A/N Well, hey there readers! The chapter is called what it is because, although most of it is spent with Victoria, the conversation at the end is far more important to the plot. So.
Please don't forget to review! You know how much I love reviews, especially from the people who put me on author alert. Please! Do it for Misto! Or for Quaxo! Or, heck, do it for their mother!
Chapter Twelve: It could've been you
I smiled and followed Victoria as she led me around to the back of her den. There, small, three-leaved plants with petite white flowers and roundish red things covered the ground.
"Those are the strawberries. Now...I-I have to go inside. I'll be just a moment," Victoria meowed quickly, almost running inside.
I blinked and looked curiously at the strawberry plants, tilting my head to the side and kneeling to get a closer look.
Do I eat the flowers, those red things, or the leaves? I thought, cocking an eyebrow bemusedly and shaking my head at the oddities of Victoria.
How should I know? You're the smart one, and I've never eaten fruit.
I sighed exasperatedly and walked over to Victoria's house, opening the door. It was black as pitch when I stepped inside, although it only took a moment for my eyes to adjust, revealing a lavishly furnished den, colored varying shades of white and pink. Victoria was seated in a fluffy magenta armchair, curled up in a ball.
"Mistoffelees?" Victoria looked up frantically, wiping her nose.
"Are y-you c-c-crying?" I stuttered, moving towards her.
"No..." she sniffled again and wiped fat tears from her cheeks, revealing her lie.
"You a-r-r-re," I said, wrapping my arm around her white shoulders and looking down at her with mingled concern and confusion, "Why?"
"I..." She buried her face in my shoulder, "I feel like I broke Plato's heart!"
"W-w-what did you do?" I asked, rubbing her back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.
"I dumped him...well, he dumped me...actually, we sorta dumped each other. But it was my fault...I don't deserve him," she sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her paw.
"Oh," I murmured, scratching the back of my head. I didn't know what to say next, therefore I simply sat there and rubbed her shoulders while gulping ridiculously in a vain attempt to alleviate the nearly unbearable itch in my throat.
"Thanks. Did you get the strawberries?" Victoria glanced up at me through red, puffy eyes. I flushed and shook my head.
"I-I didn't-t-t know which p-part to eat..." I shrugged helplessly as she gently whacked the top of my head and gave me a tremulous, watery smile.
"And you call yourself clever. Come on," she sighed heavily and shook her snowy-white head as she stood and led me back to the patch of plants.
I sat down on the edge of the strawberry plants and watched her graceful movements carefully, attempting to learn how to eat the strange fruits.
"Watch, you silly thing," Victoria chuckled weakly and deftly plucked a swollen red growth off the plant that I assumed was the fruit. My thoughts were confirmed when she popped it into her mouth and sighed happily.
"It's good," she said, smiling and grabbing another strawberry, her sadness seeming to lessen, "Try it." Victoria held it out and put it in my mouth. I began to chew curiously, and nearly choked on the sickly sweet taste – my personal preference leaned toward more normal foods, like mice. Although, it satisfied the itch in my throat, so who was I to complain?
"You don't like it," Victoria meowed. She looked like she was about to burst back into tears.
Great job, there. I thought you'd finally learned something when you were comforting her, but I guess I was wrong, hm?
Well, I'm sorry I ruined your dreams of becoming the next Rum Tum Tugger. I then chose to ignore Quaxo and turned my attention to Victoria.
"N-n-no," I meowed hastily, "it's just that I wasn't expecting s-such a sweet t-t-t-t-taste." She seemed to grudgingly accept the fact that most cats naturally prefer savory things – myself included. Victoria smiled wanly.
"S'all right," she meowed, shrugging her ivory-white shoulder. My eyes followed the movement, causing her to blush and shove another strawberry in my mouth.
Wow. You really don't see queens enough, do you?
That's because I don't go to strip clubs on Tumblebrutus' birthday.
You should... Quaxo purred in a singsong voice. I suppressed an incredulous snort and swallowed the strawberry in my mouth, still gagging slightly over the taste.
"It's an acquired taste," Victoria said, eating another three or so of the fruits.
