Moving houses in the heat of Southern American summer...#ImMelting
Small patches of soft blue stretched beneath sheets of grey stratus, drifting lazily in the chilling breeze. Dimmsdale civilians went about their morning routines for school and work, prepping for the start of another weekly grind. The platinum blonde held knees to her chest at one end of her walk-in closet, mentally prepping herself for another day of elementary. Seated within four dark walls across from her godmother's Indian style, pretending the outside world was a figment if but for a few minutes.
"How ya doin', Chlo-bird?" Since they'd have to leave for school pretty soon, Susie wanted to inquire on her godchild's wellbeing.
Blue eyes wilted in rue, Chloe gave a hoarse reply "…there's something wrong with me."
"Not in a punishable way."
"…feels like a punishment for not being good enough."
"Oh, Chlo…" Susie knew Chloe was referring to her recent diagnosis that made her inadequate. She scooted towards her godchild as Chloe hid her chin into her knees. Reaching a tender arm, Susie drew Chloe close to her, contemplating what she should say next if anything at all. Receptive this motherly embrace, Chloe subconsciously rested her head on the left of Susie's chest. Soothed by the mild, rhythmic pulse beneath her purple blouse.
"…think I know a little of what you're going through."
Chloe looked up when she heard the tentativeness in her godmother's voice "…really?"
"…one of the worst years of my long life." Susie was slow to respond, treading on uncertain waters. Afraid of revealing too much whilst attempting to relate to her godchild. "In and out of the hospital…had some health problems, but it was mostly stress and anxiety."
Chloe held her curious gaze "…you were really anxious too?"
"A lot." Losing her first and only husband to a senseless mass shooting and then losing the only child conceived from her first true love caused way more than anxiety. In hopes to spare the comparison rabbit hole that could spike Chloe's anxiety however, Susie spared the details. "But I got help. Including therapy."
Susie exuded so much strength, it was difficult for Chloe to imagine moments of weakness. "Were you on medication too?"
"Not the kind Dr. Wahlgren recommends."
"Why?"
"Wasn't what I needed." Susie lifted a gentle finger to brush a loose bang from Chloe's forehead "Doesn't mean you don't."
Reminded of her appointment with a psychiatrist later that week, Chloe's shoulders slumped further, shame furrowed in her downcast brow "…b-but I'm scared."
"Aww," Susie rubbed along Chloe's shoulder. "why ya scared?"
"…w-what if it makes me worse?" her mother's qualms screamed in Chloe's doubts. "What if it makes me a mindless zombie?"
The same finger that brushed the loose bang gently tilted Chloe's chin to meet blue with indigo. "Try not to think about the side effects; try to think about what'll feel like not to panic and just breathe again."
The pair were interrupted by a cautious knock from the bedroom door, hearing the subtle creek of its hinges before a fatherly voice rang out. "Chloe? Where are you?!"
Palpitations tremored in Chloe's chest as she turned back to Susie's comforting grin, and Susie raised her wand before transforming into an indigo necklace hanging from Chloe's neck. It was time to go, to renter the scary world of the troubling unknown.
"Chloe?!"
"I'm here!" her voice cracked the closet, standing to her feet. Centering a bit of herself with a deep breath before she twisted the handle.
Exiting her safe-haven, Chloe spotted the wildlife conservationist in her bedroom doorway dressed for a day's work, hunter-green eyes full of uncommon concern. "Why're you in the closet?"
"Um…" Chloe fidgeted her fingers with slouched shoulders, mentally reprimanding her horrible posture "…taking a breather before school." She focused in on his almost ambivalent nod as his eyes lowered. Worried that she did something he didn't approve of. "…I-I'm sorry."
"Oh, no, it's fine…" Clark bit his lips, meeting the coyness in Chloe's frown "…I'll um…" he carefully considered his words, a rarity that'd become a new habit when it came to his daughter "…I'll be taking you to school from now on."
Anxiety began to bubble in her stomach "…why?"
"So that your mother won't have to." Even though driving Chloe to school would add to his already time-consuming commute to work, Clark hoped that taking this burden off of Connie's shoulders would lessen her many complaints.
