Title: In his father's footsteps
Prompt: Not sure how to word this prompt, but I kinda wanna read a fic of medulla, boomer, and Steve being friends before Steve got too much of an ego lol, it suits chaos universe plus I wanna read one of Kurt Russell being friends with Bruce Campbell.
Thanks for the prompt!
...
July, 1969
Steve is super excited because Father is driving him to school today (Ma has a broken arm, so she can't), and he's eager to spend time with his father, and then tell his favourite teacher Ms. Clementine all about it. Even Maxwell and Tommy are sure to be jealous that he's being driven to school in Father's Camaro, which is more expensive than their house.
Despite his eagerness to tell everyone about his trip to school in such a fancy car and with Father, who was an Important Man, Steve was reluctant to leave the car and his Father's presence. It was so rare for him to drive him to school that Steve wanted to squeeze every single second with his Father as he could. He resolutely ignored the multitude of cars behind theirs that were honking their horns and stubbornly stayed in his seat.
"Go to school, boy. You're making a damn fool out of me," Father ground out, glancing in the rear view mirror and his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.
"But, Father - "
"You don't 'but' me, boy. I said for you to go to school, and what does it mean when I say something?" Father snapped, more of his face turning that red colour.
Steve hung his head. "It means I do what you say, sir."
Father reached over and Steve perked up, expecting a hug or perhaps a hand on his shoulder. He swallowed his disappointment as Father opened the door and practically pushed him out of the car, cursing under his breath at the same time. The door was slammed closed and Steve stepped onto the pavement to say goodbye properly.
"Bye, Father!" Steve called eagerly, even though tail lights were already in his vision.
He squinted to try to see if his father was waving inside the car, just as he sometimes did to other drivers, but the sun was reflecting on the windows and he couldn't tell. Steve was sure that his father had waved, really, he did.
"Was that your father, Steve?" Ms. Clementine asked, a small frown on her face.
"Yes! My father drove me to school, and let me sit at the front! Did you see his Camaro? It cost more than our house! Oh, and we played I Spy all the way, and I won."
"Oh. That's nice, Steve. Did you give your father the note I gave you yesterday, asking him to see me this morning at school drop off?"
Steve nodded, and looked at his feet. "He said he's busy, Ms. Clementine." He opened and closed his mouth, wondering if he should repeat everything his father had said, but decided to stay quiet.
His mother hadn't looked happy when his father had said those words, but she rarely looked happy these days. Steve was sure there was a time that his mother had smiled. There were photos of her smiling when she was married, and some months later, when he was born. He vaguely remembered a trip to the beach or perhaps a park when his mother had smiled and even laughed. It had been so long ago, though, and Steve wondered if it had been while his father was away at sea while he was fighting in The War.
"All right. I'll send another note this afternoon. Will your mother drive you tomorrow? I can address the note to her this time," Ms. Clementine suggested.
"I don't think so, Ms. Clementine. Ma broke her arm and can't drive."
"She broke her arm? How did that happen? Is she all right?" Ms. Clementine asked, firing question after question in such rapid succession that Steve had to take a moment to process them all.
"Yes, Miss. She didn't say why, but Ma and Father went to the hospital yesterday. Ma said she's all right, but Father said she's lying and he doesn't like liars, Miss." He bit his lip, a feeling welling up in him that he didn't like and couldn't name.
Ms. Clementine's worried expression shifted to one that Steve didn't quite recognise, then it was gone entirely, and she smiled down at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. All at once, that unliked feeling disappeared, and Steve felt much better. "Let's go inside, shall we? Why don't you make your mother a 'get well' card in Art today?"
Steve nodded eagerly. Ms. Clementine always had the best ideas.
He followed her through the school grounds to their Grade 2 class, and carefully placed his bag and lunchbox in his cubby hole before taking his seat between Maxwell and Tommy.
Maxwell was super smart, even smarter than Father, but Steve wouldn't tell Father that. Even though Father was the strongest person ever, he didn't like it when Ma corrected him about things or someone said something that wasn't what he had said. Maxwell wasn't like that at all; he liked knowing things and learning things, no matter who said them, or what was under their skirt. (Steve didn't really know why Father cared about that, either, but it seemed important when he said it.)
Tommy wasn't smart like Maxwell, but he was loud and fun, and Steve liked him even when Ms. Clementine got that look on her face that Ma sometimes had when she had a headache and had to lie down. Ms. Clementine didn't lie down, though, she just reminded Tommy to use his inside voice.
Later that day, when they'd all been excited about the space landing, Tommy had forgotten to use his inside voice in his excitement and had accidentally broken a glass. Ms. Clementine had made sure everyone stayed seated while she cleaned it up carefully. The whole class had been too excited to care that Tommy had broken a glass on the next table over. After seeing a real life man on the moon (That's one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind), even Steve had forgotten about it, chatting excitedly to Tommy and Maxwell about the astronaut and going into space themselves one day.
...
"Did you see the space landing today, Father? Wasn't it amazing? We saw a man walking on the moon! He bounced and everything! Ms. Clementine said he bounced because there's no air on the moon. That's why he had to wear a special suit and helmet. We're going to make our own space suits and helmets in school, and - "
"Enough! Jesus Christ, shut up and take a breath."
Steve recoiled at his father's harsh words and stopped talking, drawing in a noisy breath. "Sorry, Father."
"I had important shit to do today, so no, I didn't see an idiot bouncing around on a hunk of rock."
Steve didn't know what to say or how to quell his excitement, so he sat there as quietly as possible, his body practically vibrating in his seat.
"Go outside and play or something, would you?"
Steve swallowed hard. "Can I go to Tommy's to play, Father?"
