Chapter 9 - More Than Meets the Eye
"Buttercup!" Blossom shouted as her sister's soda spilled on the lunch table. All over her open notebook.
"This is lunch, Blossom," Buttercup defended herself. "Time for eating, not studying!"
"I have to get this done!" the redhead wailed.
Bubbles silently sopped it up with a few napkins. When it was obvious that Blossom wasn't looking, she froze the puddle of dripping soda with a blast of icy breath, not daring to risk evaporating it with her heat vision.
She swallowed convulsively as she realized she'd only made the situation worse. The soda was now stuck to the pages of Blossom's notebook. Before they would have been stained, but readable, but now there was no saving anything that was written on those pages.
Brick noticed her look of horror and winked at her, placing one hand on Blossom's shoulder.
"Blossom," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You can borrow my notes."
She turned to face him, not willing to give up the ball of anxiety she'd been nursing. "But..."
"Blossom," he repeated, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently before releasing it and handing her his notes with the other hand.
She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it as she felt the reassuring presence of Brick's notebook in her hand. Brick was still holding it and his eyes were looking straight into hers.
"Thank you," she said warmly, a slight blush gracing her cheeks.
"Why don't they just jump each other and get it over with?" Bubbles heard Buttercup mutter to herself. She whipped her head up and stared open-mouthed at her dark-haired sister. Buttercup merely smirked at her and got up with her lunch tray.
"I'm going out for a smoke," she announced.
"OK," Blossom said softly.
'See?' Buttercup mouthed to Bubbles, who was holding a hand over her mouth to conceal a smile.
~~~~~~~~~
Wow. Even Buttercup has noticed, which I'm almost sure means that Butch knows that Brick and Blossom have a thing for each other.
So the only one who refuses to accept it is...
I blink rapidly, realizing that my vision has blurred slightly.
"Are you OK?" I hear at my shoulder, and I jump. A firm hand steadies me.
"I'm fine," I reassure Brick, glancing at Blossom. She still looks a bit dreamy, and I don't want to pour cold water on her parade just because I feel like my lunch wants to come back up.
Brick's crimson eyes bore into me, searching my face for signs of deception. I hate myself for it, but I paste the most vacuous expression on my face, and beam at him.
It works every time.
"Good," he said, his voice near my ear, his breath tickling the lobe. I repress a shiver and smile wider.
When you have a reputation for being little more than fluff, it's easy to pull off the happy-sunshiny-all-is-right-in-the-world look. I'm a bit of an expert, because the expression has been part of my make-up since I can remember. I mean genuinely there. It's only been recently that I've found it harder to truly BE happy. But I think getting rid of the Dark Portfolio was a good first step.
I'd been using it as a crutch, letting the dark part of my nature, a part that I didn't know I had, out in my art. I never used to be like that. I'd bounce back, because I truly believed that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and I'd work as hard as I could to reach that light.
Instead of hiding behind my art, I needed to take more positive actions and make that positive future a reality.
Whatever that means.
~~~~~~~~~
We were doing homework at the coffee table, we being Blossom and myself. Buttercup was out with Butch, of course. I think the two are joined at the hip these days, but I've never seen Buttercup look so happy. Happy in that way that isn't sullied by the smugness of being more powerful than someone else, or of proving someone wrong. Just pure honest-to-gosh joyful. She'd kill for saying that, but it's true. It doesn't make her any less hard-as-nails, but she, well, she just damn near glows.
I smiled a bit to myself. I had to focus on those bright spots in life more often.
I turned the page in my notebook and was dismayed to see the back cover staring at me.
"Blossom? Can I borrow a piece of paper?"
"Hmm?" she asked, scribbling so fast on a piece of paper, I thought for sure the page would go up in flames. "Here," she said, showing that she had in fact heard me. She handed me a red notebook that was under the textbook she was currently reading.
I should have recognized it immediately, but it wasn't until I opened the notebook near the back to tear off a blank page that I realized the handwriting wasn't Blossom's open curly loops, but a cramped, slanted style.
