Chapter 4: Stealth Cookies and Skateboards
Apple Valley, Ma
The Past
December 2007
A day before the Winter Formal (and the most awful dare in the history of dares), Emma rushed toward wrestling practice. Walking in ten minutes late, as she now surely would, meant extra helpings of disapproval from the coach.
She'd lollygagged in the weight room, then had to grab the keys to her mom's Volvo. Since it was Monday, she had taekwondo after wrestling. Unlike many other students at school, she didn't have her own car. On Mondays, Emma took the Volvo and her mom did "teachery things" then caught a ride home with a friend.
Not that the coach cared about explanations, especially not from her. He didn't say much to her nowadays, but his constant scowls did.
A few students who hadn't joined the mass exodus when the bell rang at two o'clock trickled through the hallway. She heard the slap of multiple shoes behind her, someone running somewhere, but thought little of it.
The thuds that followed the sounds were weird, but she kept her concentration on getting to wrestling as soon as possible.
Until she heard a familiar voice.
"You fucking assholes."
Jefferson.
She swung back around to see several guys in letterman jackets chuckling at Jefferson. He was sprawled on the floor, half in and half out of the boy's bathroom. One of the jocks grabbed a trash can from a nearby classroom and poured the contents over him.
Not thinking, Emma yelled, "Hey!" Her feet pounded the glossy hallway floor as she ran towards the group.
"This isn't your bathroom, dyke."
Five of them stared her down. In the bathroom behind Jefferson, she could see Archie curled into a ball, drops of blood on the floor near him. She'd missed most of what happened. She hadn't been there for them. Emma wished she had Regina's presence of mind and way with words. She didn't.
She glanced up and down the hall, hoping, for once, an adult was around.
No such luck.
An idea jumped in her mind.
In her taekwondo classes, they'd been working on board-breaking for the last few weeks Lately, sessions alternated between that, sparring and practicing forms — a series of sequential moves, kicks and punches. She'd progressed to Songahm 4. Learning each form took discipline, focus and a clear mind. To move up in rank, forms needed to be a perfect mix of technique, proper stances and posture. Or as her teacher said, "they needed to be art of the body". She practiced often and found they calmed her, helped her with control.
She tried to find that state of mind now, the steady rhythm of knowing what your body could do. She took up a stance, raising her fists and then, with smooth follow through, she spun her body and smashed her fist into a locker, making a dent in the front. Absently she realized she'd forgotten to yell, something her teacher always had to remind her to do. She shifted her weight to her back leg, took one step toward the set of lockers across the hall and snapped her heel into the metal again, caving it in as she had the other one.
Emma stepped back. "Is that all you guys understand?" She pointed to the dented lockers. Her knuckles were bruised. She didn't care. "If that's what you want, we can go there."
In her defiant rage, she shoved one of them. Tension stretched between the members of the small group, all of the jocks seeking guidance from one another on what to do now, their certainty and confidence visibly shaken.
"Are you fucking crazy?" One of them asked her.
Jefferson, with a broken nose and face smeared with blood, staggered to his feet.
"You outnumber me, but it won't be an easy fight. Is that how we need to do this?" Why tears jumped to her eyes, she had no idea. She'd never been this angry before. Ever. "Is it?"
Jefferson moved to stand beside her, while a few of the stunned guys began to disperse.
She pushed past those that remained and into the bathroom, crouching down beside Archie. His bruised face continued to fuel her and she growled at the jocks who still — even now — just stood there. "You stay away from me and my friends."
With Jefferson's help, she got Archie to his feet as fast as she could. She looped his arm around her neck and helped him walk. Her hard stare dared those who were responsible for this to get in her way. Instead, they stepped to the side.
She could only think to bring him to her mom. About halfway there though, Archie stopped her.
"Wait — where are we going?"
"My mom's still here somewhere."
"Your mom will tell our parents. She means well, but...I don't know if she can really help."
"It's not like you can hide this, Arch. Either of you."
"I've hidden other things," Archie said.
"Shit," Emma muttered to herself, disgusted with the entire situation. "I have to tell my mom about this. Not now, but tonight. You have to let me do that."
Archie didn't object. "There's another bathroom over there. We missed the bus, but if we could get cleaned up, I can call my mom."
"They jumped us on our way out," Jefferson said, expression grim, like he wanted to start a war with all of them.
Archie brushed his fingers against a large bruise on his jaw and winced. "We'll give you a ride home, Jefferson. And you too if you need one, Emma."
"No. No, I don't — look, I have my mom's car. I'll drive you guys, okay?"
They agreed and ducked into the bathroom. She waited for them, still so furious she couldn't stop pacing.
All three of them were silent in the car as they drove to Archie's house. When they pulled into the driveway, Archie hesitated, his gentle eyes, one swollen, sought Emma out.
