"Don't forget to turn on the security system when you leave."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And don't stay out too late; I don't want the neighbors talking."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And I swear to god, Monika, if you have a boy over while I'm gone, so help me–"
"I won't, Mother."
The tall, willowy woman didn't look pleased at the interruption, but she allowed it, shifting her purse higher onto her shoulder before pulling on her mole-skin gloves. Then, just as her hand reached for the doorknob, she stopped, turning back to her daughter.
Eyes like a deep mountain forest traced Monika's face as she seemed to consider something, her mouth opening and closing a couple times in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, and whatever she was thinking vanished with a wave of her hand. "Call me if it's an emergency." And then she was gone, greeting the driver with a false cheer reserved only for members of the public.
Monika let out a withering sigh as she shut the door behind her mother, leaning against it to gather herself before facing the darkness of the long entryway. She allowed the stillness to settle over her, the moments falling on her shoulders like dust settling on the surfaces of an old abandoned house.
She still needed to get ready for the day–Sayori and her mother would be there to pick her up in another hour or so, and she was still in the clothes she'd gone to sleep in. A shower to clean the grime from her face after a night of tossing and turning was in order, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.
The sound of the grandfather clock in the living room ticked ceaselessly, echoing throughout the empty house, alerting her to the unconcerned passage of time. Then, just as the feather light touch of a memory brushed against her subconscious, the remembrance of a large, gentle hand resting on her shoulder, she pushed off the door. She strode on socked feet across the cold tile floor of the entryway, minding the single step up to the hallway leading to the kitchen. As she stepped out of the sunlight streaming in through the glass panes of the front door and into the gloom of the house proper, she shivered.
First, coffee.
She went through the motions of starting a brew, her fingers tapping out a melody absently on the granite countertop as she did–water, grind the beans, a light roast, filter, pour in the grounds, start brew. The beep of the coffeemaker greeted her cheerily, its little red light illuminating as it began to boil the water, and she sighed again. It would be several minutes still before the beverage would be done percolating, so she moved to put away the dishes from dinner.
While her plate was already nestled gently within the confines of the dishwasher, the breakfast bar was cluttered with the remnants of her mother's late meal. Two wine glasses, a coffee cup still half full, and a plate smeared with streaks of the pesto Monika had made earlier in the week. She shook her head, dislodging the bitterness that was threatening to sink its claws into her mind, and gathered the dishware, slotting the stems of the wine glasses carefully between dexterous fingers.
She was about to turn around when something else caught her eye. A small piece of paper poked out from beneath the crumpled up napkin splotched with her mother's lipstick. After depositing the dishes into the washer, Monika returned to the bar, plucking the item from its haphazard resting place. She held it up, the half-light from the dining room barely enough to illuminate it.
A tall, lanky white man in a tweed coat stood grinning, glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he leaned over. His hands rested on the shoulders of a small girl who Monika recognized immediately. She must have been around ten at the time, and in her small hands she proudly clutched a trophy, cradling it to her chest as though it were the most important thing in the world. It was fall, the ground painted with splashes of red and gold leaves, and the tips of their noses were red from the chill. Her hand trembled, and something in her heart bottomed out a familiar melody playing in her head. Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you…
With more force than she meant to, she tossed the picture away from herself, and it slid across the breakfast bar before tumbling off the edge and out of view. Her breath came out in a ragged huff, and she brought her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose before it dropped to her throat.
The beep of the coffeemaker as it finished brewing made her jump, the sound cutting through her thoughts like a scalpel with a surgeon's precision–a clean incision between what was and what had been. Grimacing, Monika paced around the counter to retrieve the photo from where it had fallen, placing it face down on the bar before heading back to the coffeemaker. Pulling a plain, white mug from a nearby cupboard, she poured herself a cup. As she watched the liquid swirl in to fill the empty space, the sound splashing in an ascending tone as she topped it off, she inhaled deeply. The steam from the beverage billowed up, permeating the air with the strong aroma of a proper start to her day.
She moved through the rest of her morning routine with mechanical efficiency, swatting at errant memories like someone might try to smash a fly with their shoe–erratic and, ultimately, ineffective. On more than one occasion, she'd found herself stalled in a task, staring blankly at her hands as though she weren't sure how she ended up there. In her mind, the low rumble of a man's voice accompanied by a child's laughter crescendoed into angry shouting, snippets of memories reminding her of the late nights spent huddled against her bedroom door as her parents argued downstairs. Somewhere in those memories, there was a crash as glass shattered.
By the time Sayori arrived at her front door, a bouncing bundle of raw energy, Monika had managed to piece herself together in her coziest socks, a warm, thick pair of leggings, her favorite, emerald sweater, and her hair pulled into a braid at her back and secured with her usual white ribbon. The finishing touch was the tweed coat that she now realized reminded her achingly of her estranged father. As she stepped outside to greet her friend, the crisp fall air filled her lungs with a sort of fresh energy. Freed from the confines of the mausoleum of memories that was her childhood home, she was able to breathe easier, and the bright, smiling face of her second in command chased away the shadows looming on the outskirts of her mind.
