Chapter 22

Roxy's eyes narrowed. "Just what are you insinuating?" she demanded.

Eric shrugged. "If I were you, I'd look at their music reviews from their inception until, oh, about three months before that first Battle of the Bands that Starlight Music sponsored. And then," he said, "I'd ask myself what could possibly have changed."

Roxy shook her head. "I know you picked the competition for that contest," she said, taking care not to state aloud that Eric had rigged it by deliberately choosing bands of a far lower caliber than the Misfits to highlight their talent. Her lips curled in a sneer when, as though it were yesterday, she could hear Stormer's voice asking whether it wouldn't be better to win fairly.

Pizzazz made a rude noise. "Fair, unfair, who cares? What's important is that we win. And this way, we're gonna."

"Yeah," Stormer said, "but if we're already the best, then why do we have to compete against the worst bands in town? How does that prove anything?"

"Listen," Roxy snarled, "when that Battle of the Bands is over, everyone is gonna go home talking about how fantastic we were. Not, 'Yeah, they were good, but there was a lot of great talent besides.' Not, 'If it were up to me, I would've picked the first runner up.' All they're going to remember is the Misfits and how we blew the competition away. Got it?"

"I-I guess," Stormer said uncertainly, and Eric suavely changed the subject.

"I did," Eric confirmed. "But Stormer's protest did make me think. At that time, the Misfits were still virtual unknowns. It occurred to me that inviting one group that was already gaining traction as a… band to watch… would make you look even better when you outshone them. However, it was necessary to ensure that you would outshine them. And frankly, Emmet Benton's philanthropic activities meant that when I acquired my half of his recording studio, finances were a bit leaner than I'd hoped. Oh, I could keep the studio running, but after signing you, arranging the competition, and crafting the publicity campaign, well, apart from my not having the resources for it in the first place," he smiled, "let's just say that it wouldn't have gone well if I had been caught paying your stiffest competition to… choke."

Roxy's eyes grew wide. "You mean Pizzazz paid them to take a fall?"

Eric shrugged. "Just speculation. It's not as though I can prove anything. The only people who are certain to know the truth of it are Pizzazz herself… and Serena Tannin. I'd suggest doing a bit of homework and then, well, perhaps Pizzazz will find it in her heart to offer you your old place back with the band. I would imagine that at that point, your rehearsal schedule would keep you far too busy to have time to think about going public with your findings."

Roxy smiled.

"So, you're writing a song, truly?" Wendy asked, her eyes lighting up. "How very exciting!"

Emma shook her head. "It's not, really. It's a lot of work. And I keep hitting rough spots where the words aren't right."

"But you're still doing it," Wendy said, thinking how very different this was from Neverland, where one didn't need to do anything remotely resembling 'work' unless Peter thought it might be fun to make you. "Why?"

Emma shrugged. "I dunno. Everyone thinks I'm… good at it. Maybe it's my… thing. But it's still hard."

"You could give up," Wendy said.

"If I do that, then the Starlights don't have a song for the show," Emma said. "They're counting on me."

"Even though you aren't good at it?" Wendy asked, frowning a bit.

"I don't know if I am or not," Emma admitted. "I never tried before. But maybe with Kimber helping with the music, it'll be okay. I don't know. But I want to see if I can." She smiled uncertainly. "Does that make sense?"

Wendy squeezed her arm. "Of course it does," she said warmly. "And if you'd like to share your song with me, perhaps I can help you polish it, some."

Emma brightened at that. "Sure, I could do that," she said, and Wendy smiled back.

"I suppose we ought to be getting back to the others," Wendy sighed. "Thank you, Emma. I think you're the first friend I've made since I came here."

Emma felt herself warm at the words. "I guess I know what it's like to be new," she said. "A few months ago, I was living in Boston. I ran away from my foster placement and ended up... here."

Wendy's eyes widened. "Did you really?" she asked. "Oh, I wish we had more time. I'd like to hear more!" In the distance, they heard a counsellor's whistle blow to signal the end of the activity and time to regroup and she sighed. "Could you... do you think, that perhaps, after camp, we could go off together and talk more? I shan't be able to sleep tonight for wondering about all your adventures if you don't tell me this very day!"

