Chapter 3: Talk to Us

Emily's heart felt heavy as she perched atop her giant red dog, Clifford, on their way back from the supermarket. The sun was setting over the island, casting a warm golden hue over the familiar scenery, but the beauty of the evening was lost on her. Instead, her mind replayed the moment that had just unfolded with the new kid in town.

For as long as she could remember, she had never witnessed such an outburst from any human being as violently as what she was subjected to, nor treated with such blatant disrespect, her mind raced with uncertainty.

She had been so excited to make a new friend. After all, Birdwell Island was a small place, and everyone knew everyone.

"HOLY SHIT, can you STOP?!" he had snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a cold wind.

Emily had felt her cheeks flush, her heart sinking as his words echoed in her mind.

"I-I just... I just wanted to be friendly…"

"Well I don't wanna talk to anyone right now, especially you, so just leave me alone and SHUT UP!"

She had tried to shrug it off, thinking he might just be shy or overwhelmed by the move, but the encounter had left her feeling rejected and confused. She was only now remembering most of his attention as she attemped to make conversation was directed onto his phone aside from her initial greeting, probably the first indicator she wasn't keen on talking to her.

As she rode Clifford into the yard, the familiar sight of her home brought a small sense of comfort, but the weight of rejection clung to her like a shadow.

As he arrived into the large doghouse that served as her and Clifford's cozy retreat, he slowly inched his head towards the platform, allowing Emily to dismount, clutching the bag of snacks tightly in her hands, the promise of a fun sleepover with her friends tonight dimmed by the disappointment of her earlier encounter.

Clifford eyed her as she made her way down the stairs, sensing his best friend's sorrow. He let out a gentle woof, as if to say, "I'm here for you." The warmth of his presence wrapped around Emily like a comforting blanket, but it couldn't shake the lingering sadness within her.

Emily forced a smile, a wobbly, unconvincing thing that barely reached her eyes.

"It's okay, Clifford," she sighed, stroking his leg's soft fur before heading to her house. "I'll be alright, you get some rest." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. Even to herself, the words felt hollow, both she and Clifford knew that this wasn't true and the weight of unspoken sadness hung heavy between them.

As she shuffled into the house, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, momentarily lifting her spirits.

"Welcome home, Emily!" Her mother's cheerful voice rang out as soon as Emily stepped through the door. Her mother, Caroline Howard, was in the kitchen, busy arranging the treats on a plate and preparing for the sleepover.

"Hi, Mom," she replied, her voice a soft whisper as she entered the kitchen. When she turned around and saw Emily's forlorn expression, her smile faded, replaced with concern as she noticed the absence of her daughter's usual bright smile.

"Emily, sweetie, what's the matter?" she asked, kneeling beside her daughter.

Emily shrugged, a gesture that felt inadequate to convey the turmoil inside her, though she couldn't figure out how else she could articulate it.

"Nothing," she lied, but even she knew that it was a weak attempt to disguise her feelings. She busied herself with unpacking the snacks she had bought—colorful packets of chips, a tub of ice cream, and a box of cookies.

"Come here." Her mother's voice was gentle yet firm, beckoning Emily to the kitchen table where she had prepared a plate of cookies. "Let's talk about it over some snacks." Reluctantly, Emily took a seat, the image of the unkind new kid lingering in her mind.

"Well... I saw someone new today," she began hesitantly, the words tumbling out as if they were trying to escape her. "He said they just moved here."

"Oooh, that's interesting," mused Caroline. "Maybe we can greet their family soon and welcome them."

"Well, that's the thing!" she tried to let the story out without allowing herself to wallow in regret more. "I tried to welcome him, told him about the beach, the sunset, everything! But... he didn't wanna talk to me, he yelled at me to leave me alone and shut up."

As Caroline digested this, she couldn't help but wonder how small and insignificant Emily felt at the supermarket, as well as who could possibly be in such a mood they would respond like this to her daughter. She could tell with each word, the weight of Emily's sadness seemed to increase, pressing down on her like an invisible force.

"Oh, Emily," Mrs. Howard said softly, her sympathy evident. "That must have been awful. It's never nice to be treated that way, especially by someone you were trying to befriend."

"I just wanted to say hi, Mom. I thought maybe we could be friends, but… he just yelled at me. Maybe I was pushing on him too much?" she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. She recalled her not being very attentive to the boy's own feelings, and remembered his expression laced with disinterest and only now began to look back on his multiple attempts to get through to him.

"Well, for some it's tough meeting new people, and sometimes they're just not ready to make friends for their own reasons. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you," Caroline reassured, her hand resting gently on Emily's shoulder.

"But it hurt," Emily admitted, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I really wanted to be their friend."

"And maybe you will one day, maybe you'll see this boy again in the future. Still, it's possible this new kid is having a rough time themselves. You never know what someone else is going through," Caroline said gently. "It doesn't excuse their behavior, but it might explain it."

Emily sighed, seeing a point in her mother's theory. Her heart swelled with gratitude for her mother's empathy, but the feelings of disappointment lingered. "I guess."