"Who the fuck is Tommy?"
"Tommy's in my class. Tommy Boomowski. He lives down the street. Four houses down," he recited carefully; Ma always liked to know who and where he was going to be.
"Sure, fine, whatever. Go. I'll see what's taking your mother so long with dinner. Be back by six, okay?"
"Yes, Father," he said, jumping off his chair and running to the front door.
"Don't run in the fucking house!"
"Sorry, Father!" Steve called over his shoulder, already running to Tommy's house as fast as his legs could carry him.
...
"Can you drop me off at school again, Father?"
"Get your mother to drive you; I have a job interview today."
Steve blinked, his eyes wide. He knew that was important because his parents had argued over it when they thought he was sleeping. Father argued that he was better than a blue collar worker and Mother stated they needed more than food stamps to survive, and then they yelled loudly at each other until his ears and chest hurt, and he couldn't sleep. "Will you get more money when you get the job, Father?"
Father's face turned a blotchy red colour and Steve instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Money? You think that's all I'm good for?" he snarled, hand raised as he advanced on Steve.
"He didn't mean it! Harland, he's just a boy, he doesn't know what he's saying! He's repeating my words, that's all!" Ma cried out, standing between Steve and Father, though Steve had no idea how she'd got there or where she'd come from.
"So this is the bullshit you've been filling his head with? You think I'm useless and can't provide for my fucking family, is that it?"
"No! No, I - " Ma's words cut off abruptly as Father's hand connected with her cheek.
Steve sobbed against Ma's dress, even as she fell backwards against him. The weight of her body was too much and Steve stumbled back, collapsing to the floor and his mother collapsing on top of him. He struggled beneath her, his arms weak and body underdeveloped to be holding an adult's full weight. He tried, crying out when Ma didn't move and Father didn't help him, but failed and sobbed harder.
Light flooded his senses as Ma's body was lifted off his body, Father looking down at him in disappointment and his lip curled with disgust. "You're weak. Get up. I have to drive you to school now."
"B-b-but... what about Mama?" Steve sobbed.
His Ma's lips were turning blue, her eyes blank and unblinking, and Steve had seen enough Saturday morning cartoons to understand that she was dead.
"I'll deal with her. You go to school."
Steve tried to stifle his sobs even as Father drove him to school, but he was still crying when they pulled up to the drop-off. He fell out of the front seat before Father could even reach for the door this time, and Ms. Clementine was helping him stand, even as Steve registered the car driving away beside them.
"Steve? Are you all right?" Ms. Clementine asked, concerned when he continued to sob.
"M-Mama... Mama's dead," Steve stammered out between sobs and hiccupping breaths.
"What? Steve, did you... How?" Ms. Clementine asked, her hands resting on his shoulders.
A feeling of warmth ran through his body, pushing away the tears and cold, and Steve's tears were reduced to a stream instead of a wave. "F-Father hit her."
Ms. Clementine swallowed hard. "Let's go inside, okay? I'll call the police and we can have them talk to you. You just tell them everything you told me, all right?"
Steve sniffled again and nodded.
Ms. Clementine stood and took his hand, leading Steve into the school building. Neither of them looked back, but if they had, they would have seen the Stronghold's car waiting at the turn off and Father watching in the rear-view mirror.
He had to deal with this before his idiot son ruined everything.
...
"Ah, there you are, Steve. Here, you have a phone call," the school receptionist said with a sweet smile, holding the phone out to him.
Steve looked at her with wide eyes, frowning at the glazed expression on her face, but accepted the phone with both hands and held it to his ear tightly. "Hello?"
"Hello, Steven. Let's talk about what happened this morning," a hypnotic voice said, weaving a new story in his head where Father had begged Mother to stay, only for her to leave them both without looking back.
Steve cried again, the terror of his mother dying in front of him twisted until it was the emotion he felt as she walked out the door and left him behind instead. In his mind, Father had cried, too. It was the first time he'd ever seen him shed a tear, and Steve had sobbed while Father held him and Mother walked away.
"Nancy, what are you doing?" Ms. Clementine asked.
The receptionist stood still, not responding. Ms. Clementine frowned and stepped forward, putting a hand on Nancy's shoulder, shaking her gently.
"Clem? What are you doing here?" Nancy asked, frowning.
"What are you doing? Where's Steve?"
Nancy turned around and both of them saw Steve with the phone pressed to his ear, his eyes dark and glazed, and his body motionless. Ms. Clementine felt nauseous at the sight - even during naptime, Steve wasn't still like this - and moved forward to wrench the phone out of his grasp, slamming it down on the receiver as hard as possible. Even so, she feared it was already too late. "Steve? Are you all right? Do you remember what happened this morning?" she asked urgently.
Steve looked up at her, his eyes wide and filtering back to their normal colour. "Mother left Father and me alone. She packed a bag, walked out the door, and didn't look back, Ms. Clementine. Can I go play with Tommy and Maxwell now?"
Ms. Clementine didn't know what to say to that and simply nodded in response. Steve carefully slipped off the small cot and left the nurse's office to go to the playground.
"Clem?" Nancy asked softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Clementine stood on shaky legs and forced herself to smile. "I'm all right, Nanc. I don't know what happened to Steve, but it seems like his father will get away with murdering his wife if I don't do something about it. He can't hide a body that easily, can he?"
Nancy blinked. "I have no idea. Are... are you sure you want to do this, Clem? It could be dangerous. The man killed his own wife."
"I know. I'm not going to sit by and let him do the same to others."
Nancy bit her lip, recognising the determination on her face and worried that Clementine was going to do something that might end up with her hurt instead. "Promise me you'll be safe?"
