Let's Play a Game - Chapter 12 - Interlude 1
Alan
"I'm. Fine."
I blink at the sudden vinegar in her words. Before this, throughout this entire encounter, Taylor hasn't been angry once. Bitter, but not really angry. Perhaps just going over the recent events has made her take an unwelcome trip down memory lane. How many times have I ended up, for just a moment, staring at that damned alleyway with a thug holding my daughter down?
I take a deep breath, pushing the thought away. Yes, I can understand a slight lapse when something like that is involved. I focus on Taylor. It's ebbing, but that's definitely a cold anger. At least she's taking more after Annette than Danny right now. Annette always did have a stiff upper lip.
I've been through this enough with clients to know how to handle these kinds of situations. Rather than be the first one to engage with the unpleasant conversation while she's upset, it'll be better for both of us to let her be the one to initiate once she's had some time to collect herself.
God knows I needed to a little while ago.
I walk towards my desk and take a seat, rotating my chair to what little of the skyline I can see. I lean back, and cup my chin with my left hand, and just take a gander at the city. A few seconds later, I hear one of the seats in front of my desk scrape against the floor as Taylor presumably sits in it. It's not the best view, but as a corner office this high, it's one of the better ones in the building. I'm facing away from the best parts of downtown, so there's no fancy towers to spend my time gawking at, and I'm also facing away from the bay itself, so I have no view of the ocean either.
Across from me to the north, an older white bricked skyscraper blocks my sight. Across from me to the east: another skyscraper. Relatively newer, its face is mostly glass and it returns my gaze with a slight reflection of my own building. There's nothing to write home about looking in either direction. But, directly to the north east, there's no skyscraper blocking my view. There's this little sliver of buildings lower than me for several blocks. I doubt it was planned, but from here it's like looking down into a valley made of concrete and metal. Not a really thrilling view, but it's mine, and for what it is, it's damn good.
As I take in the sights in front of me, my mind is left to wonder about the situation at hand.
Emma and Taylor were once inseparable. Our two families had been close to each other. With how much time our families spent together, our lives had become something of a Hallmark card, in Brockton Bay of all places. It was a bright spot in this mostly dreary world. I always thought it was tragic how time moving forward cut the ties between us. With Annette's death, Danny's depression, and Emma's ordeal; life kept dropping bombs on us, and eventually it was too much.
'All good things must come to an end.'
Events just conspired to pull our two families from each other. It's sad in hindsight, but it wasn't out of any inherent malice. But to believe that Emma is bullying Taylor? It's just inconceivable to me. Gradually losing contact with someone you once called a sister to the point you never interact with them anymore, I can unfortunately understand. The friendships I forged in my childhood have all fallen by the wayside.
Elementary school, high school, college, even law school; each iteration of my education I had a different circle of friends. I remember promising them that I would still keep in touch. That I would go to our usual haunts to spend time with them. But, only a few years down the line from that, those promises were broken. Not shattered in an instant, but slowly chipped away over time.
To be actively malicious to any of them after our friendships ran their course? Unthinkable. I want to assume that this is all some silly prank gone too far… but no.
She sought me and Zoe out for this, to sit down and talk about it. She even admitted she has no evidence for this last assault, which is what caused her to reach out. She specifically came to me as a family friend. That's not exactly something you do on a whim, and Taylor's definitely not the kind of person to throw a practical joke on such a grand scale.
From what I can tell, she's sincere about this. There's no ulterior motive. This is not attention seeking, not some pathetic money grab, nothing untoward. She's not even here to get Emma punished for the bullying, at least not primarily. There's nothing I can think of to suggest Taylor wants anything more than answers to simple questions like 'Why am I being bullied? What happened to my friend?'
In this case, talking to the bully's parents is a very sensible course of action. Especially given how close our families used to be. It makes sense, but… I still don't think I can just take Taylor's word at face value about Emma being a bully.
This is the first time I've heard of any behavioral problems with Emma at school, and the first time I've seen Taylor in years! I would think the administration would be the first to notify me of any issues with her behavior, or Danny would give me a call about Taylor having trouble at school. But, on the other hand, this is Winslow after all. I shouldn't be surprised if they aren't properly disciplining the student body.
And Danny… He hasn't been the same in years.
If he's only doing the bare minimum as a parent, it's possible that this situation could have passed him by… I'll just need to check myself.
While Taylor may not be capable of verifying to me who is responsible for the assault, I can just check with the school to confirm that this locker incident did indeed occur.
If it did…
I sigh.
Emma and I would need to have a talk about what's going on at her school, and why this is the first time I've heard anything about it.
"I wonder sometimes…" I hear Taylor murmur.
