Chapter 8: The Heian Era Car
"Wooow!" The train cars never ceased to leave Mary struck with awe. "It's a car full of boxes!" Mary exclaimed, when the trio walked into the next car. Aside from one large, open path, the car consisted of nothing but piles and mountains of empty cardboard boxes. There was no sign of a ceiling, so it looked as though the boxes were reaching right into heaven. Many of them had indistinct labels that nobody recognized.
Vic bristled, crouching down on top of Blanca's head. "Ugh. Those things look like they might fall over at the slightest touch," His voice trembled as he spoke. All of the boxes were bigger than he was, and he was sure they'd kill him if they were to topple over, even though they were all empty.
Mary looked up at the towering boxes, and none of them wobbled. One box near the bottom caught her attention. It was open, lop-sided, and laying on its side. A little fun didn't hurt, right? With that thought in mind, Mary crawled over to the box, placed it on her head, stood back up, arms raised, and gave a mock monster roar.
"Raaawr! I am the Box Monster!" Mary proclaimed, lowering her voice, though her monster impression wasn't very convincing, not that she cared. "Fear me, lowly mortals!"
Blanca gave a chuckle. "My word! What a terrifying beast!" She pretended to coil backward in fear, raising her arms up as though she were under attack, though she made no effort to sound convincingly frightened. She was smiling the entire time. "Whatever shall we do?"
Gradually, Vic's body relaxed as he leaped off of Blanca's head and onto Mary's box helmet. "Lucky for me, I can chew through boxes easy!" He exclaimed, immediately chomping down on the cardboard, and at a faster speed than regular hamsters. His teeth cut through the limp material, and within fifteen seconds, he was able to make a hole as big as he was.
It was easy for Mary to get into character. She fell to her knees and gave another faux monster growl. "Nooo! I've been defeated by a pesky rodent! Woe is me and my sad destinyyyyy!" Mary cried out with melodramatic flourish.
As soon as her spiel ended, all three of them broke into laughter, with the box falling off of Mary as she did so. Vic rolled off the box and laughed right out loud as he fell on his back. Eventually, the laughter died down, and Mary got back up, with Vic crawling back onto her shoulder.
"I wonder how much farther the exit is," Blanca mused. "Since we're going straight, I can only assume we're bound to see it fairly soon."
Once Mary got to walking again, she squinted her eyes to see further in. At first, she didn't see anything other than more boxes, but gradually, a red door came into view. "I see it!" Mary exclaimed, pointing to the exit. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the trio made it. Mary took it upon herself to open the doors this time around, humming to herself as she skipped outside.
"Another day, another magical train car!" Mary stopped to spin around, her joy at seeing another fun car bubbling over like soda fizz.
The girl only took two steps onto the bridge when the black railing suddenly retracted into the bridge. Blanca saw it and gasped.
"Mary!" Blanca screamed as she sprouted an arm, wrapped it around Mary, and pulled her right off the bridge. It happened so fast, Mary had almost no time to process the situation. She did see the bridge disconnecting, with both halves folding into the train cars they were attached to. Thankfully, Blanca pulled Mary back to safety, and the three of them watched wide-eyed as the train car in front of them folded its wheels in, rose into the air, and disappeared behind the car they just went through.
"Whoa! Are you okay, Mary?" Vic inquired as Blanca pulled her arm back into herself. "You almost fell off the bridge!"
"I did?" Mary's brain reeled, as if struggling to catch up to the scene that had played out before her. A new bridge connected the train car they stood up, linking up with another one right in front of them. The girl's heart pounded in her chest, harder than it usually did. If Blanca hadn't pulled her back when she did, Mary was sure she would have fallen off the train and grounded into a pancake by the wheels. Only when she finally managed to process the gravity of what might have happened did she realize how dangerous what happened just now was.
"Thanks, Blanca," Mary murmured, holding Mimi tight to her chest.
The giant marshmallow smiled as she rubbed Mary's hair with the same hand she used to save her just now. "I'm just happy you're safe," Blanca told her reassuringly. "But I do wonder what happened just now. None of the train cars we've been through have done this before."
At this point, Mary didn't want to think about it. Just the thought of falling off the disconnecting bridge made her feel like she was right at death's door. She clutched onto Mimi and tried to rock the fear out of her system, reminding herself that she was safe and not going to die. One-One's warning replayed through her mind, that passengers could very easily just fall off the train and die, with nobody ever knowing it. As much as she liked being on the train and away from Dana, no way did she want to die here. Not when she still had a life to live.
"Why can't you be more careful, Mary?!" Once again, her mother's enraged voice bellowed in the confines of her mind. Mary's body turned sluggish, and her whole being felt heavy and numb. She was sure if her mother were here, she'd use this as an opportunity to scold her on how she should have known better than to run into something dangerous, even when Mary had no idea it even was dangerous, especially if nobody told her about it beforehand.
"Mary?" Blanca whispered, sensing the girl's distress. "Are you alright?"
Mary couldn't bring herself to say anything. But she was able to manage a slow nod. Blanca's warm presence alone was enough to make her body relax. At least around Blanca, Mary didn't feel like she was continually walking on eggshells, afraid that the slightest crack would send her into a frenzy. After a few minutes, Mary rocked herself back into the present.
"Sorry about that," Mary said as she stood back up, adjusting the straps on her backpack.
"There's no need to apologize for being scared," Blanca reassured her once again.
All of a sudden, Vic let out a yelp, tapping his fist against his palm. "Oh! I think I know what happened just now!" He announced out of nowhere. "Some passengers told me that the train sometimes shuffles the cars around every now and again. Nobody knows why, though."
"Really? It can do that?" Mary wondered aloud.
Blanca could only shrug. "Who knows?"
Once the three of them took a minute to reorient themselves, they crossed the new bridge to the next train car. Blanca decided to open the red door this time around. Upon traipsing inside, all three of them found themselves stopping in their tracks, in awe of the sight laid before them. A turquoise sky reached farther than the eye could see. Trees adorning billowing clouds of pink cherry blossoms lined stone paths, bright red bridges over clear ponds, and immaculate gardens. Brown roofed shinden-zukuri houses and mansions took up most of the flat landscape, but they were no less captivating to the trio. Everyone's jaws hung open as they took in the amazing, picturesque town spread out before them.
"Ooooh," Mary was speechless. For a moment. "No contest, this is the best train car ever, and the prettiest!" She originally pegged the Sweets Car as the best one by virtue of it having endless candy and sweets, but this...replication of an old Japanese town from a thousand years ago dethroned the former. It almost looked like the town from an anime that Reagan had shown her once, but couldn't quite remember which one.
"The tree flowers are absolutely breathtaking," Blanca mused, wiping off some pink petals that had fallen on her head.
"They're cherry blossoms!" Mary exclaimed, raising her hand like she was in school. "That's what they are!"
Vic gathered a few stray petals from Blanca's head into a bundle. "I wonder if I can eat these?" He examined the thin, delicate petals in his fingers.
"You can probably grind them with herbs," Blanca suggested with a smile.
"Yeah, that sounds plausible."