Clementine smiled gently then kissed her, quick but firm. "I promise."
...
Steve was so excited! Ms. Clementine was driving him home and he'd never been in her car before or heard of anyone else in his class being driven home by her before, either. Clearly that meant he was special and Ms. Clementine's favourite.
"Here we are. You have a key, don't you?" Ms. Clementine asked with a smile.
"Yes! I can open the door all by myself! I'll show you!" Steve said eagerly, opening the door to get out of the car.
In his excitement, he forgot about the seatbelt and got pulled back into his seat abruptly.
"Oh, here, let me help you."
"I can do it!" Steve protested.
"Of course you can."
Steve felt calmer at her words; Ms. Clementine didn't say it like he was a baby and she was humouring him. She said her words as though she truly believed them and, more importantly, she believed him.
"Why don't I help you carry your helmet and astronaut suit inside?" Ms. Clementine offered.
Steve could carry them by himself, and he wanted to prove that, but he also wanted to spend more time with Ms. Clementine. It didn't take long to decide, and he nodded firmly. "All right. Thank you, Ms. Clementine."
Undoing his seatbelt properly, he climbed out of the car and closed the door, the car rocking on its wheels. Ms. Clementine's eyes widened, her hand on the dashboard to keep herself steady. Steve was already running to the house, excitement exuding from his entire being, and he hadn't noticed the car rocking. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Ms. Clementine got out of the car to grab the helmet and astronaut suit, and followed Steve into his house. She just needed to find Mrs. Stronghold's body or evidence that Mr. Stronghold had killed her, and then she could go to the police.
...
Harland had enlisted Inveigler's help with his son. He didn't know what Inveigler actually did, but the man talked and people listened. More importantly, they believed what he said. He'd met Inveigler in the Navy, and had caught him talking to their superior officer, convincing the man that he'd already completed his underwater tests when he was dry as bone. After that, Harland kept a close eye on Inveigler. He knew that whatever he did or could do, it would help with his son. Considering the police hadn't come looking for him, Harland figured that Inveigler's talk with Steve had worked.
Pulling into his street, he noticed an unfamiliar car sitting in front of his house, and his heart sped up at the sight. Maybe Inveigler's talk hadn't worked, after all? Did the police drive bright yellow VW Beetles? Harland frowned, slowing his own Camaro down. A sharp beep behind him had him glaring at the owner, the expression not lessening even when he recognised one of his neighbours. Just out of spite, he let the car idle for a few seconds longer before pulling into his driveway alongside the yellow Beetle.
The front door opened before he could even get his seatbelt off, Steve rushing out to greet him, purple jelly smeared on his mouth. Harland grit his teeth at the sight; he'd told his wife to not let Steve eat that! Realising that she was dead a moment later, he frowned. Who the fuck had given Steve jelly? He couldn't even open the jar by himself, so he clearly hadn't made his own food.
Steve stopped by his door, already prattling on about something, and pissing him off already. Jesus fucking Christ, he hadn't even been home for a minute yet. Harland opened the car door, sharp and abrupt, narrowly missing Steve as he stepped back, expecting the move by now.
" - and we made astronaut suits, and mine was so big that Ms. Clementine had to bring it home for me!"
"Ms. Clementine?"
"My teacher!" Steve said proudly, his purple-stained smile even bigger.
"That's her car?" Harland asked, no longer surprised when Steve nodded eagerly. "And where is Ms. Clementine now?"
"She had to go to the bathroom. I showed her where the guest bathroom is 'cause it's fancier with the towels I'm not allowed to use."
Harland made a noise in response, part feigned interest and part shut up already. Steve, hyped on jelly, continued talking all the way to the house. How on Earth he managed to fit five thousand words into five metres, Harland would never know.
"How was your job interview, Father?" Steve asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Harland's mouth twitched at the question and memory it evoked. All he'd needed to do was show his strength and not hold back, and the Super Bureau had hired him on the spot. They'd even helped to clean up his little mess from this morning, and glancing into the kitchen now, Harland was pleased to see the body gone without a trace. He'd already organised Inveigler, though he was curious to know how the Super Bureau would have handled his son, too, but not enough to ask.
Not only had they helped with that little mess, they were going to make him famous and pay him to go around and beat the shit out of people. He'd be so rich that his great-grandchildren would be rich and build a damn shrine in thanks. The only downside would be that he had to wear tights and a mask. Of course, Harland didn't plan on wearing the mask for long. If he was going to go around saving people, then they had to know who was saving their asses, and who to thank and grovel to for the rest of their miserable lives.
"They hired me. On the spot," Harland added with a smug smile.
Steve cheered and clapped, congratulating him with all the excitement a child hyper on grape jelly could muster, which was more than Harland could handle.
"Jesus, shut up, would you?!"
Steve flinched back at his words, his smile fading fast. "Sorry, sir."
"Good. Now, where's this teacher of yours?"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Stronghold. I'm Ms. Clementine, Steve's teacher. I hope you don't mind that I brought him home? That astronaut suit was far too big and bulky to get on the school bus, as per your message," Clementine said with a brief smile, holding her hand out to shake.
Harland looked at her hand like she'd coated it in filth and didn't offer his in return. "I'm fine with you bringing my boy home, just as long as it doesn't become a habit. He's old enough to walk home if he misses the bus, and strong enough to carry whatever he's made at school, too."
"Walk? It's a twenty minute trip by car!"
"I had to walk twice that distance to get to school when I was his age."
Clementine bit her tongue so she wouldn't retort; Mr. Stronghold - along with every other person in America who used that ridiculous excuse - had all walked for hundreds of miles when they were children, of course! Forgetting that there hadn't been improvements to cars like there were these days, and they probably weren't required to walk across goddamn freeways like their children would be forced to do now.