My thoughts interrupted, I turn my chair away from my own special view, and towards the girl who I once cheerfully called my niece. She's not looking at me, but towards the floor in contemplation. Her anger isn't completely gone, but her words are no longer dripping with it. They're more dipped in melancholy.
"I wonder if I didn't go to that summer camp two years ago… would things be different right now? Would Emma still be my best friend? My sister? Or would they turn out the same?" She looks up, staring into my eyes, and I'm positively shocked. I even almost turn away from her, before coming to my wits. For a brief moment, I'm not seeing Taylor, but Annette. Her face reminds me of the stoic expression her mother used to give me before another one of our arguments on feminism. A few I won, but many of which I admit I lost.
At least we weren't tallying points.
If it weren't so haunting, I might have commented on it. Sure, she's not the spitting image of her mother, but enough of her is in there that it almost made me forget that she was dead. "Aunt Zoe told me about what happened to Emma while I was at camp. How the ABB attacked both of you. I just found out about it today, and I would really like to know why Emma didn't tell me about it."
I blink and lean forward. "Emma never told you? At all? Not even after you came back?"
She purses her lips and shakes her head. "No. She didn't."
I blink again. What? Emma back then was closer to Taylor than even Zoe or I. I understand why she was so quick to befriend Sophia back then in hindsight, but she didn't even talk to Taylor about it?
"I came over to your house as soon as I could after I got back from camp." She continues. "I didn't know what was going on, but I had to talk to Emma. I'm pretty sure you and Aunt Zoe were home considering your cars were parked in front, but we never saw each other so you probably didn't know." She frowns. "Like I told Auntie, that's when Emma told me we weren't friends anymore. That I wasn't… fun like I used to be, and if it wasn't for Mom dying, she would have ended it already a long time ago."
I feel a growing heat in my face. I was always under the impression that Taylor and Emma had a falling out just from the pressures of high school. This however... "That's… that's absolutely preposterous! Emma wouldn't just throw your friendship away for such a silly reason!"
She gives me that hard Annette-like stare. "Exactly."
The heat sputters out of me once more, and I'm left befuddled. "Excuse me?"
"I know it's silly now, but back then I took it entirely seriously. Now, it's apparent that she was lying. At least partially." She shook her head. "Knowing about the 'incident,' that's the only thing that makes any sense."
I blink a few times. "Taylor… I'm afraid you've lost me."
"I always thought it was something I did, something that made Emma drive me away. I was just deluding myself. Even if I dragged things down a little, I was still Emma's best friend at the time. If she threw away our friendship due to the trauma, she wouldn't have mentioned wanting to end it before Mom died or talked about how much of a drag I was. That kind of put-down doesn't fit with Emma before the incident."
She sighs. "I was on the phone with her right before it happened. From since we met in grade school to that point, she was completely normal, my sister. Sure, at that time, I did carry our conversations mostly by myself, but I definitely wasn't delusional enough to imagine the sincerity in her tone in the few moments when she did talk or the humor in her laughs. Those parts of Emma, they were real! If she was just 'stringing me along,' those conversations would have been a lot colder. I wasn't that clueless."
She looks down for a second, before resuming eye-contact. "After the call suddenly ended, I tried calling back a lot, but I never got an answer about what was going on. She was avoiding me for some reason."
I slowly nod. "Yes. She was avoiding more than just you I'm afraid. She completely isolated herself. Zoe and I thought that it would help her if she talked about the whole thing with you..."
"But she always said 'no' didn't she? That she didn't want to talk to me?"
I nod again. "More than that. She threatened us that if we told you what happened, she'd never leave her room. I'm not sure why, really. She was… very out of sorts." Just thinking about it pains my heart.
She nods to herself. "Yes, that kind of behavior, that avoidance? That's entirely different to how she was before the attack and when I talked to her afterwards…"
She grunts in annoyance.
"...There was a moment there, where she was… thinking about something. I knew she was still my Emma though, but I think I did something, I don't know what, but it set her off. She practically transformed in front of me. That's when… well the new Emma came in, and started bullying me. She's been that way since, only getting worse and worse with her comments."
I fight down the impulse to defend my daughter, and just try to think about what she's saying. I'm not sure if it's drastic enough to call it 'old' or 'new' but, beyond things returning to a semblance of normal, Emma did seem more confident in herself after befriending Sophia. There were still a few moments where her anxiety would spike. It would seem like at any second she may have bolted back into her room and return to her self-imposed quarantine, but as time passed those tense moments happened less frequently. Three weeks after the attack, they stopped happening all together. Nothing quite so huge a change as to throw out a friendship on the spot though…
"What did you say or do at that 'moment' specifically? Do you know you set her off, or do you just think so?"
"I'm notreally sure." She takes a moment to ponder. "I… think all I did was compliment her on her new haircut. I noticed it was shorter, but that's about it."
"Oh..."