"And speaking of friends, guess what? Charley and Jetta are on their way for the sleepover! How about we focus on that and have some fun tonight?" Caroline suggested, trying to steer Emily's thoughts toward a more positive direction, which worked, with the mention of Charley and Jetta bringing a genuine smile to Emily's face.

"Yeah, I can't wait!" she exclaimed, suddenly feeling the excitement of the sleepover bubbling up inside her, heading upstairs to change into her pajamas.

Once Stan got home from the supermarket, he quickly put Sparky away in the doghouse without a word and began placing all of the groceries inside the fridge & freezer, not even bothering with a greeting from his father watching television in their living room.

The mundane chore was a welcome distraction, a momentary escape from the weight pressing down on his chest. But as he closed the fridge door, the brief, fleeting satisfaction faded. He retreated to his sanctuary—his room. He flopped onto the bed, the softness a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in his mind. The incident at the supermarket replayed in his thoughts like a broken record.

He could still see Emily, her bright eyes sparkling with innocence, reaching out with a warm smile. She had wanted to talk, to connect, to share a moment of joy in an otherwise ordinary day. But he had snuffed that flame with harsh words, leaving her heartbroken and confused. The hurt etched on her face lingered, a haunting reminder of his inability to engage with the world. He cursed himself for being so callous, yet the shame morphed into a shield, protecting him from the vulnerability of admitting he was wrong.

In a desperate attempt to drown out the guilt, Stan grabbed his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media. Posts of his friends back in South Park laughing, living their lives, and sharing moments struck him like daggers. Envy twisted in his gut as he took a swig from a bottle of alcohol hidden away in his drawer. The burn was a temporary relief, numbing the ache inside him, if only for a moment.

He continued to lay in solitude for the next two hours before it was shattered by the sound of heavy banging against his door.

"Get up, turd! Dinner's ready!" Shelley's voice boomed through the house, and he cringed, knowing that resistance was futile.

"Just a few more minutes!" he called back, hoping to buy himself some time. He didn't want to face the inevitable confrontation, the barrage of questions he didn't have the answers to, but Shelley was relentless.

"If you don't come out in one minute, I swear to God, I'll destroy you!" He winced at the threat, not because he believed she would actually hurt him-even though he knew she wouldn't hesitate to, but because the idea of standing up to her felt like an insurmountable task. With a scowl etched on his face, he pushed himself off the bed and made his way downstairs.

As he entered the dining room, the smell of takeout wafted through the air, a mix of fried chicken and something spicy that made his stomach churn. The rest of his family was already seated at the table.

"Hey, Stanley! Look what I ordered tonight, I think you'll love it!" Sharon said, her smile genuine, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes as she noticed his sour expression.

"Great," he mumbled, plopping down into his chair. He poked at the chicken leg on his plate, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.

Shelley, ever the antagonizer, leaned over and whispered, "What's wrong with you? Mood swing or something?" Her cheeky grin only served to aggravate him further.

"I'm fine," he snapped, wishing he could just blend into the background, wishing he didn't have to explain himself.

Randy, seeing the opportunity with the awkward silence, decided to share his story, which was enough to bring everyone's mood down. "Soooo, today I went on a little drive on the island, and guess what?! There's a whole bunch of empty land up north just sitting there! And no one is using it!"

"Oh my Gooood!" Shelley moaned, burying her face in her hands.

Sharon sighed. "Randy, maybe we can save your new business ideas for after dinner?"

Randy insistent, continued. "No, listen! It doesn't even have to be something wild like weed. We could—"

Two hands slamming against the table quickly shut him up.

"DAD, PLEASE DON'T BE THE SECOND PERSON I HAVE TO YELL AT TODAY, JUST STOP!"

The words escaped Stan before he could rein them in, the room falling into a heavy silence. Everyone paused, staring at him, and he felt the heat of shame wash over him.

"Stanley, what happened today?" Sharon's voice was soft and probing, a mother's intuition kicking in as she sensed the turmoil beneath his outburst.

Stan hesitated, the truth just out of reach. "It's nothing," he mumbled, but the way his mother's eyes narrowed told him she wasn't buying it.

"Stan," she pressed gently, standing up from the table, heading upstairs. "Why don't you come with me for a moment? Let's talk."

He didn't want to.

He really didn't want to.

He would rather do anything but talk about the little girl or how he felt like his heart had been ripped open.

"Stanley!" Sharon called from afar with more authority.

"Fine," he relented, pushing his chair back and following her to her bedroom. Once seated on his parents' bed, he glanced away, feeling the weight of her gaze on him.

"What's going on, honey?" the brown-haired matriarch of the Marsh family inquired once again. "You can talk to me."

His mouth opened, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he felt the familiar rush of shame and regret wash over him.

"I... I was in line at the supermarket," he slowly pressed on. "And I yelled at this little girl."

Sharon kept a calm composure, already having the knowledge he went through an altercation if his earlier outburst was anything to go buy. Inwardly she was surprised it wasn't at a store clerk, or an adult, but a seemingly innocent girl, but she didn't judge him just yet. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know!" he burst out, frustration bubbling over. He wanted to say how he just felt overwhelmed, hating the feeling of isolation, yet he didn't know what to do about it. "When she spoke to me, I just snapped... I didn't mean to hurt her."