Steve's head whipped between his teacher and his father so fast he felt dizzy with it. Ms. Clementine wasn't smiling like she always did, Father looked grumpy, and Steve felt a churning in his stomach like he'd done something wrong.
"I'm assuming you're the one who filled my son with that purple jelly?" Harland snapped, another tactic since she wouldn't argue about walking.
"No, I did! I opened the jar myself, Father!" Steve said proudly.
Harland looked down at his son. "You? I closed that jar myself yesterday."
Steve nodded. "I did! I'll do it again, Father!" he said, scurrying around his legs to get to the kitchen bench, returning with the jar and lid in hand and holding it up to him like an offering.
Harland was stunned enough to take both, wincing at the sticky mess on his hands. He tightened the lid on the jar and then he tightened it further with his superhuman strength just to teach Steve a lesson. Proud of himself, he held the jar out to Steve and waited.
With Ms. Clementine and Father watching him expectantly, Steve was determined not to fail. He could open the jar again, just like he promised. Running a hand on his shirt - Harland winced at the purple smear left behind - Steve gripped the jar and lid and turned. Ms. Clementine was watching and Father was actually paying attention to him. He had to prove he was strong, just like Father. He had to do this! He held it tighter and turned the lid with all his might, his knuckles turning white and his face turning the same colour as the grape jelly. It felt like the whole world held its breath with him, but then, as easy as breathing, the jar lid popped open.
"What on earth?" Harland muttered.
Before Steve could say anything in response to Father's exclamation (he was proud of him, Steve knew he was!), the jar shattered to pieces in his hand, glass and grape jelly exploding across the kitchen. Steve let out a cry, dropping what remained in his hand, and watching as it shattered at his feet.
Harland's eyes widened. If he had superhuman strength, then could he have passed that strength onto his son? Opening a jar wasn't exactly a superhuman feat that the Super Bureau would test him on, but he'd definitely closed it with his own strength, and shattering that jar was noteworthy. He'd have to keep a closer eye on his son to see what else he could do. In fact, he could start him on training now to ensure he did get super strong. If he'd get rich by beating people up, imagine how much money two of him could make!
"Ms. Clementine? Are you all right?" Steve asked, his eyes wide when he saw the sight of his teacher.
The glass had bounced off his own skin harmlessly, Father was invincible and unharmed, but Ms. Clementine was soft. Glass and soft didn't work well together.
Harland barely noticed as Steve took Ms. Clementine's hand and led her back to the guest bathroom, talking about bandaids and antiseptic cream. He left the mess on the floor - Steve would learn fast enough that he had to clean his own damn messes - and went upstairs to change. While the glass hadn't hurt him, the grape jelly had practically ruined his clothes. He'd have to make sure the Super Bureau provided clothes that could wash blood off easily.
...
Clementine knew something was wrong even though she didn't have proof. She'd encouraged Steve to give her a tour of the house, which he'd done eagerly and with great importance, but she hadn't found anywhere a dead body could be hidden away. Everything was squeaky clean and nothing looked suspicious or unusual from what she could see. It all stayed clean until Steve insisted he could make his own after school snack, and then the kitchen had turned into a small murder scene with peanut butter, grape jelly, and bread as the victims.
She'd needed to help him clean up for her own sanity more than his hygiene, and by the time that was done and Steve had actually eaten the sandwich, Mr. Stronghold had returned home. She hadn't had a chance to investigate anything and the thought of facing him at that moment made her stomach churn. Steve didn't seem suspicious about her request for the bathroom and showed her to the guest bathroom before running outside to greet his father eagerly.
Clementine heard Steve's excited ramble even from the bathroom and couldn't stop her smile. He was so innocent and full of life, and it showed in everything he said or did. It was a common trait for children to be innocent and excited, of course, and it was the main reason Clementine stayed a teacher for younger children. She'd studied to be a teacher with the goal to be employed in a high school. She'd done her internship at a school that catered for all years, and while she had enjoyed seeing the teenagers and helping them learn, it had all changed on the day she'd been asked to fill in for the children's teacher who was sick.
Almost immediately, she had seen the difference between her potential careers. Where the younger children were full of life and questions and excitement, the teenagers had had all of that emotion drilled out of them by standard tests and conformity and rules that the younger children didn't yet know. It had exhausted and scared her down to her soul to see that excitement for life drained out of the teenagers, and she knew that she couldn't bear to see it every day for the rest of her working life. Clementine loved her work and loved teaching children, but even she knew that she couldn't bring that life and light back into the teenagers' lives for long enough to make a real difference. Instead, she was determined to ensure the children in her classes experienced life to the fullest and hoped it would see them through adulthood and growing up.
Investigating a murder hadn't exactly come into those plans, she mused. Realising that she'd been in the bathroom for too long, Clementine made a show of flushing the toilet and washing her hands, even though she hadn't used the facilities.
Mr. Stronghold looked at her the way she presumed he looked at all women: as though they were all beneath him and not worthy to even be greeted with a simple handshake. Clementine seethed at his expression and response, but she didn't let it show. She'd seen the flex of muscles as he tightened the jar lid and wanted to scold him like she would have done to one of her kids, but Clem knew she was already on thin ice with Mr. Stronghold's patience and nerves, and didn't want to end up like his wife. She watched Steve as he struggled to open the jar, silently hoping he would open it just to prove his misogynistic father wrong. A second later, he did exactly that, the jar shattering in his hands, and glass and jelly flying towards her before she could react. Glass pieces embedded in her arms, tore at her clothes, and she gave a gasp that neither Stronghold heard.