"Winter Formal is tomorrow."
"Yeah," she agreed, not sure what that had to do with anything.
"The dare," he said.
"What about it?"
Jefferson's eyes twinkled with the mirth of someone about to offer a great idea that might not be well-received. "Archie and I were talking about you and the dance yesterday, wondering if you'd go through with it." He let Archie continue the thought.
"We thought maybe we could go with you."
"But — I mean, look at you. I'm not even sure I care about the stupid dare anymore."
"I do," Archie answered quietly. "I care about the club. And you."
His bravery and heart drilled into her and inspired her. She wished it didn't.
The jerk.
###################################
The rhythm of her breathing and the soles of her shoes against the road grounded her. She had woken before her mother, tossed on sweats and a hoodie, and stretched. At first, as she jogged, she focused on getting her body moving and waking up. She built to a consistent pace, one which made her heartbeat thunder.
It gave her time to to let the world fade away and just concentrate on controlling her body and her thoughts; finding calm.
When home came into view, she slowed.
As she neared her house, she saw a familiar black Mercedes parked on the street. She stopped, curious, only to see Regina Mills setting a tupperware container in front of her front door.
A few steps led down from the front porch (barely worthy of the name) to a long walkway that eventually met the sidewalk. Orange hedges of roses, Mom's garden, lined the front of the house, just under a bay window. A few feet from the street, a large oak tree stood, a guardian with six thick, gnarled limbs. Giving Regina room, Emma leaned against its trunk, waiting for her to turn around.
"Mornin'," she said, waving.
Regina froze, eyes wide. "I didn't think you would be…"
"I jog every morning except Sunday."
Regina's mouth twisted in irritation, her plan thwarted by something she couldn't have known. "I see."
Emma dabbed at the sweat on her brow with her sleeve, nodding toward the container. "So, what's that?"
Regina moved her hands behind her back, as if standing at attention. She stepped to the edge of the porch, looking down on Emma. "I heard that there was an incident with Archie and you. Everyone knows you helped him. I reiterated to my friends, as best I could, that it would be a dire mistake to continue to escalate the situation, given your apparent skills and that you are the daughter on one of the most popular teachers in school. That being said, I have no idea what you were thinking. You should have found an adult or someone with authority. You could have been injured."
Emma loved the way she talked, though her surprise at finding Regina on her doorstep slowed down her ability to process the conversation. "I'm...sorry?" She climbed up till she and Regina were at the same height, though her instincts told her Regina probably wasn't done admonishing her.
"Can we back up to what this is?" Emma's muscles protested as she bent and picked up the tupperware. Going from a brisk pace to a stop that quickly was making her body stiffen up. She removed the lid and peered inside. "Cookies? There's a note but all it says is 'thank you'. No signature. Hang on, were you delivering stealth cookies to me?
"They're a small token."
"They're token cookies?" Emma asked with dancing lights in her eyes, assuming that her renaming would irritate Regina.
Regina huffed out a breath. "They are just cookies. They are a small, mostly meaningless acknowledgment."
"Acknowledgement cookies?"
"Will you stop that?" Regina growled. She rubbed her hands together and regained her composure. "I was just trying to — you did a good thing." Emma finally understood, as much as this hit-and-run situation could be comprehended at six in the morning. "Are they okay? Archie and Jefferson?"
"They will be. It's probably not entirely over. My mom is pissed."
"Doesn't your mother realize that she can't do anything? Kids are cruel. That's just the reality."
"That's probably one of those assumptions about limitations Mom talks about in the club." Her certainty fanned her pride in her mom. "She talked to the principal and vice-principal for a long time yesterday. Anyway, I wouldn't bet against her. Especially not when she's this angry."
Regina's eyes dropped, avoiding Emma's. "Both of you fight for lost causes. Just in different ways."
Emma never thought of it that way.
She turned away. "I need to get to school."
"Wait," Emma gestured to the door with her thumb. "Do you want to come in or anything?"
"No, thank you."
"Well —"
"Are you going to to the Winter Formal?"
Emma struggled to follow Regina's thoughts for the second or third time in a stretch of about five minutes. "Yeah, probably. That's the dare, right?"
"Alone?"
"Archie and Jefferson offered to go with me," She laughed, a little rueful. "Not entirely sure if that will make things better or worse. I mean, Jefferson especially tends to stand out."
An amused smile softened Regina's features. "Unlike you who blends into the crowd with all your non-controversial activities."
"I wasn't trying to cause trouble."
Regina's brow lifted. "You challenged the patriarchy. Are you under the impression that tends to go well for women?" The cracked door into who Regina could be when not wearing the mantle of her ambitions remained open a little longer. "I'm not saying it's not admirable. In a way."
