Content warning of child neglect and abuse. Seven minutes in heaven scene will be next chapter.
Her chants echo down the hallway, bouncing off the wall is the sound of her morning mantra. The rich affirmation is full of positive and supportive words. Ordinarily, those words frame a suggested life worth living. For Erin, the tunes of the declaration are debatable. She hums exuberantly nonetheless, carrying her little brother in her arms.
Their mother was in and out of their lives now. Her second marriage dissolved, and her track record of lecherous men to follow would even impress Guinness. Bunny. Uttering her name forces a tickle of emotions up Erin's throat. None of them comforting or forgiving. Her feelings kept under Bunny's reign, bending at her whim.
Bunny's one motherly instinct was to prevent any harm to her children. The cruel reality was her mom could not claim that assurance. Not with the men she brought home. Troy Montgomery was the most sinister to date. Eight months later, Bunny came home to Erin fleeing from the fire escape and her husband running after her through the front door. Erin ran to her neighbor, and they called the police. Bunny wanting alimony rather than her ex-husband seeing jail time, did not want to press charges. Erin's hatred for her mother grew tenfold.
Turning the corner, Erin sighs at the realization of their current situation. She had no one to trust, no one to count on. Bunny took care of Bunny. Erin was the metaphorical savior and the wielder of their nine lives - the conscious one keeping them both alive. The divorce and subsequent homelessness threw Bunny on a dangerous breakdown of excessive drinking and drug use, resulting in Teddy's premature birth.
Erin beams momentarily at the remarkedly bubbly toddler in her grasp. To Teddy, she is a big sister. To Bunny, she is the invisible child. Invisibility is not entirely an awful character trait. She flows a bit freer in that regard. Her mother taught her how to fend for herself: cook, clean, and repair the issues in their house - lights, loose pipes, and furniture. As crooked as it may seem, Erin cannot depend on her mother. If Bunny could use her, Erin would start using her mother. She exchanged her work for Bunny maintaining their shelter, especially for Teddy. Erin had to keep her shame, her pain, and her anger underneath the surface. Her internal punishment. There was no stopping to grieve.
Yes, Erin takes great satisfaction in her mother projecting their equal pain in alcohol and drugs. Bunny should feel bad about what she allowed to happen, what she continues allowing to happen in their lives. Erin begged for any redeemable quality in Bunny. Sometimes she saw it when Bunny heard Teddy crying, barely sparing him from neglect. Only a baby and no part of any of this misfortune, he was a victim at the early start of his life. Thus, leading Bunny to shack up with Richard Courtney.
"I found a room for us to play in Teddy," Erin sings, readjusting him on her waist, shaking the doorknob open.
Fortunately, Richard never became her next stepfather. Learning he had a son rose his excitement over the former. Likewise for Bunny, her claim to more money sobering her up. Lucid enough to work behind Courtney in his new line of work, laundering schemes. By the second year, Erin saw her mother gradually waning and her behavior changing. The withdrawals were tougher than the last. Bunny began to seep back into old vices, and it enraged him. That was when the beating started. Bunny hid it at the onset. When Erin found her mother on the steps, she concluded the imminent turn for the worse.
She knew Bunny could defend herself. The single constellation for her ex-husband being free was Bunny burning him with a pan of grease when the police swarmed their house. As much as Erin hated her life, seeing her mom hurt was too much to bear. She does not want a grim life for either her or Teddy. But what was she to do? She did not know how to stop it. The beatings scared her. She tried to intervene, but Richard would shove and hit her, causing Bunny to retaliate. Richard threatened to kick her out, declaring her unfit to raise Teddy. Bunny, by the semblance of grace, snatched up Teddy. They were on the hot summer streets for days until her mother found shelter.
"Wow," her voice resounds, spinning Teddy to gander at the materials.
The shelter is a godsend, pun intended. The Catholic shelter - an essential refuge. Necessary for battered women and their families. It came as a sanctuary at the right time, housing them the past two weeks. Their security descended as fast as Bunny's impending spiral. At sunrise, Bunny made her encore performance, vanishing in the night from her children. To stifle Teddy from crying out for their mother, Erin stepped in and assumed the role of primary caregiver.
