I know, I'm sorry, it's been a while, but we back wit anotha one. A short chapter, but I didn't want it to be longer than need be. Saving that for the next doozy of a chapter.
Addressing the last review; I dunno if I made this clear, but I take the label "Alternate Universe" quite literally. I know the Turners on the show are not the complete asshats that I write, but that's why it's called Fanfiction.
Rolling to a stop in front of the Flagstaff camper, Vicky set the gearshift to 'park' before twisting the ignition to shut the engine's rumble. She leaned back against the headrest in a low sigh before she turned in her seat to the raven-haired girl in the back, lost eyes out staring out the window as a subconscious thumb brushed along the teal metal surface of her bracelet.
Vicky hadn't heard a peep from the nine-year-old the entire ride home from school. In fact, she hadn't heard her voice the entirety of her living with them. Perhaps it was the sudden shift from religious captivity to worldly freedom, the tug-of-war between the family who shunned her and the family who saved her, memories from multiple years of maltreatment, or all the above. Vicky would be lying if she said she wasn't the least bit worried.
"C'mon, Tootie." Vicky's calm yet firm call stirred a tiny jolt in the little girl, snapping her back before Tootie gathered her backpack without a word. She stepped out of the pickup with just her wallet and keys, waiting for Tootie to take her time jumping down from the backseat before pressing the fob to lock the truck.
Using her other keys to unlock the entrance door, the Byrne sisters enter inside, hearing soft snores from behind the navy curtains blocking off the back bedroom. Vicky walked further inside with light feet as Tootie carefully closed the door upon her entry, trying not to make too much noise as to not disturb their uncle.
"You hungry?" Vicky questioned in a low voice, looking over her shoulder to Tootie shaking her head just as a sudden ravenous growl gurgled from the little girl's stomach. "Thought so." Vicky offered a light smirk before searching through the upper cabinets for a snack for them both.
Tootie made her way to sit at the table booth, retrieving her notebook from her backpack along with a black pen. Vicky opened each cabinet door, just to find one lone EasyMac cup left. Uncle Vic was saving a larger grocery run for when his next paycheck came which wasn't for another four days. Vicky had started up babysitting again for some cash in the interim, though with Thanksgiving around the corner, not many parents needed her services…until the Nokia 3310 rang.
Reaching for the Nokia at the end of the short kitchen counter, Vicky recognized the flashing caller ID and pressed the center button to accept the call, making sure not to talk too loudly "…hello, Mrs. Turner."
"Hi, Vicky." she heard the syrupy-sweet of Susanne on the other line. "How are you?"
"Fine." Vicky's cheek held the phone against her shoulder in her step towards the fridge, hoping to find some sort of snack in there.
"Are you busy?"
"Not really." Her little hope sunk at the near desolate fridge.
"Great; I was hoping you'd be able to watch Timmy for a few hours."
Observing her sister's search from the table booth, Tootie then looked to her teal bracelet, and seeing that she already had her godmother's attention, she used her pen to write in her notebook. Rose saw the written words I wish for another EasyMac, and counting this as a wish, Rose waved her wand when Vicky had her back turned to the opened cabinet.
"I'd have to bring Tootie with me." Vicky informed since Mrs. Turner requested that she watch Timmy during the hours that she knew Vic would still be asleep.
"Oh, that's perfectly fine." Mrs. Turner didn't oppose. "It's just that my parents and nephew came back from visiting Ustinkistan and had just called a few minutes ago asking for a ride from the airport. It shouldn't take long."
"The nearest airport is Bakersfield…" Vicky considered the chaotic mix of rush-hour and airport traffic in a city that was already an hour one way not during rush hour. Oh well; more hours equaled more money.
After redacting the wish with her pen, Tootie looked up to Vicky leaning against the edge of the kitchen sink, assuring they would arrive in about thirty minutes before ending the call with Mrs. Turner. Setting the phone back on the counter, Vicky let out another sigh as she turned back to the open cabinet, freezing with a double blink. She could have sworn there was only one EasyMac cup; was the other one tucked behind the whole time or something?
"Hmph." Opting not to think more of it under her time crunch, Vicky grabbed the two EasyMacs to begin prepping them, and while Vicky was occupied, Tootie wrote a 'thank you' to Rose in her notebook.
. . . . . .
Crossing the train track into the familiar suburban neighborhood, Vicky had two thumbs tucked into her jean pockets. Anticipating her first evening back on the job. Whenever she'd babysat when she started living with Uncle Vic, she'd leave the truck for any late nights or just in case she wasn't back in time for him to travel to his night shift. So, she and Tootie traveled on foot, something she never really minded it in the past since it gave her a chance to clear the chaos in her own head.
