(Did I make the week deadline? No, probably not. I've had a busssyy week and it's gonna be busier next week as I'm going on a two week trip. Pretty sure I'll have wifi, but I'll be at all sorts of places and amusement parks, so I might not have much time to write. But I really hope I can.

The next chapter is one of my favorites ever of the entire fic, and I know there's been a lack of Boo lately, but the next chapter is literally all Randall, Boo, and Emma and it's so full of fluff and adorableness and play time that it will make your teeth hurt. I might have that chapter up soon just cause I'm REALLY eager to write it.

Next chapter synopsis: Emma escapes from her door and ends up needing to stay at the apartment for a night with the monster gang, and Boo.

Vacation time (aka when there may be no updates) August 2-17

Also, just wanted to give a shout out to my dears on tumblr blue-with-purple-polka-dots, and thatdoodlebug. Follow them, I demand you do cause one write amazing Randall fics and the other draws amazing Randall and Boo/ Randall and Sulley stuff. Also follow this fic's tumblr at thescalypurplemonster)

It wasn't even seven in the morning when Randall sluggishly made his way to the main floor seeking out the caffe. His head felt as if someone had stuffed wad-fulls of cotton into his ears, his sinuses clogged to the point where he could hardly inhale a breath.

You wouldn't think a boiler room (hence name 'boiler') would ever get so cold, but with everything shut off and the cool night air seeping through cracks at night, it got chilly. And Randall, apt of his species, despised the cold.

Turned out so did his immune system.

"Oh good-good morning, Randall!" Fungus piped cheerfully. Randall groaned. The high pitched voice gave him a headache—even more so than usual on this morning. The smile fell when the little bean took in his former monster's condition. "H-hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," Randall grunted, his voice hilariously nasal. "Just fine, okay? Rough night." Rough every night since he had returned.

A cup of coffee he figured, and he'd be back on his feet and ready for whatever else embarrassing task the new CEO had planned for him. He poured the steaming liquid into a mug, and cursed in annoyance as his arm shook to get the cup to his lips.

"You...you're really not well by the looks of it, sir," Fungus said, in a voice so quiet it rivaled a mouse. "I think you should go back to bed."

"Why is it every time I'm not feeling well you have to make some sort of judgement and verdict?" the lizard hissed back. Fungus flinched with a pained look, but he still glared bravely at Randall-something under no circumstances in the past would he ever do.

"Well I just d-don't want you to over-exert yourself. I still worry about you, you know."

The hateful look on his face faded out to one more of confusion and hesitance. But before he could say anything, if he was going to, the front doors swung open. And the two voices he hated worse than anything only further made him want to lurch.

"Good morning, President Sullivan!" two monsters eagerly shouted, scurrying forward and presenting both the green pea and brute with a mug of coffee. Randall could tell, judging by the non-surprised look on their face, this probably happened every morning.

"Hmmph," Randall growled. "Where do they get off being treated like kings."

"W-well they're not being treated like kings, sir," Fungus stuttered, "They're being treated like the CEO would be."

"Did I ask for your freaking input, Fungus?" the lizard snapped. Fungus cowered behind his cup of coffee, but frowned in concern when Randall's string of insults was interrupted by a coughing fit. "Sir...you-you really should go to bed..."

Randall thought it easier to simply ignore the irritating little red bean for the time being. After all he needed whatever strength he had to deal with Mike and Sulley, who were currently strutting their way towards him.

"President Sullivan!" Smitty and Needleman shouted, their screechy, obnoxious voices making the poor lizard struggle to not grip his head as his headache worsened. "We got your costumes all ironed out and prepared, and your whoopee cushion inflated and ready to knock down a few kids with laughs today!"

The polka dotted monster chuckled and squeezed the rubbery inflatable, listening to the hilarious trumpet sound that emanated from it. He lightly tossed the cushion back into Smitty's hand. "Thanks Smitty, but I'm not going to need it for today. Or any of my costumes." He thought for a moment about taking a costume, but he knew it'd need to be drastically altered in order to fit the noobie (like add a few sets of limbs.).

"That's right, guys," Mike said, his tone a little too cheerful for Randall's liking. It was ominous. To him anyway. He froze when the green pea came and stood right beside him. "We've got a different project on our hands today." Randall froze when he felt the cretin place a mockingly friendly hand on his upper shoulder. And he was certain he paled ten shades as Sullivan grabbed the other shoulder.