Erin sets Teddy on the floor and pulls down a few plastic tubs. One holds construction paper, the other paint, and the last one glitter and markers. Erin preferred keeping Teddy close, ducking the workers who schedule their time. Her little brother would draw attention if she left him alone.
She preoccupies him with crafting what could be qualified as his first painting. Erin cherished the moments of gifting Teddy with these special memories, ones she fails to remember of her own. She guides his hands and feet to make prints. Encouraged by his infectious laughter, she uses his hands and feet to make broccoli, her favorite artwork. Teddy's giggles flutter the chords of her heart's rhythm. His feet pat the paper harder at each new print appearing. Erin jumps, hearing the door open, and holds Teddy strongly to her chest.
"Erin?" Suzanne (one of the shelter workers) peers down at the siblings. "What are the two of you doing in the supply closet?" She walks up to them, folding her arms, "You tell us that you want to do crafts. We can bring it out. You don't… you shouldn't be playing in here."
"Teddy and I wanted to play."
"If you both want to continue, it's got to be moved to a table. Okay?" She explains. Erin nods, inching away hesitantly, fearful of any consequences. "Have you seen your mother?"
"No."
"Mm. Well, your mom has to show up soon, or we'll have to call DCFS. Minors can't stay here alone. We'll need to place you both in the temporary custody of the state if she doesn't return."
"You can't! Don't separate us, please," Erin whimpers, frightened for them both, "Don't take Teddy from me. Let us stay."
"I wish I could. I really wish we could," before Suzanne says any more on the matter, Erin picks up Teddy and their artwork, hurrying out of the room.
Erin grabs her backpack, stuffing it with all their items. She uses a larger trash bag for the diapers and wipes she took from the community pantry. If they must leave, it will be on their terms. She refuses to lose Teddy. Eventually, they would leave the care of the shelter once their family landed on their feet. She preempts the inevitable and proceeds ahead of schedule. Putting Teddy's shoes on and a light jacket over his jumpsuit, she adjusts him in her hold. Ready to head out, carrying their bags, the door opens. Erin startles seeing Suzanne, and she is equally astonished at the children.
"Where are you two going?" The concern in Suzanne's voice is clear, seeing Erin packed up with her brother. "You're not leaving, are you?"
"We're going. I can take care of us. I'm staying with Teddy," Erin skirts past her.
"Erin," Suzanne sighs, "Please, no. It's late and too dangerous. We cannot allow you to go," she hastily says as Erin trumps along, not heeding her warning.
"Listen, sweetie," Suzanne rushes after them, warranting the attention of another worker to assist. "Don't leave with your brother."
"We aren't safe. You want to take my brother from me. My mom is right," Erin hiccups, "They will take us. That's why we are leaving. I know when it's time to go."
Suzanne hustles to block the door, "We won't call DCFS. We want to find your mother, Erin."
Teddy begins crying, the commotion agitating him. Erin rocks him in her arm, hoping to soothe him.
"Laine, call around to the surrounding shelters. See if their mother popped up," Suzanne declares, "Do you know where your mother could be, where she'd go? It's in our best interest to make sure your mother is safe but the both of you as well."
"I can find my mom," Erin sniffs, "I'll look for her with Teddy."
"Hey-Hey," Suzanne insists, hands out to stop her, desperate for a solution without panicking Erin. "How about this... stay the week, help us locate your mom. If we do find her, you'll all have the benefit of our shelter. Staying together."
"What if I don't find my mom?" Erin challenges, placing the near three-year-old, antsy in her hold, on the floor.
"We won't call DCFS right away. However, records will show you aren't in school when it starts. They'll be searching for you due to missed absences. Where did your mom register you?"
"I dunno," Erin grimaces, scrunching her nose, "Um, I go to lots of schools."
"Do you know what grade you are in? Are you in elementary or middle school?"
"I dunno," she bends down to as Teddy grips her fingers, pulling and squeezing on them. "I'm never in school long enough to remember."
"Thank you, Erin. We can do this... our shelter is a part of the Church community. Our schools are down the street, in the courtyard area. We can put you there for two months. If your mother is still missing, then we will be required to call DCFS. Does that sound good?"