Emma laughed. "It's not really that exciting!" she protested. "But... sure. I just need to let Joellen know and see if there's anyone else I need to get permission from."

"Anyone... else?"

Emma, already starting to shinny down toward the ground, looked up at her new friend with a sigh. "I've been kicked out of too many placements because I broke the house rules," she admitted. "I don't want to screw up, now that I'm finally in a good one. C'mon," she said, as the whistle blasted again. "Let's hurry."

"Mrs. Bailey?" Casey approached the housekeeper with a worried expression on her face. "Have you seen Emma anywhere?"

Mrs. Bailey opened her mouth to respond, but Casey kept talking at a breakneck pace. "We were going to play Monopoly before dinner, but she wasn't in the common room, and she wasn't at supper either. I haven't seen her since we got back from camp, and…" She finally had to pause for breath and the housekeeper could finally get a word in edgewise.

"Emma's actually out with a friend she made earlier in camp," she said. "I believe they're at the mall now. She knows to be back by lights-out, so I'm sure you'll see her later."

Casey's eyes lowered, but she did her best to smile. "Later," she repeated, trying not to sound too disappointed. "O-okay."

"Casey? Is anything wrong?"

Casey shook her head. "Of course not," she said a little too cheerfully. "I guess Emma must have said something about it and I… forgot. Thanks, Mrs. Bailey!" She spun on her heel and practically ran down the corridor.

Casey knew that she and Stephanie weren't Emma's only friends, but she'd thought that they were her closest. She didn't really mind if Emma was meeting other girls at camp either. But for Emma to just… go off without a word when they'd already made plans? That hurt. With a sigh, Casey headed back to the common room, hoping that the girls already there would have the TV tuned to something good.

Jerrica's eyebrows shot up, when Shana told her who her visitor was. She hadn't been expecting a call, not from her nor from anyone else, but she made her way downstairs to her sitting room, pausing at the kitchen to make sure that there was hot water in the kettle and ask the two girls sitting there if they could get some quick refreshments together.

She saw that Phyllis had already settled into one of the comfortable chairs, and was examining one of the knickknacks on her desk—an abstract blown glass piece that Kimber had given her several birthdays ago. Her guest set the piece down again gently, as Jerrica entered.

"Come to see how Emma's doing?" Jerrica asked, and Phyllis blinked.

"Actually, no," she said, "but we can cover that, too. I had a note to pop by next week about it."

"Um… okay," Jerrica said, feeling a little confused. "Then…?"

Phyllis sighed. "I need some advice, I guess. I might place foster kids, but you work with them every day. I've got this situation. If I were the kid, I'd want to know, even if I'd probably scream about it afterwards, but Hana May isn't me and I'm too emotionally involved to be sure I'm not projecting. So."

"So," Jerrica repeated, waiting.

After a moment, Phyllis sighed again. "I… uh… know I'm not great at thanking people, but I'm glad you were there when I took her in. I didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, except," she winced, "I knew I didn't want her to be the spoiled brat I turned out to be."

"Used to be," Jerrica corrected, with a smile, and after a moment, Phyllis smiled back.

"Yeah. Anyway. Roxy's back." She saw the surprise on Jerrica's face and nodded slightly. "Guess Riot didn't tell you."

"No, he didn't," Jerrica replied, shaking her head. "Back with the Misfits?"

"Back in town."

"Oh." Jerrica waited, but Phyllis didn't say anything else, as the silence stretched. "And…?" she prompted finally.

"And she hasn't mentioned Hana May. She hasn't shown the slightest interest in how she's doing, much less in seeing her. So far, the kid doesn't know. I'm pretty sure that if I tell her, she'll just get upset. But am I talking about her, or about me?"

"Your mother," Jerrica murmured, bracing for an angry retort which didn't come. Instead, Phyllis nodded in resignation.

"Ran out on me when I was about Hana May's age and I've never seen her since," she said dully. "I used to think maybe she'd come back to get me one day, but Daddy wouldn't let her take me and sent her away before I even knew she was there." She winced. "I spent a few years making his life hell, because it was easier for me to blame him for something that never happened than admit she didn't want me."

"From what you're saying, Roxy doesn't want her."

