Fandango 1.7

After lunch, Rachel walked up to me, handed me a bag, and told me to follow her. I dutifully followed, offering an apology for not being free this morning, which was ignored.

She wasn't exactly a social person. Then again, neither was I, so it wasn't quite as awkward as possible on the way to our destination. Brutus seemed eager, at least, judging by how he trotted happily at my side. Judas and Angelica did much the same on Rachel's leashes, sniffing the occasional item of interest, but keeping up with the group.

"They're very well trained. You train them yourself?" It was the only thing I could think of to talk about.

She nodded. "Others always mess things up. Dogs need a bond."

I nodded in turn. "How long have you had them?"

"Brutus, a few years. Judas too. Angelica was only about a year ago." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why are you asking me questions?"

I shrugged, going for the honest answer. "I'm interested. I've got to know this stuff if we're gonna be a team, right?"

"No," she said flatly.

That threw me off, but I rallied. "Of course we do. You wouldn't bring an unfamiliar dog with you on a mission, right? Same idea. I'm unfamiliar with you, and you are with me. Let's get to know one another, so we can work together."Really, Taylor? Dog comparisons for the dog handler? Great job, really inspired. Next, you'll say you should sniff butts and- let's just put a moratorium on that mental image right now. Ugh, it was in my head. Asses, everywhere.

While I was floundering with that, Rachel had been silent. I was saved from my crashing train of thought by her asking me a question.

"What's your thing?"

Okay, maybe the train was still crashing, because it took me a second to process the question in a way that didn't involve things I didn't want to think about. "M-my powers?" She nodded.

"I make stuff dance. That's about it." She frowned, and I lapsed back into awkward silence. After another minute, I had my thoughts together enough to remember the original conversation. I'd been going somewhere with the conversation before it'd been derailed… right.

"You've really got a gift, you know that?" She shot me a look, but I continued. "With training dogs. I don't know the first thing about it, other than it being really difficult to do well. All I do is force things to do stuff, but your dogs do stuff because they trust you. I envy that."

She remained silent, and I just shut up. I'd tried my best; really poured my heart out there; and either she didn't care, or didn't want to. I walked in silence, head down, no longer in the mood for the peppy electronic music in my ears.

"You walk like an alpha."

My head shot up, and I said "What?" in a slightly shaky voice. I cleared my throat, and clarified, "What do you mean?"

"You walk like an alpha. Showy, but in a confident way, not a prissy way. Sort of like you could walk through a forest without ducking, and the branches would move out of the way."

"I- thank you?" Was it a complement? I really didn't get it, if it was, but it did make me feel a little better. She grunted, and that familiar rhythm of dog's feet took over the conversation once more.

A few minutes later, a thought struck me. She'd said dogs, but never said how many…

Twenty-two. Twenty-two dogs. If I needed brainbleach after that mental image earlier, I would have had a few gallons left over.

There were dachshunds, terriers, Labradors, a corgi, and more. All frolicking around in my radius for several minutes before we arrived. I used the time to get started on my task, taking over the surface fleas and ticks.

I'd been privy to a whole parade of headache inducing, disorienting senses when I'd gained my powers; more than half the reason I'd been in a psych ward had been because of my ravings about 'rhythms' and the crazy feelings they gave me.

Fleas were relatively harmless in that regard; they mostly told light from darkness with their tiny eyes. Ticks were a little better, which meant way worse, because I did not need an extra close-up of what a tick bite looked like to a tick. It was like a bloody chainsaw seen through a kaleidoscope. Ugh. Still, I kept it up. By the time we got there, I was running a literal flea circus in a corner of what I was quickly realizing was an abandoned, half-destroyed building.

With dismay, I noted some tapeworms; they were really hard to control, because my power just treated them like a chain of tiny, limbless creatures that couldn't dance at all. Only the head could dance, and it was understandably unpleasant to control the only part with mouthparts when it was in a small intestine. I did my best to make them let go, then tuned out their feedback for a while. Their instincts should take over when they passed into the large intestine, finish the job.

And then there was the heartworm. A squirming, blind creature, living in the chest of an unfortunate dog. I motioned Rachel towards that one. "Heartworm. I don't think I can get it."

"Fuck! Those fuckers at the pound should have checked, I just got him! I'll pound that bastard's face in!"

"How bad is it? I know they're bad, but…"

"He could die, and the surgery is no good. I need to use my power on him."

"Wait, is he trained?"

"What part of 'I just got him' did you not get?"

"Right… have you done this before?"

She shook her head, but said, "Yeah. Not like this, but yeah. We can chain him."

"Would you mind if I used my power to hold him?" I blurted it out without thinking. I'd been doing way too much of that today, and if I wasn't careful, it might get me hurt. Like right here.