Emma shook her head. "I figured there'd be a few weeks of hassle. Then I'd show them what I could do, and they'd get over me being a girl."
"And that fool-proof plan didn't work?" The words hinted at playfulness without fully committing to it. Emma, chagrined, kicked her foot back against the side of the house. "People don't just get over their visions of how things should work." The words were weighty, flavored with bitterness. Regina toyed with the crown pin she wore. "You could quit. If it's not giving you what you want, then sticking with it is pointless."
Emma made a face. "Keep it simple" ranked up there in her list of "to dos". But quitting stuff came in pretty high on her list of "don'ts". She thought about stuff carefully to avoid just this position. "No," she said. "Not yet anyway."
"Your choice." Regina motioned to the cookies. "If you wish to share those with Jefferson and Archie, you can. However, I would appreciate you not telling anyone where they came from."
"So they are stealth cookies?"
"You're impossible," Regina said, shaking her head. Emma spotted laughter in her eyes before she glanced away. "If you do go tonight, then it will be your turn to issue a dare. You should begin thinking about that."
Emma wondered if this was what it was like to be hit by a tornado or some other impossible force of nature — just kinda shell-shocked. "Right."
Before Emma could conceive of what else to say, Regina marched toward her car.
###################################
The encounter with Regina bolstered her resolve to complete the dare. As for Jefferson and Archie's offer, Emma took some more convincing, but didn't have a good reason to face the whole thing alone. Being a loner became habit early in life, as her father's military service forced them to move around a lot. Dad died several years ago, though, and her mom settled them in Apple Valley pretty soon after. Enough time to change, if she wanted to.
The evening of the Winter Formal, her mother, delighted her daughter was going to any social occasion, regardless of the reason, offered to help her with makeup and jewelry. Emma, already anxious, firmly refused.
Emma allowed her to take only a handful of photos; a few inside and in front of the old oak tree, before insisting she needed to go. Her mom knew it was all because of a dare. Yet she acted like Emma chose this. On one side of her, the anger at her mother's lack of "getting her" beat at her insides. On the other, guilt pluck at her over her inability to better deal with the situation, to find a way to make peace between them.
Grabbing the keys from the dish near the door, she muttered that she had to pick up the guys, while berating herself for not allowed her mom to take more pictures. It just felt too attached to their differences. Like giving in, even with something reasonable, meant losing something.
Her mom pursued her though, calling her. "Hey." She smiled, but Emma could see wounded feelings behind the cheerfulness. "So listen, I know that you're basically being forced to do this, but, try and have a good time?"
Regret, broken into small, hard pieces tumbled in her stomach. She knew that mothers dreamed of things like homecoming and prom, seeing their daughters off with their handsome dates. Helping with makeup and hair. Gushing over their kids' slow steps toward adulthood. This one dance would likely be her mom's only chance to do any of that.
She just didn't want to pretend.
Maybe she should have let the guys pick her up instead of the other way around. Parents, she believed, had this mental checklist of what the perfect child would be like and do. She hoped, deep down, her mother would come up with a new set of measurements. Emma would never rank very high on the "perfect daughter" one.
She could try saying, "Mom, I love you. but I can't be…"
But it meant admitting her own failings. It probably would lead to a fight, because she didn't think her mother would believe her. Maybe both of them were battling for who would be listened to first. Emma didn't know if it mattered, but couldn't entirely dismiss that it might.
She didn't want that struggle to be everything.
She opened the car door and inched back toward her mom, kissing her cheek. "Love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Emma."
#############################################
Archie introduced Emma to his over-friendly and way-too-excited-to-meet-her parents. Jefferson already knew them, well enough for them to ask about his art, which surprised her. In strong contrast, Jefferson had met her outside his house, alone, in his usual clothes, both of his eyes blackened from his broken nose. He changed at Archie's house, including a black eye mask to hide the remnants of the bullying from the day before.
Archie's parents were wide-eyed when they saw Jefferson, but didn't comment, and it didn't stop them taking what felt like hundreds of pictures. Her standing between Archie and Jefferson, Archie pinning on the corsage he'd gotten for her, them standing in front of a row of shrubs. Inside the house. Outside the house. By the car.
Archie's face carried bruises too and at times he rubbed at his ribs and grimaced. Emma wondered what, if anything, he'd told his parents. She knew her mother had spoken with them a few times.
With Archie's parents finally waving goodbye to them in the rearview mirror, they were on their way.
Emma stood on the steps of the high school, staring up at a banner that read "Winter Formal" in the school's gold and maroon colors. She wore a leather jacket over a cropped thin chemise under a see-through sweater with floral embroidery. Under the hint of bare midriff, a matching skirt flowed straight down, just touching her ankles.
Her hand rested on the handrail leading up the stairs towards the front doors. A few kids drifted past them, laughing, giving her a second glance and heading in.
