Forgiveness

I know you love your gramps,
But when you grow up,
Don't be like him.
You'll understand
Someday.

Callie has her first day of filming next week, and between that and Marie's radio show, they're going to get busy again. She needs to memorize her lines, but it's too nice to stay indoors. She sets up shop outside Crusty Sean's food truck instead, sipping from a special-charge shake and listening to the music around her.

She only looks up from her script to watch Off The Hook's newest splatfest announcement. Pulp VS No Pulp orange juice? Well, every news career has to have a few duds. Wonder what side Marie'll be on. She should just choose the same side as Mar, and the two of them can do every battle together. Maybe, if Mar doesn't have an opinion, Four will. Or Three; they have a debriefing tomorrow, after Three and Gramps have slept enough. And whoever that 'Agent 8' they recruited is.

Callie's phone dings. She checks her texts: Marie. Show's done. You okay?

Working on memorizing.

Okay alone? Four'll meet Gramps tomorrow. She's kinda freaked.

Meet me for Seanwiches at 6.

Fresh. See ya.

Well, that's taken care of. Poor Four; whenever Callie sees her in Octo Canyon, the girl snaps to attention like a soldier in a bad movie. She's trying so hard to be a Good Agent and is so obviously nervous it crosses into adorable. She must be fretting herself sick.

Callie takes another sip and finds herself sucking the last drops of shake through her straw. This is a travesty, clearly. Callie digs in her pocket and sorts through her tickets: she must have another special-charge shake som—aha!

As Callie gets to her feet, she hears someone speak in Octarian.

Her feet freeze.

Callie takes a deep breath, in, then out. Focus. No one's been within arm's reach of her, and certainly not close enough to put shades on her, since the last time she listened to Calamari Inkantation. But the sound of someone speaking Octarian continues, so she takes another breath. Octarian food tastes bad. If she gets—she glances at her tickets—a crusty seanwich, it's about lunch time anyway, then she can eat that and know immediately if she's okay. And she is.

Yeah, she is.

There's only one person ahead of her in line, so Callie has her Seanwich in moments. She raises the bandana tied around her face for one delicious, delicious bite and hears it again: Octarian. "I just wish I wasn't alone."

Callies ears perk, and she looks around. Is someone crying?

The square is busy as always, with squids walking around in fresh fashions and showing off moves. A few jells skateboard nearby. Sitting on the ground in the corner made by construction barriers, behind Sean's food truck, is a girl. She sits hugging her legs, her forehead on her knees. Her orange tentacles squirm in ways Callie hasn't seen before.

Callie leaves her food on her table and walks over to the girl. As she does, she hears again, clearer, "At least I was never scared with those stupid shades."

Okay, no.

Callie plops on the ground right next to the girl and throws an arm around her shoulders; she stiffens. "Hiya," Callie says. Inklish, as a test.

The girl doesn't raise her head. "H-hello," she stutters.

"My name's Aori. What's yours?"

Another pause. Then, "Maple." She doesn't raise her head. "Um, I want no person. You, uh, not me know."

Okay, very remedial Inklish skills. Callie switches languages. "The whole point of introducing myself was so I could know you, you silly pancake," Callie says, and the girl's head shoots off her knees, her eyes wide, tentacles straightening on the ends in shock. "Have you been in Inkopolis long?"

The girl sniffs and wipes her eyes. Now that she's uncurled a little, Callie can see all she's wearing is a splatfest t-shirt (she chose team Donnie) over Octarian armor. "I got this shirt my first week," she says, "though I'm not completely sure what it stands for. I just wanted to support something Marina supported. Marina made it here, and maybe, if I get a chance to talk to her, I could, too."

Callie's hearts ache. Does Octavio even realize what he's done? Sure, Callie wore the shades for a few months, and it tore her apart—almost destroyed her relationship with Marie, ruined her self confidence in ways she's still putting back together, left doubts in her mind that may never go away. But his own people, who wear hypnogoggles and hypnoshades for who-knows-HOW much of their lives... they've left them behind, they can finally know what is and isn't real, and they've been crippled.

Callie can't solve every problem.

But she can solve this one.

"When did you last eat?"

The girl blushes. "I get food from the, uh, unwanted waste barrels in the evenings."

Yeah, that's about what Callie expected. "Want a Crusty Seanwich? My treat." Callie squeezes the girl around the shoulders, then lets go and stands up. "And I know a place you could go and stay the night, with some other Octarians who left. Not Marina. If you wanna."

The girl looks up at her, tears glistening on her cheeks, her mouth trembling.

Callie offers down a hand.

She takes it.