"Maybe she does," Phyllis said. "Maybe she just doesn't know it. Or maybe she knows how big a mess she is and she'd rather Hana May doesn't see her like this. Or maybe I do want her, so I'm not pushing hard enough for Roxy to take her. Or maybe I'm just," she swallowed hard, "doing exactly what I thought Daddy was doing and trying to protect Hana May from her and one day, when Hana May finds out that her mother was back in town and she didn't get to see her, she'll blame me for it and she won't believe me when I tell her that Roxy…" She started at the pressure on her hand and realized that Jerrica was squeezing it.

"Hey," she said. "You'll figure this out."

"Sure," Phyllis muttered. "And she'll hate me anyway."

"I doubt that."

"Yeah, well, that's because you're an annoying Pollyanna."

Jerrica shrugged. "I'll take that as a compliment. And it doesn't make me wrong." She smiled. "You've got this."

"I don't," Phyllis sighed. "But thanks for the vote of confidence. So. How is Emma doing?"

They hadn't stayed long at the mall. Window shopping didn't hold either girl's interest for long and while Wendy had seemed oblivious to the watchful eyes of the retail workers, Emma could feel herself tense. It wasn't like she didn't have money; Jerrica gave all the Starlight girls a weekly allowance and she'd been saving. But every suspicious look made her feel as though they knew about how she'd sneaked into movie theaters without buying a ticket back in Boston, and how she'd filched chocolate bars from her classmates' lunches and school supplies from their desks. Maybe it was all her imagination, but it seemed to her that they, that everyone really, was just waiting for her to put a foot wrong. Well, she wasn't going to, so there!

It wasn't until they left the mall for a nearby playground that Emma truly began enjoying herslef. Wendy might have been better at scaling the climbing bars, but her own trick of pulling up to a handstand rung by rung worked nearly as well, so long as she didn't pay attention to how high up she was. Finally, she sat down at the top of the apparatus. After a moment, Wendy joined her.

"I say," Wendy said, "there's quite the view. A pity we can't build a treehouse in that oak," she added, waving toward a nearby tree. "That would be simply marvelous."

Emma tilted her head quizzically. "Does everyone talk like that in England?" she asked, not meanly but curiously. "Simply marvelous. I say." She remembered another word her friend had used earlier. "Quaint?"

Wendy blushed. "Well, they did the last time I was there," she mumbled. "At least, my set did." She caught the twitch of Emma's lip as she pronounced the word 'set' and winced. "I've just done it again, I suppose."

"It's okay," Emma said with a shrug. "Until I came here, I'd never met anyone who wasn't from Boston or New York. At least," she frowned, "I don't think so. Maybe…" she shrugged again. She'd been through so many foster placements and changed schools so many times, that she'd stopped trying to get to know the people she met. She knew it wouldn't be long before she'd be gone again, so there hadn't been much point to it. Unless someone volunteered their information, she no longer asked. "I was just wondering."

"Oh, no offense taken," Wendy said at once. "I suppose it's just one more way in which I never quite fit in anywhere."

Emma blinked. "You, too?" she asked.

Wendy paused. "But surely, you must fit in here! Why look at how those other girls are mad to be with you."

"Still can't get used to that," Emma admitted. "I mean, I'm used to it happening whenever I get to a new place because I'm… new. I'm not used to it lasting this long, though."

"Perhaps, you ought to enjoy it as long as you can?"

"I'm trying to," Emma said with a small smile. "But sooner or later, they're going to figure out that I'm not anything special and then I'll be right back where I started." Her face fell. "Unless they ship me back to Boston before that. Actually, no, then I'll really be right back where I started."

Wendy sighed, thinking about her own temporary respite from what was now her normal existence. "I… know what that must feel like," she admitted softly. "There are places I've been to myself that I'm in no hurry to return to."

"Want to share?" Emma offered.

Wendy shook her head. "Another time, perhaps?"

"Sure."

She heaved a sigh of relief. Then she pasted on a bright smile. "Race you down!" she exclaimed, already springing for the tree trunk.

"Hey! No fair; I wasn't ready!" Emma exclaimed, laughing as she hurried to do the same.

"Relax," Stephanie said, giving Casey a friendly poke. "She's allowed to make friends besides us."