Erin ponders, not finding trust in any of Suzanne's words but terrified of them going on the streets. Fear settling in, her flight mode calls her to protect them. "What about Teddy? Who's gonna watch him while I'm in school? What if you take him away and lie to me, behind my back, and Teddy is gone?" She gathers him up in her arms. Making her decision to leave again.
"We promise nothing will happen to Teddy without your knowledge. Teddy will stay in our daycare during your school hours. You can take care of him all the time after," Suzanne continues to talk her down, pleading, "Please, we know the circumstances your mom and you kids came from. We want what's best."
"Okay."
Suzanne knocks, welcoming herself into the room, "Good news, we have you registered for the first quarter. Based on your age, we will have you enrolled in our sixth-grade class temporarily. Your first day is tomorrow, okay?"
Erin nods apprehensively, sadden by the fact none of these choices are in her control. She swings Teddy's legs in a playful motion. His chubby little hands grab her hair, curtaining him. Hearing his babbles troubles her. His words faraway from distinguishable sentences, and the words he repeats are limited. A healthy toddler, although he has yet to reach his developmental milestones. Going to school, Erin cannot teach him.
"Teddy's daycare will be the same as yours. He's going to have his playtime and lesson planning. You won't have to worry about him, sweetie." Suzanne affirms emotionally, Erin's instincts are readable to the woman.
...
"Erin," the teacher knocks as a direct warning on their classroom's water closet. "You can't lock yourself in the washroom. Other students have to be able to use it. You got to come out," the knocks persisting.
Homeroom started, and she had a full-scale panic attack. The stimulation of the classroom, the noisy students, and the uncertainty of it all made her question why she was there in the first place.
She wants to be left alone. She wants her brother, and sadly she wants her mom too. Her mother is all she knows, all she has. Why did her mother up and walk out? Were they not good enough? Is she not good enough? Would she be good enough at school? The kids in her class have multitudes of reasons to be mean to her, make fun of her. Embarrassing herself is a scenario she wants to steer away from. The ghostly darkness of the bathroom allows her to avoid facing what is in front of her.
"First days are tough for everyone. Give the class time to meet you," the teacher encourages, hoping to get the trapped girl out of the locked room.
She knows she is making a scene. Her reaction is far from helpful. Causing a disturbance in class may take away her new privilege and borrowed time until she can find her mom.
Erin vacates the washroom, "I'm sorry," she says, face void of emotion. She collects herself in her seat. Luckily, her transition between teachers would be easier. Her homeroom and next class remain the same teacher and same classroom.
"Everyone's new to the sixth grade. A new building, new older kids in the hallways… really scary. You are not alone. I'm scared too," the classmate beside her whispers, "I'm Ryan. What's your name again?"
The plus side of attending the Catholic school is the uniform. Erin did not have to worry about rewearing her clothes and mostly give extra care to her sets staying clean and intact. Her first week was an adjustment, but she started enjoying feeling almost like a regular kid. The enjoyment comes with a short lifespan, and she sums up the guarantee it will not last forever.
"Hey, Erin," Suzanne smiles, greeting her warmly. The eleven-year-old nods in her direction as she continues ironing her clothes. It is hard for Suzanne to deny she is building a soft spot for the little girl now in her care, her mother yet to be found. Erin diligently takes up the duties of tending to her brother, feeding him, bathing him, and putting him to bed. The young girl is sacrificing so much of her youth. They need to find their mother. "How was your day at school?"
Her question goes unanswered. Erin zones in on ironing the crease out in her vest, mildly unaware Suzanne is making conversation with her. "I've been meaning to ask you how your first week has been. How was school?" She tries once more.
Erin glances at her, blinking away her confusion. "You want to know about my day at school?"
"Yes. Of course, I do. The first week is nerve-wracking for anyone. Especially someone at a new school, a new class. Do you like it?"
"It's okay," Erin responds curtly, looking back at the ironing board. She folds her uniform and reaches in the linen closet to grab her clothes from the dryer, stacking the pile with the rest of their clothes.
"Okay? Nothing else happened? Was it good, bad, how are the subjects you're in?"
"No one has ever asked me how my day was. Figured no one cared," she replies, her gaze downcast in her laundry.
"I-I do. We all care about each other, Erin. Including you."
"If you care, why is it only temporary?"