Steve's eyes widened at the sight of her and he hurried to guide her to the bathroom once more. Clementine winced as she used tweezers to pull out the larger shards from her arms, a first aid kit under the sink covering the worst of the wounds. She had no idea that breaking a jar with that much force was even possible, let alone enough to actually hurt her! Steve seemed fine, though it was difficult to tell with the purple stains on his hands. Clem instructed him to clean up so she could check, and he did so to reveal pristine hands without a scratch on him.
"I'll get some clothes for you, Ms. Clementine!" Steve said, innocent eyes wide as he took in the tattered and stained state of her dress.
She didn't have a chance to argue before he left, running upstairs and the stairs creaking beneath him, as though he was a hundred tonne elephant and not a small child that didn't even reach her hip.
Realising that she could use this as an excuse to snoop in the Stronghold's bedroom if she changed in there, Clementine gathered her things to her chest and hurried up the stairs after Steve. She mis-stepped on one of the stairs, as though it was bent out of shape beneath her feet, almost falling. Catching herself and her breath, Clem hurried faster before Steve returned and she had to go back to the bedroom.
"Oh, I got you clothes, Ms. Clementine! Do you want to get changed in Mother's bathroom? It's bigger than the one downstairs," Steve added.
"Uh, yes. Yes, thank you. I'll be right down. Why don't you go downstairs and help your father clean up the mess? Be careful of the glass," she added.
Thankfully, Steve just nodded and rushed downstairs without Clementine needing to push the issue. Slipping into the Stronghold's bedroom, Clementine closed and locked the door behind her. Setting her ruined cardigan and Mrs. Stronghold's clothes on the bed, Clementine started opening drawers as quickly and quietly as she could. She just needed to find some sort of evidence that Mrs. Stronghold hadn't really left, then she could leave before Mr. Stronghold suspected anything, and she could go to the police.
The drawers were tidy, but full. Stockings, underwear, and even expensive pieces of jewellery were still in place. Mrs. Stronghold's purse was sitting beside a string of pearls, and tucked into the back of a drawer was an envelope of cash and her passport. Surely, a woman who was leaving her son and husband behind wouldn't leave a whole envelope stuffed full of cash! Tugging it out, along with Mrs. Stronghold's passport, Clementine added her purse to the collection as well, wrapping it all in her ruined cardigan.
Had she taken too long to snoop? Would Mr. Stronghold burst into the room if she wasn't downstairs in a minute? If he was strong enough to kill someone by hitting them, how long would a door hold out against him? Fear made her mouth dry, and Clementine ducked into the bathroom to drink some water from the faucet, washing her face, and inspecting the smaller pieces of glass and spots of blood she'd missed downstairs. They stung, but it wasn't too bad, and she would survive.
Changing into the dress Steve had found for her - a little snug around the hips, but it would do - Clementine wrapped her dress around the cardigan and evidence, and hurried downstairs to make her escape.
"Leaving so soon?" Mr. Stronghold asked as she reached the front door.
Clementine froze, her hand on the door handle and her freedom right there beyond her fingertips. "I, uh, I think it's best if I leave now, Mr. Stronghold."
"Over spilled jelly? Surely you've seen worse at the school with those little barbarians," Mr. Stronghold said, his voice measured.
Clementine could feel annoyance and suspicion exuding from him like water from a faucet. "That... that wasn't spilled jelly, Mr. Stronghold. I'm not sure what happened, but I think you and your son need this time together, especially since your wife left."
She knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Mr. Stronghold's annoyance fell away and suspicion battered at her like a waterfall. Clementine could help calm children - it was how she'd eased Steve's hurt just that morning, and how she made things feel better even if the children were overwhelmed with their emotions - but she didn't know if it would work on Mr. Stronghold, not when his emotion was drowning her.
"Steve told you what happened, did he?"
Clementine wasn't a great liar, but she needed to try - and be believable - or else she'd end up like Mrs. Stronghold, she just knew it. Licking her lips, she nodded. "He did. Steve was quite upset that his mother packed a bag and left you both without looking back. He was crying all the way to the nurse's office."
It was all true and yet at the same time, it wasn't the truth at all.
She held her breath, watching and waiting, and hoping like Hell that Mr. Stronghold believed her.
Behind him, the phone in the hallway started to ring.
Clementine's gaze went directly to it and in the kitchen doorway, she saw Steve watching her and his father with wide eyes. Mr. Stronghold, however, ignored the sound and kept his gaze on her.
"That's all he said?"
His suspicion choked her, closing her throat, and she couldn't say anything. Her grip around her clothes and the evidence tightened.
He didn't believe her. She was going to die. The thought and utter certainty made her freeze up, her legs blocks of ice with no way to run.
"Father, can I answer the phone? Can I, can I, can I?" Steve asked loudly and far too eagerly, stepping into the hallway and taking his father's attention away from Clementine.
It would be his first heroic act, though he wouldn't consider it as such or even remember it for years to come.
"No, I'll get it," Mr. Stronghold said firmly, turning to stride down the hallway and answer the phone.
Steve glanced at Ms. Clementine, who was still stuck to the spot, and waved his hand as though to shoo her outside. Even though she knew he might be risking his father's anger for distracting him and letting her escape, Clementine couldn't stay there a moment longer. Her legs finally thawed, and reaching behind herself, she turned the doorknob to slip outside.