The pounding music inside created an itching sensation in her rib cage that wouldn't go away no matter how much she scratched. Fuck this. She would just fail the challenge. She'd wanted to aid Regina in the new group direction, but she didn't know this would be the cost.
When she'd volunteered for the dare, she'd thought it would be something meaningless and stupid. Nope, Regina went for a full-on body slam and left Emma wheezing on the mat.
"Emma," Archie said and squeezed her shoulder. A genuine supportive smile stretched over his mouth. "We're with you. Whenever you're ready."
He wore a suit, but she really needed to try and talk him out of wearing bowties one day. His curly hair was combed back and held it place by some kind of extra strength mousse. Jefferson stood smirking in a red velvet jacket (a smoking jacket, Emma thought it was called), white shirt and white pants. And, of course, the black mask.
Her gut settled as she looked them over. They'd come here for her. Jefferson began sliding down the metal banister of the stairs and she decided maybe going in would be good before he killed himself. They went in as a unit. The music sucked, pop stuff that Archie bobbed his head to but Emma couldn't stand and Jefferson made faces at.
"Shall we?" Jefferson said and pointed to the area of the gym being used as a dance floor.
Emma took in a deep breath and led them through the group of tuxedos and cocktail dresses. Mr. "No Hair" football-guy saw them and got the others in his group to look their way. They whispered to one another and laughed.
Regina stood among them. She frowned, glancing between her friends and the small Arts into Action group. Regina wore a strapless gold dress comprised of a beaded bodice that billowed into a silk skirt hanging just above her knees. She'd put her hair up, exposing bare skin from her neck to her shoulders and the swell of her breasts.
It stripped Emma down, removed her blustering and minimizing, and left her heart twisting with need. She didn't know what to do with the mix of fascination and curiosity building so insistently inside her. She didn't have a frame of reference for the connection between them; the way it dared her to insane acts of courage. Emma wanted to cross the room, take her hand and whisper in her ear how beautiful she looked.
In short, it made her think some of the stupidest thoughts she'd ever had.
Regina, still noticing the jeers of her friends, pressed her mouth in a solemn apologetic expression. Emma rolled her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, granting her absolution. At least for tonight.
In answer, Regina smiled at her. A full curl of her lips, a flash of teeth, intimate approval shining in her eyes. A heartbeat later, without giving Emma a chance to respond, she turned away, twining her arms around the neck of the football player beside her.
Yeah, Emma said to herself, whatever her feelings, they were full-on stupid.
She felt an arm press heavily on her shoulder. Jefferson. "You have it so, so bad," he said, loud enough only for her to hear. She elbowed him in the stomach.
Archie checked his watch. "Well, one hour is the dare. Hands in." It was corny as hell, but Archie wore this determined look, so they humored him.
Emma stayed for an hour and a half as a matter of pride. Regina might or might not be ignoring her, but she wanted to show she'd completed the dare and then some.
On their way out, a very loud, slurring Zelena screamed at one of the other popular girls. The trio watched, with most of the rest of the school, as Zelena threw a punch at her nemesis. Two jocks dragged her back. She kissed one of them, until the principal and several teachers surrounded her and pulled her toward the hallway.
Jefferson, Archie and Emma kept going and wound up in the woods near school. Jefferson shook a baggie of joints at them. To celebrate, he said.
They eventually went to Archie's house. They acted as sober as possible when Archie greeted his parents, who peppered them with questions about their night. They escaped to a den where there were two couches and an entire wall unit dedicated to movies. Archie selected Carrie. In their still-buzzed state, parts of the movie struck them all as uproariously funny.
It didn't help when Jefferson made a puppet of one of his socks and imitated Regina. "Emma, you mindless barbarian, thou shalt go thusly to the ball, surrounded by frogs dressed like princes."
Emma made appropriate "ribbit" sounds, relaxed and set free after completing her grueling task that evening.
"And in that pit of mousse and makeup and rented tuxes you will find out both who you are and who you could be." He started as Regina and kind of ended up sounding a bit like Nixon.
"Rrrriiiiibbbbbeeeettt."
Emma and Jefferson stared at Archie in surprise and then dissolved into laughter again.
Archie fell asleep, curled into a fetal position on the couch. Emma put in another movie, something that seemed like a comedy, and stretched out on the second couch. Jefferson sat by Archie's feet and watched with her.
Afterward, she and Jefferson left Archie sleeping and decided to head home. Jefferson covered him with a blanket before they left.
"So you and Archie have been hanging out?" Emma said when they got in her mother's car, remembering that Archie's parents were pretty familiar with him.
"It's a new thing. Last few weeks." Jefferson lolled his head back against the headrest and sighed. "Archie's real."
"Real?"