"Let's hope it won't be. How was school?" Suzanne attempts one final time.
"Uh, it was okay," she bites her lip, "I made a friend, I think. He invited me over to his house to play after school. He even told me about an event the whole school does to welcome back first quarter, and a birthday party too," she tames her excitement, anxious about sharing. "...I'm not going. I need to stay with Teddy."
"You should go, have some fun."
Erin frowns, "I can't! I have to stay with Teddy. I need to watch him after curfew and the weekends because my mom-" she stops to take a breath, her speech doubling in anger.
"We can plan something out if you want to go to one of these functions. I'd rather you not miss out, sweetie."
"I don't want to go," she gathers her belongings and abruptly exits for the door. Deserving of fun. She needs to find her mom. Life at the shelter is not permanent and partaking in a contrived normalcy will trick her mind into believing otherwise.
"It isn't fair, Mom. He already skipped a grade, and now he's at the same school as me. Jay is going to follow me around everywhere. Not cool," Will complains. Jay throws his pillow at him, and Will rebounds the cushion back.
"Hey! Listen, you should be looking out for your little brother," Vivian corrects, chuckling at Will and Jay play fighting while she changes out the boys' summer clothes to their fall clothes. She loves spending the weekend before their first day of school preparing her sons for the new year. They both followed her around, watching her organize, pack, and arrange the house.
"Mom! I do. 's because…," Will mumbles, reconsidering. He chooses to be more accepting. Most kids have their siblings at school with them.
"When you're older, you are going to wish you got to spend more time with your brother. So, appreciate it now," she begins color coordinating the clothing in the closet and lining the shoes below.
"Plus, you know change is hard for Jay too," she gazes at her son briefly. Jay shies from the contact, finding interest in the raised floorboard. "We were hoping to get him placed in that school. They're so selective, and the lottery," she stammers. She feels guilty, failing to get her son enrolled at the school he deserved. Was her pushing hard on his excellence stifling it? "I know King's Cross Academy will give Jay more stability. You will both be on the same campus and ease through having a trajectory, no guesses, no games," she glances back over to Jay, "be less nervous, and blossom into the brave child I know."
"Dork could use that," Will chimes in, tossing his pillow at Jay's slumped head.
"Hey!" Jay and Vivian rebut swiftly.
"Just kidding," Will grins, sticking his tongue out, "One of us should be the smart one." He lays against the bed and pulls his brother in for a hug, "You're going to tell me if somebody bothers you, right?" Will takes Jay's silence as a dare and wrings an arm around his neck, wrestling for his affection. He nestles their cheeks together, "Robin, you give the bat signal, and I'll be there."
Jay grumbles, pushing Will away from him and his hold tightens. Vivian watches from the closet as she meticulously continues her routine. She prays her sons won't be too old to uphold her first-day tradition. Teenage William is a handful. She couldn't imagine how teenage Jay will be. Grunts from her sons draw her attention to their scrimmage on the floor. "All right, WWE, let's head to Jay's room."
The boys scramble out to the next room, hollering who reaches it first. Jay claims the first jump off the bed to test his takedown, hearing his mom mention WWE. Jay loves weekends spent with his family, a house full of laughs and liveliness. Only it was short-lived because his father was out of the house today. His father shatters their happiness. Pat's drinking became causal. Gone was the tendency of sabotaging, and in return was a flood of his resentment. The foundation was slowly breaking within their family, walking on eggshells, anticipating the collapse of his restraint.
As Vivian passes in Jay's room preparing for his closet, hands gripping her plastic bins, her brown eyes glisten at her sons absorbed in choreographing a wrestling move. Vivian holds onto the smiles, delightful giggles, and glimpses of peace her sons gain when their father is away. Her children simply being children.
"Hey, boys," Vivian breaths, "The cabin for Labor Day weekend? Thinks it could be a plan?" Her sons agreeably cheer to the suggestion. Elated by the joy spread across their faces, she rushes up to pull them in a hug. "It will be the three of us. Dad will be working," she winks, "more fun for us."