Had it been any other time and he wasn't utterly blindsided and among a crowd, the sick monster would have snapped off both their arms, but here, he merely squeaked, "Uhhh..."

The big brute and green pea enthusiastically swung an arm around him and frog marched him out of the room, and past the laugh floor. Randall honestly, was a little too shocked to properly react, even as he was lightly shoved into a particularly large room.

It wasn't an empty room, there were a few monsters spread through out it. There were several props scattered across the area, in different stations. Each station seemed to have a few monsters engaged in various, comical theatrics.

A lot of them were skilled, Randall noticed. They knew what they were doing, and seemed to be enjoying it. Randall wrinkled his snout up distastefully at a pink monster at the far side of the room, in some sort of clown get-up, and telling jokes judging by the way the others were laughing.

And in the corner he was being led to was a small group of monsters just...standing there. They had apprehensive looks on their faces; so different from everyone else's confident looks that were in the room. They looked like the social rejects you'd find hanging out at an abandoned table at the school cafeteria.

Oh Gods, they look like me. It was college all over again. The social awkwardness, the educating, and once again, trying to fit in where you didn't belong.

"This some sort of training program you've got going on?" he sneered at the two as he was propelled over to the nerdy group that looked far from welcoming.

"As a matter-a-fact, yes!" Sulley chuckled. "As the CEO there's really not much time we have outside of the position—you know, looking over forms, resumes, and managing the company. Once a week we show up at the Laugh Gym, and we help train new recruits."

"Oh, I see," Randall said flatly. "And I'm a new recruit? I didn't sign up for a training program."

"Maybe not," Mike agreed. "But Monstropolis knows you need it, Pal. More than anyone else here."

Randall would have walked out then and there, prepared to spend the rest of his life in the basement if it meant he'd be away from here. The only thing stopping him was how light headed he felt from this cold, and instead, he found himself sliding down against the wall with a groan.

"Alright," Sulley began like a teacher at an elementary school. "So who here can name a few ways to make the kids laugh?"

An orange monster timidly raised a tentacle. "Well—uhh...throwing pies and stuff into your own face. It's tasty too!" This was followed by several more monsters' suggestions.

"Telling funny jokes?"

"Singing funny songs!"

"Hurting yourself!"

"Right there!" Mike said with the snap of his fingers. "Bingo. All else fails, hurt yourself. The kids just go nuts for it."

Randall winced. "Sadistic little things, aren't they?" Though it did explain why the brat laughed when he tripped on her stupid toys. He snorted. The last thing he wanted to do was to end up in a body cast all to make some stupid pipsqueak laugh.

"Well it's for all ages," Mike added on, picking a banana peel up from a bag of props and dropping it to the ground. "Our misfortune is their happiness!" The yellow peel perched there on the tile with the group of monsters watching it. "Any volunteers?" He turned mischievously to Randall.

"Not on your life, Wazowski."

The one eyed monster gave a sigh, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Always the guinea pig." He barely stepped a few toes down on the mushy yellow thing, and it instantly flew out from under his feet, sending him flat on his back. The group of students laughed and even Randall gave a few amused snorts.

"That's the kind of stuff comedy's made of!" Mike shouted, wincing as he slowly climbed to his feet. "But if you don't feel like being black and blue after your session, there are other ways. Comedy...is an art, just as scaring always was. And just like scaring, it takes a while to master it."

"Oh, oh, I thought of another way to make kids laugh!" A gimpy blue monster exclaimed, wagging one of his many paws in the air. "Knock-knock jokes! Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?" another monster asked.

"No one, cause it's just a joke!" The group of imbeciles burst into laughter, while Randall covered his face with his first pair of hands. Even Mike and Sulley had to cringe.

Somehow the big brute had a heart because he looked at the group of monsters, and at a pained looking Randall, and swooped in for the rescue like a knight in blue, furry armor.

"Hey, uh, Mike? How about I work with Randall alone, and you deal with...these guys? Randall could use a private session." Mike snapped towards him in horror.

"Wait—what? No! Sulley, you can't leave me with this group of ninnies!" The one eyed monster screwed up his face at the group that had begun tossing banana peels and ping pong balls at each other. He shot one last, pleading look to his friend, but Sulley only smirked and shrugged back, leading Randall along.

"Private session, Teach?" Randall sneered at the large, polka-dotted monster.

Sulley ignored the jibes and attempts to rile him and just got down to business. "Alright, what can you think of that makes you laugh?"

"Your misfortune."

Sulley scowled at him. "I'm serious."