Jefferson played with the door handle a few times before his mouth twisted wryly. "My family used to take road trips every summer. One summer on the way home, there was a storm. A whole bunch of cars were involved in an accident. My little sister…didn't make it. Everyone else did." He breathed in and out, a ragged sound. "After that, Dad drank. He's able to hold down a job, so Mom kind of pretends he doesn't. They aren't in love anymore, but they smile and pretend they are. They have this stupid, small life together. It's fake. All of it. Most people are just totally full of shit. But Archie..." He gave a shook his head, fondness softening his features.
He cleared his throat and, for one of the first times ever, he seemed uncomfortable. "I'm just trying to look out for him."
He turned toward her. "You know, before you saved us the other day, he was already talking about trying to help you with the Winter Formal."
Emma thought about that as she started the car, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. "We'll both look after him," she said when she pulled into Jefferson's driveway.
He grinned at her, appreciative...honest. "Aces."
"Um, the thing with Regina? She pushes me somehow, but I don't mind it. I mean, I kinda like it. Her. It's really hard to explain. I don't know if it's just her or...I don't know what it means." His expression remained free of judgment." She sighed. "Is it obvious?"
"Sorta. With you two — sometimes it's normal, but then sometimes there's this thing. And it's like...a really good television show." His brows waggled playfully. "Caliente." He pushed open the door (probably sensing she was considering hitting him) and paused. "By the way, what are you going to do to get even with her?" Emma's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "It's your dare next."
"Right."
"Let me know if you need any ideas. Personally? I think we should make her walk down the halls of school clucking like a chicken."
She drove home, creeping in as quietly as she could. In her room, Regina's tupperware container sat on her bed. She hadn't known what to do with it since Regina wanted the cookies to be a big secret. The Winter Formal, and the preparations for it, distracted her the entire day. Her stomach danced happily at the idea of snacking though, so she peeled it open.
When she bit into one, she discovered two layers: the top, smooth, soft and a little tart, over a harder, sweeter crust.
Jesus. She closed her eyes and took another bite and chewed extra slow. Her tongue celebrated, with balloons and firecrackers. She must have had an experience like this before, where food became more than food. She couldn't remember it though.
These were good. More than good; a kind of perfection. She needed to share these with her mom and Archie, Jefferson too. If she could keep herself from consuming all of them.
After eating six, she put the container in a drawer across the room, hoping that not seeing them would return some of her self-control.
She lay down, wide awake, still radiating joy, and wound up from her unexpected discovery.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, to picture something that might center her. The image of Regina in that dress jutted forward. She didn't think it would help her sleep, but she couldn't stop herself from following the meandering path it unlocked.
She erased everyone from the scene except them.
She asked Regina to dance and she said yes.
They held one another, barely moving, surprised at the wonder of being close.
And she pretended that she led Regina here to her room, after. She helped Regina unzip the back of her dress. Regina lay back on her bed waiting for her. Emma braced herself above her, soothing Regina's nerves by promising to take care of her.
She whispered the request for Regina to talk to her, to keep telling her things.
For the first time while thinking of Regina, her hand crept between her legs and she indulged her passions.
##########################################
Zelena greeted Emma at the next meeting with a large, bright smile. "Today's the day," she all but sang and took her chair. Regina sat next to her with no expression at all.
Emma's art piece was the song "Come as you are" by Nirvana. She played the whole thing through, then explained to the others why she picked it. "The title is ironic. No one really wants you to come as you are. I just think, it's good that the song calls that out. I mean, I get why the guys on the wrestling team don't want anything to change. They know the deal right now. And if they shake that up, they don't know what will happen." She breathed in and out slowly. It was the first time she'd ever really spoken in front of them. "They have what they want already. So, if things change they might lose something they want. They protect their territory and what they think is theirs. It makes sense, but that doesn't make it right."
Emma didn't know if she had more to say. She hadn't planned any of what she'd already told them. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, her mom stand and move in front of her desk. The reminder that her mom was listening stopped her.
Jefferson shook his head, his agitated voice storming into the quiet. "If most people got their way, we'd have one type of music and art and...everything." He propped his boots up on the desk across from him. "It would all be cookie-cutter bullshit that sounds like Muzak. People think they want the same old, same old, but then half the stuff we think of as exceptional wouldn't exist. I mean, they wanted to ban rock n' roll at first. "
Mary Margaret walked by him, pushed his feet down and said, a fond twinkle in her eyes. "Amen and Hallelujah."
Zelena got into the topic. "They banned Are You There, God, It's Me, Margaret because it had girls talking about periods."
They all offered other examples for a few minutes until they began to run out of steam. Zelena leaned back, eyeing her sister then sat up, watching Emma expectantly.
"You get to dare someone," Regina said, voice tight and soft.
"I dare Archie," Emma said. They all, especially Regina, turned bulging, startled eyes on her.
