In February, Nicole invites Waverly to her birthday party. Waverly comes back to the house practically glowing, the carefully created collage-front letter with slightly wobbling calligraphy in hand. "Wynonna," she says, dropping her backpack at the foot of the couch, "I need to get something cool for Nicole's birthday."
"Woah, there, babygirl," Wynonna says, pausing in her task of layering the lasagna. "You forgot to ask if you can go. Or even tell me when it is."
Waverly flushes, dropping the card onto the counter and peeling off her gloves and wriggling out of her coat. "It's on the 21st," she says. "At two. That's a Saturday."
Wynonna checks her mental calendar. "Okay," she says. "Yeah, that'll work. Now, what was it you were saying about a present?"
"I want to get her the best present," Waverly says emphatically. "I know we can't get anything super expensive, but I—I want it to be nice . I want it to make her smile." Here, she trails off, smiling dreamily at the middle distance.
Wynonna hides a laugh in a cough. "Okay," she says. "Well, what does she like?"
"Horses," Waverly says promptly. "And doing art—we had to do this portrait project last week in art class, and she drew me, and it looked just like me, Wynonna—well," she amends, "maybe a bit nicer than me. But whatever. Oh! And she likes plants. Do you think maybe we could get her a plant?"
Putting the last layer of ricotta on, Wynonna slides the pan into the oven. "How about you come to Walmart with me after dinner," she proposes. "I was going to go tomorrow because we need groceries and the prices at the store down the street have started going up, but we can go tonight and pick some things out. You'll be able to get more things this way, too—Walmart's more affordable." Also, Wynonna's hours have been cut on the days she does work, which are only weekends, so she doesn't really have enough to go anywhere but Walmart. She doesn't say that, though—she never says that. She doesn't want to force Waverly to bear the burden of that knowledge.
Cathy and Sam are both gone tonight, which leaves the house to them, and they work on their homework until the lasagna is cooked. Dolls' tutoring has expanded from purely calc-related to covering Calculus, English, and some Physics, and with her help, Wynonna's found she can actually understand the material and the questions in the homework.
Dinner is good, and it's only the fact that they need to have at least a piece each to take for lunch the next day, and Waverly's already eaten three that stops Wynonna from having multiple. Instead, she rinses her plate off and starts packing their lunches—lasagna, a cup of fruit, and a snack bar.
Once that's done, they pull on their boots and scarves and gloves, Wynonna zippering her jacket shut against the cold, grabbing the grocery trolley, and locking the door behind them. They make their way down the block to the bus stop, shifting in the cold night air, shoulders hunched against the sharp winds. At least it's not snowing.
The bus finally pulls up, and they clamber in, Wynonna swiping her pass and digging out her wallet to pay for Waverly. They find two empty eats towards the back, Wynonna taking the aisle seat so that she isn't trying to wedge the trolley under the seats in front of them. It's a bit awkward to have it in front of her, and she has to bend her legs under the seat, but everything more or less fits.
Waverly's plugged in her earbuds, so Wynonna pulls out her own phone, smiling slightly when she sees Doc's texts. Since the day Wynonna played hookey and pretended to be sick, they've been texting semi-regularly, a fact that never fails to warm Wynonna's heart.
Today it's a link to a video compilation of cats reacting in silly ways, and Wynonna finds herself biting back laughter as she watches the pixelated cat song the cup of coffee and jump backwards, falling off the table.
Thought you might enjoy this , is Doc's other text, and Wynonna shoots back an affirmative, before adding, teasingly, The cat who fell off the table looks like you. you trying to tell me something, holliday?
I'd never fall so gracelessly, comes Doc's reply; and Wynonna can practically hear the rich timber of her tone.
There's a sudden hand on her arm, and Waverly's hissing, "Earth to Wynonna!"
"What?" Wynonna asks, blinking, feeling like a deer in the headlights.
"We're here, genius. Get up so we don't miss our stop." Waverly shoves her lightly, and on instinct, Wynonna pushes the trolley out into the corridor, rising a moment later and hurrying towards the open doors. Waverly follows a moment later, and the bus pulls away, leaving them standing on the curb.
It's started to snow lightly, the wind whipping the flakes around, stinging at exposed skin, and they hurry inside in an attempt to escape it. The temperature in the building isn't significantly warmer, but it's not windy, which means it's much easier to feel warmed up. Wynonna tugs the grocery trolley behind her, making for the produce section, and Waverly follows after.
Once they've got all the food from there and the canned and packaged foods aisles, Wynonna lets Waverly take the lead, steering them towards the arts and crafts aisle. She picks up a box of markers, peering at the label. "These ones are pretty good quality, I think," she says, sounding slightly hesitant. "I think I remember Nicole talking about them. Can we get them?"