"I r-r-realized," I replied, wiping the juice from my mouth with a splutter. I turned my head to the side when she threw another at me, causing the red juice to smear along my cheek, "D-don't go s-s-starting a f-food f-fight," I chided half-teasingly. In retaliation to my scolding, she threw several more at me, laughing loudly.
Now throw some back! Quaxo thought eagerly, snickering to himself as my arm reflexively jerked towards a strawberry plant in response to his desire for starting a food fight. I sighed and dodged another fruit, settling myself behind a cardboard box.
It wasn't that I was upset to have cheered Victoria up, or that I wouldn't have allowed myself to join in a food fight, but she seemed so awfully happy so awfully soon. I was puzzled, to say the least; shouldn't she still be upset over breaking up with Plato?
"You k-k-know," I began, winding my fingers together nervously, "I...uh, have t-to g-g-go somewhere now-w. Th-th-thank you for the fruit."
She nodded, albeit a bit suspiciously, and went inside, leaving me to walk home with time to ponder her strange behaviour.
I have no idea. I thought I understood queens, for Everlasting's sake! Quaxo muttered, seeming – if possible – more confused than I was. I shrugged lightly and frowned.
No one understands queens, I answered softly, kicking a can absently and watching it bounce across the rocky ground. We were nearly home and I was looking forward to getting to bed before Mom woke up and realized we'd gone out. She would most certainly assume the worst and suppose Quaxo was out getting sloshed again.
Hey! he snapped, I resent that!
It's only your fault. Every time Mom lets you out of the house when it's not for school, you go and get yourself so drunk you pass out. Where else is she supposed to think you're going? I retorted, scoffing. If he had jut shown some restraint, if he couldn't quit drinking altogether, then he wouldn't be in AA, either. But of course, the rewards are always greater than the risks to him.
Hmph. He grouched, saying nothing. I suspected it was because he knew everything I'd thought was only the truth, and I was only being honest, if brutally so. And he deserved all of it, for forcing the desire for drink upon me as well as himself. I'd not asked to become a drunkard, and he was making it that much harder for me to ignore his addiction.
Finally, just as the moon was reaching its peak in the night sky, meaning it was around midnight or one o'clock, I reached our house and sneaked inside, flinching every time a floorboard creaked or I ran into something. It always seems to be when you are trying to be stealthy when whatever grace you have leaves you and you turn into a bumbling klutz.
I sneaked into our room and flopped down onto my bed, ready for a good night's sleep. Unfortunately, Quaxo had other ideas.
You know, he began, You are just as likely to become an alcoholic as I ever was. I remember how much you liked the champagne at Bustopher's holiday dinner; you wanted to ask for another glass but you didn't. And how could I forget the Thanksgiving wine fiasco before that? Didn't you drink nearly two glasses of the stuff? Mom had a heck of a time getting you home, as I recall.
I flushed red and frowned; he had a point, but there was no way I would ever admit something like that to him. I was the intelligent one, the intuitive one. He was the drunkard. Not me. Never me.
So I like wine and had a little too much once upon a time. I don't get drunk every chance I get, and I wouldn't if I wanted to. Besides, I couldn't afford to pay for an addiction to it; my tastes are far too expensive for a teenager's allowance. It's not like I can run into a quality liquor shop or raid Uncle's cellar anyway. And why would I? It was silly of you to even suggest it, and especially for me to give you a response. I thought loftily, not realizing how childish and arrogant I was sounding in my embarrassment. Though, Quaxo most certainly did, and he pointed it out as soon as I quieted.
You'd get used to the cheap stuff, or you would end up raiding Uncle's cellar. It's as simple as that. You could just as easily have been the one in AA as I could've. I just happen to have cheaper tastes in booze and that's...oh, wow! I sound intelligent! At that, he was completely sidetracked, spending at least five minutes on how rare it was that he made sense or could best me in a battle of wills, Wait. What was I talking to you about?
Something silly and irrelevant, I answered, not wanting to be berated by the drunk on how easily I could have been in his place and he in mine. I did not care to dwell on what might have been. He was an alcoholic and I was not. End of story. Not to mention, my low self-esteem didn't need to take another hit.
No, wait! I think I remember! He thought excitedly, We were talking about how easily you could've-
Good night, Quaxo, I interrupted him, rolling onto my side so I could sleep before school in the morning.
But- he whined softly.
Good. Night.
Night, then.