Chloe automatically hung her head, shamed of the burden she was clearly causing. Clark let out a crestfallen sigh as he walked over to then kneel before her. "At least we'll get some quality time, huh?" his words led her to raise her frown to his optimistic grin. "Haven't had much of that before."
It was Chloe's turn to bite her lip, fiddling with her indigo necklace. Weakening Clarks' grin, now dubious of his efforts to ease her obvious fret. "Come on." he sighed, standing off his knee. "Don't wanna be late."
With a faint nod, Chloe retrieved her backpack from beside her study desk, carefully strapping her back as she followed her father out of her room.
She kept her distance as Clark pressed the unlock button on the keys to his blue Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway, and Clark walked over to enter the driver's side as Chloe entered the backseat. Ensuring safety first, Clark fastened his seatbelt as soon as she closed the door. He then checked the rearview to make sure Chloe was securely fastened before he inserted the keys into the ignition, roaring the jeep to life, and after switching the gear to drive, the jeep rolled out of the driveway onto main roads.
Splitting his attention between the road and the rearview, Clark could see Chloe's somber gaze fixed on the scenes passing through the passenger window. Lost in her own mind with a thumb in her mouth, a peculiar act that Clark once thought had been left behind with her toddler years. Something Chloe used to do at every instance of distress or discomfort during that developmental age, something Connie would physically slap her hand for because she didn't want Chloe to ruin her own teeth. Joke's on Connie; tooth gaps are dominant on Clark's side of the family and were often corrected with braces.
The next time Clark glanced at the rearview, Chloe quickly removed her thumb and began picking at her arm, guilt etched in her brow back towards the window. She must've caught on to his watchful eye. "…why're you doing that to your arm?"
Restraint proved difficult from the physical tremor in her fingers "…I-I won't do it again."
Seeing his daughter shaking gutted him. Connie kept the fires burning, but he started the spark. He knew he played a large part in Chloe's anxiety. He himself had been raised under the pressures of meeting unrealistic expectations, and only after her diagnosis did he start to see the repercussions. He had to take a hard look at himself, reach into his volt of memories suppressed by how much the vicious cycle of perfectionism screwed with his own head. Now that his eyes had been open to Chloe's own suffering, he couldn't continue this cycle…
Something's gotta give.
Conversations buzzed as students socialized with their respective friend groups at different mobile tables within the cafeteria. While the student body had trays of breaded chicken between flat buns and dry oven-baked potato wedges, Dimmsdale Elementary's most popular occupied the only table adorn in white linen, boasting to one another about their popularity and fortune as they feasted on lobster and garlic butter catered by Henri, the Buxaplenty's most notable chef.
Remy couldn't be bothered with food nor the hollow chatter, seated at the far end of the table to Trixie's left. Chin on folded arms with staring eyes past Chad directly across from him, deaf to Tad's laughter coming from Chad's left at a joke from Veronica on Trixie's right. Too preoccupied with last night's venture inside his nanny's room…
"N-No, Fenwick…" Backed against the wall, Remy pressed palms to Fenwick's chest, trying to push him off "…I don't want that."
"You certainly seemed to want it the other day..." Fenwick teased against the base of Remy's neck, causing Remy to press harder with mustered strength that made him feel weaker when his efforts proved futile when adult fingers shoved themselves in the front of his pajamas.
"I-I just want a hug…"
"This is better than a hug…" Fenwick cooed in his ear "…it always is."
Remy shuddered from his nanny's fingers, looking into brown eyes glowing in their own gratification. Warmth tingled through his skin as Fenwick kept going, and Fenwick slowly edged in tempo the more he felt his lover begin to melt under his touch. It was not long before mint-green clasped in quickened breath, unable to stand the rising pressure begging for release.
Right as he was on the verge of jumping over the edge, fingers removed themselves as the pressure pulsed below his stomach. He blinked as the same thumb that had just left his pajamas reached to brush the corner of his lip.
"See? You're enjoying it already…" Fenwick moved his palm to cup Remy's cheek. "This is why this stays between us. They will think ill of you…" his palm lowered with lips curled tauntingly "…you disgusting little boy."
Disgusting little boy echoed in his mind, the same filthy feeling of rolling in mud for hours crawling in his veins. Gripping his heart in the reproach of unforgivable sin. He said he didn't want it, but…he liked it. How can he like something he didn't want? Fenwick always said it was okay to help each other feel better. If love is supposed to feel good…then why was liking it now a bad thing?
