Clarice Starling was a warrior. So Dr. Lecter had called her in his letter; so would the most basic reading of her record reveal. She had dealt with armed gangs. She had dealt with serial killers. In those situations, dealing with vicious killers, Clarice was strong and capable. With her .45 at her hip, she was ready to deal with the worst, most vicious that humanity had to offer.
But now, here, in an inexpensive but decent hotel in Washington, DC, now here was a tougher situation. Sixty high school kids from West Virginia, all running up and down the halls, creating havoc, and Clarice had to find her niece and get an adult. The kids appeared to be cutting loose. Only two teachers were around to chaperone the whole thing, and they weren't doing terribly well at keeping order.
"Aunt Clariiiiice!"
Clarice turned to see her niece down the hall, waving excitedly. She ran up to Clarice at full tilt.
"Aunt Clarice, there yew are. How are yew?"
"I'm good, Charlene," Clarice smiled, and took the sight of her niece. The last time she'd seen Charlene had been years ago. She'd been four then, running around the dorm. Now she was fifteen, roughly Clarice's own height, with the same brown hair and blue eyes. The resemblance was clear enough.
"Well, there ain't no activities planned for today. We're all supposed to settle in and rest." Her eyes sparkled. "So whatever you want to do is fine."
"I spose…suppose," Clarice said, "I ought to let one of the adults know I'm taking you." Charlene nodded.
"Mrs. Fontelier is just down thar," she said, pointing. Clarice winced. 'Delia liked to tease her about her accent; God only knew what she'd think of Charlene. Clarice walked down the hall and tried to attract the woman's attention. She was older and gray-haired; a lifelong teacher, no doubt.
"Hi," she smiled. "I'm Special Agent Clarice Starling, and I'm with the FBI."
"FBI? Oh my, what are you here for?" The woman seemed alarmed, as if her charges had committed federal crimes while in her care.
"Oh, it's nothing wrong. Actually my niece is here. Charlene Stenson. I live here in DC, and I wanted to know what I'd need to do to take her with me. Just for a bit, you know."
The woman eyed her dubiously. "Does she know you're coming?" Her own drawl was as strong as Charlene's.
"She sure does," Clarice said. "Here, I'll get her if'n you want." Realizing what she'd said, she winced.
Charlene verified that she was, in fact, Clarice Starling's niece, and the two went out to the Mustang parked outside. Charlene oohed and aahed at the sight of the car and decided it was 'right fancy'. Clarice snorted. Then again, Charlene was used to pickup trucks.
"It's so good to see yew," Charlene burbled. "Wow, DC is a real big city."
Clarice thought for a moment about what Charlene might make of New York or Chicago, where they had skyscrapers. DC looked like a small town compared to those.
"So, what do you want to do?" Clarice asked, and tried to remember what she had done for fun at Charlene's age. There wasn't much; the dour Lutheran orphanage that had raised her had believed in feeding, sheltering, and clothing her, and that was it. "Six Flags America, maybe?"
"What's that?"
"An amusement park," Clarice said.
"Okay," Charlene said. "That sounds great. What about you, Aunt Clarice, whatchew wanna do?"
What do I do? Clarice Starling wondered. I arrest people and shoot at them sometimes. Then I come home and 'Delia bosses me around in the kitchen. Quite a life I've built for myself. But I have no idea at all how to entertain a fifteen-year-old.
"Up to you," she covered. "You're the guest, after all. Let's just try and have a good time."
Ardelia was already home, cooking up quite a spread. After extensive observation of Clarice, it was her opinion that Starlings did not eat well, and it was Ardelia Mapp's mission in life to see that this was changed. Charlene was quite appreciative of the meal, even though Ardelia's cooking was a lot spicier than she was used to.
Thank God she's got manners, Clarice thought, and automatically felt guilty. Just because Charlene was thoroughly soaked in the origins Clarice had tried to hide didn't mean she was a bad kid. She had manners. She could be taught.
"Well, ain't this quite a meal," Charlene said. "Thank you, Miz Mapp."
Ardelia Mapp blinked at the young woman and then at Clarice. Then she cracked up.
"Miz Mapp," she snorted through her laughter. "Just call me Ardelia, that'll be fine. God, I thought my grandmother was around somewhere."
"All raht," Charlene said, eyes wide as if she feared she had offended such sophisticates.
Clarice had a better time than she thought she would at Six Flags. It was a bright sunny day, and the park was a pleasant little wonderland to spend some time in. They headed around the park, three women in T-shirts and shorts, and took in the rides and the midway. The crowds weren't too bad, all things considered. There were lines for the most popular rides, but the park was clean and neat and carefree. For a woman who made her living catching people who would just as soon kill you as look at you, this was remarkably relaxing. There were plenty of roller coasters to ride, and 'Delia dared her to go on just about all of them. Charlene seemed to be having a great time, and that set her mind at ease a bit. Course, she probably hadn't seen such things in rural West Virginia—
Oh, stop, Clarice, she scolded herself.
But it was a pleasant time. The summer day grew hot and languid, so they went over to the water park and changed into bathing suits. They rode the waterslides and went in the wave pool. While they were bobbing in the pool, waiting for artificially made waves to wash over them, Clarice asked her niece how school was going.
Charlene grimaced, expecting the question from an adult. "School's all right," she said.
"Any thought to what you'll do after school?" Clarice prodded.
Charlene bobbed a bit and shrugged. "Dunno," she said. "Git a job, probably. That's bout what everbody does."
"You could go to college," Clarice pointed out.
Charlene shrugged, suddenly seeming older than her years. "Ain't got the money for that," she said.
"There are scholarships and stuff you can get," Clarice pointed out. "I went to college, you know." Then it was rushing out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. "I can help if you need money, you know." Well, hell, what else was she going to spend her money on?
She saw Charlene's jaw set a bit and knew immediately what it was. The slightly bitter pride of the working class. The coin without which many purses would be entirely empty. Clarice knew it well. Charlene wouldn't want her help any more than she'd want anyone else's. Standing on one's own two feet was a virtue highly espoused in West Virginia.
"That's…a long way off, Aunt Clarice," Charlene said. "Ain't no sense worrying about it now."
"Well…just…think about it, okay?"
"Awl raht," Charlene agreed.
Other than that, the day was great. Thrill rides, greasy but tasty good, and sun. Charlene seemed to be having a great time, and Clarice found herself feeling happy. Days like this didn't come often for her. The roller coasters proved to have a slightly scarier tinge when you rode them after dark. They rode the rides and toured the park, and barely realized the time until the loudspeakers began announcing that the park would be closing in fifteen minutes, and would they please gather up their belonging and depart through the gates, and as always, thank you for visiting Six Flags America.
They were all tired on the ride home after having spent the day ambling around the park, and Clarice looked at the clock and gagged. She'd have to call the hotel and make sure Charlene didn't get in trouble. Back at the duplex, she reached Mrs. Fontelier again, who seemed archly displeased. Clarice told her that it wasn't Charlene's fault and that she took full responsibility. Mrs. Fontelier must've been one of those tough teachers, Clarice thought; she, a thirty-three-year-old FBI agent, found herself feeling like a trembling sophomore. It wasn't that the teacher yelled at her. There was simply a massive sense of Miss Starling, we do not approve floating back through the telephone line.
Clarice did manage to wangle permission to let her niece stay the night. She supposed Mrs. Fontelier would make her write I will not keep my niece out late a hundred times tomorrow. But she would deal with that. After a late dinner, it took little time to make up the couch for Charlene, who expressed profuse gratitude for the day at the park.
Clarice Starling lay back in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was tired, but happy all the same. This had been fun. It had been a good day.