Taylor furrows her eyebrows. "'Oh?' What do you mean 'Oh?'"
Oh dear. "Taylor, one of the ABB thugs cut Emma's hair with a knife. The same one they threatened to cut her face with." I paused from the discomfort of thinking about it. "I couldn't really hear them, but... it looked like they were harassing her with the hair."
Her eyes widen. "Oh."
"Yes. Oh."
She looks down to the floor, seemingly thinking aloud. "That… could have done it. Maybe? I don't know why, but it could have made her feel like she had to act like that. That she had to push me away and cut me out of her life, at least as a friend. I don't know for what reason of course, but..." Her face suddenly blooms red as she glowers. "...Sophia had something to do with it I'll bet."
I lean back into my chair. Well there's the Danny in her. "Sophia, huh?"
It keeps coming back to her doesn't it? Even assuming Emma has been bullying Taylor, I can't imagine her being responsible for Taylor being thrown inside a locker like that… but Sophia? A man crucified by crossbow bolts comes to mind, and that was just one incident of several. The most severe, sure, but Sophia is not by any means an innocent lamb.
"Right. Emma had to have… confided with Sophia on what happened… and something she said had to have stuck with Emma all this time." She snorts derisively. "Like the talk you had with Dad after Mom died."
I blink. "Oh? I'm surprised you even heard about that. Danny was ashamed that I even had to talk with him. Did he actually tell you about it?"
She pauses for a second before speaking quickly. "Well, no… I just figured it out. No one else was around to pull Dad out of his funk, except Auntie, who I did assume was the one to do it for a while, but thinking things over now, she was kind of busy taking care of me along with Emma and Anne. So, that leaves you." She shrugs with the barest hint of a smile. "What can I say, I'm observant."
Her humor quickly fades into a serious expression. "Anyways, just from comparison, Dad went through a big change in attitude right after Mom died, and I did the same. When a person is that low? I don't know if it's from the pain itself or just the magnitude of asking 'Why did this have to happen, and how can I get past it?' that we cling onto whatever answers we get. I'm not sure what you told Dad, but whatever it was, it did get him moving again. He's thrown himself into his work ever since though. He was already a bit of a workaholic when Mom was alive, now he's even worse."
I sigh. Danny… when I said you should think about taking care of your daughter, that's not what I meant.
Taylor takes a deep breath. "I didn't have a drastic pick-me-up like that... " She pauses, and then mutters something I can't quite hear, before shaking her head and continuing. "...but I did pick up things here and there. Even some of the advice the guidance counselors gave me at that silly camp has stuck with me. 'The more you focus on the fish that got away, the less you can focus on the fish you've yet to catch.'"
She snorts. "It's something along those lines. I always took it to meant that the more time I dwelt on the past, the less time I'd have to spend on my future." She frowns slightly. "At least, I'm pretty sure the counselor meant it that way, though it could have been entirely literal. He said that right before lunch." She shakes her head. "Mom definitely wouldn't want me wasting every day missing her when I could be living my life. It was one of the few things that helped me get my mind off Mom's death and enjoy the time I had at camp."
She focused back on me. "I'm assuming the situation with Emma was similar. Since no one else that we know of talked to her, and suddenly she became friends with Sophia, do you think Sophia could have told her something like you did with Dad, that could have gotten her out of her funk… but in a more, well, negative way?"
I rest my head back against my chair. Sophia… being a bad influence on my daughter? It's not the first time I've given the idea some thought, really. But I'm torn. Sophia did save my daughter's life, not just from the assault itself, but also the aftermath. When no one else could get her moving and living again, Sophia did. And from the bottom of my heart, I'm grateful for what she did…
But Sophia can be incredibly violent. I've seen it both first and second hand, both by being someone she actively saved and by being her defender in court. Before her probation into the Wards, she was very much the model image of the word vigilante. Even with powers making the law more tolerable to those types of capes, there were lines not to be crossed that Sophia did with abandon. I remember specifically going over the case with her in private about the evidence the PRT had against her. There wasn't a sense of guilt over what she had done. An annoyance at being caught, certainly, but when we discussed the acts of brutality she committed? She had an air of… satisfaction.
That's quite a big red flag. They may have been criminals, but in this society, we only tolerate a vigilante so far in that they support the police or PRT in their arrests, not those that supplant our justice system with their own. If it weren't for me… Sophia would be in jail right now. Her throwing Taylor into that locker? While I can't immediately assume she's guilty of it, not without any proof against her, I can't deny it's something that fits her character. However, even if I can easily see Sophia doing something like this… before I do anything about it, I would need proof. Not just verification the locker happened, but something that would prove she's the one who did it.