The moment she locked the door, she found herself encircled in a bone-crushing hug. "This is gonna be so much fun!"
Extracting one arm from the embrace so that she could return it, albeit awkwardly, Monika allowed herself a smile. "What about Natsuki? Didn't she want to come?" she asked as they made their way to the car.
"When I asked her, she said she already had plans. Something with her dad, I guess." Sayori shrugged as though it didn't bother her, but there was a twinge of something unpleasant in her voice that Monika decided not to comment on.
As they approached the vehicle, Sayori's mother stood waiting, leaning easily against the driver's side door. She was young by all accounts, probably at least ten years younger than Monika's own mother, and her hair was several shades darker than Sayori's, leaning more red than coral. She still had the same, bright, expressive blue eyes, expansive and sparkling as the ocean on a bright summer's day. Her clothes were plain and clearly well worn, a few visible patches of mending dotting her faded jeans along the seams and pocket corners. As Sayori bounded past her, her hand fell on the girl's head, ruffling her hair before Sayori swatted it away with a giggle.
Then, she turned to the Club President. "Monika, I assume," she greeted with a smile, extending her hand. Monika returned the gesture, shaking it gently. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Ahaha, all good things, I hope," she trilled airily, glancing at her friend who was rolling her eyes.
"Mom, stop! Come on, I don't want to miss the opening!"
Miss Sato chuckled, acquiescing to her daughter's prodding, and opened her door as Sayori tugged Monika into the vehicle.
It wasn't a new car by any means, and the small sedan creaked a bit as the three piled in. The pleather seats had several tears, and when Monika went to fasten her seat-belt, Sayori stopped her. "That one doesn't click," she offered by way of explanation, motioning for Monika to scoot closer. The taller girl shuffled over to the center seat, clicking the lap belt in place successfully after the third attempt.
Sayori's knee knocked against hers as the girl reached haphazardly for her own seat-belt, twisting in her seat to reach behind her, and Monika met Sayori's mother's eyes in the rear view mirror as she adjusted it slightly. "You two settled?" she asked, putting the car in drive.
"Yep." Sayori chirped.
As they drove, Miss Sato peppered Monika with questions, both about her daughter's performance in school and also about Monika herself. "And you said your mom is a lawyer? She must be pretty amazing then, huh?" She whistled lowly, grinning. "Sorry your mom is so washed up, Yori." The joke was self-deprecating, but she didn't seem all that sorry about it to Monika. Even so, Sayori bristled.
"Don't say that! You're awesome!"
The woman laughed, a full, warm sound, and it washed over Monika like the rays of the sun. She could see where Sayori got it. "What do you do for work, Miss Sato?" she inquired politely.
"Oh, please," she chuckled, "Call me Mae. All this 'Miss' stuff makes me feel old. But anyway, I work in sanitation. The water supply doesn't keep itself clean on its own," she winked. Without prompting, she continued, the information flowing out from her like a lazy stream–the cadence of someone unconcerned with appearances. "I dropped out of high school when I had Sayori, so I had to find something that paid well enough to support the both of us that didn't require a diploma. My grandfather was able to pull a few strings with the plant and got me an interview. Been working the graveyard shift ever since. It may not be glamorous, but it pays the bills. Union, too."
Monika considered her thoughtfully, digesting the information. So that's why she looked so young. "That's really amazing, actually. My entire family works in law in one way or another–a family tradition, I suppose. The expectations are high, and sometimes it feels like I don't really have a choice…" she trailed off for a moment until she realized what she'd said. "Ah, not that I'm complaining! It's a really good career path, and I'm lucky for the opportunity and that my mother is so willing to support me."
Mae Sato regarded her for a moment. "You know, kiddo, I always tell Sayori that it isn't the work that makes a person. We live in this world that likes to grind us down to what we do instead of who we are. You don't have to be passionate about something to do it–it's what you do with the rest of your time that really counts."
The Club President would chew on that particular thought for the rest of the day on and off–what did it matter for someone who didn't even have a future? Time? What did that even mean to someone like her?
As they drove, the houses eventually gave way to fields. More than once, Sayori plastered herself to the passenger window, shouting "horses!" with the same fervor as someone pointing out a supernatural phenomenon. Monika looked on, almost more interested in her friend's animated play-by-play of everything she was seeing than she was the scenery itself. After a while, however, she too found herself calling out the animals she saw, smiling easily with the other two in the car. "Did you see the goats?" she asked excitedly.
Sayori turned devastated doe-eyes on the taller girl. "There were goats?!"