Mary's face scrunched up in disgust. Who would ever want to eat flower petals? As much as she liked flowers, she couldn't fathom why anyone would want to eat flower petals. Birds and rodents were one thing, but people? Mary shook her head to push the image out of her mind. Further up, the trio could see a group of white haired women dressed in tall, black hats and brightly colored kariginu and suikan dancing in slow, drawn out movements, with folded fans in their hands. Men's hands tapped against wooden drums, and some other people played high pitched music on their wooden flutes. There was one woman with long black hair that cascaded far past her ankles, draped in colorful robes, playing a brown, guitar-like instrument Mary didn't recognize.
"Wow...so pretty!" Mary stopped to watch, entranced by the performance playing out before her. But when she got closer, she noticed something odd.
She saw lines on the denizens' mouths going down to their chins. Their skin looked wooden. It wasn't until she saw one dancer's sleeves fall to expose their arm that it made more sense. These denizens were wooden mannequins, complete with ball joints in their arms, only life-sized and moving like regular people. Were they elaborate puppets? Mary didn't see any strings attached to them, so maybe they were sentient, like Blanca. If they weren't puppets, how were they even moving? Even as questions lingered in her mind, Mary still couldn't help but watch the slow, choreographed performance. She had to admit, whatever these performances were, they were a lot quieter and more refined than the loud, flashy rock concerts Reagan would watch on the internet.
Vic hopped off of Blanca's head and onto Mary's backpack, scuttling onto her shoulder to watch. "What are they?" He asked.
"I don't know, but I like them!" Mary replied, unable to remove her gaze from the dance.
A low, gurgly rumble from Vic's stomach was able to do so. Vic held both paws to his stomach, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
"What?! I haven't had anything to eat in a while!" Vic barked.
Mary winced.
"Why don't we find a place to sit down and have lunch?" Blanca suggested. "It's so beautiful here, I think it'd be lovely to eat under the cherry blossoms."
Both Vic and Mary exchanged knowing glances and nodded. No argument there. It helped that before they went through the box car, they went through a train car that was full of vegetables, both sentient and non-sentient, and the denizens even gave them small bags of whichever vegetables they wanted. Vic thanked them for their kindness by giving them a second edition copy of a rare dictionary he had with him, which made his backpack a lot lighter than it was previously. The trio walked around for a while and managed to find a flat meadow underneath one particularly beautiful cherry blossom tree. The air was fresh with the scent of dewy grass. The three of them sat down and got to eating.
The only vegetables Mary received were some slices of lettuce and carrots chopped into tiny pieces, but since she actually liked them, this was perfectly fine with her. Mary consumed the carrots first, as her father once said that carrots were good for one's eyes. They were hard, but not so hard that she couldn't chew through them, and they felt like they had been dipped in water. Just the way she liked them. But as she ate, she still couldn't quite take her eyes off the dancers draped in white and red. She chewed her food as slowly as possible, wanting to watch them for as long as humanly possible. Had she stayed at home, she never would have seen something like this. Probably not in her entire lifetime. She found herself grateful that she hopped onto the Infinity Train.
Once she finished her food, inspiration struck. She opened her backpack and rummaged through it, pulling out a purple mechanical pencil and a notebook. She laid it down on the grass, positioned herself so she laid down on her stomach, and immediately began writing. The lead-tipped mechanical pencil created letters, words, and then sentences, and Mary's hand seemed to come to life as she jotted down sentence after sentence. It was as if ideas were pouring out of her head like someone had spilled a jug of water, and she needed to get them out before she lost them. Time seemed to disappear around her as Mary continued to write. She didn't even notice Vic scuttling up to her until he spoke.
"What'cha doin', Mary?" Vic asked.
"Writing a story, maybe," Mary replied.
Vic crawled closer to get a look at what Mary had written.
The white haired fairy, in her crimson and ivory robes, flew across the sky, her dainty wings catching the pink petals that fell from the trees. A rain of flowers, just the way she liked them. Sunlight made her delicate wings sparkle as she danced. Far away, she could see the tall towers, with their red roofs rising into the sky, like they could touch the clouds. To the humans down below, she was just a suttle glimmer of light.
"You spelled subtle wrong," Vic pointed out.
"I did?" Mary erased the offending word in question. "How do I spell it?"
"S-U-B-T-L-E," Vic sounded out every letter. Mary quickly wrote it down, but found herself confused.
"Why do they spell it with a B when they don't even use it in the word?" Mary asked. "My teacher says some letters in some words are silent, but why put them in there at all if you don't use them?"
Vic pounded on his chest, ready to answer her question. "It's to change how the word is pronounced. For example, the word fin, like a fish fin, sounds exactly how it should, but the word fine, with the e at the end, isn't pronounced the same way. The E at the end of fine is silent, but it changes the pronunciation of the vowel by lengthening it."
Although befuddled by Vic's verbose word choice, she seemed to get the gist of what he was saying. "So adding letters you don't use makes people say it differently or makes the word sound longer?"
"Pretty much," Vic confirmed before stealing a glance at Mary's writing again. "Is this a story you're writing?"
"Kinda. I only just came up with the idea, though," Mary answered. "I don't know what I wanna do with it yet."
Vic shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that," He said. "You've got potential as a writer, that's for sure. You said you want to be one, right?"
"Yep! Sure do!" Mary exclaimed with glee. "I want to draw comic books too, but my drawings stink. There's this kid I go to school with, Greg, who draws way better than me and no matter how much I practice, I can't seem to draw people right. Even in art class. They all wind up looking like blobs."
Having heard the conversation, Blanca inched over to chime in. "There's nothing wrong with having different skill sets. Some people are good at art and music, and others are good at writing and building things," Blanca reassured. "What's important is that you recognize the things you're good at and cultivate your skills and talents as you grow up. People aren't born good at everything."
Blanca raised a good point. Mary knew she wasn't born able to read and write right off the bat. That was something people had to learn from the ground up. But Mary did take some pride in the writing skills she did have right now. In school, she always got good grades on every spelling test she ever got, barring a few words she didn't spell right, but those instances were rare. It helped that Mr. Bryant pointed out the correct way to spell the words she messed up on without making her feel like she was somehow a bad person for not getting them right in the beginning. In fact, she overheard Mr. Bryant say to her father once that out of everyone in his class, Mary had the best grades in terms of both spelling and writing, and that she was good at reading quickly and pronouncing words right, even though she often struggled with reading comprehension. As far as Mary was concerned, that was still high praise in and of itself, especially since she often heard other kids in class struggle to so much as read a single sentence whenever they were asked to read out loud.
"I wish some people understood that," Mary muttered, closing her notebook and putting it back in her backpack. "Is there anything you're good at, Blanca?"
The giant white marshmallow scratched her head with an arm that sprouted out from her body as she contemplated the question. "Well...many of my friends and family in the Sweets Car have praised my cooking quite a bit, especially my pancakes. But that's only because I've followed the recipe and made them more times than I can count. Besides, I'm hardly the only denizen in there who knows how to cook and bake."
Considering she lived in a car that was literally a land of candy and sweets, Mary and Vic assumed that was a given. Somebody had to have made all that food somehow. "Well, they're right, because the pancakes you made for me back then really were tasty!" Mary proclaimed, smiling all the while.
Blanca said nothing, but Mary could tell she appreciated the praise. She turned back to Vic. "How about you, Vic? Do you have anything you're good at?"