Remy scratched at the side of his hair. Ugh, everything was just screwing with his head…
"Ha, check out the geek squad." Veronica's statement somehow tore through Remy's wallowing, pointing to the trio of brunette, blond, and bald. Walking through the cafeteria with their trays, heading in the direction of the popular kids' table in search for a vacant place to sit.
Without second thought, Chad stuck his foot in the bucktooth boy's path just as he took another step. Timmy stumbled in an audible yelp, tumbling forward onto the tray that caught his fall.
Tad and Veronica joined Chad in mirth as Timmy slowly lifted his chin, spitting out a mouthful of mushed pears as Trixie faked a yawn. "Booooriiiiing."
"What, you like that geek now?" Tad's mocking finger pointed to Timmy who was helped to his feet by Chester and AJ.
"What geek?" Trixie scoffed, shrugging off Timmy's existence as a mere dust particle floating in the air.
Brushing off bread and potato wedge crumbs from his shirt as the popular kids mocked him with points and chuckles, Timmy glared at Trixie's giggle. His reverence for Trixie had faltered from her 'worth at least six figures' comment weeks ago, revealing an unadmirable side to his crush. This certainly knocked her respectability down more pegs. Sophia would be so disappointed in her…
"How old are you all? Five?"
Chuckles dimmed as all eyes turned to the young billionaire that would've been mistaken for missing if he hadn't spoken up.
"You all are so juvenile!" Remy solely regarded the four, utterly annoyed. "It's getting old!"
"Hey, you weren't so above it last year yourself, Bux!" Tad fired back at Remy's condescension.
"Yeah!" Chad agreed with his step-brother. "Now, all tha sudden, you think you're better than us?"
"Of course, he does!" Veronica rolled her neck. "He's a snoot and he knows it!"
Remy slit his brow towards her, clenching his fists. "Am not!"
And Veronica slit her brow back. "Are too! Snob!"
"SHUT up, priss!"
While Trixie had to hold Veronica back from socking him in the mouth, Remy's shout silenced outside conversations, magnetized stares from other kids in the cafeteria. Including those from the platinum blonde seated next to the South Asian and the kid with the boil.
Clenched fists trembling in frustration, he felt their vigilant eyes spotlighting his faults, highlighting his flaws. Judging his whole character with only half the story…
Timmy and his friends watched Remy storm from the table, stomping down the aisle under meddlesome stares. Followed by whispered gossip of spectators as Trixie shot a glare at her friends.
"Why are you guys so mean to him!" Trixie griped as Remy burst through the cafeteria door.
"It's not our fault he acts like he has a stick up his butt!" Tad retorted.
Eyes still on the cafeteria door, Timmy heard a voice loud and clear. Not from his fairies, but from beyond. Guiding him to do something he'd never seek to do on his own. "…what?!"
"You say something?" Chester turned to the pink-hatted boy along with AJ.
"Uhhhh…" Timmy spun to two pairs of suspicious eyes on him. His friends always had his back no matter what, but he just knew his friends would think he'd totally lost his marbles if he told them he was hearing voices. Specifically that of his late sister. They don't even know of his attempt to join her for that reason alone.
"I-I uh…" Yeah, there's no not-weird way of getting outta this… "I-I'll be right back!" He handed his tray to Chester before walking off in Remy's direction, leaving Chester and AJ to share puzzled glances.
Remy banged a nearby locker out with his foot as an irritated grunt escaped. Clawing at his hair in his angered pace back and forth. He was losing it, fast. And he couldn't stop it.
"What is the matter?" the purple watch inquired from his sideline observations. "This is unlike you…"
"Can you please just be quiet!? I just…" Remy trailed off, unsure of what he even had to say next. Jumbled thoughts tumbled in his racing mind, agitating him more.
"…Buxaplenty?"
The young billionaire whipped around to the source of the new presence, seeing the pink-hatted boy's awkward stance by the cafeteria entrance. The heck was Turner of all people doing here?!
"Uh…are you okay?" Timmy sort of asked them both this question, considering he was hearing his dead sister telling him to do this in the first place.
Creasing his brow, Remy turned his back to him, returning to his angered pacing. "Leave me alone."