"Hey, hey," she soothed playfully, "we'll see them on the way back. I'll point them out."
Large swaths of farmland flanked the long, narrow highway on both sides, and as the sun rose higher in the sky, the low, puffy, white clouds cast mottled shadows over the acres of swaying corn and wheat fields. Monika watched as they flew by, the way the straight, gridlike rows of plants allowed her to see down between them for a mere instant, flitting past like a stop-motion video.
Eventually, they pulled onto the long dirt road to the fairgrounds, the suspension of the small car groaning in agony at the uneven ground. Miss Sato patted the steering wheel encouragingly, as though the car just needed a bit of moral support more than it needed repair. A young person in a reflective vest directed them into one of the "parking lots" which was really just a large expanse of grass where other cars had done their best to park in organized rows. Sayori's mother stopped the car beneath a small crab-apple tree, smiling satisfiedly at having found some shade on relatively even ground.
As Monika stepped out of the vehicle, her foot sank deeply into the tall grass. It was like stepping on a pillow, and she marveled at the sensation, staring in befuddled amazement at her foot long enough for Sayori to raise an eyebrow.
"Everything okay?" she inquired, dragging out the beginning of 'everything' as she waited patiently for Monika to move out of the way so that she could also exit the vehicle.
"Ah, yeah, sorry."
Sayori's mom was already several steps ahead of them, looking back over her shoulder. "Come on, you slow-pokes, thought you didn't want to miss the grand opening?"
That spurred Sayori into action, and she clambered out of the vehicle, giving Monika barely enough time to get out of her path. By the time the three of them reached the front gate, weaving through the throngs of families with strollers and groups of rambunctious teens with no parental supervision, there was a crowd forming.
Over the heads of at least a hundred people milling about, Monika could see a cluster of stalls and food trucks, and on the horizon, a massive, stationary Ferris wheel stood starkly against the pale blue sky. Several moments later, Sayori hopped excitedly beside her. "It's time, it's time!" she squeaked, clutching her hands in front of herself.
As Monika looked on, intrigued to find out just what had her friend in such a state, a man in 50's period clothing began welcoming everyone to the twenty fifth anniversary Harvest Fest. Sweat beaded on his sun-tanned skin as he gave a brief, animated history of the festival, which Monika mostly tuned out, but as he reached the end of his speech, Sayori clutched her arm, pointing down the center of the main entrance where two stand workers were holding either end of a large, industrial power cord.
As they connected the two ends, Monika finally understood why Sayori was so enthusiastic. The entire fair grounds–which Monika was finally noticing had been dark and nearly silent–burst into color. The strings of lights spanning over the walkways flickered and then buzzed to a golden glow which she imagined must be quite beautiful in the dark, evening hours. Music poured out from speakers dotting the path, and far to the south end of the fair grounds, the Ferris wheel lit up and began to turn.
It was silly, really–there was no way one power cord could have done all that. More likely, they had several tens of fair workers stationed at several breakers–and the ride workers were probably in on it too–but, to Monika, that only made it all the more special. That many people worked together for one brief instant, all their efforts culminating in this moment of magic where the entire festival truly came to life. She was mortified to find that there were the pin-pricks of tears at the corners of her eyes, and she swiped them away hurriedly before anyone could notice as the applause escalated in symphony with several cheers and whistles.
As the crowds of people began filtering into the fairgrounds proper, Sayori spun on a heel, her mitten covered hands out to either side. She clapped them together with a muffled clompf , grinning at her mother and Monika. "So where to first?" Sayori chirped, looking between them excitedly.
The older woman smiled fondly, ruffling her daughter's hair, something Monika noticed she seemed to do a lot, and she suspected, for the sole purpose of annoying the shorter girl. "Oh, you girls don't want me tagging along with you all day. You two go and have fun."
That stopped Sayori in her tracks, a worried frown pinching her brow. "What? No, mom–"
Mae Sato laughed good naturedly, shrugging in that way she always did to let the girl know her worries were unfounded. "I'm already booked for the day, Yori. I told Mrs. Flores–you know, the nice woman down the street with the Shar Pei–that I would help them out with the stand today. Their son is out of town, and they're a bit short handed."
Sayori seemed to consider this for a moment, looking up at her mother with a hint of uncertainty still shining in her blue eyes. "You sure? You don't feel like I'm ditching you?"
The red-haired woman sighed exasperatedly. "Go!" she said, nudging her daughter gently with an open palm on her back. "Go have fun with your friend. You can even stop by the stand later for some lemonade–on the house–okay?"
"Are you sure–"
"Yori…" she intoned warningly, giving her a stern look to stop her spiraling.
Sayori's lips curled in a small, bashful smile. "Okay."
"Okay?" she asked again, looking for a firmer response.
"Okay," she repeated, laughing and ducking her head in a nod.