Vic flashed a prideful grin. "Sure do! Designing houses, for one, if my house is anything to go by!" He proclaimed with gusto. "I'm also good at chewing through anything! Cardboard, plastic, metal, wood, you name it, I can chew holes through it!"
Mary stifled a chuckle, finding the idea of Vic chewing through metal hard to believe. How could a hamster be able to chew through metal? Then again, he was a talking hamster on a magical train. Anything could be possible at this point.
"I'm also one of the few hamsters in the Hamster Car who knows how to read and write," Vic hastily added. "Most of the others aren't all that interested in learning how to do those."
Perhaps they had their reasons for not wanting to learn reading and writing. That was what Mary assumed. Blanca spoke up next. "I'm sure you have things you're good at, Mary."
Mary did a double take. "Me?" She pointed to herself. "Well…" Upon hearing Blanca and Vic's talents, she found herself bashful. Were any of Mary's talents even any good compared to theirs? She couldn't cook, being a child, and reading and writing were things every kid had to learn at some point. Obviously, her teeth weren't strong enough to chew through metal and wood. She always thought the things people were good at were the big, notable talents that everyone would notice. Dancing, singing, science, math, carpentry, architecture, playing an instrument, sports. Just because Mary knew how to spell big words, it didn't mean everyone else would think it was something to celebrate.
Showing her mother the math test she got an A on certainly proved as such. Her mother didn't care at all that she aced a math test. All she cared about was that Mary didn't look her in the eye. The memory made Mary's body deflate as she finished the rest of her vegetables.
"...Nobody likes the stuff I'm good at," Mary found herself muttering, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to stop herself from crying. "Most people I know care about big stuff, like sports and music and science and dancing, and I can't do any of that. I know how to spell big words, but lots of people can do that, especially grown-ups. And…" She let the sentence drift off, and there was an awkward silence between the trio for a moment.
"All anyone wants me to be is normal."
A single cherry blossom petal settled on top of Mary's head. She shivered as a light breeze brushed past, but not because of the breeze itself.
Unsatisfied with the answer, Vic crawled up Mary's leg and stood on her knee. Before Blanca could stop him, he said, "I know it's probably rude of me to pry like this, but I've been meaning to ask you for a while. What's your deal, exactly? How come you wound up on the train?"
"Vic, she might not be comfortable mentioning it," Blanca slid over, her creased eyebrows furrowing with concern. "I don't—"
"No. It's okay, Blanca," Mary cut her off gently. "I'm ready to talk about it now."
She had agonized over whether she should tell Vic about it. Telling Blanca was one thing, but she was unsure about whether to tell Vic about it or not. But his recent actions in previous cars had proven to her that he could be trusted. Plus, unlike other people she knew, she trusted Vic to be straight with her. He wasn't one to sugarcoat anything he said, even when he was being nice about it. Maybe he could offer some insight about it. At this point, now was the time to take the lid off.
"To tell you the truth, Vic…I ran away from home," Mary began, her voice shaking as she told him her story. "I found out my mom hates me because I'm autistic. It's hard to explain. The doctors say I have something called…autism, and it makes my brain different from the other kids," As much as she wanted to tell Vic, she was sure this particular detail would leave him stumped. How could a hamster in a magical train know what autism is, even with his knowledge and massive collection of books?
"Oh! I think I know what that is! But let me check to make sure my facts are straight!" Vic exclaimed, scuttling down Mary's leg, up into his backpack, and pulled out a large book with a bright orange and yellow cover. He laid it down on the grass and immediately began turning pages. "Let's see…if this is correct, autism is a neurological condition that's characterized by difficulties with social interaction and communication, increased level of sensory processing, and patterns of repetitive behavior."
"Erm…could you describe it a little more simply, please?" Blanca asked politely.
"Basically, an autistic person's brain is structured and wired differently from other peoples', and because of that, they find it difficult to act in ways that others perceive as normal," Vic clarified, reading through a simpler description he found on another page.
Mary could only stare, wide-eyed. She had no idea Vic had a book about autism. She wondered if she should have asked him about that sooner, had she known about this previously. But she had no idea what sensory processing was, and since Vic got the gist of it, she felt no need to ask him about it.
"That's pretty much it," Mary confirmed. "Stuff is a lot harder for me than it is for other kids," She continued on with the story. "I never know what to say to people, and I don't want to talk to strangers longer than I have to, unless I want to talk to them. Loud noises like crowds and people yelling and crying babies and rock music hurt my ears, but when I tell other people, they say it doesn't bother them, but it bothers me. Sometimes it feels like everyone has a rulebook on how to go through life and my copy got lost."
"Forgive me for interrupting, but if you don't mind me asking, is your habit of flapping your hands part of it?" Blanca inquired.
Mary nodded. "My dad says so, yeah. I only do it when I'm bored, excited, or really happy. Like if words aren't strong enough to show how happy I am depending on what it is. Or to shake the feelings out of me, like if I'm happy or angry and can't keep it all in. But my mom hates when I do it at all, even though Dad and Reagan told her why I do it."
Vic raised a quizzical eyebrow, but based on the few things Mary had mentioned previously, he was starting to pick up on the implications. "I don't see what the problem is. I scrape my claws against plastic whenever I want to get my emotions out of my system."
It felt like a miracle just hearing Vic's statement just now. He at least understood the need to get the energy and the buzz out of his body. Mary stops to contemplate this a bit, pursing her lips together as she remembered the conversation she had with Blanca about this back in the Sweets Car.
"Back to how I got on the train, I found out that my mom hates that I'm autistic…" Mary continued on. "She always yells at me whenever I do something...or don't do something. She's always like, 'Mary! Don't flap your hands! Use quiet hands! People are gonna look at us weird because of you!' 'Mary! Stop whining! Why do you always have to cause trouble for me?!' 'Mary! Look at me when I talk to you! Can't you be normal for two seconds?!'"
The hamster chuckled at the faux nasally voice Mary used to imitate Dana.
"Even when I do everything she says, she's never happy. She wants me to just magically know stuff, and when I don't and say I wish she told me, she gets mad and says it's my job to figure it out. When I'm scared and don't wanna be someplace, she makes me stay, and gets mad even when I can't take it anymore. She always...makes me feel like...everything I do is bad, and that I absolutely have to be punished no matter what. It's like she thinks it'll make me…normal."
Neither Vic nor Blanca said a word as Mary spoke. They already saw that Mary started blinking a lot more frequently, like she was trying really hard to prevent an onslaught of tears before they arrived.
Maybe now was the time to mention it. "There was something I didn't tell you before, Blanca," Mary stated. "When I told you about Mom before. I was too scared to mention it."
Blanca flashed a warm smile. "Take your time, Mary. There's no rush. I had a feeling there was more to it, but I didn't want to press the issue."
Even when she first met Blanca, Mary could tell the marshmallow felt there was never an obligation for her to tell the whole story. All Blanca had ever wanted was to be the greatest support as possible for Mary. To listen and allow her to be heard for once. That patience and complete dearth of malice convinced Mary that now was the time to say what she had been hiding. Now she didn't feel scared to tell her and Vic about it, even though just thinking about that detail made her want to hide forever.