Her head shot my way. My hands shot up defensively. She looked about ready to shout, but she closed her mouth. I gave her a minute; from what I'd seen, I'd just accidentally asked if I could control the equivalent of one of her children. To save them from being chained down, but still.

"Would it hurt him?"

I shook my head, saying, "No, but it might make him freak out for a minute. I'd have to do it while he's still normal."

"You think you can hold him?"

"I think so."

She thought some more.

"Do me first."

"What? But-"

"Shut up and do it. I won't let you do it to my dogs till I know what it's like."

I paused, trying to think of a problem with it beyond stupidly saying 'You trust me like that' or something. I thought it, sure, but saying it would just make her refuse outright. Finally, I nodded. "Any music preference, I guess?"

"If you do that one about letting dogs out, I'll make them attack."

"Noted." I flicked through my playlists, before deciding on Free Bird.

I offered her an earbud, and for the next few minutes, we sat there. The intro played, then the lyrics

It was a far more- intimate was the only word that came to mind- experience than I intended, just us sitting shoulder to shoulder, with me slowly taking her over. She mumbled along to the song at some points, but otherwise the only sounds in my empty ear were the growls and yelps as the dogs played.

I kept the dancing to a minimum- by the time I had her fully under control, she was rocking out to the guitar bit, but not in an on-stage, over-the-top dancing way, more like a person performing it on an imaginary acoustic. I held her there for a bit, then told her I was letting her go, and dropped the connection.

She huffed, her hands dropping back to her lap, her gaze forward, to her dogs, her expression unreadable. One hand reached up, and slowly removed the earbud, then put it back in after a moment of hesitation. We finished the song.

"Yeah. It's better than chains," was all she had to say as the final riff ended.

I nodded, and began to start on the dog.

After the heartworm was taken care of, I took my leave. I needed to get home before my dad freaked out and assumed I'd made last night's call under duress. I dropped by the loft, grabbed my costume tote and some of the stuff we'd bought, and caught a bus. One ride involving a happy drunk and his drinking song later, and I was back on my street, bags in tow.

And Dad's truck was in the driveway. Yay. I guess it was lies first, clothing and costume storage later.

"Hey Dad, I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen!"

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute!" I ran upstairs, tossing the bags into my room, then rushed back down. He was waiting at the table.

Oh. This was one of those talks.

"Hey, Taylor. How was your day?" He gestured to the chair next to him, and I looped around the table to take the seat. "Good," I said, and it struck me that, for once, I was being genuine about that. Today had been… "Amazing, actually."

"So, what happened last night?"

And the lies began. "I've been quietly searching for ways to help?" It came out as a question. Oops.

"Taylor, you didn't need to do that. You should be focusing on your schoolwork." And didn't that hit straight in the gut, for multiple reasons. I didn't want to bring up school right now. I knew I needed to stop the lies, but… no. Maybe it was the right time. If I didn't stop stacking up the lies, at some point it would all come crashing down. Best to just… get it out there.

"Dad… we need to talk about school."

"Taylor…"

"Dad, January wasn't an isolated incident. It was the culmination of a year and a half of the worst kinds of bullying you can imagine. And it didn't even make the bullies pause; they went right back to it when I got back in February. I've been hiding it, because there's nothing we can do about it. The staff has me pinned as some kind of attention-grubbing liar, the bullies have the students and staff on their side, and they have money and sports and stuff on their side too. It's a huge mess, and everything I've tried is just ignored."

"Taylor... what…"

It was just spilling out now. "And I'm doing my best regardless, I'm keeping up for the most part in my classes. Sometimes they steal assignments and stuff, but I'm still managing. Only this week they ruined my textbooks, so I needed extra money. So I found a job. I joined a g-" gang, I thought, "-game studio, and it pays really well, and it's got flexible hours, so school isn't a mmmphh-" I was cut off as he wrapped me in a hug.

It was warm. Bony, at an awkward angle, but warm. I stopped trying to talk, and just wiped my eyes on his shirt.

"My little owl."

And that set them tearing up again. My mother's nickname for me.

"I'm so proud of you. I've been an idiot, and I'm so proud of you for staying strong." He pulled away, locking eyes with me as I rubbed away tears. "But next time, try to keep me in the loop." He smiled sadly, and pulled me back in.

"Tomorrow, I'll make some calls. See if we can do anything about these bastards who think they can push you around. I'll tear the school down with a mob of Dockworkers if I have to." The edge in his voice told of his intent. I'd seen my dad angry, and he'd tear the school down himself if that's what it took.

His voice softened. "But tonight? Let's celebrate your first job. Go get some ice cream, visit the mall. Maybe go see a movie." I sniffed, nodding. That sounded nice.

"So, tell me about your newfound employment!"

The lies were still bitter, but they were far less bitter than the ones I'd been telling for months, and that was all that mattered.