Speaking of chaos in the head, she glanced over her shoulder to the girl trailing behind with her head hung. Notebook held close to her chest in diffident strides. The Byrnes were not far from the Turners, so Vicky could imagine the rumbling storm in Tootie's mind.
"Tootie." Vicky's call made Tootie's head snap to attention. "Stay close to me, okay?"
Black baby-dolls scurried across cement pavement to catch up, clutching her notebook. She traveled at Vicky's pace as Vicky ruffled her hair, continuing their journey.
Meanwhile, a ten-year-old boy vented to his two magical goldfish in the doom and gloom up in his room. Aware that his bio parents had called his favorite demon beneath an angel's halo to come make his life a living hell whilst they went off to do whatever. They'd given a legitimate reason for leaving, but he honestly didn't care to listen after they'd decided to act like parents and punish him for bringing home yet another failing grade.
"Being left with Vicky is punishment enough! Why do I have to be grounded, too!?"
"Aww, cheer up, champ!" the green-eyed fish smiled, swimming next his wife in front of their purple castle. "You got us, remember?"
"I know…" Timmy folded his arms, groaning in annoyance "…this just sucks."
"Y'know sport, we could…maybe help you with school?" the pink-eyed fish offered, and Timmy arched a skeptical brow.
"Thought I couldn't wish for good grades."
"You can't." Wanda grinned. "That doesn't mean we can't help however possible."
"And by 'we,' she means 'she." Cosmo inserted with a wide smile, turning to Wanda's annoyed brow. "…school is my immortal enemy; you know this!"
"Thanks, guys…" Timmy's somber expression contrasted his gratitude, something Wanda tuned in on.
"…what's wrong?"
"It's not really a 'bad' wrong…" Timmy scratched at his tentative arm.
"Wanna talka 'bout it anyway?" Despite the boy's clear trepidation, Cosmo knew it didn't take much for Timmy to share what was on his mind on account of recently becoming more forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings.
"…you remember earlier today…when I tried to talk to that Buxaplenty kid?"
"Yeah?" Both fairies swam closer to the glass globe of their fishbowl as if the edge of their seats, making Timmy bite his lip.
"…Sophia told me to." he had to mentally restrain his nails from piercing his arm's skin. "I-I dunno what's going on; I don't see her dead in my dreams anymore…and it's like she's right next to me…it's so weird…feels like she's here without being here…y'know?"
Furrowed blue eyes eventually glanced to attentive pink and green who, surprisingly, did not look surprised. "…what."
"…remember when you'd said you 'wish' you could talk to Sophia again?" Wanda recalled.
"Wait…" Timmy's brow furrowed in further consideration "…so am I actually hearing her, or is it all just in my head?!"
"Howa 'bout you ask her a question?" Cosmo happily encouraged, and Timmy allowed his shoulders to ebb, deciding to trust his godfather.
"…uh…Sophie? Can you hear what we're saying right now?"
[I can always hear you, Bubba!]
"Gah!" Blue orbs gawked in his jolt. It literally sounded like she was in the room! Standing right next to him! Weird; for a room that was 70 degrees, it did feel abnormally chilly to his right…
"Sooooooo?" Cosmo broadened his curious smile, along with his equally as curious wife. "What'd she say?!"
Timmy looked to the swimming fish, utterly perplexed "…you mean you guys can't hear her?!"
"Well, you didn't wish 'we' could talk to her again." Wanda's lighthearted response only made Timmy feel even less sane before the trio heard the muffled doorbell from downstairs.
Distracted by the signal that his personal hell had arrived, Timmy went over to his window, propping it open to stick his head out. Gazing down at the redhead teen on the front stoop with a hand on her hip before he scrunched his disbelieving eyes to the raven ponytails peeking from behind black jeans. "…the heck? Why is she here?"
"She who?'" Wanda and her husband came out of their disguise to float on either side of their godchild, soon noticing the purple-specs and braces Timmy was referring to as they watched his mother open the front door.
"Why, hello there!" Susanne kneeled to the little girl who had her arm snaked around Vicky's lower knee, genuinely glad to see her physical wounds completely healed. "How have you been, sweetheart?"
Awkward silence led Vicky to look down at her sister's cower behind her leg. Vicky could relate to your personal life being a sore subject, knowing Tootie didn't mean to be rude. "It's been rough…" she spoke for them both, keeping details of the upcoming disfellowship and CPS warfare vague as she then met Mrs. Turner's concerned expression. "…but we're all getting through it."
"That's good at least." Susanne stood to her feet. "And thank you again for coming on such short notice."