Satisfied, Mae Sato returned the nod, then watched as her daughter headed off at a light jog to catch up with Monika who was waiting a respectful distance away. That girl, she thought with mild exasperation, chuckling to herself.
Monika was biding her time, having sidled off at the first sign of disagreement. As she waited, her eyes caught on a flash of purple. It ducked around between one of the stalls and out of sight, and for a moment, she considered going after it. She let the opportunity pass, scoffing at herself. The reaction was habit at this point after her months spent watching vigilantly for Yuri's arrival, but that was pointless now. Besides that, there was practically no chance that the tall bookworm would be at this festival anyway. She was probably getting ready for Toma's party.
The thought sat sourly in her stomach, and she pushed it aside, turning her attention back to where Sayori and her mother had been only to see the girl bounding up to her.
As her coral haired friend approached, she eyed her curiously. "Everything alright?" she inquired.
The response was immediate. "Yep!"
It brokered no room for discussion, so Monika let it go, stretching slightly. "So, what's first on the agenda? You're showing me around, remember?"
"Hmmm…" Sayori pondered aloud. Then, as if coming to a decision, she lifted her hand, mimicking one of Monika's mannerisms–though the effect was nullified by the mitten obscuring her fingers into a nondescript, fuzzy lump. "I've got it!" And just like that, Monika was being dragged off as her second in command slipped easily through the clusters of fair-goers and strollers, holding on to Sayori's mitten-covered hand as though for dear life lest she be lost in the crowd.
They wound their way through tents and game stands, Sayori pointing out a few to come back to later, and stopping for a cup of cider on the way. Then, as they reached the outskirts of the game alley, Sayori stopped at a tent larger than some of the others. Peeking inside, Monika watched in abject horror as one of their classmates went hurtling through the air and onto the blue, inflated safety mat below before shouting a curse at the metal contraption that had thrown him as a group of onlookers cheered and whooped.
"Absolutely not," Monika deadpanned, eyeing the mechanical bull warily–was that thing even up to code?
Sayori pouted. "Whaaaa? why not?" She turned her big, blue eyes on the Club President, and Monika looked away before she could be caught in their magnetic pull.
"Sayori, I am not getting on that thing!" She could practically see the gears turning in her friend's head as she considered using 'the stare,' so she headed her off. "Besides, I probably shouldn't do something like that for at least another month," she said, pointing at her near-healed face. She felt a little bad using it as an excuse, but only a little as she watched another teen be unceremoniously dumped to the ground in a crumpled heap.
Sayori conceded her point, nodding doggedly, "You're right. I didn't even think of that. Sorry, Moni."
She seemed more than a little disappointed shuffling the toe of her shoe in the dirt, and the twinge in Monika's chest had her racking her brain for a solution. Then, a thought struck her, and her eyes took on a glimmer. "Wait, the festival is in town for another week, right?"
Sayori peered at her curiously, her disappointment momentarily forgotten. "Yeaaah…" she dragged out.
A conspiratorial grin spread across Monika's features, and Sayori wrinkled her eyebrows at her, mildly concerned at the Club President's apparent about-face.
"What?"
"Natsuki can't possibly be busy all week…"
The implication landed, and Sayori's sullen demeanor burst into thinly veiled, malicious excitement. "No, no she can not," she agreed, grinning up at the Club President.
"Come on," Monika laughed, wrapping an arm around her co-conspirator's shoulders and steering her away from the tent. "I think I saw a sign for pumpkin carving back there."
The next couple hours were spent dashing from activity to activity, from pumpkin carving to the corn mazes, from corn mazes to the corn-hole tournament–which they were eliminated from in the first round–and then to the judged events like the hay bale toss, cattle auctions, and finally, the reveal of the largest pumpkin submitted for a world record. Sayori even managed to convince her taller friend to go on a few of the more intense rides, and by the time they were done, Monika was practically dead on her feet, staring at her second command as though she were from some other planet. How did she have that much energy?
Finally, as they made their way down the exit ramp for the Gravitron for the third time, Sayori grinned up at her. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting kinda hungry. I could really go for some funnel cake."
Monika frowned down at her. "Some what-now?"
The question made Sayori stop in her tracks, blinking slowly up at her friend, a look of abject horror on her face. "Monika… please tell me you're joking."
"What?"
"You've never had funnel cake before?"
"Uh, no, I don't think so?"
Sayori looked at her as though that was, perhaps, the worst thing she had ever said. "Okay, we need to fix that, like, right now. Come on."
Before she could even say anything else in response, she was being unceremoniously dragged towards the food stalls. The thick, heavy aroma of fried food that had been drifting to her on the wind all morning intensified, and she realized that she'd never felt so hungry before in her entire meager existence. The scent was like every good thing that life had to offer all at once, and her stomach growled angrily.