"So am I. And anyone's really. Watching them hurt themselves is like icing on the cake." He shrugged as the monster's glare deepened. "You wanted the truth."

Sulley slid a paw down his face, but figured it wouldn't be a good idea to indulge him in these insults (not that ever ignoring them caused Randall to stop, mind you). "Well, okay, how about we try a little improv then?"

"Improv?" Randall asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. " Oh, you mean the kind I had to do when you literally threatened me through that brat's door when I wasn't prepared for any comedy act what-so-ever? That kind of improv?"

Sulley hesitated, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Well yeah, I guess. Sorry about that by the way, it was a...test, really." He shrugged. "Sometimes monsters forget their props or get more doors than they're prepared for and they don't know have anything ready. So they need to make things up on the spot. Fungus is good at that. Maybe he could tutor you!"

Randall wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "Fungus? You want me to be taught by Fungus?" Why didn't he just put him in a dress and lipstick and humiliate him here and now? "No way, Sullivan. I'd honestly rather have you than that blabbering bean head."

The furry monster felt his lips twitch into an amused grin. "Fine, how about I reach into the prop bag, and whatever I pull out we'll try out?" Randall gave a listless shrug which Sulley took as a yes. He reached deep into the bag and emerged with a small bag of multi-colored balls.

"Hm, juggling balls," Randall mused. "Hey, can I throw them at you?"

"Ever juggled before?" Sulley asked him, ignoring the question. He popped two of them in the air, catching them again.

"Why yes, I have," Randall deadpanned. "It was part of my act at the last five year old birthday party I provided entertainment for. Oh, and I was hired by your kid's parents to perform at her three year old birthday party. It's what I do for a living, actually."

Sulley rolled his eyes. "Well it's really easy—I mean it will be for you, anyway, with all those arms. Heck, in fact you could juggle way more balls than any monster here. Depending on the kid you get, it knocks them dead. Eventually you can try it on your practice kid."

Randall blinked as an armload of juggling balls were tossed to him. "Go on and give it a try!"

The monster glared down at the balls and back at Sulley, who was looking at him expectantly. He gave a nod to go on. Randall huffed and leaned to the side to see the other groups behind Sulley. Mike's group of geeks were currently taking turns trying out funny jokes and different disguises, while another group in the corner were busy practicing with sock puppets, oh gods.

At realizing refusing to juggle could result to him being moved to a worse station, Randall took a deep breath and started tossing three balls up into the air. With all his limbs, he didn't falter once.

"Hey, not bad," Sulley mused. He added two more balls into the mix, and Randall kept those up in the air as well."You're a natural at this."

Randall shrugged, smirking cockily at the compliment. Even if his juggling skills wasn't the number one thing he'd like being complimented on, it was something. "So this is supposed to make the twerps laugh? It doesn't seem very funny."

"Well it all depends on the kid, really. I mean, if you get a two or three year old this will make them double over. They're not that hard to entertain, and I'd know that. But if you get older kids sometimes it's harder to do. You'll usually need to add something in there."

He paused and glanced over at a larger bouncy ball that had rolled over from the other group. He tapped his chin in thought, wondering just how good Randall's balancing skills were. He did manage to keep himself suctioned to the ceiling and walls after all. That had to take some skill.

Subtly, looking in the other direction, Sulley kicked the bouncy ball over to Randall. The monster ended up backing up on top of it, and yelping as he tripped onto the ball. The ball started rapidly rolling underneath his foot as he struggled to keep his balance.

"SULLIVAN, WHAT THE HECK!"

"You're doing great, Randall!" Sulley encouraged. "You are, the kids will love this!" Randall's multiple feet started scrambling on the ball to keep balance, and Sulley couldn't help but snicker.

"I'M GONNA-" He yelled outwardly as one of his feet ended up slipping on the ball, and it flew out from underneath him. With a loud crash and several hollow thumps the juggling balls came down and pattered his forehead. Each time they did, the lizard's skin tone comically changed to fit the colors of the ball.

Sulley did laugh at that. "You know, I think we should work on incorporating your blending techniques into your comedy acts."

"I think I have a concussion."

"Kitty!"

Sulley laughed as the little toddler came bounding toward him, leaping in and burying into his thick layers of fur so she could hardly be seen anymore. His large arms instantly wrapped around the little tot, nose nuzzling hers (something he found he unconsciously did with her a lot.)

"Hey Boo! Boy, I missed you."

"It's only been two days, Sull'," Mike chuckled, reaching up to his friend's shoulder to fondly ruffle the girl's hair.