"I woke up one morning and saw my mom had a website on her computer," Mary choked the words out, slouching a little further, with her arms tighter around her body. "It turned out it was a blog she made."
"Umm, what's a blog?" Vic asked.
It took a minute for her to remember, but Mary recalled Reagan explaining this to her once. "My sister said a blog is like…a digital journal, where somebody can write about anything they want, like their feelings or talk about how their day went."
"So it's like a diary?"
"Sort of. A diary's more private. My sister said a blog is something you want people to see, and you don't want people to look into your diary."
Blanca nodded. "That makes sense."
"Anyway…my mom made a blog about me. Or…rather, complaining about me and saying bad things about me," Mary swallowed, but pushed on. "She says all I do is ruin her life, that I'm a bad kid who'll never be like everybody else, how we never go anywhere or do anything because she says I throw tantrums, that I'm too stupid to remember my manners or how to be polite, and that me flapping my hands makes people look at us weird, all that kind of stuff."
"That's stupid!" Vic shouted, slamming his hands onto his book. "She has no right to talk trash about you like that! I mean, sure you can be fussy at times, but what kid isn't fussy at some point in their lives? And I highly doubt that warrants claiming that you somehow ruined her life! Furthermore, Blanca and I have known you for…what? A little over a week? And you've never thrown a tantrum even once."
Just seeing Vic stand up for her like this made a smile spread across Mary's face. It reminded her of all the times Reagan told off her mom for…whatever she claimed Mary did or said. But did Vic really have to say she was fussy?
"I know, right? I know there are times when I screamed or cried because a light was too bright or noises were too loud, or people kept touching me even when I told them to stop, but that's not a tantrum last I checked," Mary agreed. "My teacher said a tantrum is when you…deli…berately…" She carefully sounded out the word Mr. Bryant had used once, hoping she said it right. "Fall to the floor and scream because you want something and can't get it, like 'If you don't give me candy right now, I'm gonna scream and throw your stuff and break everything!' I never do that, because Dad says that's not nice."
"I concur," Blanca said after she finished eating a carrot. "I don't know what you were like in your home world, but based on the time we spent together, even I can see you're nothing like your mother makes you out to be. She really shouldn't be going out of her way to continually punish you because of something that's out of your control."
Vic nodded in agreement. "You got that right. It sounds like your mom's a real piece of work."
When he said that, Mary remembered a phrase Reagan had used lots of times. "That's an understatement. The day before I got on the train, we all went to a bookstore to have some fun and go shopping," Mary said, returning to the story. "I got bored because the check out…thing was taking a long time, so I flapped my hands and imagined I was riding a unicorn. But Mom saw me, put her hands on me to make me stop, and screamed in my face. I tried to break free because she was really loud and her touching me hurt really bad, but when I did, she jumped on me and pushed me down on the floor and…uhh…" Mary found herself fumbling at how to describe what happened. "Is there a word for when somebody puts their body on you and won't let you escape?"
"Pin you down?" Vic suggested.
"Yeah! That!" She had no idea there was a word for it. Now she knew, and looking back, that phrase described what happened perfectly. "I felt one of her knees on my back, and her fingernails cut into my wrists. See?" Mary pulled her sleeves back to show Vic and Blanca the faint, crescent shaped marks on her wrists. They were healing, so they weren't bright and bloody like they were before. "Other people saw it, too."
Blanca's mouth fell ajar. All Vic could say in response was, "And she says YOU were the one throwing a tantrum?"
Hearing Vic ask that question made the whole incident sound even more pointless. It made Mary realize the incident in and of itself was, indeed, pointless.
"She always says stuff to me like 'Mary! Stop doing those weird things! You're making people stare at us! What do you think the neighbors would say if they caught you acting like a ninny?!' And this wasn't even the first time she did that to me either. I wish there was some way I could show you what happened," Mary lamented. "Telling you just doesn't feel like it really…uhh…conveys how bad it was for me."
Blanca shook her head. "We believe you, Mary. Like I said to you before, you can't ever not be autistic, and that's okay. I think it's understandable that you've finally had enough of being treated the way you have been."
It wasn't just that Mary had had enough of her mother's constant complaining and need to control every aspect of her life. Alongside her increasing heartbeat, the words she saw on the entry that changed everything returned to her mind. Even though she felt comfortable enough to tell them about the blog itself, she still didn't have it in her to share that particular entry. It was too terrifying.
"That, and…I was afraid. Afraid that if I stayed home…Mom might do something horrible to me," Mary said, trying to make sure her voice didn't shake. But her companions heard it plain as day.
Vic finished eating a sunflower seed as he listened, waiting for Mary to stop before speaking up. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but from what you told us, it sounds like your mom cares way too much about what other people think of her. It's like trying to manhandle you all the time is her way of trying to get some kind of validation."
"Vali…what?" Mary was stumped at the new word.
"Validation. It means confirming that something's true or correct," Vic explains. "In this context, it seems like your mother thinks manhandling you in public will make people see her as some kind of long-suffering parent dealing with a bratty kid all the time. Maybe the blog is her way of trying to get sympathy from people who don't know the full story."
It was as though a light shone through thick, gray clouds. Everything Vic said suddenly put everything into place. It all made sense. Another blog entry she remembered popped into mind. It had been written when Mary was five years old.
One of my friends invited me to her house today. Todd was with Reagan at music practice, and I can't trust any babysitters with Mary, so I had to bring her with me. At first, Patty didn't mind, and she seemed to like the idea of meeting Mary. But Mary wouldn't make eye contact with her no matter what. I tried to make her look at her, as that's basic social propriety 101, but she kept wanting to either hide behind me or escape somewhere else. God only knows what she'd do if I let her run wild in someone else's house, so I tried to restrain her as much as I could. It wasn't until I grabbed her chin and made her look that she finally relented. Patty had this look on her face that seemed like she was put off by Mary's behavior.
After that, things were fine. We had a nice lunch, and I got to hear about her daughter taking woodworking classes at high school. Honestly, I still find myself stumped that girls these days are allowed to pursue interests, hobbies, and jobs that are more masculine-oriented. When I was younger, even the idea of that happening at all was considered unacceptable. I know my mother would have thrown a fit, saying something like, "What idiot would let their daughter take woodworking classes?! Utterly disgraceful! This whole world is going to pot!" I remember telling my mother once I wanted to build robots, like the Transformers toys my brother would let me play with all the time. She spanked me five times, absolutely frothing at the mouth just at the thought. She was a child of the fifties, and her parents drilled it into her head that a woman's only role in life is to be the perfect wife to her husband, the perfect mother to her children, and to only remain in the home, nothing else. To do otherwise was social suicide, guaranteed to make you a pariah whose sins would never be forgiven. Those were the fifties values her parents drilled into her, and she tried to drill into me. I remember being so upset that I was forbidden from not only playing with my brother's toys and watching the same cartoons he did, but that I wasn't even allowed to take the computer electives in high school.