Wynonna checks the price tag; adds it up to the cost of the food and checks it against the money she's got in her wallet. "Okay," she says, "but we'll only be able to get one more thing."
Waverly nods, holding the box close to her chest. "That's fine," she says. "I think the other present should be a plant."
"We can do that," Wynonna agrees, and Waverly smiles, clearly relieved.
They wind up getting a succulent, which the tag claims is a jade plant. Wynonna has about fifteen bucks left over, and some of the tension in her chest eases.
It's snowing hard when they get outside, and it's a miserable twenty minute wait for the bus to arrive. They pile in, heading for the back, where there's enough space for the grocery trolley. Waverly's got the bag with Nicole's presents and the wrapping paper in it held tight, and she's taken out her phone, smiling at it.
She's grown up so much, Wynonna thinks suddenly. It seems like just yesterday that she was four and inquisitive with apple sauce smeared on her face, and minutes ago that she was six and clutching onto Wynonna, wailing, Ward Earp's body going cold, the gun dropping from Wynonna's hand, the laughter of the Revenants as they dragged her father away, Willa's screams fading into the distance.
Her heart is pounding, vision clouding black; and she leans against the window, hard, trying to remember how to breathe. She's not going to freak out here, damnit. She refuses to.
When they get back to the house, Wynonna leaves the grocery trolley in the mud room and grabs her pyjamas, hurrying into the bathroom.
She turns the shower on, the hot spray pummelling her skin like tiny daggers, turning it red; and she scrubs herself until she feels raw. The pain helps clear her mind some, and by the time the water runs cold, she's no longer shaking.
She pulls her pyjamas on mechanically; unlocks the door so Waverly can brush her teeth and wash her face as well. Neither of them speak until they get into bed; and then it's only Waverly's quiet "Thank you", dwarfed by the cold silence permeating the room. It helps, though; and when Wynonna falls asleep, she doesn't dream.
On the day of Nicole's party, Waverly's in a tizzy over what to wear. Wynonna's at the desk, puzzling out the answers to her calc worksheet, listening with one ear to Waverly's bemoaning. "I already wore the pink dress around her," she says. "And I don't have anything that fire goes with the plaid skirt. God, why is this so hard?!"
"Wear the polka-dot shirt with the grey sweater and the floral skirt," Wynonna advises, writing y -2 dy = e x dx ; flips to the answer key and lets out a quiet " hell yeah! " when it turns out to be correct.
"But what if it makes me look like I'm trying too hard?" Waverly says, sounding anguished. "What if she doesn't want to be friends anymore because I'm not being authentic?"
Wynonna sighs, setting her pencil down. "Waves, if she doesn't want to be friends with you over something as stupid as your outfit, then she's not worth it," she says, firmly. "But I really don't think that'll happen."
Waverly worries her lip; and then says, "Okay," and grabs the outfit from the closet. Thank god, Wynonna thinks.
It's cold but sunny, so they don't have to bundle up quite as much, and the walk to Nicole's is enough to keep them warm. When they arrive, Nicole's on the porch, and she runs down to greet them. "You came!" she exclaims, and grabs Waverly's hand, tugging her towards the back yard. "Come on, I want to show you the piñata!"
The hesitation that's been on Waverly's face all afternoon disappears, and she smiles, following after.
The party's pretty low key, just Nicole, Waverly, Wynonna, and three other kids, who Nicole introduces as Robin, Jeremy, and Shae. The cake is actually a lemon-meringue pie, and they do s'mores afterwards, and then the kids have at the piñata.
Waverly and Nicole stick close to each other the entire time, either talking or just being in each others' proximity; and Nicole gives Waverly all the jawbreakers she collects from the piñata, Waverly's smile almost blinding.
Wynonna watches on fondly; glad that Waverly, at least, is getting to have a semi-normal childhood.
The next week, Whessle—who teaches both World Civ I and World Civ II—assigns them a partnered presentation project on the influence of trade in Europe and Asia during the eighteenth century on the major civilisations of the era. To Wynonna's surprise, at the end of class, Dolls catches up to her in the hallway and asks if she wants to work together.
"I have it on good authority that you're not half bad when it comes to this class," Dolls says; a hint of a smile playing at her lips; and Wynonna remembers she's friends with Doc.
"Certain people should keep their mouths shut," she grumbles, but it's mostly for show. "What if you're terrible at World Civ and you make me do all the work?"
Dolls laughs; the sound startling and beautiful as ever; and says, "Well, then, I'd owe you one."