"Two days too long!" He eagerly bounced the child into the air, grinning as she shrieked in delight and clapped her hands together. "I know I went a year without her, but now that she's back I don't ever want to do that again." He ran a paw gently down the child's cheek, and she crooned and nuzzled it like a blanket.

"Well then we better make sure we don't lose the power again," Mike laughed.

"And find a way to keep her from going to her grandmother!" Sulley added as he pretended to chew on the girl's neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. "Were you a good girl for your grandma when you were away?"

And the round little face beamed back at him as she chirped, "No!"

"Alright, so we heading to the apartment then?" Mike asked as he deactivated Boo's door and sent it away. "I picked up some Little-Monster tapes for the kid. I figure she could watch them while you try to make that famous sherbert of yours."

Sulley hesitated as he rummaged through the door files and pulled one out. "I'd love to, Mike, but we're gonna try again with Randall tonight." He slid the card through the door and the gears started going. "I thought maybe he could get to know his practice kid better."

"Oh and what, form a bond with her, Sull'?" Mike snorted. "I get a lot of the monsters now are friends with the kids, but we've got a long way for Randall."

"I'm not saying they'll be buddy-buddy anytime soon. We just need to get him used to being around kids and interacting with them. I mean with scarers it was just a matter of popping into the bedroom, scaring them, and popping out. Now we interact and actually talk to them."

Mike hesitated. "Alright, fine, but after Randall shoots the breeze with this kid then we're going home and having some ice cream."

"Deal."

On cue, the doors opened and Randall sluggishly made his way into the room. He did not look very happy. Well...more so than usual.

"Alright, I'm here." He griped. "Whad'dya want!"

"Lizzy!" Boo shouted happily. She waved toward the monster and after a brief moment of consideration, he waved unenthusiastically back. The girl looked like she wanted to hop down from Sulley's arms, but he still kept her firmly away from him.

"Isn't it obvious by the door, Pal?" Mike snarked.

"Don't freaking call me your pal."

Sulley loudly cleared his throat to shut them both up. "It's been a few days since the power outage, and we felt you could try—Boo, get down!" He tried to turn around as Boo, like all squirmy three year olds, started climbing across his shoulder, and crawled across to the other. The moment she tried to stand, she slipped.

What would have doubtlessly been a catastrophic fall for a three year old was stopped as Randall instinctively darted forward a step and caught the little munchkin in a pair of arms.

Sulley and Mike stood there trying to recover from the spur-on heart attack, and Randall simply stood there and looked down at the giggling, squirmy little girl in his arms—who of course shouted, "Again!"

Sulley was still a little too stunned to react, his eyes never leaving Randall for a second as the monster snorted and lightly shoved the girl towards him.

"Keep a better eye on your pest, Sullivan, so others don't have to do it."

He didn't react as they simply stared at him, but he did to snort by how utterly shocked they looked that he didn't let her fall to the ground and break open her skull. He rolled his eyes. "Oh I forgot, I should have tried to snap the kid's neck or something."

Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

"Alright," Sulley quickly shook his head of the incident as he dumped out several papers from the brown file folder. "So your kid's name is Emma. This is her, right?"

He flashed the folder to the reptile, whose eyes instantly narrowed in contempt at the freckled, smug face that looked back at him. It would be forever burned into his memory. "Yeah, that's her alright. Look, I don't think she'll ever find me funny." He kept quiet on the Funny Face comment, knowing Mike would definitely, mercilessly use it on him if he didn't. "Can't we just say this is a dead door and move on?"

Sulley crossed his arms and snorted. "Boy, you do have a lot to learn about the way things work. There really aren't any such things as dead doors now. I mean, I guess we used to have kids that seemed born without fear, but there are no children that are born without the capability to laugh."

"Unless they're born without vocal cords," Mike piped. "But we don't get that much. We did get a kid that moved away once; that was the only dead door we had."

That poor monster—he was a new employee too, not exactly confident in his ability to entertain children. Imagine his shock and fear when he exited the closet, only to find a new family—two adults, had moved into the little boy's bedroom.

"All kids laugh at something," Mike went on, "But I find the best tactic—and probably the reason you see so many monsters sore all the time is injuries. Kids love when people get hurt."

"I wonder when this job went from trying to avoid getting hurt from humans, to getting hurt for them." He was not fond of the idea of coming home in bruises and broken bones just to make some sniveling runt laugh. "Can't I just scare her?" Although he had a feeling, just by the girl's abrasive personality, she probably didn't fear much.