Back to the subject at hand, at one point, I saw Mary approach Patty's son Wentworth. Apparently he was looking at a My Little Pony book, and Mary started babbling about it to him, almost non-stop. It took everything I had not to duct-tape her mouth shut. Dr. Goldman told me very clearly that an autistic child cannot be allowed to go on tangents about their interests. It'd be one thing if it was just a sentence or two, but a whole barrage of non-stop information about one thing, at the expense of everything else…it was utterly humiliating. I could see the looks on everyone's faces. I jumped right on Mary and told her to stop, telling her that Wentworth wasn't interested. He kept saying he was, but what does he know? I took Mary aside and tried to explain to her why her behavior was unacceptable, but she just acted like a brat through the whole thing. Not long after, I heard Patty say to her husband:
"I don't know about you, but Dana's daughter is creepy and weird."
I heard Wentworth say she was full of it, but I knew I couldn't stick around after that. All I wanted was to spend time with a friend, and Mary just had to ruin it. Next time I take her to ABA, I'm telling them to be even more strict with the next session and every session after that.
Mary only vaguely remembered that day in question, but she did remember that kid Wentworth and that he liked My Little Pony like she did. She remembered that he was nice, and was genuinely interested in what she had to say. But reading that particular entry brought the memories back in full force, like a dam had broken after holding back too much water. Vic's statement shed a lot of light on her mother's behavior. Every time Mary wanted to be herself or indulge in her stimming, or even talk to other kids about her own interests, her mother was always on her like a hawk, often scolding her for it, and very loudly, at that, raising her voice like she wanted anyone who was nearby to know it.
"Yeah. Now that you're saying it like that, everything makes a lot more sense now," Mary said with a sigh.
"Of course, we don't know that for sure, so we can only speculate," Blanca pointed out. "But none of that excuses the way she's treating you. Not by a long shot."
Hearing this, Mary scooted closer to Blanca, nuzzling her side. The marshmallow sprouted an arm and snaked it around Mary, stroking her arm in reassurance. Knowing that they were on her side was the most heavenly thing in the world.
"There is one thing that bothers me," Vic said. "Hey, Mary? When you first found out about the blog, did you tell your dad and sister about it?"
Mary shrunk into herself. "No. It was really early in the morning, they were sleeping, and I was so scared, I felt like I had to get away as soon as possible. Plus…" She used one of her hands to knead a part of her sweater sleeve. "I think they might be in on it."
Both Vic and Blanca exchanged confused expressions. "The blog, you mean?" Blanca asked.
Mary nodded, her voice reduced to a pained mumble. "They say they love me and they're not mean to me like Mom is, but…Mom talked about them on the blog, too. She doesn't say mean things about them on there like she does me," Her form grew smaller as she buried her face into Blanca's squishy skin. "What if they're lying? What if they're only pretending to love me and actually agree with everything Mom says?"
Silence fell on the trio as they contemplated what Mary said just now. Blanca had no idea what to say. She could only stroke Mary's arm comfortingly.
On the other hand, Vic narrowed his eyes. "Let me get this straight…you're convinced your dad and sister secretly hate you just because your mom mentioned them on her blog?" Vic almost surprised himself from the question that came out of his mouth. "And it never occurred to you to just…ask them if they know about it or not?"
"Uhh…" The question was so out of nowhere that it completely threw Mary off. But as much as it pained her to admit it, he wasn't wrong. Her silence confirmed Vic's suspicions.
"I think you're jumping the gun on that one," Vic told her without mincing words. "You can't just assume someone knows about something just because they're mentioned by name on a website. For all we know, your mom might have kept her blog a secret from them. Considering all that you've told us, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case."
"But…but…there's a chance they might already know about it!" Mary found herself raising her voice without meaning to.
"You don't know that for sure unless you ask them straight out."
"They might lie to me! Just like Mom has on a bunch of things!"
"Again, you don't know that unless you ask," Vic pointed to Mary's cellphone.
She looked down, realizing what Vic was inferring. Her cell phone worked, so it was possible she could text them. They texted her, and their messages actually went through, so maybe she could ask them that way. In the back of her mind, she knew this subject was bound to come up sooner or later. But the possibility of the potential answers filled her with dread.
"I can't do it," She nudged her cellphone away with her shoe. "I don't wanna answer their texts. I can't tell them I'm on a magic train. They'll never believe me!"
"You don't have to mention the train," Vic reminded her. "They have been trying to contact you, right? They're probably worried sick about you. You're not trying to remove them from your life, are you?"
Mary had no answer. Again, her silence spoke volumes.
"I'm going to be blunt here, it's not cool of you to just ghost them like that. If they're reaching out to you right this minute, you ought to at least let them know you're safe," Vic didn't mince words. "They probably think you're dead or got kidnapped. If they really didn't love you, I highly doubt they'd even bother reaching out to you."
Every word Vic spoke was like thorns spiking her heart. Not because she didn't like what he was saying, but because…he was right. About everything. She picked up her phone and turned it on, and a new text appeared, sent by her father.
Mary. Please let us know you're okay. We miss you so much.
Did they? Did they really miss her? She was sure Dana didn't. But as she contemplated Vic's suggestion, she found herself wondering…maybe she was wrong. Maybe she did just jump to a conclusion based on literally nothing and let herself think the worst about several people who actually did care about her. Why would they actually bother to call Dana out on her treatment of her if they didn't?
"Vic does raise a valid point, Mary," Blanca whispered in her dulcet voice. "At least send them one text letting them know you're alive and safe. It'd be terrible if they thought something awful happened to you. I know if any of my children just disappeared without telling me, I'd be worried out of my wits, scared that something terrible happened to them. You don't have to be specific about where you are. You can even ask them about the blog. If they really don't know about it, then it's okay to realize that you were wrong. That's how people grow, by learning from their mistakes. Of course, if it really does turn out they know about the blog and agree with what your mother says, then you have every right to feel angry and betrayed, and know that you're not inherently responsible for the decisions they make, even if they may try to claim such."
"Besides, it's not like your mom can do anything to you while you're here," Vic reminded her.
That was true. Ever since Mary had gotten on the train, she didn't have to deal with her mother constantly hovering over her, scolding her over everything big and small, or making her feel like crap just because she wasn't perfect. Mary took her cell phone in her hand, and it felt oddly heavy. Like it was an extra weight that she didn't need. So many questions lingered in her mind. What if she texted them and they decided to show Dana? Would they want her to come home because they missed her, or because Dana would be angry if she didn't? Mary didn't want to go back home. Not when Dana might be planning to do something horrible to her.
But Blanca and Vic did make good points. She couldn't just keep ignoring her father and sister. This was one of the few ways she could really confirm if they did know about the blog or not.
"Vic, did you really need to be so blunt?" Mary heard Blanca ask. "You could have said what you did a little more gently."
"Come on, Blanca. Some truths can't be sugar coated," Vic told her. "I'd rather someone be straight with me and tell a harsh truth than a kind lie. Stuff like that just makes things worse in the long run."
A harsh truth…this was something Mary understood all too well. The blog's whole existence and everything Dana wrote in it changed everything for Mary. Had she not known about it, who knows what could have happened? For all she knew, Dana might have sent her to another weird doctor, probably one worse than all the other ones she had to deal with. She shook her head. Vic was right. There was nothing that could sugarcoat the fact that Dana hated her, no matter how much she'd try to portray otherwise. Being on the train taught her so much more in a week than all the weird doctors she was made to put up with for several years ever could.