The sun was still shining, which felt so utterly wrong considering everything she'd felt and gone through in the last half hour. Hurrying down to her Beetle, Clementine inhaled slowly and let herself calm down before she did something truly stupid like drop her keys. She needed every precious minute she could get and being calm was the only way she'd achieve that. Her hands no longer trembling, Clem opened the door, slid into the car, set her armful on the passenger seat, and turned the ignition on. The engine was still warm from the sun and initial drive to the Stronghold residence, so it turned over without the usual five minute wait, rattling in its usual way that no mechanic could fix or find. Clementine reversed out onto the street and drove away before Mr. Stronghold noticed her departure, patting her Beetle's dashboard and giving thanks to her trusty car, glancing in the rear view mirror to make sure she wouldn't be followed.
Now, she just needed to get to the police.
...
Nancy paced back and forth for far too long. She couldn't help her nerves, and even if she did wear a hole in the rug like Clementine always claimed she would one day, it would be worth it for any kind of relief. It was getting late and Clem still hadn't come home. Even with traffic, she should have been home by now. If she'd found evidence of what Mr. Stronghold had done, she would have called from the police station.
Nancy saw headlights on the street and looked out from the lounge room window immediately. It had been a joke between her and Clem the first night they'd stayed together: lights in the lounge on the left, then right through the rest. Well, it wasn't a good joke, but 'lounge on the left and rest on the right' was how Nancy always determined whether cars were pulling up to the house or driving past. Hope filled her chest and made her hold her breath in anticipation, but this car, just like the three before it, continued past the rest without even pausing.
Putting her thumb to her mouth to bite her nail, Nancy winced when she saw that she'd already bitten it. Checking the rest of her fingers, she wasn't entirely surprised to find that she'd bitten all of her nails down. Damn it. She had to do something. Pacing wasn't helping, and biting her nails hadn't done a thing to help ease the anxious feeling flowing through her body.
Taking out the slip of paper she'd written Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold's phone number on, Nancy swallowed hard and headed over to the kitchen. All afternoon, she'd practiced what she would say if it came to this, and she dealt with irate parents on a regular basis, so she knew she could do this. Logically, she could, but emotionally, Nancy had no idea if she'd ever be ready to make this call. Her hand still shook as she took the phone off the cradle.
There was a rhythmic motion to dialling the Stronghold's number, watching the rotary dial spin back with each number. It was an old phone from the 50's, part of an even older house, and that charm was part of the reason that Nancy had agreed to move into this place rather than the more modern apartments that Maxville offered in the city. Clem had persuaded her, promising to keep her warm if the house was drafty, and even being her utterly ridiculous and over-the-top self by buying a fake palm leaf to cool her down in the summer months. They'd laughed about it when Clementine had returned with the oversized leaf, but Nancy swore the thing worked better than some of those fancy air conditioners.
"Hello?" a rough voice said in her ear.
She'd dialled the number already? Nancy blinked, her hand still poised over the rotary dial, and forced on her professional smile and fake receptionist tone, lowering her hand. Her fingers pulsed in pain, reminding her of her nails' mutilation.
"Good evening, Mr. Stronghold. I hope this isn't a bad time?"
"Who's this?" he snapped.
He was angry but hadn't hung up on her, so Nancy continued, "This is Nancy calling from Maxville State School. I was calling to ensure Steve got home safely after school. He wasn't well this morning and I wanted to check up on him."
It wasn't technically a lie, but some part of her was desperately wishing that she could ask if Clementine was there, too. Was Clem safe? Had Mr. Stronghold hurt her or, worse, killed her like he had his wife?
"He's fine. Is that all?"
Nancy had practiced the earlier part of her speech, but she'd hoped for more than five words in response. What if this time on the phone was crucial for Clem to get away or get help or something? Desperately trying to think of something else to say that wasn't "did you murder your wife and is my girlfriend still alive?" Nancy looked around, hoping for inspiration. Her gaze landed on the beach calendar, full of beautiful sunsets and spectacular sunrises in places Clementine had always promised to take her for a full month's holiday. On their wages, it probably wasn't likely, but a weekend might be possible.
"There's a school trip coming up. Did Steve give you the permission slip to be signed? I might as well ask while I've got you on the phone so he doesn't forget. I'm sure Steve wouldn't want to be the only one at school while the rest of his class goes on an excursion without him," she said with a nervous laugh, her professional voice slipping.
In the background, there was the sound of a car starting. It was a familiar sound, even through the phone; the engine in Clem's yellow Beetle rattled without rhyme or reason, but refused to die, and right then it was the most glorious sound in the world. If it really was the Beetle, that is. Nancy prayed to a God she wasn't sure she believed in, praying Clementine was on her way back to her, and it wasn't a noise her mind was desperately making up. It could have been a neighbour or someone driving down the street, she reasoned, tears blurring her vision.
"Shit! I... I need to check on my son. Good night," Mr. Stronghold said, slamming the phone down so hard the receiver broke in half.
Nancy's hand no longer trembled, but instead shook so hard that she had to try twice to put the phone on the cradle properly. Her breath was coming in shaky gasps and her knees were like jello, and the next thing Nancy knew, she was sitting on the floor and staring at the front door, hoping and waiting for it to open.
...
Clementine shook Nancy gently, hoping her girlfriend was all right. She seemed to be in a daze of some sort, and it took a full minute to calm her long enough for Nancy to blink up at her and actually see her properly.
"Clem? Oh, you're alive. I was so worried!" Nancy cried, hugging her and clinging on tight.
"I'm sorry, Nanc. The police kept me for so long that I forgot about my phone call."
"You found evidence then? Did you... did you find her body?" Nancy asked, covering her mouth.
Clem shook her head. "No. I found her purse, passport, and an envelope full of cash. Not to mention all of her clothes were still there, along with her bags and suitcase - " she added, something she'd only realised after the fourth iteration with yet another police officer who didn't seem to be interested nor taking her seriously, " - but it wasn't enough."