"No," Sulley huffed. "We're done with scaring, okay? It's not coming back."

"I don't see why you guys can't just entertain the runts and the monsters that aren't cut out for that stuff scare!" Randall snapped. "That way I can go back to doing what I always did, and I'd be able to get you plenty of energy—as much as you can get in those new canisters—in one shot!"

"You don't get it, do you, Lizard Boy?" Mike snarled. "We could never bring back scaring, not after you soiled its name with that machine! Nobody that has any dignity or self respect would ever even want to go back to that business again. You ruined it. If you want to blame anyone for the fact scaring is dead, blame yourself."

Sulley expected a large, heated fight that would quickly reach the point to eye gauging and frill pulling, but that surprisingly seemed to shut Randall up. At least for a minute.

"I know this isn't something you're really used to," Sulley sighed. "But hey, give it a try. If you want to work at the company, you need to at least get the idea of how things go." He shrugged and looked at the reptile. Randall looked as unrelenting as always and Sulley was about to give up.

A scheming gleam came to Mike's eye as he nonchalantly crossed his arms and began circling the cautious reptile. "You know Sull, we could always use someone else to sort the letters and packages in the mail department." He bit back a laugh when the lizard's scales paled a few shades. "And hey, in the holidays you get to wrap the presents in this pretty, shiny paper."

The words had barely left his lips when Randall literally bolted through the child's door, and Sulley and Mike collapsed in raucous laughter.

A lamp by the child's bed was on dim, and she was awake, sitting against her pillow with what looked like photos scattered between her legs. She glanced up when she saw him. "Oh, Funny Face is back. Here to embarrass yourself some more?"

The lizard hissed. "Can it you little runt."

She dropped the photo in her hand in exasperation and scowled at him. "My name is Emma, not runt."

"Well while we're at the name thing then, the name is Randall, not Funny Face."

The smug little thing pursed her lips in amusement. "I prefer Funny Face."

"Then I prefer runt, or brat."

The little nine year old situated herself in her bed so she was on her stomach, browsing through her pictures. "So what are you then?"

"A monster."

She rolled her eyes as if she thought he was the stupidest living creature alive. Actually she probably did think that. "I sorta figured, you don't exactly look like a bunny—what with all the purple limbs and weird face and stuff. You look something like a dinosaur, or an alligator."

"Ma, another gator got in the house!"

"Another gator? Gimmie that shovel!"

He shuddered. "Not a gator." But a dinosaur was probably the most interesting misinterpretation he had gotten yet. "Just a monster. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Shouldn't you be less ugly?"

He hissed. "Stop insulting me."

"Stop insulting me." Cheeky little...

I did not sign on for this... Deep breathe, deep breaths... He chanted the mantra in his head to calm himself down. It wouldn't help his case if he strangled the brat, although the scream extractor was looking pretty handy about now. Suck the air right out of your lungs so I'll never have to hear you talk again.

"When I was little I always thought the monster that came out of my closet would be scary, not a failed comedian."

His anger grew. "Listen I don't work hard at what I do to have some cheeky brat too big for her britches insult me on it." Well to be fair, really he had only been working at this whole comedy thing for a few days, but she certainly didn't need to know that. "And I could scare you, easily. Don't tempt me on that, twerp."

But it wasn't hard to tell with how abrasive the kid was that it would be a challenge. If they did still scare he had little doubts her door wouldn't be dead and shredded in a day. She seemed like one of those kids just naturally born without fear.

"Well between you and me, Funny Face," the girl whispered dramatically, as if this was supposed to be some big secret. "I'd drop the funny business and find a job more suited for your...talents."

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "And what would that be?"

"How boring you are. Hey, become a librarian!"

Instincts told him to strangle the girl, but he ignored them, instead scoffing and crossing his arms at the petulant brat. "Oh, and what are your talents?"

At this she seemed to falter, the self-assured smirk falling from her face. She sat back up, crossing her legs, and lowered her head to look down at the bedsheets, and at the scattered photos between her legs. And the one in her hand lowered, as if she felt ashamed of it. Then she clenched her fists and glared bravely at him.

"I'm a photographer!"

"You're a what?" he snorted.

"A photographer, I take pictures of things! See?" She held out a handful of pictures to him, and proudly lifted one higher than the others. It was a perfect action shot of him when he tripped over her damn toys on the carpet. Honestly, the movement had gone by so fast he didn't even realize she had snapped a photo!