"Still, you have to remember she's a young child," Blanca continued. "She may not—"
"No, Blanca. It's okay," Mary cut her off again, this time with a self-assured smile. "I'm glad Vic said what he did. It was…hmmm…" Mary struggled to find a word that described how she felt right now. "Is there a word that means you know more than you did before and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense?"
"Enlightening."
Yes. That was it. Enlightening. Both the blog and her time on the train had been so enlightening, both in good and bad ways. It was like Vic had said before in the Black Market Car: good friends tell you when you do something wrong when it actually matters, not constantly like Dana always did. At least in the train, Dana wouldn't be here to tell her what to type, what to say, how to say it, and only in the way Dana wanted it.
"I can do it now," Mary announced, holding her cellphone in both hands. Somehow, it felt lighter than it did before.
With resolve in her heart, Mary pulled up the texting app and started typing.
On a cloudy Wednesday afternoon, Adam Bryant sat in the teacher's lounge, finishing his tuna sandwich and packing up his lunch box. Around this time, it would be recess for the kids, and Adam usually liked to use that time to get back to his classroom and prepare for the rest of the day. This had been his routine in all the decades he spent working at Woodland Hills Elementary School, and he loved every minute of it. Unfortunately, this time around, every day he spent felt like a blur. Like he was on auto-pilot in an attempt to placate the kids. Having a student go missing, with barely any concrete information on what actually happened to them, can do that to a teacher.
Upon first hearing that Mary Summers went missing, Adam did all he could to help look for her whenever he wasn't in school. Joining search parties, passing out the flyers her family made, asking for information from the kids, like if they saw anyone suspicious around or if Mary was acting strangely, telling the police about Dana's treatment of her…he had even taken it upon himself to get Mary's name out on social media. The more people that knew about her and could look for her, the better. But there was still no sign of Mary anywhere. It was like she had just vanished into thin air. There was no possible way a child could just vanish, but the possibilities were equally frightening and dreadful.
I've done everything I feasibly can for now. Adam told himself, knowing the police were the ones to handle actually looking for her. But he wondered if he was lying to himself.
There was also Dana to consider. Adam had known for a long time that she wasn't exactly an ideal parent, and had been cruel to Mary on several occasions. The incident at the Carnegie Science Center two years ago was the worst he had ever seen, and made sure to report it as soon as the kids went home after coming back from the trip. But he knew the justice system wasn't perfect. Reporting it wasn't going to simply solve everything and make things hunky-dory. He had learned of many other cases where multiple people reported children being abused, and CPS did absolutely nothing about it, even with signs of abuse staring them right in the face, especially when removing an abused child from the house would have saved their lives.
Adam tasted bile in his mouth as he reached his classroom. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something had happened to Mary. Especially if Dana likely had something to do with it. But he knew dwelling on it was pointless. The kids needed him, and he needed to prepare lessons for the rest of the day.
When he went inside, he expected the classroom to be empty. It was, save for one student. A boy with shaggy dark red hair sat hunched over his desk, writing on worksheets Adam had given out as homework. Adam recognized him right away.
"Greg? What are you doing here?" Adam asked.
"Huh?" Greg looked up, meeting his teacher's eyes. But with a huff, he went back to writing in his worksheet. "I just thought I'd get homework done early is all."
This was odd. Greg usually relished the idea of leaving the classroom and hanging out with his friends at recess. He was always restless during lessons, often changing seating positions like he could never get himself comfortable. Adam could relate, as he himself was like that when he was a child, only back then, kids didn't have modern technology like smartphones and digital tablets. As much as he liked that Greg took his lessons and homework seriously, he did wonder why Greg, being as energetic and boisterous as he is, would even want to skip recess and do his homework early.
"Is it okay if I sit with you?" Adam suggested. "I can help you if there are problems you're struggling with."
"Sure. Whatever," Greg accepted his offer nonchalantly.
Permission secured, Adam pulled out a chair from one of the desks and sat next to Greg, watching as he wrote answer after answer like it was nothing. Greg did have his fair share of behavioral issues, like fighting with other kids, stealing, and talking during class, which he had told his parents about many times, but he always managed to get decent grades. C's and B's at most, so Adam knew Greg was smarter than he usually let on. Maybe there was a reason for his recent streak of acting out, and maybe it had something to do with why he willingly chose to skip recess. As a teacher, Adam knew it was his job not just to provide kids education, but to hear them out and make them feel safe. Kids needed people to listen to them, not just bark orders at them and tell them what to do.
And he knew just how to start that conversation.
"Earlier today, Mrs. Palencia showed me one of the drawings you made in art class. The one you made of Zion Storms."
Immediately, Greg lit up. "Oh! She showed you? I got an A for that picture! Let me guess, you know about Air Cavalry Chronicles too?"
Air Cavalry Chronicles was a new video game that had come out a few short years ago. Adam knew about it, as he himself played it on his XBox whenever he needed to unwind after a hard day. In fact, he had completed the game and was doing another run to unlock the bonus content. It was about a triad of kingdoms at war with one another over various natural resources, using aircraft that transformed into robots to engage in battle. It was aimed at teenagers, with the rating indicating as such, but it had become surprisingly popular with younger kids. Zion Storms was the name of the main character. Adam had seen Greg draw him multiple times, even submitting drawings of him for class assignments, adjusting them to fit the requirements of said assignments whenever possible.
"Yep. I've played through it quite a bit," Adam told him.
"Man, Zion is sooooo cool!" Greg exclaimed, his smile so big, Adam could see his two front teeth, one of which had been slightly chipped at the tip. "I wanna be just like him when I grow up!"
"Exactly what is it about Zion that you love so much?" Adam asked.
That was all it took for Greg to go on a tangent. "He's awesome! He's cool, strong, slices bad guys with his sword, and doesn't take crap from anybody! He takes whatever he wants when he wants and doesn't care what other people think, and he's tough as nails!"
The pieces were falling into place, especially now that Adam remembered Zion's overall personality.
"How about you? Do you like Zion?"
Oh boy. Adam was sure telling Greg the truth would break his heart. But if his hunch was right, maybe telling the truth might help get to the root of Greg's recent behavioral issues. "Personally, Zion's not my favorite. I think he's a selfish jerk."
"Whaaat? How come? He's cool!" Understandably, Greg couldn't help but whine upon hearing his teacher say he didn't like Zion.
"Well…he may seem like a cool guy, but in real life, a person who acts like Zion would be pretty intolerable," Adam began to explain. "Do you remember that Zion is always insulting his friends and making dismissive comments at them, even when they don't do anything to deserve it? And doesn't listen to them when they try to help him and give him advice?"
"So? He's his own boss. He doesn't have to listen to anybody!"
"But had he listened to Morrigan and not stolen the Crimson Diamond like she said, the kingdoms of Hyzante and Wolfort wouldn't have gone to war with one another, resulting in all those needless deaths. Personally, I don't think I'd ever want to be friends with someone who says an innocent child ought to have been kidnapped or should have died."
Greg's face contorted into an annoyed look. "Leslie's so annoying, though! All she does is whine and doesn't even fight! She's not cool like Zion is!"