Brightly painted stands and trucks of all colors and sizes flanked the web-like series of paths. Fries, funnel cake, lemonade, kettle corn and pizza were among them, but others were more obviously family owned–small businesses from their town that had signed up for a lot for the week.
They waited in line for what, Sayori complained, felt like hours, finally getting to order after another handful of minutes had passed. As the stand owner handed them a plate that was much too small for the criss-cross of fried batter, sugar and chocolate syrup haphazardly schluffed onto it, Monika glanced around, reading off the other nearby food choices one by one.
"We should probably get some real food too. That's a lot of sug–" when she looked back, she caught Sayori in the middle of placing a far-too-large piece of the desert into her mouth. Looking very much like a startled small animal, her breath caught the powdered sugar on top, blowing a cloud of white, sugary confection in Monika's face, and she raised an eyebrow at Sayori, feigning annoyance before she cracked a grin.
The snort this prompted from Sayori was followed quickly by a cough, and that was all it took for Monika to bow over in laughter at her friend's expense even as Sayori pounded her chest with her free hand, dusting herself in more sugar as she did so.
Maybe she was tired, maybe it was all the stress that had been building up over the past few months, but she couldn't help it. God it felt good to just laugh. How long had it been since she'd felt this kind of joy–the kind that lightened everything within her, casting her worries aside as though they weighed nothing at all. The thought brought the tears from earlier back to her eyes, and they intermingled with her mirth like a river flowing out into a vast ocean.
Eventually, Sayori was able to clear her lungs of the rest of the treat, and she pouted at Monika, though the Club President could tell she was barely containing her own laughter. "Sorry, sorry," the green eyed girl wheezed, "are you okay?"
Sayori waved her off, the smile she'd managed to keep at bay until then spreading across her features at the infectious display of joviality from her usually over-serious friend. "It's hard to believe you're actually worried when you're laughing at me, you know," she simpered. "I could have died!"
Monika rolled her eyes at that, "Oh, you're fine."
The two located a table next to the Stromboli cart, and Monika sank gratefully onto the wooden bench, pulling pieces off of the funnel cake–albeit much more slowly than Sayori. It was delicious, and she could see herself finishing off a whole one herself, but as she'd anticipated, the sugar sat heavily in her stomach, making her feel sluggish the longer she sat. Coming to a decision, she pointed at one of the far lines of stalls. "I'm feeling pizza, I think. You want anything?"
But Sayori wasn't listening. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted down the rows of people before pointing. "Hey, is that Nat?"
Sure enough, as Monika followed the direction her coral haired friend indicated, her eyes fell on their club mate's immediately recognizable pink hair. She stood next to a man of average build, his platinum hair streaked with silver, complementing his pallid complexion in monochrome. He was clean-shaven, and quite handsome if Monika were to say so, but there was something about him that gave her chills. Then, she remembered the conversation she'd had with Natsuki while they were toting her manga to the club room storage closet.
Sayori, however, took little notice of Monika's disquiet, waving and calling out to her friend.
When Natsuki's eyes fell on her beaming friend, she paled to the same color as the white, tarped tent she stood next to. She gave a hesitant wave back, and Monika saw the man look in their direction before saying something to the petite girl. Natsuki's shoulders sagged, and she turned in their direction, the man in tow.
As they approached, Sayori hopped up from her seat, running the small distance between them and chatting at Natsuki as they finished the walk, seemingly unperturbed by her fiend's sullen mood. Monika simply waited, observing Natsuki's father as he swirled his drink in his hand before tipping it back and finishing it in one long swig. She caught the tail end of Sayori regaling Natsuki with the trials and tribulations of their valiant corn-hole effort, and it was almost enough to make her roll her eyes, but the sharp stare of the man before her made her think better of it.
He was eying her carefully, and she felt a chill run down her spine. "Miss Chaunik, I presume?" He inquired politely, his unnaturally white teeth shining out past a wide smile. "Your mother's reputation precedes you." That's when she realized it, her mind once again filling in rapidly, snapping pieces of the puzzle together until she could see the entire picture–her mother had represented this man in a custody battle three years prior.
She stood then, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm shake. "Just Monika is fine," she replied with a slight incline of her head, refusing to acknowledge the reference to her family. Something in her stirred at the words, but she ignored it.
Natsuki was looking between them, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. "She's the president of the club I was telling you about, Dad," she cut in, her voice sounding strange in Monika's ears, like a dissonant note in an otherwise pleasant chord.
He ignored her, focusing instead on Monika. Close as they were now, she could smell the beer on his breath, and she fought the urge to crinkle her nose at the pungent stench. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter. You know how girls her age can be."
Monika noticed the twinge of something on Natsuki's face, but she couldn't place it. Hurt? Anger? Or maybe it was something much too complex to nail down with just a cursory glance. She realized then that the man was still talking. "You never know what she's getting up to without a proper role model around."