Sharon nodded; her expression empathetic. She knew her son wasn't in the right state of mind in the past few months, and the antidepressants he took weren't too effective. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed, but it's not okay to take it out on others. You know that, right?"

"I do," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But I can't help it. I just... I don't want to feel this way anymore." He felt trapped in a cycle he didn't know how to break free of. He felt the shame wash over him, the reminder of his actions mingling with the pain he had been bottling up.

"What do I do, Mom?"

Sharon smiled. "Well, first you'd wanna apologize to this girl, right?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "I don't even know where she lives."

Sharon giggled. "Well it's a small town, you'll be sure to find her eventually."

There wasn't much use arguing with that logic, though that relied on him if he even felt like going outside.

With one kiss on her son's forehead, she stood up, making her way out. "Come on then, I know you're not done eating yet."

Stan followed her downstairs, knowing there wasn't much of a choice but it wasn't as if he was doing much else in the meantime.

I'll admit... he thought to himself. That chicken did taste good.

The sleepover at the Howard's home going great, with Emily, Jetta and Charley all enjoying themselves a movie Emily's mother used to watch as a child. She had insisted that the movie would be entertaining and nostalgic, filled with laughter and heartwarming moments.

Yet, as the opening credits rolled, Emily found her mind wandering back to the unpleasant incident from earlier that day. She had tried to brush it off, convincing herself that tonight was about fun and friendship, but the incident lingered like a dark cloud in the back of her mind, even after her mother had offered her some comfort.

As the film progressed, Emily focused on the antics of the characters, giggling about it and loosing herself in the whimsical world on the screen. About a good half hour into the film, she was coming back to the living room witth a refilled bowl of popcorn for the three of them to share whenna scene unfolded that struck a chord deep within her. A tall male character sporting a top hat interrupted a shorter character who was making an impassioned speech in the park.

"Can you quit it already, mate?!" the top-hat-wearing character yelled, swatting the sign from the shorter character's hands. "Nobody around here wants to hear your incessant rambling, so shut up and get out, why don't ya?!"

On an average day, this wouldn't have bothered Emily, but today wasn't an average day.

She recoiled at the harshness of the words, feeling an unsettling sense of familiarity that made her stomach churn. Her friends erupted into laughter, but Emily's laughter faded as she instinctively pulled her knees closer to her chest, brought her blanked closer to her and rested her head on it. The laughter of Charley and Jetta felt distant, muffled against the growing tide of sadness that rose within her.

Charley was the first to notice Emily's sudden shift in demeanor. The laughter faded as she turned to her friend, concerned.

"Emily, are you okay?" Charley's voice cut through the haze.

Jetta, unaware of the tension in the air, rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Charley! It's just a movie! Let her be!"

But Emily's silence was enough to grab their full attention. The pause button clicked, and the room fell silent. Emily took a deep breath, wrestling with her thoughts. Jetta's expression softened as her gaze fell on Emily, who looked small and vulnerable, wrapped in her blanket cocoon.

"What's the matter, Emily?" Charley repeated, his voice gentle yet insistent.

Emily hesitated, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind. She feared sharing her encounter, worried it would overshadow their night of fun.

"It's nothing you guys," she lied through an unconvincing smile. "Let's just put the movie back on."

They both remained unconvinced. She really didn't want to recount today's events more than once, but as her friends' eyes remained fixed on her, she felt a flicker of trust igniting within her. After a moment of reflection, she sighed.

"Okay, I'll tell you," she said, her voice soft. "It's just... today at the supermarket, I tried to talk to this boy who just moved here. I thought he'd want to be friends, but he... he yelled at me. He told me to leave him alone."

The words tumbled out, and she felt a sense of relief. Charley's expression softened, while Jetta's brow furrowed in concern.

"That's awful!" Charley exclaimed. "He must have been a real jerk! What's his name?"

Emily sighed. "I uh, I never got it. I remember he did look a bit grumpy, but maybe I was just being annoying. Maybe I should have just left him alone."

Charley shook his head fiercely. "No way! You were just being friendly! If he didn't want to talk, that's on him! Besides, I don't see what the need is for all that attitude! If he's got a problem, it's got nothing to do with you."

"Yeah!" Jetta chimed in, clenching a fist and raising it high above her head. "That kid was just being a total scumbag! If he ever shows his face again, we'll be sure to show him what for!"

Jetta's words, though meant to be supportive, struck a discordant note with Emily. The idea of retaliation, of confronting the boy, filled her with unease. She didn't want to escalate the situation, didn't want to add fuel to the fire. She craved peace, a resolution that didn't involve anger or conflict. Emily shook her head, her expression resolute.

"No," she whispered. "I don't want to do that. I just… I want to understand. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he's just shy." A thoughtful frown creased her brow. "Maybe… maybe I just didn't know how to talk to him."

They knew Emily; they knew her inherent kindness, her desire to find harmony in even the most challenging situations. While they didn't fully agree with her approach, they respected her wish for a peaceful resolution.

They resumed the movie not too long after, and for the rest of it, and for a good majority of the night before they headed to sleep, they were all silent.