"Personally, I kind of like Leslie and Morrigan," Adam explained, keeping as calm as he possibly could. "They both understand what's important and do all they can to make life in their kingdoms as good as possible, even when times are tough. Leslie doesn't fight, sure, but I don't think fighting all the time makes someone inherently cool. I like Leslie because she doesn't want to spend her life being stuck with someone who clearly doesn't care for her. She wants to make her kingdom a better place in her father's absence and help her people. She changes the mining laws and makes working conditions safer for the mythic ore miners so they can work safely and return home to their families. Morrigan even helps find the emerald dragon all on her own and convinces him to join her cause when Zion wasn't able to convince him to do so due to how abrasive he is."
For a moment, silence fell between them. It was like Greg didn't know what to say. After a minute or two, Greg spoke again, his once vibrant smile turning into a frown. "I wonder if that's why my friends don't like me anymore…"
"What do you mean?" Adam asked. "If you're comfortable, would you like to talk about it?"
Another silence, though it was shorter than last time. "I…I've been trying to be more like Zion. I wanted to impress my friends if I acted more like him."
So that was it. Greg was trying to emulate the personality of his favorite video game character. "Is that why you stole things from other kids and said the things you did about Mary going missing?"
Reluctantly, Greg nodded. "Zion does that stuff all the time and everybody likes him. But…Tyrus and the guys stopped hanging out with me after a while. They said I've turned into an edgy poser," His voice lowered to a sad murmur as he looked up at his teacher. "Is that why you don't like Zion?"
Adam crossed his arms, unsure of how to go about this. But he did know this needed to be nipped in the bud. "Well, Zion is just a video game character. A fantasy. Just because someone like him may seem cool and awesome in a game, doesn't mean their actions will be seen as such in real life."
The pieces began falling into place. "Let me ask you something, Greg," Adam said. "Is there anyone in your family you're closest with?"
Greg's smile returned. "That's easy! My dad! He's the coolest! He plays video games with me and takes me to the bowling alley sometimes! And he helps me with my homework whenever I need help!"
"Let's pretend that one day, your father just went missing out of nowhere. How would you feel?"
Greg stopped to contemplate the question, and his smile wavered. "...I'd be sad and worried."
"And what would you do or say if somebody just came up to you and said that they were happy your father was gone, maybe going so far as to say he wished he was dead?"
That was all it took for Greg's face to contort in anger. "I'd beat them up! Nobody talks trash about my dad!"
In that moment, the realization hit Greg like a truck. Adam could see it as well. As soon as those words left his mouth, the memory of Caitlin getting angry at him last week came rushing back, and his whole body deflated. "Oh…"
"Do you see what I'm trying to get you to understand, Greg?" Adam asked. "Someone going missing is a very serious matter, and even if you might not know the person or even be friends with them, making light of their disappearance can make their family and friends sad or angry. I'm trying to get you to see it from their perspective, because it could happen to anyone, even you, and I know you'd be sad if someone said something like that about your parents or your big sister."
Greg said nothing as he processed the realization, but as far as Adam was concerned, his silence spoke volumes. Adam only hoped he didn't unknowingly overstep a boundary, because that was the last thing he wanted to do.
"But you like Mary more than the rest of us," Greg muttered. "You always get mad at me whenever I—"
Adam held a hand up to silence him. "I don't like any one student better than anyone else. I'm not sure why you're convinced I give Mary special treatment, because I don't," Adam told him firmly. "Some kids just need a little extra help than others, and there's no shame in that. Let me put it this way. You know Mrs. Palencia uses a wheelchair, right? The school put in elevators and ramps years ago because people who use wheelchairs need them. That's not giving special treatment, that's called accommodating their needs. Besides, whenever you ask me for help, don't I always come over to help you?"
Greg nodded as he put his worksheet back in a notebook.
"My job as a teacher isn't just to teach you guys math and spelling. It's also my job to teach you right from wrong, about good choices and bad choices," Adam continued on. "That's the reason I've tried to talk to you and your parents about your recent behavior. It's not because I hate you or anything. It's because I don't want you growing up making the kinds of bad decisions that could hurt your chances of having a future. It's okay to make mistakes when you're a kid, because that's how people learn from them. But when you become an adult, some decisions can have very severe consequences that aren't easily resolved with just an apology and a call to your parents. If you were an adult and, say, stole jewelry from a store, you could get arrested and sent to jail for years."
Greg shivered at the thought. Appropriate enough. But he didn't want to scare him, so he put a reassuring hand on Greg's shoulder. "I'm not trying to scare you, Greg. I just want you to stop and think before doing something you might regret and about how your actions might hurt other people, even if you think you're not doing so. This includes Mary."
The red haired boy fell silent for another brief moment, then spoke again. "You're not gonna force me to be friends with Mary when she comes back, are you?"
Adam shook his head. "Nope. That's not my decision to make. You're free to choose whichever people you want to be friends with," He told him. "But you said you wanted to be more like Zion and impress your friends. I take it that hasn't worked, now has it?"
"No."
"I probably shouldn't overload you with so much information at once," Adam stood up. "I'll be at my desk preparing for the rest of the day. I'm always here to talk if you need me."
He walked over to his desk and sorted through some papers while Greg remained where he was. As the clock hit 12:40, Greg stood up and walked over to him. "Mr. Bryant?"
"Hm?"
"Umm…thanks. For listening to me," Greg mumbled shyly.
Adam could only smile. "You're welcome.
"And, umm…tomorrow I'll tell everyone I'm sorry. For being a jerk," Greg pushed the words out. "If Mary comes back, I'll say sorry to her too, and…try not to be mean anymore."
Adam reached out to put a hand on Greg's shoulder. "That's a good start. I believe in you."
For the first time since Mary disappeared, Adam didn't feel like he was lost in a daze. Even if he couldn't help Mary at the moment, at least, for now, he made somewhat of a small difference.
Reagan sat in her bedroom playing her oboe in solitude. But the music just wasn't coming out right no matter how much she practiced. She could only assume it was because Mary's disappearance was still weighing on her. Of course it did. Then again, she had been stuck in her room for most of the day since she came back from school. Mainly because her parents were arguing, and she wanted no part of her mother's hysterics. At least playing the oboe was better than listening to her mother scream about whatever real or imagined slight set her off this time. After half an hour of playing, she stopped, sighing as she set it down on her desk. Everything felt like it was thrown out of alignment now that Mary was gone. As far as she knew, the police were no closer to finding her than they were before.
"Uuugh…" Reagan slumped down on her bed and groaned, having no energy to do anything else at the moment. She already finished her homework in study hall, so she didn't have to worry about that. Normally she would talk to her friends, on the phone or over social media, but she couldn't bring herself to pretend like everything was normal. Not when Mary was still missing. Her friends were sympathetic and offered support and let her have space whenever possible, so Reagan at least appreciated their consideration.
"Mary…where in the world are you?" A question escaped Reagan's lips, one she knew she'd have no concrete answer for.
Her cell phone chimed, and the sound made Reagan pull herself up. Who was texting her right now? She reached over to the edge of her bed to grab it, thinking it was probably Oliver or one of her friends. But when she looked at the notification, the name of the sender left Reagan absolutely speechless.
It was… "Mary?!" Reagan screamed, opening up the message.