Timmy could relate to the annoyance of prying, though something (or someone) told him to keep pressing. "Dude, what's with you?"
"None of your business!"
Remy stormed off again, this time in the direction of the popular boy's bathroom. Timmy felt compelled to run after him, close on his tail.
Standing guard by the popular boy entrance, the bouncer held the door open, keeping Remy's momentum going as he ran inside. Immediately pulling the door shut before Timmy's sneaker had a chance to touch the tile. "Nuh-uh, not-popular boy! Denied!"
"What?! Let me in!" Timmy protested, arms dropped to his sides.
"No way, Jose." the bouncer upheld his denial.
"Oh, come on!"
"Don't blame me," the bouncer pulled the popularity chart from the bottomless pit of his back pocket. "blame tha chart!"
Remy rushed into the first stall he saw, slamming the door behind him. Bracing himself with his forehead to clenched fists against the stall door, his chest burning in heavy breaths. Half catching his breath from running, mostly from frustrated rage boiling in his ribs.
Seeing it was highly unlikely to be spotted, Juandissimo poofed into regular form, observing Remy's waning efforts to regain control. This level of Remy's anger was uncharted territory; Juandissimo knew he had to tread lightly. "…is it your parents?"
Remy's slit brow snapped to his godfather, unaware that he'd come out of his disguise. Juandissimo knew by now when not to pry…
Juandissimo heard a grunt growl through tight lips when Remy hit his back against the stall door, lowering his glare with rigid breaths through his nostrils as he crossed arms over his chest. In being Remy's godparent for some time now, if the root of the problem was his parents, Remy had no issue stating as such. And the popular kids don't normally get this far under Remy's skin.
That only left one other source…
"…is it Fenwick?"
"Just shut up!"
Remy's defensiveness confirmed his suspicions. "….so it is Fenwick."
Remy banged his fist against the door in his slide against the door to the tiled floor. Groaning in aggravation when he clasped hands over his head as if protecting himself. His throat burned as much as his chest, his head pounding to the beat of his heart. He was so freaking angry, and he just couldn't pinpoint why.
Juandissimo hovered down to Remy's level, keeping his tone soft "…Remy, háblame-"
"Piss off!"
The godfather was not fazed by Remy's outburst. Millenniums of godparenting had taught him the difference between bratty behavior and projecting. Folding his arms, he kept his face solid as stone. Hints of assertion in his leveled tone. "I will lock us both in here until you tell me what is going on."
"What?!" Remy's eyes widened when he looked up before they creased once more. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Do not tempt me."
Remy held his glare for the longest time, thinking if he kept his guard, Juandissimo would back down. The heck did he care anyway?! Revealing his existence would make him go away forever, just to be reassigned to another pathetic kid. He was just another magic paycheck; why was Juandissimo acting like this was more than what it really is!?
The longer time passed, the more he felt his defenses crumble under Juandissimo's unwavering eyes. Blue-violets firm, borderline intimidating. Vibrant in their earnest. It was so uncomfortable…which…was probably the point. Sheesh, not even Fenwick had ever been this persistent when it came to stuff like this…
They will think ill of you…you disgusting little boy.
Remy's glare softened to a grimace, scooting knees to his chest. "…y-you wouldn't understand…"
To this, Juandissimo had just one response. "Try me."
"Alright, class, I got around to grading your Practice Reading Assessments…" Mr. Crocker held each students' test from more than a week ago. "While some of you passed with flying colors," he handed AJ his perfect score "and others did pretty well," he set Chloe's test before her on her desk, intently skipping other students to then stand in front of Timmy "some of you better pray you make it to 6th grade."
Mr. Crocker pressed Timmy's F to his forehead in a short cackle, Timmy snatching the F off his forehead as Mr. Crocker moved on to the next row of students, starting by handing Chester his C+.
Nerves quivered into her fingers at the 83B marked in red across the top page. She'd never scored anything below an 89! 83?! How disgraceful! How abhorrent! Chloe inhaled through her nostrils, exhaling through trembling lips before her nerves heightened into panic. With this low of a grade, her straight A streak bordered forbidden B-average territory. Tensions in the house were high enough, and now this catastrophe…
The last student in the class received their test before the last bell of the day signaled dismissal, Chloe jerking slightly from the blare in her ears. Students gathered their belongings, vigorous to escape their scholastic prison. So ready to get the heck up outta there, Timmy carelessly scooped his test and notebook into his backpack, scooting out of his desk when he noticed the young billionaire out his peripheral. Paused at his desk, Timmy looked on as Remy adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder, a ring of red around puffy eyes lowered in his quiet strides past him out of the classroom.