"I'm holding you to that," Wynonna says, trying not to sound slightly breathless; and then, after a moment, grimaces. "The library's only open to check books out because of the renovations—we can't work there, and..." she hesitates, embarrassment flooding her. "I don't have a computer, so I can't work on it on my own," she admits, quietly.
The other takes it in stride. "That's fine," she says, "you can come over to my place—that way we can work off my computer, and avoid the distractions that would be present in a café. Here, let me give you my address and number." She pulls out a notecard from her bag, jotting down the information in quick, sharp letters, and holds it out to Wynonna.
Wynonna takes it. Dolls' fingers brush hers, and her heart is suddenly jackrabbiting. "Thanks," she manages, tucking it into her own bag, and hurries away, trying not to spontaneously combust.
They wind up planning to meet on Friday. Wynonna puts dinner together—chilli—and texts Waverly to remind her to turn the slow-cooker off and eat when she gets back from school. That done, she pulls on her scarf, gloves, and boots, and shoulders her bag, which has three books from the CC library, and locks the door behind her, making her way down to the bus stop—not the one she usually goes to, but the one that's three blocks down, because Dolls' place is on the other side of town, and on a different bus route.
She spends the ride a bundle of nerves, checking repeatedly to make sure that Dolls hasn't up and decided to cancel on her.
When she gets off the bus in front of the apartment building, it takes her ten minutes to psych herself up enough to actually go inside.
Dolls lives on the third floor, and by the time Wynonna gets off the last flight of stairs and onto the landing, she's considering bailing. She forces herself to knock, though, and then instantly regrets it.
A moment later, the door opens to reveal Dolls dressed in a loose shirt and windbreaker, and says smiles slightly, opening the door wider. "Come on in."
Wynonna does, pulling off her shoes and sticking her gloves in her pockets. Without really intending to, she finds herself glancing around, curious as to the space Dolls lives in.
It's disorganised, but in the way that speaks to it being lived in, rather than messy. There's a few books on the beat-up coffee table, a blanket half folded on the armchair. Dolls leads her to the bar counter, where a laptop's up and running. "I did some basic layout for the presentation," she says, taking one of the stools. "But that can be moved around depending on how we decide to structure it."
"Okay," Wynonna agrees, trying not to look like she's eying the laptop like a kid in a candy store. It's just—it's really nice , even with the scuffs on the lid and hairline scratches that indicate it's probably a few years old. In an attempt to wrench her attention away, she pulls the books out of her bag, opening to the first tab she added to mark pages with relevant information.
They're about halfway through the rough draft for the presentation when the door opens, the sound of a coat being pulled off and boots being shed cutting through their conversation. A moment later, two paper bags are set down on the counter. "Darlin'," greets a familiar voice. "Ah, and Wynonna—you are looking as fine as ever, I see."
She glances up to find Doc smiling at the both of them, leaning against the counter languidly. "I brought scones," she says. "Thought you two might appreciate a pick-me-up, as the kids today say." She pushes the bags towards them. "Go on—you look like you're about done with puzzling over wording for the moment."
"Thanks, Doc," Dolls says; and Wynonna hears a warmth in her voice that she hasn't heard before; and thinks, oh.
The scones are a little misshapen, which Doc explains is why she was even able to bring them—she works at a bakery downtown, apparently, and they let her take home the goods that don't look so aesthetically pleasing. "It doesn't affect the flavour," Dolls assures her, one-handedly rearranging one of the slides, the one on the English textile industry. "Doc's a regular wonder with baked goods, I swear."
"Not nearly as much a wonder as you are," Doc says; voice honeyed and drawling; eyes lowered half mast as she peers at Dolls. Wynonna suddenly feels like an interloper; half embarrassed, half envious.
After they finish the scones, Doc takes out her own homework, but, for lack of stools, takes it to the coffee table. Wynonna flips to one of the last pages in the thickest book, and says, doing her best to keep her tone light, "When you said you were acquainted, I didn't realise you meant biblically. "
Dolls shrugs. "It never came up," she says. "Alright, what do you think of this..."
Wynonna leaves the apartment feeling both invigorated and slightly guilty. Doc occasionally added onto her and Dolls' conversation, quips and small suggestions, mostly, and Dolls had gone from lightly tense to more relaxed than Wynonna's ever seen her be. It was both energising to be in their company, and jealousy inducing—Wynonna wishes she had the same rapport with them, which is the guilt factor. She's got no right to want that of them, and she knows it.
"Why the hell is my life so complicated?" Wynonna asks the near-cloudless sky, and then sighs. Nothing's ever easy when you're an Earp.