Hi Reagan. I'm fine. Don't worry. I wasn't stolen by some creep. I'm in a safe place. But I mean it when I say I'm not coming back!
"Oh my God…" Reagan thought she was dreaming. She pinched her cheek, hard, assuming the message was fake. She looked back down at her phone, and the message was still there. There was no denying it. Mary had actually responded to one of her many texts!
She was alive! Tears streamed down Reagan's cheeks as the realization hit her like a truck.
"DAAAAD!"
Footsteps raced up the stairs, and Todd burst into the bedroom. "Reagan? What is it?"
"Look!" Reagan pointed to her phone, and Todd raced over to look.
"Is that…a response from Mary?!"
"Yes!"
Everything changed. They had been so overcome with despair over the past week. But this message gave them renewed hope, and confirmation of one thing: Mary was alive and safe! However, there were still lingering questions, and both father and daughter knew it. Todd wrapped both arms around his older daughter, pulling her into a hug. The two of them sat together and cried for a good few minutes in sheer relief. But Todd knew there was one important thing that needed to be done. He released Reagan and stood up.
"Reagan. I'm going to call one of the detectives and let them know what's going on," Todd told her. "He might call one of his technicians over to see if they can pinpoint Mary's location using her phone. I need you to stay here and keep texting her. Keep her talking for as long as possible. Call her if you have to. The longer she's on the phone, the easier our chances of finding her will be."
That made sense. Reagan had watched plenty of cop shows to know that most police agencies had specialized technicians who could locate someone's phone with special machines, or using said phone's GPS system. Now that she knew Mary was alive, Reagan nodded without hesitation.
"But what about Mom? You're gonna tell her about this, right?"
Todd let out a sigh. "I'll let her know, but knowing her, she probably has her phone off right now. Lord only knows where she stormed off to right now."
As of recently, Dana had gotten into the habit of leaving the house for long periods of time whenever she got into arguments with Todd. She would come back, sure, but things were often still very tense even after the fights cleared up. But at this point, finding Mary was more important.
"I have a feeling Mary might open up to you more than your mother and I, since you two are close. Can I trust you to keep her talking?" Todd asked, putting a hand on Reagan's shoulder as he did so.
It was easy to see the desperation in his eyes. Reagan couldn't blame him. But now, knowing that Mary was alive changed everything. She gave another assertive nod. "Do you even need to tell me twice? Go call that detective guy!" Reagan told him, shooing him away with one hand.
Todd flashed a smile before sprinting out of Reagan's room like the house was on fire. Reagan immediately got to work, responding to Mary's text.
Reagan: Mary! You're alive! I'm so glad! Where in the world are you?! Everyone's worried sick about you!
Reagan: And why don't you want to come back?
Her phone pinged. Another message! Upon seeing it, her joy wavered.
Mary: You're not worried. I bet you're happy I'm gone. I know Mom is.
Reagan: What are you talking about? Is this about what happened at B&N?
Reagan: Mary, we're not mad at you.
Mary: Liar! I bet you, Mom, and Dad wish I had never been born! I know you guys hate me because I'm autistic! Stop pretending to love me when you really don't!
What? This didn't make sense. This didn't sound like Mary at all. But it was similar to what she wrote in her note. Reagan needed to get to the bottom of this.
Reagan: That's not true. We don't hate you at all.
Reagan: Mary, tell me what's going on. I won't know if you don't tell me. I can't read minds. Whatever the problem is, tell me and I can help solve it if it's possible.
There was a brief silence, then her phone pinged again.
Mary: I can't. You'll tell Mom, and I don't want to face her. I can't take it anymore! I can't take her being mean to me all the time! I'm sick of it!
Mary: That's why I ran away! I don't wanna go back home! Mom hates me and I know it! Don't tell me she doesn't because I have proof she said so! You probably already know about it! Don't lie to me!
Proof? What proof? Reagan had a feeling Dana had something to do with it. Oliver did as well, and seeing Mary's texts only confirmed it. But what did she mean by proof? She knew the Barnes and Noble incident had rattled her pretty hard, but enough that it convinced her to run away? Then again…Dana had always struggled with accepting Mary as being autistic. She practically made it her mission to make Mary…well, not autistic, even though that just wasn't possible. But was there more to it? Reagan knew she had to dig deeper. She needed answers. They all did.
More than that, she didn't want her little sister to think she didn't love her. No way in hell.
Reagan: Mary, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. But I mean it when I say Dad and I don't hate you. We miss you so bad. The police are looking for you. We put missing posters up everywhere.
Reagan: Let me ask you. Have I ever lied to you before? And I don't mean lying about birthday presents or Christmas presents.
There was another silence. Another ping shortly after.
Mary: No.
Reagan: I can assure you I'm telling you the truth right now. If Dad and I hated you, we wouldn't be putting up missing person posters or spending every second of every day looking for you. And I really don't know what it is that makes you think we hate you, because we don't.
Reagan: Please, Mary. We want you to come back home. Just tell us what's going on. Whatever the problem is, I'll help solve it! With Dad's help, if need be!
Reagan: And I'll make sure Mom doesn't pull her usual stunts either! If she's the reason you're gone, I'll even tell her flat-out that she can't keep doing what she's been doing to you anymore!
Another wave of tears trickled out from Reagan's eyes, dampening her glasses. But she always wiped them off so she could read every text Mary sent her. At this point, Reagan couldn't bring herself to blame Mary for running away. Considering all Dana had done to her since her diagnosis, it was only natural that Mary would eventually reach her breaking point. Reagan wished she had done more sooner, that way this never would have happened.
Her phone pinged once more.
Mary: Mom has a blog. I found it on her computer by accident. It's called A Mother's Fight Against Autism. It has her name on it. She writes mean things about me on there all the time and complains about me.
Reagan did a double take. Her mother started up a blog? And it was all about complaining about Mary?
Mary: Check if you don't believe me!
Mary: I have to go. My battery's starting to die. Sorry Reagan. I can't come back even if I wanted to. Please, look at Mom's blog. It'll tell you everything. Look for the entry written on May 18th, 2018.
"No!" Reagan found herself shouting right as Todd and another man walked through her bedroom door. "Mary! Wait—!"
The green circle next to Mary's icon turned white.
Offline.
A/N: Readers, your patience will be rewarded. The next chapter will finally reveal the blog entry that convinced Mary to run away. Look forward to it!
1: Some random trivia: Both Dana and Todd are 49 years old, and since the fic takes place in 2020 (In case you couldn't tell by the fact that Yuzu The Pet Vet started coming out around that time), they would have been born in 1971, which is why Dana mentions Transformers toys. They're both children of the eighties. As for why COVID isn't mentioned in the fic…well, let's just go with The Mitchells VS The Machines logic and say it's not really supposed to be our world. I mean, hello? The show Infinity Train literally features a magical train that's probably existed in the show's universe since said universe was first created.
2: The video game Greg mentions, Air Cavalry Chronicles, isn't real. The game itself is entirely made up, but for anyone who are fans of the anime The Vision of Escaflowne, that was the show's original title, and it had a very different premise before it was changed and rebranded into what it was eventually made into. The two kingdoms mentioned in said game, Hyzante and Wolffort, are both references to the upcoming Square-Enix game Triangle Strategy.