"Suicide rates jump precipitously in the teen years for a number of reasons..." I read. It was followed by several bulleted items. I glanced at Blossom, who was still engrossed in her work. I skimmed it quickly, then turned the page.
* awakening of sexual feelings
* growing self-identity
* need for autonomy
I supposed that meant doing stuff on your own.
* dramatic changes in personal appearance
* withdrawal from friends and family
* self-destructive behavior
Was associating with Princess considered self-destructive?
My breath caught in my throat as I read about teen boys actually being more inclined to commit suicide over a failed relationship, because girls tended to have their friends as a support structure.
When had Brick compiled all this?
A quick glance at the pocket divider showed that Brick had received an A-minus in the paper he'd written on teen suicides. Now that I thought about it, I remember Blossom saying something about volunteering with the peer advisory group after she'd read that. Then the Mayor had called, and she decided that perhaps she might not be the most reliable member.
Blossom wants to fix the world. She tries so hard to make sure things work out for everyone. I just want everyone to be happy. Neither of us very realistic, but I think that I've come to accept that it won't always happen, where Blossom just tries all the harder.
Right now, though, I'd settle for making one person happy. Or, at least, happier.
I was overreacting to the notes I'd read. Wasn't I?
~~~~~~~~~
Boomer's hair is still black. I'm not surprised. When we were in middle school, Butch thought it would be funny to spray us all with red Kool-Aid. My hair was pink for weeks on end after that.
He doesn't look like himself. It's not just the hair, either. He still comes by every now and then with his brothers, but it's not the same. It's like he's not there at all. Butch and Buttercup are so enthralled with each other, they'd be lucky to notice a falling meteor when they're together. I'm exaggerating, but it would take something life threatening like that to permeate that 'love fog' that surrounds them. Yet another observation Buttercup would kill me for making.
Brick and Blossom, on the other hand...for some reason, Blossom seems to spend a lot of time watching Boomer lately. And since she does, so does Brick.
Once again, I have the sense of just existing on the edge, but I firmly tamp down those negative feelings. A whole new leaf, remember?
I want to say or do something to draw Boomer out, but right now I need to watch him for all the warning signs that were in Brick's little essay.
He sits on the floor in front of the couch with his notebook open most of the time he's there. He usually writes in it so fast his fingers are a blur, but now and then he'll stop and just stare off into space, then his eyes will drop to the notebook and the whole process starts all over again.
It's weird, not seeing his eyes automatically seek Blossom.
Even weirder was the day that Blossom got up from the table and crouched next to Boomer, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Boomer," she said casually. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Hey! What about us?" Butch yelled from his position against the wall. Buttercup was sitting in front of him, her head leaning back against his chest, her eyes closed despite the bellowing coming from her boyfriend.
Brick shot him a dirty look, but Blossom didn't do anything other than wait expectantly. Boomer finally shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
He actually smiled at her. OK, it was just a tiny little twitch of his lips, but it was the first sign of expression I'd seen from him since I'd interrupted him and Princess. Part of me wanted to cry.
And sometimes it's OK to give in to your desires, so I promptly left the room, flew up to my bed, and bawled silently into my pillow.
~~~~~~~~~
A tall figure was bent over several beakers, a Bunsen burner heating up one of them. Smoke wafted from the bubbling liquid and swirled around his dark hair. He heard the sound of footsteps on the stair and smiled. That was the girls' subtle way of announcing their presence when he was in the middle of work. It hadn't been pretty the last time they'd suddenly appeared next to him without a sound.
"Dad?"
Ah, Bubbles. She was the only one who called him Dad. His heart warmed at the sound.
"One moment, Bubbles," he said, checking a color chart before turning down the flame on the burner.
"I'm all yours!" he said, grinning at her. Then he noticed her downcast expression. "Bubbles?"
