, sitting down next to her friend. "I know it's hard. But you can't take on that stress constantly. It's too big a burden. And, rest can only do so much."
Bim, who had come to sit with Martha on the floor, nodded. "It's not healthy, love. You need some good old fashioned debauchery. Just enough to distract you. If you stay behind, you'll just drown in all of your worries. That can't help with your swimming."
"I know that neither of us can understand what you're going through," added Lily. "But we wouldn't try to convince you to come if we thought you would be miserable. Like Bim said, we'll have fun! And if we're being honest, Martha- you need this."
Martha finally looked up and relinquished a small smile. "You two are the worst influences."
"So you're coming?" Lily squeezed her friend's hand.
"What other opportunity will we have to see the Peakish Gnomes?"
"That's what I like to hear!" whooped Bim. Her face burst alive with her signature, infectious smile that displayed every one of her teeth. "I hear they're the sort of band you have to see live in order to get the full effect. And they're playing at the Bardo Den, no less! It's supposed to be a legendary venue."
"It is!" Lily agreed. "Magical musicians are said to have regarded the site as important long before Stowey, the Muggle town, was built around it- "
"More important than this lovely history lesson," Bim interjected. "Felix Dolan says it's the true hub of all new art and creative culture in our world. Everyone there is supposed to be so….so cool."
Lily stuck her tongue out at Bim and began to take out the rest of her curlers.
Martha stood up and walked over to her wardrobe. Looking in the mirror that hung on the front of the wardrobe door, her smile faltered at the sight of her own reflection. While she typically took pride in her long curls as well as in her tall, strong body, Martha felt her stomach sink as she took in her bedraggled appearance. She felt a wave of shame for the time she spent sullenly fiddling with her camera while Bim and Lily transformed.
She glanced at her friends' reflection behind her own. Normally, neither girl was too concerned with their appearances. However, they both currently looked like they would easily fit into the 'cool' scene at the Bardo Den.
Bim was wearing a bold red dress that popped against her almond colored skin as it gracefully flowed around her wiry frame. Lily's usually pin-straight hair was styled into soft curls that perfectly framed her thin face. She wore a form of blended Muggle and magical fashion that was in vogue- a floral jumpsuit paired with a short velvet cape matching the dark green of her eyes.
Martha felt that looking as fantastic as they did would be a herculean task.
"Are you going to stare at your reflection all night?" said Lily. "You know that it's not going to change, Mar."
"I'm not even close to being ready," Martha admitted apologetically.
"Well Bim and I are just about done so now you'll have two times the help getting ready. You'll be the best-looking person there!"
"We have some time to spare anyways," said Bim as she clipped on a pair of earrings. "We'll be late for meeting Mary and Sera, but getting you ready is a much more urgent responsibility," replied Bim.
"A much more daunting responsibility, you mean."
"Getting someone gorgeous to look even more gorgeous will be quite simple, actually."
Bim enthusiastically strode to Martha's wardrobe and began to rummage through it. Looking on as Bim carefully appraised each item of clothing she owned while Lily examined Martha's rarely used box of hair products, Martha felt a surge of great affection for her friends.
"Are you two sure you want to go through all of this effort? I could easily just pull my hair back and throw on the dress I was wearing earlier."
"Martha-My-Dear," said Lily, smiling widely at the use of her friend's nickname. "You finally decided to come and have fun, you have to pay the consequences."