Nancy frowned. "It wasn't enough? No one would leave an envelope full of cash behind if they were leaving!"
"That's exactly what I said! They didn't believe me. They said only family members could report missing persons, and they were going to call Mr. Stronghold to check on his wife's whereabouts. I had to sneak out while someone went to get coffee. If they'd called him while I was there, I don't know what would have happened."
"Do you think they've called him by now?" Nancy asked, letting Clementine help her to her feet, brushing off her dress and hoping the feelings of pins and needles in her legs would fade soon.
"Probably. I don't know what he'll do. Even if they don't tell him my name, it's suspicious to receive a call from the police less than an hour after I escaped his house."
Nancy swallowed hard. "I called the Stronghold house."
"That was you? Oh, Nanc, you saved my life tonight," Clementine breathed, hugging her and pulling away to kiss her. "Thank you so much."
"I... I was worried he'd hurt you. You're not wearing the same clothes you had on this morning; did he hurt you and you're trying to cover it up with that dress?"
"No. Steve broke a jar and I got attacked by jelly and glass. I used the opportunity to change and that's when I found Mrs. Stronghold's things," Clementine said. "Did you tell him your name when you called?"
Nancy bit her lip and nodded. "You don't think he'll come here, do you, Clem?"
"I don't think so. He doesn't know where we live."
Headlights flared as a car approached the street, light spilling into the lounge room.
"Your bright yellow Beetle might give it away," Nancy said, hoping to make Clem smile or laugh.
Instead, she frowned and nodded seriously. "You're right. I'll park it in the garage and cover it up. We can go to work in your car tomorrow instead."
Nancy realised something far too late, and grabbed Clementine's hand. "The lights."
"Hmm?"
"The lights from the car," she added. "They didn't go through the rest on the right," Nancy said, looking to the door behind Clementine.
"It could've been Abraham across the road?" Clem suggested, though she didn't sound convinced.
"He got home two hours ago; I saw his car go in already, and he hasn't left since. Someone's outside our house, Clem."
Nancy's pure fear shot straight at Clementine, amplifying her own, and she trembled as she turned to approach the door. Forcing herself to breathe and calm down, Clementine clutched her keys tightly as she headed to the door. She might not do much damage, but a metal key in an eyeball had to slow even someone like Mr. Stronghold down, surely? Remembering the lack of glass on both Steve and Mr. Stronghold, Clementine had her doubts.
There was a firm knock at the door. "Miss Clementine Toussaint, are you home?"
That wasn't Mr. Stronghold. Clementine didn't know whether she wanted to open the door or not, though. Just because he hadn't spoken, it didn't mean he wasn't out there. He could have brought friends. Or the police. Looking over her shoulder to Nancy, Clementine could still feel her fear and worry and concern pushing at her, despite her distance and own calm. Reaching out her feeling sensors past the door - she'd done similar before, especially when people, whether children or adults, were crying in bathroom stalls and just needed to be calm enough for someone to listen to them - Clementine realised there was nothing there.
"We know you're in there, Miss Toussaint, your car's out the front," another voice added.
At least two people were standing on her front steps, but they didn't have a single emotion between them? Was that even possible? Were they human?
"Miss Nancy Brown, we know you're in there, too. Answer the door or we'll be forced to break it down," the first voice said, calm in a way that made Clementine feel nauseous.
Clementine forced herself to stay silent as she lifted the door chain into place. She would open the door that small gap, tell whoever was outside her house to leave, and then when they were gone, Clem would start packing. She had clearly made an enemy of Mr. Stronghold and needed to get the hell out of Maxville before something worse than this happened. It was, what, thugs now, what would it be later?
Opening the door until the chain was taut, Clementine looked out at the two people in black suits on her front steps, trying not to stare at their outfits or sunglasses when it was already dark outside. "Yes?"
"Miss Clementine Toussaint, we're here on behalf of the Super Bureau and the concerns you brought to the police this afternoon," one of the black suits said, displaying a wallet or badge too fast for her to actually read.
The words seemed innocent enough, and if it had been nearly anyone else, Clementine might have thought they were here to help or that they actually believed her. Instead, because it was these two people without a single emotion or feeling between them, Clementine felt threatened by their words. The sunglasses didn't help, nor did the dark van behind them with tinted windows.
"What's the Super Bureau?" Nancy asked behind her, curious and clearly not feeling as threatened as Clementine did, unable to see the van or black suits until she raised on her toes, her soft gasp of surprise and fear loud in Clementine's ear.
"We are an organisation who help people, especially people like Miss Clementine Toussaint," one of the black suits said, then smiled. It was a grotesque attempt at a smile, like they had needed to practice the motion and still hadn't managed to perfect the expression, showing too many teeth and gums. Nancy gripped Clementine's hand and shrank down behind her.
"I don't want nor need your help. Please leave."
The smile left the black suit's face immediately, and Clem almost sighed in relief.
"We firmly suggest you take our assistance, Miss Toussaint."
"The relationship between yourself and Miss Nancy Brown is illegal, as I am sure you are perfectly aware. Your neighbours and colleagues are not aware of your relationship, are they?"
Clementine clutched Nancy's hand, and Nancy held her hand just as tightly in return. This time, their words couldn't be mistaken for the threat they clearly were. Her relationship with Nancy wasn't the reason these two black suits were on her front steps but clearly they would use it as a reason to make her comply.
"We are housemates and colleagues," Clementine lied for what could have been the thousandth time, and just as it had nine-hundred and ninety-nine times before, the words felt like sharp arrows in her stomach.