~~~~~~~~~
I should have gone to him in the first place. Isn't it ironic that I went to Mojo first? What was I even thinking?
I wasn't, of course.
I guess I just didn't want to bother him. He's been so busy lately, and he's been half-asleep at the breakfast table most mornings.
I felt absolutely horrible when I saw how glad he was to see me. He misses us. If no one else had noticed, I should have. He has always been there for us, has always wanted to protect us, and has been trying his hardest to not be an overprotective father, like he was when he built that robo-suit.
Of course, the things that we need protection from now can't be warded off with simple gadgets.
I asked him what he thought about Miss Keene when they had dated. I asked him what he thought of Miss Bellum. I wanted to know what had attracted him to Sedusa when he thought she was still Ima Goodlady.
The weird part about the whole conversation? He didn't seem to think it was odd that I was asking him all these questions. He didn't push me for any information I didn't volunteer. Is there any more reason why I started calling him 'Dad' a few years ago?
~~~~~~~~~
Thanksgiving was uneventful. It was just the four of us. The Boys came over for dessert, and the Professor ruffled Boomer's hair and called him Butch at first, then squinted at his blue eyes and looking over at Butch, who froze in the middle of putting his arm around Buttercup's shoulders.
Buttercup went stark white as she saw the Professor's eyes move from Butch's hand to her shoulder to her face. Then he smiled, turned back to Boomer, and apologized for his error.
I don't think Boomer even noticed.
I watched him pick at his pumpkin pie before the table was cleared. The Professor asked if we minded if he went back to work on his latest project. Of course Blossom assured him that it was fine, and then he glanced at me and I nodded. He winked at me before going down to the lab. As soon as he was gone, everyone paired off. Meaning Brick and Blossom were playing chess, Butch and Buttercup were fighting over the video game remote, and Boomer and I...weren't doing much of anything. Unless you count my watching him intently as actually doing something.
He sat down in his usual place, in front of the couch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Buttercup's foot nearly kicked him in the head as she lunged at Butch to steal the remote from him. He merely pulled out the notebook he seemed to be attached to and started writing.
I was so engrossed in watching his face for any signs of...something, that I didn't realize that Blossom had walked over.
"Boomer," she said cheerfully. "Come help me kick your brother's ass in Trivial Pursuit."
He blinked up at her, and she grasped the hand that wasn't holding a pen.
"Come on!" she insisted. "Remember, it's not whether you win or lose; it's preventing Brick from winning that's important!" She glanced at me, but I shook my head. I was never any good at those games. Not when Blossom was playing. I could know the answer inside and out, front and back, but if it was something I didn't think others would expect me to know, it's like a little mental block would go up, preventing me from calling that bit of information from the recesses of my mind.
Maybe I'd just watch them. Boomer shuffled over to the table, pulling out a chair and plopping into it, as Brick bragged "you two are going DOWN!"
I noticed that Boomer had left his notebook lying there on the floor. I glanced up at the table again. Boomer was picking a card out of the stack, and showing it to Blossom. Her fingers brushed his as she removed it from his hand.
I eyed the notebook again. Forgive me, Boomer, I have to know.
X-ray vision is an interesting thing. You have to moderate how many layers you want to see through. I managed to look through the thick cover and focused on the first page, trying not to look like I was staring at it, which I was.
Boomer has exceptionally neat handwriting for a boy. Brick's handwriting is cramped and tiny, and Butch tends to scrawl, but Boomer's lettering is very precise. He writes in all block letters, and if not for his super speed, he'd never get anything out on paper.
Before I got too absorbed in trying to read what Boomer had written, I risked another glance in his direction.
Funny thing, really.
I was seated on the floor, so my line of sight was about waist level as they were all sitting in chairs at the table.
I also forgot I'd just been using my X-ray vision.
If it wasn't bad enough that I realized that I was seeing through the first layer of clothes, it was worse when I discovered that there was no second layer underneath them.
What would you do in this situation?