She ignored them. "Archie, I want you to write a letter about some of the bullying — no names or anything. Maybe try and get it published in the school paper. Maybe anonymously."
Zelena groaned in frustration. "You're really challenging Archie? After what she did?"
Archie nodded, and she swore his face showed approval. "I accept."
Regina's features were now guarded and unreadable, but she said, "As the newspaper editor, Archie, I can make sure it's published."
################################################
On Monday, as she passed by the Home Economics room, a hand seized her and yanked her inside. Classes taught in the room were called "Nutrition and Family Studies" nowadays. However, they'd never bothered to change the placard in front of the room.
Closing the classroom door, Regina demanded, "Tell me what you are planning."
"What the hell —"
"You didn't get your revenge on me when you could have, so — are you planning to do it some other way?"
"You couldn't have talked to me in the hall like a normal person?"
"Surely you realize that I was angry after our conversation about Archie, and I picked something I knew would be particularly painful for you. Why would you let me off the hook?" Regina set her hands on her hips. "What is it you want?"
Emma blinked at her. "What? Nothing."
"I find that hard to believe."
Emma squinted at her. "Wait, did you want me to dare you back?"
"Of course not," Regina said in a way that made Emma feel like she'd called her an idiot. "However, most people would have. So either you're after a favor of some kind, or you're terribly odd."
"Me? You just kidnapped me into the Home Ec room."
"I needed to have what I assumed would be an in-depth conversation with you."
"And you couldn't do it in the hall because your friends would want to know why, and you're afraid of what they think."
Regina bristled. "It's not fear. It's choices. I have a plan. For example, next year when I'm a senior, I will start taking college courses. Then when I'm accepted to Harvard, I can get my bachelor's degree in three years instead of four." She jutted her chin up, daring Emma to criticize her. "While I am here I've ensured I am exactly who I need to be."
"Besides yourself?"
Regina frowned, expression growing stormy. Her eyes tinted with anger, about to launch an attack.
Emma made a "time out" motion. "Wait, can I say something? I was thinking I might slip you a note, but then I thought maybe I should tell you to your face. But then, I wasn't sure you'd want to talk about it so I didn't know if that was a good idea either."
"Are you aware you have yet to complete an actual thought?"
"The cookies you gave me were fucking amazing."
Regina blinked, all of her pretenses collapsing to the floor. "I...see."
"Seriously," Emma said, wanting to drive it home, needing to make Regina understand. "Regina? Seriously." She waited until a shy, surprised smile rose on Regina's lips. "I shared them with my mom and Archie and Jefferson. They all thought the same thing. Don't worry, I didn't tell them where I got them."
Regina, she of many words, didn't seem to know what to say. "Well," she shifted, "you are welcome. I haven't shared my baking with many people."
"Why the hell not?"
"It's just a hobby. It's not important."
Emma wanted to argue that point, but didn't know how and didn't think it would be welcome.
Regina, mostly recovered, tilted her head, measuring Emma. "You truly aren't going to seek reprisals for the dare?"
"I agreed to the dare. Why would I want revenge on you?."
Neither of them spoke for a few moments.
"When you tried out for the wrestling team, weren't you afraid of being ostracized?"
The sudden topic change made Emma's head careen a little. "I just thought it would need an adjustment period. For me and the team. Though, I guess I'm mostly used to keeping to myself anyway."
"Does your mother approve of you joining?"
"She...thinks that sports ask a lot and tend to be kinda merciless about how much. She'd rather me spend my time on other things. But," Emma shrugged. "I'm challenging norms, so in her eyes, I'm doing some good at least."
But yours isn't entirely in favor, and you're doing it anyway? " The questions held an intensity, an interrogation component that made Emma falter. "My mother and I discuss my future and what's necessary to achieve my goals regularly.
"Um, that's not really how me and my mom work."
"And your father? He must have an opinion?"
Emma stiffened. "Dad died a few years ago."
Regina didn't give the usual apology and empathetic look. She only nodded. "My father died when I was young. Then when I was nine, Zelena came to live with us."
"My dad was in the service. He was shot when his platoon took an enemy compound." She said it, even now, in the flat way the two soldiers did when they delivered the news. "Before we came here, because of Dad's job, we moved around a lot. Then, after Dad died, Mom decided it was time we stayed in one place and had a home."
"I've been here since I was three. Before that, Boston. My mother always wanted a house on Beacon Hill, where many of the older families of Boston live. She compromised because, for the same amount of money, she could buy a house here that was twice the size of anything on Beacon Hill. I doubt she's truly let it go, however."
Regina straightened and a door slammed shut between them, Regina consciously becoming distant and less approachable. "Jefferson ribbitted at me earlier. Do you have any idea why?"
"Nope," Emma said, straight-faced. "Not a clue."