An easy laugh crawled from between her lips, "Well, you know how it is, different strokes for different folx. Though, Natsuki is a welcome addition to our club. She really rounds out the group, so to speak."
He raised an eyebrow at that, "I'm sure she does… I hope she's not wasting too much of your time with those picture books of hers."
"Ah, you mean manga?" Sayori stared at her with wide eyes as she slipped into the persona of the Class President, the daughter of an incredibly wealthy, incredibly successful lawyer. "It truly is a fascinating medium to be sure. It has a long and storied history in Japan that I would say easily rivals that of the comic-book boom here–though, if I were to personally compare the two, I prefer the stories portrayed in manga." She cut herself off. "Oh, but listen to me go on–my apologies." A clean pivot. "Are you two enjoying the festival?"
He frowned, seemingly unused to having the flow of conversation wrenched away so easily, but Monika had listened to her mother speak to enough pompous white-collar C-suites to last a lifetime, many of them incredibly inebriated and… handsy. She hated how much the man before her reminded her of them. "Well, this one," he snarked, dropping a hand heavily onto Natsuki's head, "wouldn't stop pestering me about it. We used to come here with her mother way back when, you see." Monika didn't miss the way the shortest girl flinched when the man's hand met her head.
"Yeah, dad, we get it."
His tone shifted immediately like a stiff winter breeze. "Hey, don't mouth off." But the easy smile was quick to return as he ruffled her hair, a little bit more forcefully than was entirely called for. Then he turned back to Monika, his eyes narrowing. "Why don't you go with your friends for the rest of the day, Natsuki. I'm sure you don't want to be hanging around your old man all weekend."
She looked up at him, bewildered, "But how will I get ho–"
He didn't wait for her to finish, landing a solid smack on her rear. "Get out of here, and have fun, ladies ." The yelp that Natsuki let out followed by the flush of red coating her entire face down to her collar was not lost on Monika or Sayori.
The man was gone nearly as soon as he'd arrived, disappearing around the flap of the beer tent, and leaving the three to their own devices. As he vanished from view, Sayori turned to their pink haired friend, a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Nat, are you ok–"
"I need to use the bathroom," she ground out angrily, shrugging Sayori off and stomping off in a random direction without answering.
"Ah! Nat, wait!" she turned to Monika, her eyes wide with concern. "I'm… I'm gonna go after her. Could you grab our food?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she finished, "We'll meet back by the Stromboli cart, okay?" and then she was off.
Monika watched as her friend chased after the fading patch of pink that was Natsuki, threading through the throngs of people with a recklessness that had several fair-goers hollering after her when she knocked into them in her hurry. Once neither of them were in view any longer, she sighed and headed in the direction of the pizza stand. Getting in line behind a small family of four, she shuffled her feet and rubbed her hands together to warm them. They had been at the fairgrounds for a few hours at that point, and while the cold wasn't unbearable, it was at least noticeable when she wasn't moving around.
Letting her eyes trail across the crowd around her, she realized she recognized quite a few more people from their school. One individual in particular caught her eye, and as the family in front of her stepped out of line to soothe their now shrieking toddler, Monika found herself only a few steps behind Lyll.
"I thought mom was running the stand today," she overheard them saying.
A high, raspy voice responded, "Well she would have been if she hadn't been called off to do who knows what–that's what happens when you're someone like her. Guess you'll just have to make do with li'l ol' me." There was a smug lilt to the words, and it clearly wasn't the response Lyll was hoping for.
"Whatever, Sal, just tell her I was looking for her, please? It's important, and she's not answering her phone." They snatched the food off the counter, not casting a second glance around before stalking off, muttering to themself. "Unbelievable."
She watched them go, angrily biting into the slice of pizza in their hand before they joined a group of students that she didn't recognize–probably people from their own grade.
A voice calling out over the din of people milling around the adjacent stalls reminded her where she was. "Next!" the girl repeated.
"Ah, that's me!" Monika responded, looking up to meet shockingly magenta eyes framed by lavender hair. The girl's pale features were carved into a grin as she met Monika's eyes.
The stand worker couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her, but the confidence rolling off of her in waves made Monika feel so much smaller. "What can I get you?" She asked.
For a moment, Monika struggled to find her voice, and eyebrows that matched the girl's hair color raised in curiosity. "Need a minute?" she inquired, fanning her fingers on one hand and inspecting her nails before turning her attention back to Monika.
"Ah, n-no," she stuttered, collecting herself and rattling off the order for her and Sayori. Just to be on the safe side, she added in a few things for Natsuki as well.
The other girl made a show of looking around. "All this for just you?"
"S-sorry?" Monika responded, confused.
The girl scribbled down the order and pulled the small sheet from her notepad with a sharp tug, handing it over to the other stand worker filling the orders as she waited for Monika to fish through her wallet for the correct amount of cash. "Figure your date must be around here somewhere, cutie like yourself."