She hated saying them and lying about her relationship with Nancy, but if the truth were known by the wrong people, both she and Nancy could be imprisoned for no reason other than loving each other.
"Of course you are. Open the door and let us in, Miss Toussaint."
Clementine was sure of very few things in life, but of this she was completely certain: if she opened the door, neither she nor Nancy would be seen again. They might not be killed tonight, but they would be taken away somewhere, and the time between now and their eventual deaths would not be pleasant.
"Nancy, Clementine, you ladies all right there?"
Clementine could have kissed Abraham in that moment.
"Return to your home, sir. We're assisting the police with an urgent matter," one of the black suits said, showing a wallet or badge of some kind.
"I see. Then you won't mind that I've called them?"
There was a pause, and Clementine bit her tongue to stop from cheering.
"The police are on their way. I find it mighty suspicious that you are at these harmless women's door at this time of the night, let alone arriving in a van like that. I don't know where you two live, but we look out for our neighbours around - "
His words were cut off as one of the black suits lifted his sunglasses, and without a movement or motion, Abraham collapsed to the ground. Clementine's eyes widened and she shut the door before the black suits could look at her or Nancy. Grabbing her girlfriend's hand, Clementine ran to the back of the house where the kitchen and back door were, hoping that the black suits would be preoccupied with Abraham and not notice their escape.
"What happened? Is Abraham all right?" Nancy asked, pale and her voice catching.
The backyard was blocked off by high fences on every side. The only ways out were through the garage or the side fence, both of which lead back to the front of the house.
"I don't know," Clementine admitted softly, almost to herself.
"What are we going to do, Clem?"
Before she could answer, there was a blare of police sirens, and she heard a screech of tyres. Racing around to the side fence, Clementine tried to be unnoticeable as she looked over to see what was happening. The black van with tinted windows was tearing down the street with a lone police car on its heels, red and blue coating the neighbourhood as the chase began.
"Are they gone?" Nancy whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by sirens, engines, and tyres.
"They are. We need to go, too. Nanc, I'm sorry, but we need to leave Maxville. Right... uh, now?" she finished in confusion, Nancy already sprinting back inside the house.
Clementine rushed after her, surprised to find Nancy heading upstairs. By the time she reached their bedroom, Nancy was already pulling their suitcases out from under the bed. Apparently, Nancy was just as ready to get the fuck out of Maxville as she was.
They were silent as they packed the necessities, not daring to speak aloud just in case it would break the small illusion of safety they'd built around themselves at this moment. The black suits were gone, the police were gone, and soon, they would be, too.
...
Tommy flicked Maxwell's ear as he passed by to get to his seat, Maxwell glaring at him in return and rubbing his ear. Steve sat between his two friends, hoping to keep the peace, and glanced over at the door when it opened again. Expecting to see Ms. Clementine, he frowned when Principal Smith walked into the classroom instead.
"Good morning, boys and girls. Please, take your seats."
Confused, the class did as instructed.
"I'm sorry to say that Miss Clementine will no longer be your teacher. She hasn't turned up to work, nor has Miss Nancy, the receptionist. I received a phone call from Denmark far too early this morning and they have both quit, leaving me in the lurch and without a teacher or receptionist, which is... " Principal Smith coughed abruptly, his ears an angry shade of red, and continued, "As a result, I will be teaching you until a suitable replacement is found. Please, stay seated and behave while I return to the office to read out the daily announcements. I will not allow any rule breaking in my classroom, is that understood?"
"Yes, Principal Smith," they chorused.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, everyone started talking amongst themselves.
"It's obvious they went to Denmark so they could get married," Maxwell said, rolling his eyes at some of the more ridiculous theories that others in the classroom suggested.
"To who?" Tommy asked, frowning.
"Each other, of course. Denmark recognises same-sex couples, and while they can't get married yet, they'll probably be the first country to allow it. I read it in the newspaper, and Grandfather made me debate both sides. I lost the opposing side on purpose."
Steve didn't understand all of Maxwell's words - he was way too smart for him, but he did try - but he understood one word. "You said sex," he said, his cheeks bright red.
"Of course I did."
Tommy gnawed on the end of his pencil thoughtfully, as though he was truly considering Maxwell's words. "Y'mean, Ms. Clementine and Miss Nancy love each other?"
"Their interactions certainly demonstrated that... Yes," Maxwell said when both Steve and Tommy looked at him blankly.
"Girls can love other girls?" Tommy asked, frowning.
"Of course. Boys can love other boys, too. Some people even love both," he added, trying to explain love and everything it in encompassed in a way that both Tommy and Steve would understand when he didn't even truly understand it all himself.
"Huh. Really?" Tommy's frown deepened.
"Of course. Feelings aren't limited to one gender, nor is attraction. In fact, there are even animal species - "
Steve didn't care about animals. He desperately wanted to ask Maxwell if it was his fault that Ms. Clementine had left, but he didn't know how to explain it or put it into words. Father had scared her last night and now Ms. Clementine was gone! Father hadn't been angry, really! He was just scared and upset because Mother had left. Steve didn't think helping Ms. Clementine leave the house would have led to her leaving the United States!
Tommy and Maxwell were talking about something else now, so Steve supposed it didn't really matter. Besides, he was really, really tired. Father had woken him up at five o'clock in the morning to start him on a training, uh... training regulation? Training reggae? No, that wasn't it, either. Whatever it was, it involved lots of running around and lifting heavy things, and Steve's whole body ached and he was really sleepy, but Father was spending time with him, so that's all that mattered. Father had promised Steve that he would follow in his footsteps and be just as strong as he was one day.
Steve couldn't wait.
...
The end.
Thanks for reading!