"No biggie." Vicky shrugged, seeing Daran approach from behind his wife. A roll of 20s in his hand, stifled resentment in his brow.
"No video games, no TV, and no internet." Daran prefaced sternly. Still sour from the lecture he didn't want to give to the little thorn in his side. "He needs to finish his homework if he knows what's good for him."
"Sure thing." It wasn't easy for Vicky to hide her unenthusiasm. Making sure some kid did their homework was such a snooze fest. With Tootie with her, she knew she'd have to tone down. Her little sister suffered enough violence in her life.
Leaving his fairies in his room, the bucktoothed boy approached the rails of the landing, his soft glare watching his mother wave goodbye to the girls, ensuring they'd be back soon as Vicky ushered Tootie inside the home. Once Daran closed the door behind him upon their exit, Tootie scanned the semi-familiarity of the living room. Remembering the one and only time she'd ever stepped foot inside. Remembering the insufferable pain…
"The heck you lookin' at!" Vicky's raised voice jerked her eyes to the pink-hatted boy from the landing. Averting his slant brow when insecurity squeezed her notebook tighter to her chest.
"The heck is she doing here?!" Timmy retorted. He didn't actually care, but some bible freak stepping foot in his house unannounced wasn't a common occurrence.
"She is none of your concern!" Vicky snarled in defense. "And if you mess with her, it's your butt! Got it?!"
With gritted teeth, Timmy grumbled towards his room. Already knee deep in his parents' antipathy, he'd be wise to pick his battles. "Whatever…"
"And don't let me catch you watch anything but your mouth!" Vicky gave a final warning before the walls tremored from the force of a slammed door.
Seeing her sister shudder out the corner of her gaze, Vicky approached the girl frozen in the center of the living room. Kneeling to take her by both arms that tensed by her touch as Tootie averted anxious eyes, biting down on her lower lip. Did toning it down also mean no yelling too?! How else was she to assert her dominance, then?!
"The Turners have channels with cartoons that we can't get at home." Vicky baited a distraction, Tootie's timid stare raised. "Wanna watch that?"
Considering secular cartoons were forbidden in her last household, it was difficult for the little girl to muster any excitement.
"You've clearly lost your mind bringing this atrocity home!"
Connie wielded the red 83 marked next to the scarlet letter B, her husband Clark standing sternly next to her. Their daughter Chloe cornered within four yellow walls of the living room in her stance of pure shame. When the Carmichaels had come home after their respective twelve to thirteen-hour shifts, they'd entered to Chloe's back turned as she washed the dishes, self-deprecation oozing from her slouched shoulders. As expected, Connie was not pleased with her poor posture. Little did she know, that would be the least of her complaints.
Chloe felt her chest implode under crushing compression. Self-confidence compressed by the weight of her dad's stern brow and her mom's venomous tongue. "I-I studied and studied-"
"THIS is not the performance of someone who studied!" Her mother shoved the 83 in her face, ignorant to Clark's disapproving glare that, for once, was not aimed at Chloe.
"I-I know!" her hazing vision almost exemplified her next explanation. "B-but I get dizzy and I can't breathe a-and I can't concentrate-"
"You know I hate excuses!" Connie's face radiated red in her protruding neck vein. Chloe knew better; Chloe knows better! How dare she make a mockery of a Carmichaels' intelligence with this pitiful excuse to be lazy!
For a second, anxiety boiled in anger. She was a failure, there was no excusing that. But what irritated Chloe was her mother's blatant disregard for her suffering. "Didn't you hear what I just said?!"
"Raise your voice to an adult like that again and see what happens!"
"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" Clark spoke for the first time since this 'lecture' began, crossed arms as tense as his tone. It was unlike their Chloe to let her grades slip, but in being more aware of what they know now, did Connie ever think for a second that there might be a legitimate reason?
Showcasing her true vile nature, Connie shot him a nasty glower. "If Chloe can't handle this, then she's more pathetic than I thought!"
Thumps of her racing heart pulsed in her ears, palms clammy from rising heat. Stomach clenched in a sharp pain from the gutting blow to her self-worth. "Breathe, Chlo-bird…" she heard her indigo necklace coax through her inner ear pounding, yet her stiff lungs were finishing preparations for their breathing strike.
"Do you hear yourself?!" Clark confronted his wife, glaring dead in her eye. "Think about what you're saying!"
"I am not to blame for Chloe's failure!" Connie shot back to her husband, pointing an accusing finger at the girl near hyperventilation. "We both know Chloe is capable of more than this trash!"