This locker incident happened recently, and if Sophia did do it, it would violate her probation entirely. Even if it was in a more mundane setting, it's still a case of aggravated assault. She's only been in the Wards for a few months. Sophia is many things, but I don't see her being idiotic enough to just throw away her extra chance.
I stare back at Taylor. Whatever ideology Sophia has, it didn't just make her confident in herself and her actions. It also led her to the point where she was mutilating her targets without a shred of remorse… If she shared that with Emma…
Oh dear. It's possible, very possible, that Emma at her lowest was very impressionable and that Sophia was the one to leave the impression. I take a breath, sit up straight, and exhale. I can't exactly explain to Taylor the whole situation with Sophia… but I can at least give some context to my side of things.
"I'm not really sure, Taylor. Sophia and Emma did meet before high school, and she did have an influence on Emma after the attack, but from what I know, it was a godsend at the time."
She looks at me with a confused expression, waiting for me to continue.
"Emma, after the attack, like I said, wasn't taking care of herself. She was completely isolating herself in her room."
I stop myself for a second, thinking if I should continue, for my sake, if not hers. It was probably the scariest moment in my entire life. Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse 9, Nilbog, and so on; all of them at the end of the day are just boogiemen if you have the fortune never to encounter them. A tragedy actually happening in your life, to your own flesh and blood right in front of you; it has more weight than any fate that befalls faceless millions.
It's callous, but if we all cared about strangers as much as we did our own families, humanity would have gone mad a long time ago. However, Taylor shared a tragedy earlier today. Whether or not Emma had any part in it, this locker event had to have happened in some shape or form. Taylor was never that good a liar, and I know lying when I see it. Despite her exemplary control, there was genuine sincerity to her words when she recounted it.
I can always verify it with a phone call to assuage my lingering doubts and paranoia, but right now, I can comfortably assume it did occur. If that's the case, then Emma is involved in this situation, even if it's from sheer inaction on her part. The Emma I picture in my head, the one that I'm proud to call my daughter, would never be one to abandon Taylor to something like that. If she actually did that, or heaven forbid, was involved directly...
I sigh. I should have forced Emma to go to that therapist. Demanded that she talk to him. If I did that, none of this might have happened. I stare back at Taylor. The shades of Annette are still there looking back at me. I really should tell her. Even after all this time, even if I was closer to Annette and Danny, it's still Taylor. She deserves to know what happened to Emma in detail. She's still practically family.
"Emma was broken." I pause. I close my eyes for several seconds, the image of a closed door and the sounds of quiet sobbing coming to mind. I force myself to continue. "She was barely eating or even using the bathroom. She stopped bathing entirely, and spent day after day in bed wearing the same pair of pajamas for a week. She went whole days without speaking to us, not even an 'I love you.'"
I scowl. "Nothing we did helped… while she was wasting away, we couldn't do anything!" I slump forward, resting my elbows on the desk. I cup my face in my hands and take a deep breath. "My baby girl was dying right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything!" I slide my hands forward, and down onto the table proper, my hands gripping together tightly. "The whole attack was probably the worst moment in my life, but the week afterwards? Seeing what that did to Emma? It tore me apart inside, and I was powerless to do anything about it. Zoe, Anne, and I; we all tried to shower her with love and support, but none of it got through to her. None of it."
I take a breath. "For a while, I was hoping you would come home from camp and manage to help her, but after she forcefully told us not to tell you at all… well, she used more words in that brief interaction then she had in days. Of course we clung to them." I shake my head. "She was barely functioning, and if things kept on as they were going, Zoe and I feared we might have had to commit her for her own good. We pushed it off, we hoped for the best, and we never discussed it in detail, but that's where things were headed."
I slowly smile. "But then she got better. I had a therapist lined up for her, someone she could talk to after she would leave her room, but it wasn't necessary. She was finally living her life again, and at the time, I only had one person I could attribute that miraculous change to."
"Sophia."
"Right. As you said, just like I helped Danny out of his hole, Sophia must have done the same for Emma. If anyone had the most impact on her while she was… fragile, it would be her." I raise my arms and shrug. "But I don't know what Sophia could have said to Emma to make her… bully you, Taylor. Frankly, that's a question you'd have to ask either Sophia or Emma."
She frowns deeply. "Yeah, you're right. That's...not exactly something I can really do and get a straight answer though." She shakes her head. "But… I can worry about that another day." She pauses for several seconds. Musing to herself silently. Then she looks at me. "I… I think I'm done here. You clarified a few things for me and it helped a lot… but I think I used you more as a sounding board than anything else."
I smile slightly. "It's not a problem Taylor." I adopt a more serious expression. "I'll… try and talk with Emma, okay? I don't know what's going on at Winslow. This is the first I've ever heard of anything like this… I'm still in disbelief about it."
She looks at me without a hint of surprise. Yeah, I deserve that.