Caught off guard, Monika sputtered, nearly dropping the change before she could hand it over the counter. "Wh-what? N-no, I'm just here with a friend."
The girl laughed, a sharp, grating sound like a wind chime that had been struck one too many times. Then, after a beat. "Oh wait, you're serious?" she sounded surprised, the grin dropping off her face. She leaned across the counter, her chin dropping onto her folded hands. She peered at Monika for a moment, looking her up and down none too subtly. "Maybe I have a shot, then?"
A deep flush crawled up Monika's neck until it bloomed across her cheeks as her mind caught up with the implication. She sputtered uselessly, backing away a step. "Ah, uh, I don't think I…" she trailed off.
"Cute," the girl drawled in that "bless your heart" way that sounded more like pity than another ill conceived compliment. "Well, if you want some company later, you know where to find me," she lilted as she handed the paper trays of food down to Monika, winking. Then, she made a brief shoo-ing motion with her hand, and Monika heard someone clear their throat behind her.
She realized belatedly that she was holding up the line, and with a deep blush still burning her cheeks, she scrambled out of the way, ducking around the side of the stand only to hear the girl take the next customer's order as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
By the time Sayori and Natsuki returned, Monika had returned to their table, poking at her now-cold pizza. She'd only managed a few bites before her mind was dragged back to the interaction she'd had with Natsuki's father and the subsequent, mortifying catastrophe that had followed with the food stand girl. Sinking her teeth into the re-hardened cheese, she chewed off another bite unenthusiastically as her friends approached. The pink haired girl seemed to be in slightly better spirits, shoveling a handful of the fries she was carrying into her mouth as they walked, but Sayori kept casting her worried glances when she thought no one was looking.
Sayori dropped onto the bench beside Monika while Natsuki circled around the table, swinging her legs over the opposite seat one at a time before gracelessly plopping, shaking the entire table as she did so. "So," she began through a small mouthful of food. The rest of what she said was entirely unintelligible, and Sayori gave her an unimpressed look.
"Don't be rude," she admonished, pulling the carton of fries out of reach when Natsuki went for another handful.
Natsuki glowered at the coral haired girl before rolling her eyes, sighing. "Fine. I said, what do you guys want to do?"
Monika looked between Natsuki and Sayori only to realize they were both staring at her. "Wait, don't look at me! This is my first time, remember."
"Heh, that's what she said." Natsuki smirked.
Monika turned her baleful gaze on the pink haired club member. "Wow, very funny," she replied, unamused. "Anyway, I guess we haven't really played many games?" she offered with a shrug.
That seemed to satisfy the other two, and the conversation devolved from there, Monika taking a back seat and simply watching the other two interact with little input. She could tell that Sayori was doing her best to act as a distraction for their smaller companion, and she applauded the girl's effort. This was another one of those moments where Sayori's people skills shined, and Monika was endlessly glad that she was there to pick up her own conversational slack.
"You gonna finish that?" Natsuki asked as the three began to clean up their mess.
Monika was about to toss her tray into the nearby trash can when Natsuki's question stopped her. "Oh, uh, sure." She turned around, holding the tray out so that the pink haired girl could grab the leftover food.
As she did so, something caught her eye. "What's that?"
There, tucked beneath the plate of pizza, was a napkin. In neat, small handwriting, was a phone number. Monika groaned, crumpling the item in question into her hand and shoving it into the pocket of her coat. "It's nothing," she snapped, feeling the flush from earlier returning.
Natsuki eyed her curiously. "Doesn't seem like nothing," she quipped, snagging Monika's barely-touched pizza and ripping off a chunk.
Monika thought she would press further, but all she did was shrug, returning to where Sayori was waiting for them, her scavenged prize already well on its way to being finished with only the crust remaining by the time Monika caught up to them.
The rest of the day was uneventful, and the three milled about the game alley for a while. Natsuki was, unsurprisingly, very good at many of the skill-based activities. More than once, she managed to claim a prize from the astonished stall workers. Her dart-throwing prowess earned her a soft, poorly made panda plush, which she unceremoniously handed over to an ecstatic Sayori, and when the three of them finished tossing their ping-pong balls at the fishbowl stand, Natsuki was the one to return triumphantly with a tiny goldfish in a bag. She glanced between the small, docile thing and Monika for a moment before handing it over with a simple "better off with you, anyway."
They did manage to convince the small pinkette to attempt mechanical bull riding, and that was where her luck ran out. A mere few seconds into her turn, Natsuki pitched forward over the saddle pommel, landing on the mat with a thump. When she looked up, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, Sayori cheered, giving her an encouraging thumbs up. Monika followed suit, noting the way that the smile never left the manga enthusiasts face.
When the afternoon turned to evening, and their treasures in tow, the three headed off to find the lemonade stand that Sayori's mother was helping with.