Casey sighed. "I know! That's what I keep telling myself! But still, she meets someone new… with a fancy accent… and perfect hair… and…"

Stephanie shook her head. "Her hair isn't all that perfect. Plus her teeth are crooked. Anyway, just because Emma hung out with her today doesn't mean she won't hang out with us tomorrow. Maybe we can ask them both to sit with us at lunch."

Casey wrung her hands together nervously. "What if she's a snob? What if she's boring?"

"What if she's nice?" Stephanie countered. "What if she's cool?"

"Then what would Emma need us for?"

Stephanie tilted her head. "Are you suggesting that we aren't nice? Or cool?"

Casey smiled faintly. "No. But we don't have that accent."

"We also don't have crooked teeth. Bet everything works out."

"So, Pizzazz paid you to take a dive," Roxy repeated.

"Well, yeah," Serena replied. "But—"

"Hey, I get it," Roxy cut her off. "You needed the money and it was the gig that kept on giving. I don't blame you."

Serena started to speak again, but Roxy was already pushing her chair away from the table. "Anyway, thanks. That's all I needed to know. And hey, if this works out, maybe you'll finally get the chance she paid you to give up. Win-win!"

"Roxy," Serena called after her. "Wait! It's not what you—" But Roxy was already pushing open the glass door of the coffee shop and hurrying down the boulevard. Serena shook her head and looked at the half-full latte that the white-haired woman had left behind on the table. "...Think," she finished softly.

She re-entered Starlight House feeling like she was floating on a cloud. They'd gone back to the mall for dinner at the food court, where she'd started to tell Wendy about her life in Boston. She hadn't gone into too much detail; opening up, especially about the more painful bits, didn't come easily to her, but she'd said more than she'd thought she would and if Wendy had been a little bit too sympathetic, she hadn't made her feel like a pathetic loser either. She was brought back down to Earth by a voice calling behind her, "Emma, might I have a word?"

Emma looked into the kindly face of Mrs. Bailey. "I-I got permission to stay out, as long as I was back by lights out," she said. "It's nowhere near that late!"

Mrs. Bailey shook her head. "Oh, I know that, sweetheart," she said. "I guess I'm just a little surprised that you didn't mention your plans to your friends."

Emma blinked. "My…" All at once, her jaw dropped. "I-I didn't think they'd…" She winced. "I never meant—it's just…" Her eyes were burning and she whirled around quickly, flinching as the housekeeper laid a hand on her shoulder. Whispering now, Emma said, "They don't hate me, do they?"

"Of course not," Mrs. Bailey reassured her. "They're a bit hurt and confused, but they wouldn't be either of those things if they hated you."

"In the other group houses," Emma mumbled, and Mrs. Bailey noted that she did not call them homes, "other kids were sometimes friendly, but nobody cared if I went or stayed. You just… I just… kept my head down, tried not make waves…"

"Well, you've certainly started lifting it here!" Mrs. Bailey remarked. "Emma, whatever things were like in your past, that's not how it is here. Unless you want it to be," she added.

"I don't," Emma replied. "And I didn't mean to ditch them." She looked up hesitantly. "You're really sure they don't hate me?"

"You've got almost an hour till lights out," Mrs. Bailey said. "Why not go up to the common room and ask them yourself? And don't think you need to choose between them and your new friend either. Friendship is a two-way street, so I can't tell you that you can have as many friends as you'd like, but you certainly don't need to restrict your circle to the same two girls." She smiled. "Maybe next time, you'll all go as one big group."

A tentative smile played on Emma's lips. "Maybe…" she said thoughtfully. "Maybe. And I'll go find Casey and Stephanie now." She started down the hall, but turned back just before she reached the stairs to say, "Thanks, Mrs. Bailey."

"You're quite welcome."

Phyllis made a face as she held the phone away from her ear. Roxy always seemed to get louder after she'd been drinking. "It's late," she snapped. "You've been partying. Call me when you're sober."

"Oh, I'm sober enough for this!" Roxy laughed. "I've been talking to Serena Tannin. And if you don't want the tabloids to know what you did to her, you're gonna let me back into the Misfits. And you're going to get Stormer to write a bass guitar solo in every number we do—even if there wasn't one there in the first place!