I sigh. "It's been a year and a half Taylor since I've seen you in person or even heard you on the phone. Honestly, before now, I thought you two had just drifted apart. The idea that Emma would bully someone who was her best friend for over half her life is... it's mind boggling that she could be capable of doing that, but… I also know you're not lying to me."
I stare into Taylor's slowly widening eyes.
"I'm sorry. Emma's a soft spot for me, Taylor. You know me. You know how protective I can be. Right now, I'm defensive for her, not just because she's my daughter, but because I already failed at protecting her once. It's just hard to remember that sometimes I need to be a father rather than a lawyer, and I need to defend her from herself." I shake my head. "Regardless of what I believe right now, you've given me enough information to let me know that I have been too uninvolved in her school life. You've been very mature by talking to me about all of this. It would be, well, criminal if I simply dismissed you out of hand. I'll take a look into what's going on with Emma, and if I do find on my own that she's been bullying you, please, let me apologize in advance for not taking your word at face value." I take a deep breath. "We can get this sorted out. That behavior is entirely unacceptable, and if Emma is guilty of doing that to you, she will be punished for it."
For a few seconds, she's in a stupor. Slowly, she smiles at me. It's the biggest expression I've seen on her face all day. "I know this whole thing was very sudden of me, and I'm sorry for intruding on you during work, but thanks for the help, Uncle Alan. It means a lot to me."
I smile in return. "No problem, kid. No problem."
She stands up and turns to leave, but after a few steps toward the door, she pauses. She turns back to me. "One last thing." She walks briskly around my desk, and stands right by my chair. "Okay, up."
Amused, I do as she asks.
She then gives me a surprisingly strong hug around my waist. Shocked, I slowly return it, patting her on the back. As she disengages, I can see her eyes are just a bit teary.
"Now, Uncle Alan, remember this from now on. That's how you give a hug."
I can't help but laugh.
Emma
Leaning against the wall outside Winslow, I sigh from sheer boredom. Sophia's stuck at track, Madison's… somewhere, and there's really no one else here. Well, no one I care about. My phone's a bust too. There's nothing interesting on Facebook, and nothing of note on my other feeds. I've even already checked my nails and makeup twice.
I don't know why Mom wasn't here on time like normal, but the wait is so boring. There's no modeling today, so at least I won't be late to anything important, but if there's nothing happening, I'd rather be at home. What could be going on? Did Mom have any catering business today?
I'm pretty sure there's nothing big going on except the Manson wedding next month. She might have picked up a new client and made a stop by the kitchen, but then she would have texted me by now. I could always let her know I went to grab a bus, but…
At this time of day? Near Winslow? Ew. No.
With nothing to do but wait, I can't help but think about how empty school has felt these last few days. It was another day; another no show for Taylor. It's been over two weeks and she still hasn't come back. Sure, there's others that can sort of take her place: Charlotte, Michaela, Danielle… But it's just not the same.
I have no connection to them. Nothing that makes it really special. So in the end… it didn't really matter. And I don't get it. I'm at the top of the food chain, the pinnacle of the school hierarchy. I'm their queen. I'm big, they're little. I'm strong, they're weak. I'm a predator, they're prey. Everyone's in their place. All's right with the world. Or it should be.
But… the insults, the jabs, all of it, it's just so... hollow. I've never really enjoyed it, but with Taylor, at least it made the world make sense. There was this satisfaction that everything was as it should be. It was… comforting.
But without her there? It didn't feel the same. It was like I had an itch, and no matter how hard I tried to scratch it, it just kept getting worse.
I've been going through the motions, through the routine I memorized when high school started: Belittling those rightfully beneath me, listening to the thoughtless and often contradictory rumors from the bootlickers whose names I don't even care to remember, and doing my best at being the most popular person in the entire school.
But it feels so empty. It's almost like it's all just a waste of time. But I can't just stop. I need to do this. I need to make them understand. If I back off now? I give them an inch? It's all over. They'll pounce on that moment of weakness. I'll be like the old me again, and that's unacceptable.
Fake it until I make it. That's been my mantra. My creed. I just have to keep going. It's easier now to fall into my role than it ever was before. This little hiccup? It'll go away eventually.
Once it does? Maybe then I'll be the type of person that can enjoy it fully? Not just a laugh here or there, but actually feel happy about it, deep down? I mean, look at how happy it makes Sophia? It's the way the world works after all.
The strong are strong because they enjoy being strong. Otherwise, why bother? Why not just roll over and die? If I stay confident, and keep trudging on, everything will work out for the best in the end. And eventually, just like Sophia, I'll enjoy it too.
Sooner or later, things will go back to normal, and this emptiness will fade. Taylor or no Taylor. I take out my phone. God, there's got to be something to look at on the internet right now.