Regina went to the door, but stopped before exiting. "Emma? About the wrestling team? You can't just be better than they are. It behooves them to believe that whatever success you have isn't relevant." Emma tried not to smirk at the word "behooves". "Under it all, most people are looking to gain things from those around them."
"Jesus. You're little miss sunshine."
She scowled at Emma over her shoulder. "I'm practical. You need to give them a direct reason why accepting you benefits them."
"Like?"
"I don't know. I'll consider it."
A few days later, Emma found a photocopy of a newspaper article about a college wrestling team in her locker. The question "Have you ever heard of a single leg half-nelson?" was written in neat letters under it.
###########################################
Apple Valley, Ma
The Present
Previously
Emma couldn't; the things locked inside her rattled in their cage. She needed to keep them there. "We both complete the dare, then we meet and tell the group. That's the way it used to work. Fine. If that's the price to be done with this? Fine."
"When would you like to proceed?"
"I have Monday off."
"Usually I work, however, Fridays are currently a rerun and planning day. I think I could convince the studio to switch it to Monday instead. Shall I phone the others and tell them we agree?"
"Don't you want to know what I'm going to pick for you first?" Emma couldn't wait to see Regina's face when she told her. The group wasn't wrong about how well they knew one another. "Remember that time we all went down Widowmaker Hill on skateboards, and you chickened out? That's my dare."
Regina paled, then thought for a long time, while Emma enjoyed her discomfort. She gathered her composure. "Very well. I — I believe I know what I will ask of you too. Have you ever been back to the arena where you lost that fight?"
End of Previously
Archie and Jefferson took her home after Regina called and let them know they accepted their ridiculous plan. Regina and Emma agreed to meet early Monday morning. Going down Widowmaker Hill at night would be crazy.
Emma insisted on picking Regina up, hoping for and receiving a troubled gasp when Regina saw that their mode of transportation would be a motorcycle. She handed her a helmet.
Regina stared at it, steeling herself. Emma straddled the bike and waited. Regina took her time fastening the chin strap, eyes still large and her expression strained. A pang hit Emma's chest. There was a time when she'd have seriously considered punching anyone who scared Regina.
Now, pettily, Emma made her feel that way on purpose.
Regina climbed on behind her and tentatively placed her hands on Emma's hips. Emma's hands twitched against the handlebars. She could smell a delicate fresh-fruit scent, something apple-y. Regina's soft curves brushed her back. She hadn't been this close to Regina in two years, and it — it made her ache as sharply as it ever had.
The engine of the motorcycle vibrated underneath them.
Emma shifted in her seat, resisting the urge to lean back into Regina.
The memories of the way things used to be flickered in her mind: shared smiles, a sense of belonging and the desire to never lose one another. With an inner growl at herself to stop being stupid, she pulled out of the parking lot.
#####################
Years ago, the city planners of Apple Valley, Massachusetts, decided that the upper echelon of the community should be on a hill overlooking the rest of the city. Nature did not offer such a mountain or a valley, so one was made.
The street to "The Mount" ascended quickly and looped awkwardly several times before reaching the subdivision above. Of the Five Flames, only Regina and Zelena lived up there.
The steep road, after many children used all means of wheeled transportation (primarily skateboards and bikes) to dare death by starting at the top and going as quickly as they could toward the bottom, became known as Widowmaker Hill.
No one had ever really died on it. Every once in a while though, a kid broke an arm or a leg. The Five Flames, after coming up with that name for themselves, decided to make their bonding official by each of them in turn riding a skateboard down the hill.
Except Regina, who called and insisted she had other obligations.
At the moment, Regina clutched a skateboard to her chest and looked forlornly at the hill. Emma straddled her motorcycle, in her usual hoodie and jeans attire, watching. It was early morning, to avoid most of the cars that might be frequenting the streets.
"You can forfeit," Emma said, receiving a glare over Regina's shoulder for her efforts.
Regina's features locked in place, a result of tight control. Her face grew pale. "Enjoying yourself?"
"A little."
"I suppose that's fair. Though, this is hardly an adequate dare," she said. "It's not comparable to the one I gave you."
"Wait, are you criticizing my daring skills?"
"I simply wonder whether this exchange is equitable. There's a whole litany of things I am afraid of but should be doing." She spoke quickly, as if letting off billowing steam. "Like work. I escaped my mother's control then allowed myself to become ensnared in her net again. When she procured the interview for me at the morning show, you warned me to be careful about working for a subsidiary of her company because it was too close to working for her. Now she's used her position and leverage to garner the opportunity on that national cooking channel for me. She's still molding me. She just adjusted her tactics."
Emma didn't answer, but she didn't know what to do with her hands. Putting them in her pockets didn't feel right. Neither did leaving them at her sides or drumming them against her thighs. Emma wanted to defend Regina from her implied self-criticisms, or at least soothe Regina's rapid, machine-gun display of nerves.