"Gimmie that!" Randall snapped as he lunged for the picture. Smirking, Emma held it away.

"I call this one Splat Goes The Lizard..."

Randall hissed. He was stuffed up and nauseous, he didn't need lip from a nine year old. "Get rid of that, you can't go taking pictures of people without their permission!" Least of all something that could literally put the entire world and him in jeopardy.

Emma snorted and hopped up onto her striped socks as she engaged the monster in a game of keep-a-way. "Hey, no way! That's the best action shot I've managed to get in ages! It's something I'm still struggling with you know!"

She growled as he grabbed onto half of the photo, and she grabbed the other, the two engaging into a power struggle until the print ripped in half and they both stumbled back. The nine year old groaned as her ruined masterpiece fluttered to the blanket.

"Awww, what'd you do that for?!" She grabbed both pieces, trying to stick them together and only huffing in exasperation when obviously, they remained destroyed. "I wasn't gonna do anything with them!" A bitter look crossed her face. "I wouldn't try to expose you to people, and no one ever wants to look at my photos anyway..."

Randall lowered a brow. He didn't know why he bothered to ask, but he did. "Why?"

"Well being able to aim a camera is nothing in this family—not when your older sister is always getting trophies for soccer and awards for doing good at school. I'd have to become mayor of the entire stinking town to get anyone's attention around here."

Randall stared, the words feeling familiar, even if it was in different context. "Huh?"

Emma waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing, never mind. It's not like something you'd understand anyway. We've all got our thing; I like photography, and you..." She shrugged. "You know, whatever it is you do. Hey, you're some kind of lizard. You could impress people with how much flies you can eat!"

Randall's face screwed up, absolutely revolted. "Ugh! Look, just because I look like a reptile doesn't mean I want to eat bugs!"

The thought was absolutely nauseating. Even if he knew there were many monsters that literally picked the wrappers instead of their food, he wasn't one of them. "I eat...normal stuff. Like..." He paused, trying to think of the kind of food the girl probably ate. Their diets didn't differ that much. "Coffee and...hot dogs?"

She grinned. "Pretty unhealthy diet there, Funny Face. Is that why you've got a bit of chub to that purple belly?" He hissed as she poked it, banging her hand away.

"I don't have a pudgy belly. I'm perfect size for my species and age," he snapped. If anything he should be alarmingly skinny from a year of little to no food for long periods of time. "You know brat, if you keep this up you won't have any friends." He was one to talk, sure, but it wasn't like he wanted any.

And that seemed to strike a nerve in her, and she reared up to yell at him, like he assumed she would, but instead of doing so she fell back to her knees in defeat. He raised an eyebrow. He didn't really know the kid, but assumed she'd be the kind to retort with quick, witty comebacks.

"So what then, are you just gonna visit me every night from now on? Where's your comedy act tonight?"

Comedy...SHOOT! I forgot the juggling balls! He deflated with a groan when he realized it. Still, it wasn't like he'd actually succeed in making the brat laugh regardless. "Don't worry kid, hopefully soon I'll graduate from my training and we'll never have to see each other again."

When he turned the nine year old wasn't looking at him with relief or happiness. No, instead she looked rather fearful. Fingers tightened on her photos as she looked up at him. "Why would I want that? I mean, you're the only one who ever visits me. It's not like I'm Tina and I've got friends over all the time, and every day."

"Who's Tina?"

A bitter scowl crossed Emma's face and she pulled a large leather book into her lap. She flipped it open to a page of family photos, and jabbed her finger angrily at a picture of a girl with golden-brown ringlets. "That's Tina."

Randall had to snort at the scribbled "big dummy" title under it. "So she's mean to you, huh?"

Emma hesitated as she leaned back. "Well..." Conflicting expressions crossed her face before she gave a resigned sigh and angrily flipped the book closed. "No. She's just...better than me. She's not even mean to me, really. Actually, she tries to be nice and she thinks she's trying to help me, but she's really just making things worse most of the time."

Randall stared.

"See, she thinks if she coaches me in soccer and tutors me in school it'll give us a better relationship, but..." She shook her head. "All it'll do is remind me I'll never be better than she is." She sighed, hands falling to her lap to fiddle with her shirt. "And I don't even have a reason to dislike her—it's just easier than accepting she'll always be better than me." Jade, soft eyes looked up at him. "You know?"

Randall had fallen utterly silent as his head went over the many times he felt nearly the exact emotions before.

"No, you don't know..."

"...Actually kid," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I think I do..."