I flicked my eyes in his brother's direction. Apparently it wasn't a family trait, because I could clearly see Brick's...um, yeah. Maybe it's a good thing Blossom and he aren't officially a couple yet, because I think that's the only thing that might have made me feel even worse. Except that, for a moment, I couldn't help wonder how Butch would measure up, whether he was like Brick and wore underwear or... Apparently guys aren't the only ones who are a bit voyeuristic at this age. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to not look through my eyelids.
"Are you OK, Bubbles?" Blossom asked me. She sounded awfully close to me. I cracked open my eyelids and saw her crouched next to me, just like she had with Boomer earlier.
"What?" I remember blinking at her, and I must have looked like I was in a complete daze. Oh, sure, Blossom, I just hope you don't mind that I am now more intimately acquainted with Brick that you are, but it doesn't count, because I was only looking.
Boomer turned to look at me then, too, and I wondered briefly at how many shades of red I could go through before I combusted. He slid off the chair, floated over to me, reached down and picked up his notebook, and returned to his chair, setting the book on the seat before sitting down again.
Which meant the only way I could read it now was if I...no. No, I was not even going to try it with the book in its current location. Could my cheeks possibly get any hotter?
Blossom must have decided that I wasn't going to keel over, because as soon as Boomer returned to the table, her attention was back on the game. I think she warned them not to read the cards ahead of time, but all I really noticed was the sense of relief I had when she rejoined the boys. I dropped my head onto my knees and wondered how long it would be before I got rid of the image that was now burned into my brain.
"Are you OK?" Buttercup asked. I hadn't even noticed her leave Butch's lap. It was going to get me into trouble one of these days, my lack of awareness of my surroundings. Let's just hope it's not during a save-the-day type of situation.
"Yeah," I said, but could feel my head shaking no. My body was obviously staging a protest. Traitor.
Buttercup put one of my arms around her shoulder and pulled me up with her, and then she floated us into the kitchen, where she poured me a glass of water.
"See this?" she said, handing me the glass. "No plastic cup. I think it has a higher melting point, don't you?"
I smiled weakly, silently thanking her for not pressing the issue. "Might want to check with Blossom on that one."
She chuckled. "And you might want to tell me what's bugging you." Shoulda known she'd get right down to brass tacks. I take back that little thank you I'd mentally extended not five seconds ago.
"I might," I agreed, taking a sip of water. "But I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
I tried to glare at her. She has the art down pat, because you could be sweltering in desert heat and one dark glance from Buttercup could freeze you cold. The best I could come up with was a pitiful look of 'don't bother me' that probably had a 'please' attached to it. I think we've already covered how pathetic I was. That description fits all occasions, just like a pair of basic black pumps. Oh, was I supposed to stop reading those fashion magazines? Stop thinking about clothes, Bubbles. And, in the case of some, the lack thereof, I chastised myself.
"I know you were just checking out Boomer's ass," she said, slapping me on the back. I choked on the water I was sipping. It didn't help that I'd actually forgotten she was there while I was engaged in my little mental conversation with myself.
"No one could hold a candle to Butch's," I blurted out, then felt my face flame once again. Between the furnace going on in my cheeks and my getting caught by surprise all the time, I was losing any sense of self-confidence I might have had.
"Hey, hands off the merchandise," she warned, but the laughing tone in her voice told me she didn't take me seriously. I was immensely grateful that she didn't take that the wrong way. It's tough being sisters with someone who hangs around with the guys all the time, because she talks just like she's one of them. Meaning she's crude quite often, and her comments are full of innuendo more often than not, especially since she and Butch have, well, you know.
Which again, makes what happened at Christmas all the more surprising, but I'm working my way up to that one.
~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
No, Buttercup doesn't smoke. That was her way of showing Bubbles that Blossom was so preoccupied, she didn't notice what Buttercup had said.
Thank you, everyone, for your kind reviews and encouragement to continue. I'm sorry I didn't get this one out as quickly as the others. Hope it was worth the wait.