A few minutes of mindless swiping down social media later, a car honk grabs my attention. I look towards the street, and oh thank god, there's Mom's car. It's about time. A brisk walk and open car door later, and I'm in the passenger seat.
"Hi Mom! How was your day?"
Silence. Mom's entirely focused on the road, her mouth a tight line. Alarm bells start to ring in my head. Mom's pissed.
"Mom? Is something wrong?"
Silence. She gives no indication of hearing me, her calm driving contrasting sharply with her face. For a few minutes I think about what could have possibly made Mom angry. It can't be work. Mom had the reputation of being a meaner Gordon Ramsay when she ran her restaurant. Even now that she's just a caterer, no one on her staff would be suicidal enough to do something stupid in her kitchen.
Did a client do something? That's possible, but Mom's never acted like this in regards to a stupid client doing stupid things. I mean on occasion she has given Dad the silent treat—
…
Ohhh no…
"Mom… what's going on?"
Silence.
"Mom… please talk to me."
Silence.
"You only give someone the silent treatment when you're... really mad at them. I know it's about me. So please, just tell me what I did wro—"
Her right hand springs from the steering wheel into the air between us, her index finger pointing sternly up. The message is clear.
Shut up.
The rest of the drive home is quiet. Horrifically quiet.
"Sit."
I do as she instructs, and sit on the couch in our living room. Standing across from me, with her arms crossed, she stares at me. Her eyes pin me down, and I feel the weight of her gaze. My throat constricts uncontrollably.
"Mom… you're scaring me." I squeak out.
"Good."
She continues to stare, letting me stew. I feel like a four-year old again. Mom has only been this angry before (not counting work) four times. Two of those were at Dad, one was at Anne, and the last one was at me. Specifically when I was four, I stole legos from a toy store. They were purple. I never had a purple lego before and I wanted it. I didn't know any better, so I just took it. Smuggled it right out in my child-sized purse.
As soon as she found out, Mom didn't just take me back to the store and demand I apologize to the manager. She also took me to the police and let me sit in one of their "interview" rooms. For a whole hour. I was completely sure I was being sent to jail. She even had the cops take my fingerprints while I cried.
In hindsight, it was funny. It never went on my permanent record, and it was mainly just to scare the crap out of me. Apparently Grandpa was a cop and was in on it, but even so, Mom took things like that super seriously. She didn't want me ever to think that something like that was okay. After that, I never touched a lego again.
Finally, she speaks. "Emma Addison Barnes. I will ask you a question. Be honest."
She middle named me. Oh fuck me. What the hell did I do?! Is this about grades? My modeling?! Did I go over on my Credit Card? What?! As my mind raced, I had no choice but to answer. "Y-yes, Ma'am."
"Have you been bullying Taylor at school?"
I choke, my train of thought crashing to a grinding halt. She… knows?
...
"I… What?"
"Have. You. Been. Bullying. Taylor. At. School?"
"I…I don't…. I don't understand?"
"What do you mean 'I don't understand?'"
I can't talk. My world is flipped out from under me. How does she know? How the hell does she know?!
"You want me to lay it out for you?"
I nod dumbly.
"Right where you're sitting, not four hours ago, Taylor was crying. She asked me why you hated her. Young lady, what the hell is going on?"
"I…"
I take a deep breath and think. Taylor isn't lying down anymore, is she? She actually came here? Where did she even get the nerve? I'll worry about it later. I have to call Sophia when I can. Pronto. This… this is new. Definitely new. But for now, I have to fake it until I make it.
I take a moment to compose myself, to fall into my role. I relax. This isn't a problem at all. A simple misunderstanding. I can explain easily. "Mom, Taylor came here? Really? That's all this is about?"
Mom gives a curt nod.
"Did she tell you some story about how I 'pick on her' all the time? That Sophia and I spend every day at school making her life 'miserable?' That we threw her into her locker two weeks ago and sent her to the hospital? You can't honestly believe Taylor was telling the truth, can you?"
I scoff. "She's just trying to get attention, the poor girl. Something's really wrong with her, and she needs help."
I tsk. "After we drifted apart, Taylor started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Ever since her friends were expelled for putting up those racist Empire tags at Winslow, she's been distraught and alone. Sure, Sophia did report them to the administration, but that's just trying to make Winslow a better place. She wasn't out to hurt Taylor personally."
I frown and shake my head. "But after that, it feels like Taylor had some vendetta against Sophia. I'm really worried that from all this peer pressure, Taylor's gone a bit racist. This whole 'bullying' story? Taylor's just trying to get Sophia dropped from the track team."
I close my eyes and look down. "Poor Sophia's got her track career to worry about in all this. She doesn't have time for something as stupid as bullying and pranks."