She ventures to Jay's closet, gathering up the bins she placed on his bed. Opening her plastic bin, she pulls out a tote full of art supplies and snacks and buries it in the corner. She looks back over her shoulder and meets Jay's eyes. Her precious boy returns back his childish grin pulled to one corner of his mouth. His unwavering trust, appreciation, and love for her, content with the knowledge she will keep him safe. The look alone nearly brings her to tears.
"Dad!" Jay huffs angrily, his dad teasing the gas pedal when he reaches to open the door of his pickup. He increases momentum to grab the handle, and Pat accelerates, snickering. Sighing, Jay repositions his backpack to jog up to where he stopped. He grabs the handle only for Pat to speed off again. Furious, he steps back to the sidewalk, aimlessly peppering his way to the L station.
"Jay, get in the truck," Pat goads him.
"Yeah, right. I'm walking home. I'll take the train or the bus. I don't care," Jay cements, dismissing his father and his game.
"My way of helping you stretch those legs, son. You want to join the dance and theater club at school... I'll help you with your reflexes. Could be using your skills for soccer, baseball, or hockey. You want to participate in that," his truck precedes to an amble.
Jay reels in his desire to yell a load of expletives at his father, the words bubble on his lips. An unfortunate gift from Pat is acquiring his sprouting temper. Jay stresses his neck back tight, his eyes uncentered ready to roll in annoyance. "Nothing is wrong with dancing, Dad … or drama club. I meet way more people. I'm already the youngest kid in my grade," Jay reasons, squeezing his backpack straps.
"Get in the damn car, Jay."
He screams out in frustration, stomping over to his vehicle. Thankfully, he slides in with no issue. "Why are you the one picking me up today?"
"Stop with the attitude, or you can do as you wanted and walk home," Pat reprimands, drifting from the emergency lane. His response solicits Jay to cross his arms, eyes aimed straight ahead, ignoring the yammering.
"Usually, I ask Will to join me. He has a date later. Today, you're helping me. I thought you'd enjoy fixing up my old rides with me."
Jay, who had taken residence leaning on the window, glances over to him, intrigued about the prospect of checking out his dad's motorcycles. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Mm, Will has not taken a liking to them. He doesn't need to know about bikes to get help with the girls in his class. You probably do." Glaring at him, Jay scoffs, disgusted.
"What? I've not once heard you fancy a girl. Do you even like girls?"
"Oh, my God. Yes, Dad!" He raises his voice to answer him. He wants out of this car. His dad is relentless and berates him at any possible opportune moment. "Motorcycles and girls," Jay questions more so to himself, confused on how the two opposing topics are related.
"You never talk about them."
His father gives no reason for Jay to update him on his life. Any conversation he offers to initiate turns negative. Those are never pleasant.
"Mommy said I'm a kid. I don't have to worry about that stuff." Any relationships he is thinking of building are nowhere near what his father could be thinking. Dating is the furthest concept in his mind. Unconnected to his peer group, Jay is working to make friends first. He does like a girl, one in particular. If the girl he met for a few minutes counts as a plausible crush on a girl.
Since his first glimpse, he thought about her every day. Musing on how she was doing with her mother, if she were hungry, and if he would ever get another chance to meet her. Jay wonders whether she was thinking of him in return. Staring out of the window, he sorts through the pedestrians roaming by, hoping to find her in the crowds.
...
"You aren't even a stitch useful." Pat fumes in his direction. Throwing down the pliers, he resumes his verbal assault. "Are you stupid or completely incapable of doing what I asked you?"
"I'm doing exactly how you told me!"
"Not how I'm telling you. You aren't doing it right," Pat finishes the directions he gave Jay.
"Why am I here if all you're going to do is yell at me?" Jay stands his ground, backing against the counter. His father's initial thought of bonding over their shared interest in automobiles is backfiring. The shed in their backyard housed Patrick's late-model motorcycles and the vintage Camaro he wants to restore for auction.
"You aren't doing it right. As I told you."
"How am I supposed to… it's my first using your tools."
"You're a man, Jay. You figure these things out." Jay clenches his fingers in a mock chokehold behind his father.
The rare moment together whittles. A precious opportunity he believes would have been a memorable one further adds to his surging spite. His father truly is in opposition against him. For the life of him, Jay cannot figure out why. It a saddening fact that his father is one of his worries. Engaging in a simple conversation with Pat takes all his energy. Such utter nonsense. The egregious behavior depresses him as he pictures the future of their relationship.