Holding clammy palms to her head to keep the room from spinning, Chloe bent over, clamping her eyes shut. Attempting to count to ten through the building fog in her mind, shallow breaths shortening into pained gasps for air.
"Oh, stop the dramatics!" Connie chastised, her bellow unforgiving.
"You're one to talk!" Clark defended, utterly frustrated at his wife's insensitivity.
Another senseless argument ensued between the feuding couple. Amplifying Chloe's erratic breaths as her knees grew weak. Buckling in her drop to the ground, clawing at her chest, begging for more air.
"Chloe!" Clark noticed his daughter's fall and ran to her rescue, dropping to her level before he held her by the shoulders. Gentle yet firm, he then cupped her face. Guiding her frantic eyes to him in hopes to help her focus on one thing and one thing only. "Breathe, Chloe."
"I-I can't!" she cried, eyes brimming tears.
"You can." he reassured her. "Into your nose, hold it, then out of your mouth."
Her eyes drifted just long enough to catch her mother's eye roll in her annoyed stance behind them, hearing the mumble of how ridiculous this is under spiteful breath.
"Hey, focus right here." Clark lightly snapped Chloe's attention back on him by shifting her face between his palms. "Breathe in, breathe out…"
The pain in her chest caused much struggle, yet Chloe did her best to do as told. Except her lungs felt frozen in anxious ice, refusing to expand. Clark's outline began to blur, fading into the dark haze circling in. She tried to blink the onset of faint away, but even that took more energy than she had.
Sensing his daughter on the verge of passing out, Clark acted quickly by scooping her weak body into his arms. Carrying her to the couch where he positioned the back of her head against the turquoise armrest.
Connie's vexed brow was not pleased with this 180 her husband pulled. "You're coddling her?! She's not a baby anymore!"
"One of us should care about our daughter!" Clark spun his gritted chin towards his wife, hunter-green flared in frustration.
"She needs to grow up!"
"You need to stop being so heartless!"
The escalating yelling match reduced to heavy muffles when darkness claimed all sense of consciousness…
. . . . . .
Perched in her booby bird cage, Susie faced the single window where the half-moon cast a soft, blue glow throughout pink walls shrouded in night's dawn. Tinting the once pale skin of her godchild that had since regained most of its color in her sound sleep. When the Carmichaels could stop yelling each other's faces off for two seconds, Chloe's father had moved her from the couch to her bed once he assured her breathing hadn't stopped completely, something Susie never expected from Clark even with his recent change in mindset. She did expect the argument to continue soon after, most of it taking place right outside Chloe's closed door.
Thankfully, Chloe was too gone to overhear the heated exchange; Susie had heard some foul things from Chloe's mother, but sheesh. She wholeheartedly believed that her daughter had "pretended" to pass out just to get out of trouble. She called Chloe's attack some ridiculous "juvenile act." Kept yelling at her unresponsive daughter to stop being a useless brat. All the while slighting Clark's character simply because he chose to act like a concerned parent for once. Like giving a shit about your own child was a crime.
In her many lifetimes of godparenting, Susie had never heard a mother speak so foul of her own daughter. Towards her daughter. It made her sick to her stomach; not every woman is blessed with the ability to bear children. Women like Connie constantly shit all over that.
When the arguing had finally died down and the house grew unnaturally quiet, Susie would come out of her disguise every now and then to make sure Chloe was still breathing. She lay so still beneath her bedding, like a body tucked inside their final resting place. So…lifeless. So peaceful. She'd been out long enough for the evening sun to set, yet Susie couldn't dare wake her. Chloe needed this reset, physically and mentally.
Just as she held her wand to poof into fairy form, rose blankets shifted from a drowsy stir. "Hey, Chlo-bird…" the booby bird greeted sweetly when sunken eyes blinked slowly. Warm grin wilting at the unsettling sight of weary baby-blue fixed in their unblinking stare. Receiving no response before she poofed out of her disguise to hover by Chloe's bedside "…you okay, hun?"
Chloe mustered the strength to sit up with wobbling arms. Parting lips that trembled the moment she croaked "…i-it's all my fault…"
Concerned for her godchild's glistening eyes, Susie floated down and sat carefully beside her. "…what's your fault?"
"…m-my parents are fighting…" tears trickled down, both hands scrunching the sheets. Overcome with the guilt trembling her voice "…because of me."
"Oh, Chloe…" motherly instincts embraced the child's shoulders rocked in the eruption of the heaviest sobs much too powerful for her little body to contain in its withered cage. Gripping the sheets to keep it together, just to fall apart from inner chaos and despair desperate to get out.
For hours, Chloe cried the most she'd ever been allowed to cry.