I look back up and meet Mom's eyes. "Ever since I stepped in and tried to talk Taylor out of this whole mess, because of our old friendship, Taylor started accusing me too. With everything she's said? She's practically a pathological liar now. You can ask any kid at school. They'll all tell you she's lying."
I sigh. "It reached its peak when we came back from Christmas break, when she somehow ended up trapped in her own locker for a few hours. I don't know if she did it to herself, paid someone to do it to her, or what, but I'm pretty sure it was some attempt to 'prove' we were bullying her gone wrong. She was hospitalized for it! It was really heartbreaking to see her do that to herself. Do you really think I could do that to her? Or that Sophia would jeopardize her chances at State this year for some horrible prank?"
I shrug, and just smile sadly at Mom. "Do you honestly think after two years of just not talking to our family, that it was a simple school 'bullying' campaign keeping Taylor away? That's kind of silly, Mom. Taylor wouldn't come here without some ulterior motive."
I frown and look down again. "I did tell you how she feels about you, remember? About how she felt like you were trying to replace Aunt Annette? I'm sorry that it hurt you, but those were her words, not mine."
Mom just keeps staring at me, her eyes still hard. "Taylor didn't mention anything about a locker."
"Oh, she didn't?" Perfect. "Wow... I thought she would have told you first thing about how Sophia pushed her in. She must have known no one would vouch for her. You can call the school and check. No one knows who did it, and she's still out of school while she recovers. The whole thing is just so sad."
Mom pauses. I keep my cool. Of course she believes me. Everything will be back to normal before I know it. "Emma."
I smile. "Yes, ma'am?"
Her stern, angry expression breaks, and she suddenly looks morose. "Where did you learn to become such a good liar, Emma?"
My smile cracks. "...What?"
"You're lying. I almost couldn't tell, but you're lying, right to my face." She exhales, shaking her head. "Emma. I'm so disappointed in you."
I blink as the comment stabs into me. Why did that hurt so much? "You… you're believing Taylor? Over me?"
"Yes. I am." Her sternness returns immediately. "You're grounded indefinitely from this moment. We'll talk more about this mess when your Father gets home. Go to your room." She snaps her fingers. "Oh, and give me your phone. You're grounded from it too." She puts her hand out.
"What?!"
"You heard me. Give it."
"You can't just—"
I recoil as her sternness snaps into rage, her face almost redder than her hair. "I can, and I most certainly will, young lady! Your Father and I paid for that phone! We've just been letting you borrow it. This is my house, and you live under my rules! Give! Me! The! Phone! Now!"
Her shout echoes faintly through the house. Dumbly, I hand over my only way of communicating with Sophia, unwilling to dig my grave any deeper. It's locked, so she won't be able to see anything incriminating, but…
"Now, go to your room."
Numbly, I stand up and quietly head to my room.
Taylor…
That bitch.
She's finally fighting back… But through Mom... This isn't how it's supposed to work! If she wants to fight back, she's supposed to challenge me!
It's not fair.
Behind my back, I hear Mom start to talk on the house phone. "Hi, I'm Zoe Barnes. My daughter Emma's a student at your school. I need to ask a few questions. Was there an emergency involving a student named Taylor Hebert and her locker two weeks ago? Something that involved her going to the hospital?"
My heart sinks.
"No problem. I'll hold."
It's not fair!
Cricket
I feel the buzzing of the alarm on my wrist. Time to wake up, and get ready for my shift. Immediately I sit up in bed, turn off the vibrating watch on my wrist, and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
Jenny turns towards me from her place at the foot of my bed, looking at me through her only eye. I give her a pet and scratch behind the ears, careful to avoid irritating her numerous scars. I smile as her tongue lolls out. She's done her time in the pits. Now she can lay back in her doggish retirement, while I go and fight day in and day out. Eventually, I'll probably have even more scars than her. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I take a deep breath, and raise my hands to my ears. I brace myself for a moment, then take out my earplugs. The nearly muted noises of the world around me explode into a cacophony. It's always a minor discomfort to adjust after I wake up, like turning on the lights in a pitch black room. Though, my ears adjust much quicker than my eyes ever do.
A few seconds later the noises settle into something I can comprehend, and I begin to hear the sounds of Brockton Bay. Noisy traffic and noisy people are something that I've always heard. The loud stuff every city-goer puts up with. But I hear the quiet things too: the miniscule groaning and shifting of buildings, the hums of the wires, and the constant pulsing from anything with Wi-Fi.
I can even hear the beating of insect wings and human hearts if I'm close enough. It used to amaze me how beautiful some of the sounds were that only I could hear. But that novelty wore off a long time ago. Now it's just as mundane as a sunrise. I get out of bed, and slip my feet into sandals.
I take a few steps towards the door—
'I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand.'