"Well, um, I got an invitation to a birthday party next weekend. Gonna ask you and Mommy about it," Jay instantly regrets his choice to converse. He grabs the polish and fiber towel, waiting for his father's orders.
"Yeah," Pat acknowledges, handing Jay the bar end mirrors he unscrews.
"Co-ed party, I'm excited," he glances uncertainly to Pat, wiping the smears of polish.
"First birthday party you've gotten an invite to, isn't it?"
Jay reigns in his urge to take it as an insult, picking out a hex key to help attach the mirrors back. "Mm-hmm. I mean, yes. I, uh, it sounds fun. I'm excited."
"Good," Pat grunts, "Tell your friends, if you have any, that your old man has a lot of time to teach you about his model collections."
Jay frowns at the taunt, offhandedly congratulating him and admonishing him in the same breath. Before he can defend himself, the one person who can ease the tension calls for them.
"Are my Halsteads ready for some lemonade? I bet you both are getting all sweaty in our shed. Pat, you need to add a fan or some ventilation," Vivian serves them each a glass of lemonade.
"Sweetheart," Vivian eyes her son, "why don't you help me inside for a bit? Your father can handle the rest," she requests, providing Jay an out.
"Yeah, for a little. Then I want to get started on my homework," Jay hurries to the house. Vivian lags, eyeballing Patrick in disappointment. Pat writes her off, turning back to touch up his Harley.
Trotting down the school hallways in the evening holds a refreshing atmosphere for Jay. The backdrop of surviving through the day is not present. Springing in place is his nervousness on who to hang around. Does he search for his brother, a classmate, or insert himself in a group to seamlessly blend in? Welcome Back Bashes at school tend to be harder than finding a table at lunch break. Leaning on the door, Jay surveys the event and pinpoints each group breaking off.
His brother flags him down, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. Will introduces Jay to his friends; the group of older teens chime happy greetings. Puzzled at first, Jay's shock tempers when they pay no mind to him post-arrival. One of them fires a gibe at a kid across the room, and it triggers him to relive a memory of a similar rude comment. He flashbacks to his last years in elementary school. To the bullies who pantsed him, egged him, and ridiculed him. Over time, Jay toughened up and painted on thicker skin, flicking the chips off his shoulder. The constant smorgasbord of bullying provided him no reprieve. His mom encourages him to healthily release his emotions in art forms, helping to restore his self-esteem. Starting a new school, Jay successfully eluded his tormentors. Well, his tormentors at school.
Slinking away from Will's group, Jay becomes increasingly uncomfortable listening to their gossip. He may never escape the chastising. Sadness engulfing his spirit, he prays he does not get on their radar. His growth spurt leveled off, and he measures closer to the older kids in his grade. Many have no motives to target him since everyone is getting to know each other. Everyone hurriedly boxing themselves in labels.
He engages in the bash under the guise of a hubristic nature, idling himself at the bunch bowl. Reaching for the ladle, his hand bumps someone.
"Sorry," Jay apologizes immediately, withdrawing his hand back for the person to go first.
"Ah, you go. Sorry."
"Thanks," he fills his cup, stepping to the side to glance back to the assembly.
Jay debates whether he should rejoin his brother or find an activity. Eavesdropping on his brother, Jay sees them absorbed in a fit of laughter. Attempting to decipher the conversation on his own, Jay finds it hard to make sense of what they could be laughing about. He deduces the comments are about him. Whispers, side remarks, strong stares, and strategically placed silence drives his anxiety. Distress winning out, Jay decides to make a quick exit. As he departs to the entry doors, he knocks the same person at the bunch bowl.
"I'm Ryan. Sixth grader. Wanna be friends?" He blurts out, jetting out his hand and baffling Jay at the unusual introduction.
"I bumped you again. Sorry," Jay excuses, ensuring he is not rude. "I'm Jay," His expression scrunches up, erring on the side of interest over bewilderment. This Ryan character befell the targeted jokes earlier by Will's friends. Giving the sixth grader a once over, Jay picks up on why they did. Ryan's chosen outfit strays outside the norm of what boys should wear, which he seems unbothered by. Same for Jay, but paranoia drills in him with any possible association to him.