As Sanjay and Elmer approached their friend's desk, Elmer was the first to notice her subtle shaking. "…what's wrong, Chloe?"
"Nothing…" Chloe muttered, putting her test face down. Inhaling a trembling breath that exhaled through tight lips.
"Are you feeling anxious again?"
Chloe turned to Sanjay's inquiry, hoping her expression wasn't too rude. The two of them had basically 21 questioned the truth out of her that morning, asking about her diagnosis and the debacle that was her follow-up appointment. Now, any time she appeared the slightest bit worried, her sanity was questioned, and mostly by Sanjay. Sanjay was a nice kid, but admittedly, his good intentions can be somewhat annoying.
"…yeah…" Then again, she couldn't really lie anymore. Apart from either omitting or 'flubbing' the truth. "But I'll be okay."
After a sneeze into his arm, Elmer sniffed as he asked "You sure?"
"Mhmm…"
"…okay." Elmer started to follow Sanjay towards the classroom exit. "We'll see ya tomorrow."
Chloe forced a smile to their friendly wave, allowing it to wither the moment their backs were turned.
Being one of the last to gather his belongings, AJ looked over at his desk neighbor. Attune to the worry stretched in her brow as she unzipped her backpack to place her notebook inside. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing…" Sometimes, she wished everyone would go back to not caring who she was rather than everyone constantly asking if she was as crazy as she felt.
"Why the long face?"
"I said it's noth-" AJ didn't ask for permission when he snatched her test from her desk. "Hey!"
AJ caught a glimpse of her grade, looking up when she snatched her test back. "You do know a B's not failing, right?"
"…have you met my parents?" Chloe cynically referenced the Brain-A-Thon where AJ got a mere taste of her daily dose.
"Y'know, most teachers appreciate a students' dedication to their education," They both turn to 5th grade teacher carrying his packed briefcase, locking the drawer to his desk. "but I'd very much like to get the heck out of here!"
"Wait!" Chloe held her test as she nearly stumbled out of her chair. "I-I'd like to talk to you about my grade…"
With a huff, Mr. Crocker dropped his briefcase atop his desk, and AJ took his cue as he wished Chloe good luck, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"Alright…" Mr. Crocker waited for AJ to shut the door behind him, dreading every minute of this conversation "…what is it."
"…i-it's about my 83." Chloe took meek steps towards her teacher's desk, the stack of paper wobbling faintly in her grasp.
"What about it."
"It's um…" her fingers clenched in their grip, forcing steady hands "…I-I was wondering h-how I can improve."
"Well, Chloe, you're a smart kid." Mr. Crocker removed his glasses, wiping the smudge with his shirt. "But you're not the best test taker."
Chloe internally cringed at that criticism. "…w-well…" licking her dry lips, she shut her eyes but for a moment. Swallowing anxiety back down her throat "…w-what about extra credit?"
He readjusted his glasses over his aloof stare "…for what."
She stalled apprehensively "…to…raise my grade?"
As if her nerves were not bad enough, Mr. Crocker crackled in her face. Like her internal torment was some amusing sitcom. "In alllll my years of teaching, I have never had a student ask to raise their grade from an A to an A."
"Please, Mr. Crocker!" Chloe begged, hands planted on his desk with her test beneath her palm. "Without extra credit, my average will go down, and if my average goes down, my parents will be upset with me, and if my parents are upset with me, I'll never hear the end of it!"
After lifting his glasses to wipe a tear from laughter, Mr. Crocker grabbed his briefcase, giving Chloe the most caring, most genuine, most heartfelt words she will ever hear in her entire life. "That sounds like a personal problem."
"Mr. Crocker!" No matter her cries, Mr. Crocker practically skipped in his exit. The lone girl was now abandoned with the empty comfort of vacant desks. Anticipating guaranteed parental backlash as shallow breaths bounced off hollow space, echoing around her.