—and turn around to grab my work phone off of my nightstand with my left hand, my right wrapping around my voice.
I'm still getting used to the new phone. Kaiser set up all the Empire Capes with them. They aren't Tinker-tech, but they're about as close as you can get. He paid a pretty penny for them too, all so we can stay in touch without the fear of anyone listening in.
I have to remind myself all the time we aren't using burners anymore, because I almost chucked the damn thing into the trash a couple times. Hookwolf already blended one accidentally out of habit. Kaiser was pissed.
My lips quirk at the thought for a moment before I compose myself. Work means being professional. With a swish of my fingers, I answer the call, voice against my throat. "Hook." I say with an artificial tinge.
"Cricket. Got some news before you head out tonight. We might have a new cape on the scene." He breathes out a puff of air. "It's a stretch, but Kaiser wants us to treat it seriously for the time being." His tone shifts, and I can practically see his smile. "You'll never guess who tipped us off."
I wait for him to continue.
"I'll give you a hint. You castrated him."
I think for a few moments, before replying. "Be more specific."
I hear Hook laugh. "Okay, okay. You did it in front of a crowd after the idiot actually challenged you to a fight."
"Again. More specific."
He laughs even more. "Alright. Final hint, you threw his balls into a fire right in front of him. Right before Othalla could heal him."
Oh? Ohhhh. That guy. "'Rape you raw?'"
"That's the one."
I shake my head in disgust. "Don't remember the fucker's name."
"Well, he can't be a fucker anymore, Cricket, and I'm sure he'll never forget your name because of it!" My teeth flash in amusement as he laughs a bit more. "Anyways, it's ole' Michael Donovan."
"Right."
"Yes, and he got the shit beat out of him again too, like the embarrassment he is. The good news, idiot at least followed protocol and passed on the info to one of our plants, giving us some valuable intel. He claims a new cape knocked him out for taking care of the trash and keeping the city pure. Which means he's still spending his mornings finding a weakling he knows he can beat to hell rather than looking for fights that actually matter in the long term. His heart's in the right place, sure, but god is he pathetic. Sometimes, I think it would have been a mercy to let you finish him off, but that's kind of the point isn't it?"
"Hm."
"Anyways, he described her as the following: a girl in her mid-teens, with pale skin, and dark hair. She was wearing a grey hoodie, black pants, a green scarf, and an old pair of black nikes. She's rather tall for her age, something around five and a half feet. He couldn't get a good look at her face due to the hood and the scarf and he's unsure about the eye color, either being brown or green. To tell you the truth, I'm actually surprised he even remembered that. A few of our men also confirmed separately that the PRT sent their own detective in for possible parahuman involvement from where Mikey was arrested. So, Kaiser's not the only one interested here."
"Powers?"
"We're not really sure. Mikey claims they were some unholy Thinker, Brute, Mover, and Master hybrid, but that's clearly just him talking out of his ass. The plant says he has a black and blue shoe print on his face, but there's nothing superhuman about it. It could just be some random person who actually knows how to fight. Mikey's not in the best shape anymore, so I'd put good odds on Othalla handing him his ass. He did whine about her somehow knowing who he was and that he had no balls, but at this point? Who the fuck doesn't know? Pretty sure even the chinks know by now with how much that story's been passed along. Shit's priceless after all."
He laughs again a little before continuing.
"Myself, I think this thing is just Mikey trying to matter again. Just because the PRT are suspicious doesn't mean it's actually a cape, but Kaiser wants us to be careful anyways. In the future, keep an eye out for any new female cape that fits what little we know about her. Maybe she's a Brute, maybe she's some kind of combat Thinker. Something rather lowkey would probably fit. Mikey was arrested near four-thirty-seven Birch Street. Probably won't show up around there, but it's possible that's part of a route she'll use again, and that's close to where you'll be tonight."
"If she's spotted?"
"If you somehow find her and she's not actually a cape? Let her know Mikey's a freebie for being fucking useless. After how that idiot insulted you? Kaiser doesn't really see him as Empire anymore. If she does it again though to someone who really is Empire? Let her know she'll be deader than Mikey's balls. If she is a cape? Well, standard orders there: try to recruit her if she's pure, but if she's not or refuses?"
"Break her."
"You got it. Kreig should be telling the same to Othala, Victor, and Rune right about now, and I'm about to call Stormtiger and Crusader. Just wanted to call you first considering the idiot involved. It was worth the quick laugh."
"Ha. Ha."
"Well, at least it was worth it to me! Alright, enjoy your night Cricket."
"You too, Hook." With that I hang up the phone, and start getting ready for tonight.
So someone beat that asshole up, huh? Well, either that girl's getting a drink or a beating from me. Either way, sounds like fun.
Author's Note: This chapter is brought to you by the letter "T."
