(EDITED: 10/11/21)
Despite the fact that she hadn't planned on it, she found herself staying in the junkyard with McGucket. Okay, so she didn't really have a plan to begin with, but the junkyard was the last place she expected to want to stay. If honest with herself, it was because she doesn't want to leave McGucket's kindness to look for reluctant aid in someone else. She isn't ready to leave just yet.
Regardless of the fact that she wanted to stay, it was difficult adjusting to living at the junkyard.
She'd gone form this clean, large home where food was easy to come by to a cramped living environment where she shares the space with a weird old man and a raccoon. At first she refused to touch anything and eyed what she was drinking to make sure it was safe before indulging and would deny the food if she looked at it for too long, but after three days of practically starving from eating so little she relented and ate what was given to her.
The strangest thing to date was the fact McGucket scolds her. When the sneakers she thought would last a while fell apart and she was forced to walk barefoot, he'd given her a lecture and insisted she wear something because there was glass everywhere and hadn't relented until she pulled on her thickest pair of socks. She didn't know how he managed as she hadn't sold her dress and given him the money yet, but he got her sturdy sneakers the next day. When she got into a fight with a raccoon over her dinner one night, he'd told her to "knock it off and let him have it" as he gave her another helping while rattling off facts about raccoons carrying rabies and that she shouldn't chance it—she didn't think he ate that night and she had felt guilty as she ate her bread. She wondered if he'd caught rabies before that, but she shoved that from her mind and decided that the next day she would do what she promised herself she'd do.
So this morning after McGucket goes to scrounge for scraps for his next project, she pulls on her jacket and takes one of her dresses into town. The woman looks like she's seen a ghost when she sees her at first, but she quickly composes herself and gets straight to business. It isn't hard to sell the dress, but it's impossible to sell it for what it's worth. She manages to haggle 150 dollars for it and as she walks back to the junkyard she feels proud. McGucket probably could do with the money and she imagines he can buy some cheap clothes and a decent amount of food with it.
About halfway to the shelter she hears Old Man McGucket nearby and follows the noises to her somewhat guardian and finds him talking to his raccoon wife. Pacifica can't help the small smile of fondness that makes its way into her features. She doesn't know why she ever thought bad about this man when he's so intelligent and caring. She'd much rather had been raised by him than by her parents- the people who gave her their genes.
"Hey, McGucket," she calls as she bounces over. "What're you two arguing about this time?"
The old man frowns and crosses his arms as he calls after the fleeing raccoon, "She refuses to put on that pretty bow that I got fer her an' now she's throwing a hissy fit!"
"Probably shouldn't be putting bows on raccoons in the first place," she deadpans.
He waved her off. "Aww, you hush."
Eager to get to what she walked over for, she says with a grin, "I got you something."
He begins eyeing her warily immediately. She didn't even know he had a wary bone in his body until now.
"What is it?" His voice is hesitant, as if he's afraid it's going to be a prank.
She's too excited to be offended and instead shoves the cash into his hands. "Here!"
He stares at the money in his hands for a long moment before he looks up at her with disappointment. "Pacifica, I can't accept this."
Her nose wrinkles. "Why not?"
"As much as you'll argue against it, you're a child. I can't accept money from you."
When he tries to hand her back the money, she stubbornly backs away with a sneer. "It's not like I'll need the money."
That, it seems, was the wrong thing to say because she can see his disappointed face turn into a scolding one immediately.
His hand shoots forward to grab her wrist and he shoves the money back into her hand with a fierce scowl. By the fierce clarity in his eyes, he knows he's gearing up for the biggest scolding yet.
"You said it yourself, you've been disowned, so—yes—you'll need that money. " He takes his hat off and starts tugging at his beard as he paces. "I don't know why I've indulged ya for as long've I have, but you can't live here. You have to save up your money for college starting now—that money is yours and yours alone, don't give it to anyone. You can't live here, I ain't fit to be a guardian and this ain't a place anyone should live, let alone a child. A child who gives a wad of cash to an old homeless man like it's nothing, a child who should have a roof over her head and full, consistent meals and—and don't you dare think about leaving it here when you leave because I'll give it right back, y'hear me? You ain't doin' that, it ain't right. You keep that money and whatever money you earn later down the road and you keep it. I don't want your money, I don't want you wasting money on a lost cause."
She gapes at him and tries to follow just what he's talking about. Despite how clear his eyes are, he's rambling and scolding everywhere but straight forward.
He whirls on his heel and fixes his steely blue eyes on her. "And another thing! I didn't do any of this for you to pay me back! I did this because it's the right thing to do." He starts pacing again. "And I'm gonna start doing right by you like I should've in the first place. I'm not taking your money, I'm not letting you live in unsanitary, hazardous conditions like this. You deserve more than that. You deserve better. I should've set you up with some folks days ago. I'll do right by you by making you leave. I've got some pals that are willing to take you in, talked to them yesterday. Stable income, decent people. I'm taking you over tonight."
That at least is clear and exactly the opposite of what she wants to hear. "What?! I'm staying here!"
McGucket's eyes flash and he stops pacing once again to face her. "I'll be damned if you spend another night in this dump! I'll be damned!"
She stands there gaping because she's never heard him yell—not like this. He's loud all the time, but he's never had such bass in his voice before, such authority. Not in her living memory anyway. His entire demeanor—which had always been nervous and unassertive—has become unrecognizably stubborn and forceful. He had put his foot down. Had he been like that before he went insane? Has he finally come to his senses or is this just because…
"You don't want me anymore?" She hates how pathetic she sounds when she says it, but she has to know.
He grimaces and backs down. "It's not that I don't want you. It's that I can't provide for you. You can only get so much money selling dresses—and no I didn't go through your things, I took an educated guess… you need someone who's present all the time. I'm clear-headed now, but who's to say I'll be that way tomorrow? Pacifica, you have to understand. I'm forcing you out because I care and I'm having you go to folks I trust will do right by you even if it's just a temporary home."
Pacifica doesn't have it in her to argue because he's right. She's been lucky he's been present enough to make sure she eats had hasn't died from collapsing junk piles the past few days. Even she knows she can't live here—not forever—but can she really leave him here after seeing what kind of person he really is under all that weirdness? Her parents may be heartless, but she isn't.
"What about you?" Her voice is quiet because the air is too heavy to speak any louder.
He gives her a soft, bittersweet smile. It's the most beautifully tragic thing she's ever seen because she knows that he's going to lie to her for her benefit and it's sad that this will be the nicest thing an adult's ever done for her.
"Don't you worry about me, darlin', I'll be right as rain," he assures. "For now, go get your things. We're going after lunch."
She turns and goes to the shelter where she packs up what few things were scattered around her corner. As she closes her bag, the world in front of her becomes blurry and she's letting out a high-pitched whine in an effort to keep from outright bawling.
Why should someone like McGucket be subjected to live in squaller while someone like her father lives in the lap of luxury? Why does it have to hurt so much more to leave behind a man she's only really known for a few days than leaving the family she was born into?
She wipes her cheek with her hand and regathers her composure. She can do this. If she can't repay him with money, she can repay him by giving him peace of mind in knowing she's not going to be living like this too.