Regina shook her head and paced, still holding the skateboard close. "The Arts into Action meeting and being around you just has me thinking. Also, I am criticizing this dare. It's ludicrous, and it would have prohibited back in high school according to our rules."
"Well, we all did it. After we started meeting at PLB. Except you."
"Thank you so much for that reminder."
Emma couldn't help it, she still got a kick out of Regina's feistiness. She also didn't know how to watch Regina struggle anymore. "Couple things. You can sit down on the board if you want. That's how Archie did it back in the day." She gently pried the board from Regina's hands. "Also, there's a Target down the road. What if I get a skateboard, too?"
Regina's attention jerked towards her, away from the collision-related disasters in her mind. "Why?"
"Sometimes it's easier to do something when you're not doing it solo, right? If you watch me go first and see that I survive, maybe it will feel less scary."
"No, I mean, why would you do that for me? Given everything?"
"Well, it kinda looks like we'll be here for the next decade if I don't do something." She warned herself to leave the flip words where they fell and not say anything else. Regina watched her, knowing her too well, whittling at her. Agitated, Emma hurled some of the pretenses away. "You've never forfeited. Jefferson was the only one who did. You really think I'd ever want you to fail at anything?"
Pain and relief mingled in Regina's gaze. "Thank you, Emma."
Emma shrugged, feigning lightness again. "You know, I should have dared you to go down the hill wearing a giant chef's hat. We could have made a video. Probably would have gone viral."
She expected Regina to free her from that carving stare. She didn't. "For what it's worth, I miss you," Regina said. It slammed into Emma. It battered her chest. She braced herself against it and dropped her eyes to the ground. "You don't...you don't have to say it back. I recognize that this is my fault. It just seemed relevant."
Regina shook her head, dismissing her momentary vulnerability. "I truly appreciate the offer, Emma, however, this is my dare, not yours." She set her foot on the flat of the board. "How does this work? You said I could sit?"
"Well, yeah, are you sure you don't want my help?"
"You mean, do I want you to reassure me this can be done by performing the dare first? No. What do I do?"
"Well, you sit down. I'll give you a little push to get you started. Then you just hold on. It'll be fine."
Emma didn't mean to make her voice quiet and coaxing. It called to an old closeness and so many nights they'd spent sharing their secrets. The past wrapped around one part of her like a blanket on a cold night, and the other side of her felt the chill more acutely.
Regina set the skateboard down and sat on the flat, narrow plastic. "Like this?"
"Bring your knees up, put heels at the front of the board. Hang on to the sides." Emma said, basing her instructions on what she remembered Archie doing.
"Very well," Regina said, grim.
"You'll be okay. It's not that big a deal." Emma found her heartbeat carrying it's own anxiety about this. It really was pretty stupid. "Wait, hang on." For the second time that morning, Emma retrieved the passenger helmet from her motorcycle and handed it to Regina. "Here, put this on."
"This does not reassure me, Emma."
"It's just to make you look the part. That's all." Emma hoped the lie sounded at all convincing.
"How you doing?" Regina didn't answer. "You ready?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"
"Let's just get this over with."
"Okay. Okay, here we go." Emma crouched low, hands on the back of the board and gave a firm push.
It wasn't too bad at first — she could see Regina slowly picking up speed as she curved around the first orange and black polyurethane wheels scraped against the ground, the sound growing in volume as they spun faster. Now she regretted not suggesting that Regina get a larger, wider board.
The growing awareness of how stupid this was made Emma's entire body tingle. She stepped outside herself, as if she couldn't bear to watch it all directly.
By the time Regina came to the top of the long, steep stretch of road, the wind and the wheels in concert made a sound that reminded Emma of a plane starting liftoff.
Regina cruised onward , a small plateau making her body lurch before she continued on.
Holy shit, Emma thought, a flush of pride warming her.
When they had done this years ago, Zelena had bailed first, just before that point. Jefferson, not long after, narrowly avoided an old man walking his dog and tumbled into the grass.
"You got it, Regina!"
Regina, focused, didn't acknowledge her. Her chin lowered, the top of her head absorbing the wind.
She came around the final curve, and Emma cheered something much more nonsensical.
Just ahead, in the last thirty feet of road, was another straightaway and a bump in the asphalt; it was where Emma herself had quit back then. She moved closer to the edge of the hill so she could keep Regina in her sights.
Regina hit the point where the street leveled briefly before dipping straight down.
Then came the hop.
One of Regina's feet flew forward off the front lip of the board. The skateboard shifted wildly, clattering, then spun side over side. Regina skidded over the ground, then tumbled hard and fast.
"Regina!" Emma broke into a run.