"Nice to meet you," Jay smiles and heads in the direction of the main entrance. Distance alleviates his concern of directed harassment or teasing from his classmates. First impressions are crucial, and he cannot ruin his ranking. They will cross paths another time.
"Have any of you seen my brother?" Will scours the gym hall, unable to locate Jay at the end of the bleachers.
Retracing his steps, Jay wanders the hallways to busy himself and hears shuffling nearby. The light on in the custodial closet piques his interest. He knows the custodian, and he can drag out the evening by talking to them. Inching closer, he hears the noise intensifying inside. Loud clangs, bangs, and cuss words beyond the door lure him to investigate.
Twisting the knob, Jay slowly works the door open. He handily concludes the custodian is elsewhere. Clad in a hooded sweater, the short stature of the mystery guest is a clear giveaway. Climbed up on a folding chair, back facing the door, they sift through a toolbox. They shove it aside, frustrated that the capacity of the box carries nothing of value. Hands stretched out on the table, the cloaked stranger previews their surroundings, catching the open door in their periphery. Recoiling in alarm, their hood slides and reveals their long mousy waves. Surprised to see them enter the room, they commence a staredown, accessing his reason for the disruption.
Curiosity besting him, Jay breaks first, "Are you searching for something?" Surveying the room, he dallies closer and recognizes them.
Erin.
The girl he met. A chance encounter he happens to earn again. Jay smiles giddily and stumbles up to her, peeking at the desk to uncover her rummaging.
Erin wrinkles her eyebrows, mystified by his behavior. She uses it to her advantage to ward off suspicion, "The janitor said I could grab batteries. I can't find where he put 'em," she hurriedly reassembles the toolbox and steps down.
Her explanation is not a total lie. Uncertain of how long the shelter would keep them, she needs to stock up on supplies. The school has been a jackpot of unsecured rooms. She pocketed toilet paper, wipes, screwdriver, and box cutters; you name it, and she is grabbing it. Many of the offices had spare change and lost and found lying around. She has outdone herself, even trading a few items for other useful ones.
"Custodian," his bright smile sets on her. Unresponsive to his correction, he clarifies, "They are called custodians at school, not janitors."
"Okay…," she rolls her eyes, resuming her search for supplies, uninterested in him and his pretentious vocabulary.
"Do you remember me?"
Glancing his way, Erin takes a good look, and no features stand out to her. That is until she closes the distance between them, and the light reflects off his eyes. The color a celeste blue surfing under a wave of green. Those eyes shockingly give her a familiar sensation. Erin shakes her head in apology. Recollection evading her, she is unsure of where she met the boy. It is a strange question to ask and highly peculiar to be directing the question to her.
"I have Play-Doh," Jay says to jog her memory.
"You do? With you, right now?" She questions, eager to trade off him and stash the Play-Doh for Teddy.
"No, I don't have any with me," he corrects, disappointment in himself because of his absence of Play-Doh, and her memory.
"Do you-," they both interject at the same time. Erin shrinks to allow him to speak first.
"Oh, do you have any toys with you?" Jay points to her backpack. The party lacked in entertainment, and had he known better, he would have stayed home. Or he could have brought his backpack with his toys and games his mom stores for him. Erin answers him, Jay unintentionally rambling his thoughts out loud.
"The kid from the closet," she rasps, lilt vacant of any connection to that day save for his eyes. She inches closer to gaze at him. His shorter hair showcases his fuller cheeks and the freckles prominent on his face. The twinkle in his eyes flusters Erin, her lopsided grin is as nervous as his. She sucks in her lip, glancing down to the floor. "I don't have the kinda toys you're thinking," she removes her backpack off her shoulders, placing it on the ground, "but, I got a flashlight." She yanks it from the side pocket, showing it to him.
"Flashlights are a toy?"
"Yeah. Duh! You've never played shadow puppets?" Erin teases him lightheartedly, impressed she may know games he never played. Gesturing the flashlight towards him, she asks him to try.
"Cool. What's first?"
Erin hustles to the end of the room, grabbing his arm to follow along. Huddling in a clear spot by the wall, Erin switches it on. The flashlight propped between their crossed legs beams strongly on the brick wall, the circumference larger than Jay expected. He compliments her on the flashlight and peers at Erin, asking what to do next.