"So?" Sayori began, looking at Monika with wide, hopeful eyes, "Did you have fun?"
Monika laughed, holding up the little goldfish who Sayori had helpfully named "bubbles." "How could I not?" she replied rhetorically. Then, with a more serious expression on her face, thanking the encroaching shadows for obscuring her features, she added. "This was the most fun I've had in a long time."
Natsuki didn't let that particularly somber comment sink in. "We should come again next year!"
The agreement from Sayori was immediate, "We could make it a tradition! What do you think, Moni?"
"Sure, why not?" She hoped the false cheer in her voice was enough, and it seemed to be as the other two devolved into excited conversation about what they would do the following year. Monika, however, found herself drifting back into her own thoughts. She continued to mull over that particular topic even as the four piled into Miss Sato's car and made their way back to the suburbs.
Next year…
It was dark by the time they pulled into Monika's long, narrow driveway, and as she prepared to step out of the vehicle, Sayori's hand clutched the back of her seat. "Are you sure you don't want to stay over? It could be fun," she bargained.
Monika turned to look at her from her place in the front passenger seat, glancing between her and Natsuki. "I appreciate the offer, Say, but my mom would throw a fit if she knew I left the house unattended all night."
Sayori considered her response and seemed to find it satisfactory. "Okay. Text me later?"
As Monika stepped out into the crisp darkness, she turned back to her friend, smiling. "Sure." Then, she turned to Mae Sato. "Thank you very much for the ride."
The woman nodded, her eyes warm, "Any time."
Once the car had backed out of the driveway, Monika turned towards the house. The crunch of her shoes on the walkway broke through the silence of the encroaching night, and the water in the little plastic bag she carried sloshed with her movement.
Slipping the key into the lock of the front door, she made her way inside, kicking off her shoes as she went.
"Alright, little guy," she intoned quietly, "let's get you settled into something more comfortable." While she had absolutely no idea how to care for a goldfish–that was something she would need to rectify in the morning–she imagined that being shaken all day long hadn't been the most pleasant experience.
In the kitchen, she flicked on the range-hood light, bathing the room in a warm yellow glow. She rifled through the cabinets for something that could serve as a makeshift fishbowl until something more suitable could be procured, and the only thing she could find was a mid-sized glass mixing bowl.
Heading back to the counter where she'd left her new friend, she went about the task of gently pouring the contents of the bag–fish included–into his new vessel. The water was more shallow than she would have liked, but a quick online search told her that water pH was of the utmost importance for all aquatic creatures. He would just have to make do.
Settling onto one of the bar stools, she dropped her head onto her arms, watching the fish as it cautiously explored its new environment. She reached out, gently brushing the glass with the pad of one finger. "You're just like me, huh, little guy." The tiny thing darted away at the movement, and after a beat, she sighed, slipping out of the seat to go about preparing for bed.
It was early yet, but she was exhausted from the day, and as she stepped into the warm spray of the shower, the water soothing her aching muscles, she closed her eyes, tilting her head back and allowing herself a moment to breathe.
The soft pat pat pat of the water raining down against the shower curtain and the tile floor sank into her consciousness, draining it of the particulars of the day. What it left behind was silence, the same silence she found reflected in the house as she stepped lightly to her bedroom, the same silence that stared down the hallway at her when she looked into the darkness for too long. It was the blank canvas upon which her imagination could paint, raking through reality with swaths of red. A tangle of hair here, a flicker of static there, all of it a derelict tapestry of events past.
The first time the house creaked that night, her heart was in her throat, pounding out a beat far too loud for her ears to hear anything over. She pushed the covers from her shoulders, dipping one toe out into the yawning abyss of the night's darkness, the crinkle of fabric beneath her as she scooted to the edge of the bed, listening again. She held her breath, straining to hear the sound repeated, but nothing came.
Against her better judgment, she left the warm, enveloping embrace of her blankets and ventured out into the hallway, aware of the way the boards beneath her feet groaned and shifted. Downstairs, the light in the kitchen was just as she'd left it, and the grandfather clock ticked on. She checked the front door first, inspecting the lock once, twice, a third time, before moving on to the other rooms in the house. She whirled around corners, yanked back curtains, and crept along freezing hardwood floors until, at long last, the only place she hadn't checked was the piano room.
She gently opened the door.
From between the thick swathes of velvet curtains, a beam of moonlight shone on the dusty surface of the grand piano. Its glossy surface might once have reflected the light, but filthy as it was, it only managed to diffuse it, spreading it across the entirety of the instrument until it seemed to glow with an otherworldly light.
Play something for me, would you? You never sing anymore.
The voice caressed her cheek like the back of a hand gnarled with age.
That's because I have nothing left to say. The voice was her own, though somehow older, heavy with the weight of years she had yet to live. Besides. You're not really here to listen… are you.