"Seriously. You've never tried before?"
"No, I haven't. I wouldn't lie. We use flashlights when we need to see stuff. Flashlights aren't to be played with," Jay imitates his father's words, and his animation rolls the flashlight to the floor.
Erin returns it to the spot, angling her hands in front of the light source. Demonstrating the reflection, she creates images of her usual shadow puppets on the wall. Jay watches her hands, glancing to and from the wall to see the display. A game simple and easy to start amazes him. He stretches his hands in front of the light covering the projection. His hands are too close. Angling out, in the position Erin hovers hers, Jay forms a peace sign. The rabbit shape, an innocent choice for a beginner and of no true significance to him, represents much more to her.
"An easy one. Use your imagination and try another shape." She stares at him, hardly amused.
She senses the boy next to her is hesitant on how to approach the game. Expertise and perfection are not in the rulebook. At least when she plays. Solely meant to curb her boredom and earn giggles from Teddy. "Here," Erin brushes her fingers along his wrist, but she retracts suddenly, "Is it okay if I show you how to do one?"
Jay nods sheepishly, mesmerized by her. Erin maneuvers his fingers and overlaps his hands, checking the shadow placement. His gaze softens at the sight of her dimples appearing, smiling with success in showing him a puppet shape.
"See! A crocodile. Way more advanced," she points out, admiring how well she taught him. Instead of viewing the awesome puppet on the wall, the schoolboy gapes at her, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"You … okay?" Erin furrows her forehead, deeming the strange actions odd. She waves her hand in his face, ceasing his trance, "I showed you. Now you try."
"I didn't watch you show me."
Narrowing her eyes, Erin puffs her cheeks, exhaling deeply. Boys are no fun, perpetually failing to learn how to play alongside girls as the day is long. Exhibit one thousand why she indulges in playtime by herself. As she lifts off the floor, deciding to finish the game outright, they are interrupted by an administrator entering through the cracked open door. After receiving a scold, caught straying from the bash, the administrator ushers them back to the auditorium, and Erin separates from her accomplice.
"Wait!" Jay starts, hollering after Erin, the administrator stopping him.
"Your brother was looking for you. Go to him. He's over there."
Jay looks in the opposite direction of where they are pointing, following Erin. She beelines for the double door exit, Ryan holding her off. Jay watches Erin nod appropriately to Ryan's jabber. Patting his arm, Erin accompanies him to the food station.
Enticed to follow behind them, Jay pulls his attention away for a second, hearing Will. "Where'd you go, bro?" For once, the likelihood of having a friend to talk to, other than his brother, excites him. Will offers to take him back over to his friends. Jay politely declines, venturing off to find his new friend - if Erin wants to be friends, that is.
Coming up to the food station, Jay no longer sees her. A quick scope of the hall, he is unable to locate her. He humphs in wonderment at how she easily escaped. Aiming to find Ryan next, he hunts for him. Ryan spoke with Erin last. Maybe he knows.
"Ryan, right?" Jay queries, and Ryan nods wildly at his presence. "Erin. Where is she?"
"Oh!" Ryan smiles, "She left," stuffing a biscuit in his mouth, "Went home," the crumbs spill out.
"She goes to school here?"
"Duh!" Ryan stares at him expectantly, offering him a biscuit, keen to continue their chat.
"No thank you," he chuckles. Erin attending their school is the best news he received all day. While Ryan, a key agent in his quest to befriending Erin, spouts on, Jay ideates meeting her formally.
He ends the night with his brother enthused for the first time at returning to school for another week. As Jay races Will to the car, the cool air breaths nutrients into his lungs. It instills a new boost of optimism and rebuilds his armor. His confidence grows on the notion he finally prevails this school year.
AN: Editing this chapter took longer than I expected. :-) hope the longer chapter makes due. I'm not familiar with Jay's undercover name Ryan, so I'm making my own assumption. The beauty of fiction lol. His character plays a role in future chapters. My timeline is a focus on Erin and Jay's young years and then it will speed up to early 20s then quickly to IU.
Thanks for the support in reading my fic, comments, favs, and follows. Stay safe and stay cool!