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If there was one thing Keagan Stills had heard time and time again, it was resigned reluctance to allowing her to be involved in something. Sure, she could come to the sleepover. Sure, she could be on our soccer team. Sure, she could get a job with the network too. All her life Keagan had been the odd one out, and now, sitting here and watching Michelle so easily become friends with the makeup girl and the puppet maker on the show, she could feel it happening once again. And she knew why. She knew why even if they didn't know why.

Because she was black.

She was certain this time it wasn't intentional, it was simply innate for white folks to exclude her because society has told them it's okay to do so. That didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell though. Suddenly she heard someone shuffle up behind her and seat themselves beside her. She stopped eating her yogurt and turned to look at Beatrice, who was sitting next to her now.

"Hey," Keagan said, and Bea smiled warmly.

"Hello Keagan," she said, unfurling her paper bag to gather her lunch from, "how are you today?"

"...you're a human, right?"

"So they tell me."

"Why are interpersonal relationships so much harder to maintain than simple conversations with strangers? Wouldn't it be the opposite way? Shouldn't it be that, over time, as you get closer to someone, you wouldn't have to work that hard for things to be good between you?" Keagan asked as Beatrice opened a small plastic container and started eating apple slices and cheese. Keagan couldn't help but chuckle at her lunch. She even ate like the demographic she made the show for.

"Let me ask you a question," Beatrice said, "let's say you rent an apartment, and you never have to worry about it because you know it's just a temporary domicile, right? Eventually you move into a real home, and that requires constant upkeep, but at least you know it's yours, and something to be proud to have. Which one is more worth the effort?"

"In this economy?" Keagan asked, making Bea laugh as she continued, "The house, I guess."

"Exactly," Beatrice said, "sure it takes more effort, more work, but its something worthwhile. Sure, we'd all love to just have things so good we can take them for granted all the time, but that just isn't how things work, sadly. Some things, most things arguably, take a lot of work, or at the very least, the bare minimum of work."

Keagan looked back at the table where Eliza, Clara and Michelle were eating lunch together and laughing. She sighed and stood up, tossing her empty yogurt container in the trashcan before looking at Bea.

"You might be right, but the effort shouldn't always fall on me," Keagan said before turning and heading back inside to her office. Bea watched her go, then glanced to the table she had been looking at, and she understood.

                                                                                  ***

"My dad said I can't be friends with you anymore," the boy said in the school library, "I shouldn't even be talking to you right now."

"Why not?" Keagan asked, standing there somewhat in shock as she asked, "we...we've been friends since 4th grade! Why is it a problem now?!"

The boy sighed, looked around, then leaned in and lowered his voice, saying, "he says it's because you're black."

It had always been because she was black. Her skin color had always been the sole determining factor in either her exclusion or inclusion. She was either the token black child at birthday parties or she wasn't invited because she was black. It never failed. Depending on what district the school she currently attended had been in, she was either held up as an example of excellency, or ignored because they didn't want black students to be equals, even though she'd always been the best student at all her schools.

"They're intimidated," her father had once told her, "they're scared of you because they know you're so capable, and thusly capable of making their own children look as dumb as they actually are."

But Keagan didn't care about the reasoning, she wanted friends, not adversaries, and certainly didn't want the adversaries she had to be the parents of the very kids she wanted to be friends with. It was one thing for a peer not to like her, that she could take, but an adult who'd never met her? To dislike her purely because of the color of her skin? That sickened her. Which is why, when Keagan was finally hired by the fast food place and started working with Lexi, she was surprised at how welcoming Lexi had been, and why, when she and Michelle had finally met, she was surprised at how kind Michelle had actually been, and suddenly it all made sense.

Hatred was taught, not innate. Those kids had been taught to dislike her, and these women were grown ass adults who knew better.

Which is what made her accidental exclusion from the current group hurt even all that much more.

                                                                                      ***

"I'd like to do a show on racism," Keagan said, sitting with Beatrice, Michelle, Eliza, Stephanie and Leslie in Steph's office.

"...well, that's an admirable concept, certainly, and one that's rife for discussion amongst kids," Stephanie said, "but how would that work?"

"I was thinking that Eliza could make a puppet and I could voice it, and we could base the entire episode around a black woman who's moved into the neighborhood because she felt she didn't belong anywhere else, and learns through Beatrice and her friends that she belongs just as much as anyone else," Keagan said.

"I could make you a puppet," Eliza said softly.

"Tackling big subjects like this on childrens shows is often good for notoriety, it could get some pundits discussing us," Stephanie said.

"I don't wanna do it for the acknowledgement, I wanna do it because it's right," Keagan said, and Beatrice smiled. She knew this girl reminded her of herself, and know she knew why. She had the same moral compass that Bea herself had once had in her fiery youth.

"I'm definitely on board," Leslie said, "I think children who learn about things at an early age are far more understanding than if they are taught after prejudices have already begun to form. I think Keagan has the right idea, and I think we should support her on this. After all, isn't the whole idea of having a platform to use it for the betterment on mankind? To push progressiveness forward?"

Keagan couldn't help but smile. Sure a lot of it sounded performative, but she knew Leslie's heart was in the right place. Michelle finally spoke up.

"I think it's a good idea too," she said, "I'm not black, but I experienced a lot of prejudice myself thanks to my health issues. Growing up was hell, with kids making fun of my inability to breath properly. I know it isn't the same, but I feel like it's in the general ballpark at least."

Steph chewed on the cap to her pen, then shrugged.

"Alright, if this is what you wanna do, let's do it," she said.

Out in the hall, as everyone dispersed and Eliza went to go start work on the puppet, Keagan stopped Michelle in front of the snack machine, grabbing her by the shoulder. Michelle continued to push quarters into the machine as she smiled at her friend.

"Thank you," Keagan said.

"Hey," Michelle said, "We wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you reaching out to me. Honestly, you have just as much control here as anyone."

"Sure doesn't feel like it. Every day you and the other girls all eat lunch together and...I just...I don't feel welcome or comfortable joining you, and it isn't because of you guys, but because I've been conditioned to believe I don't belong in your white circle. That isn't fair, to you or me. I wanna make this episode so that other little black girls don't grow up feeling as left out, ignored or outright hated as I did when I was their age. So they can turn on the TV, see someone who looks like them being accepted, and think 'yeah, I DO deserve that kind of humanity and kindness', not because someone decided they did, but because they actually do, because they're human."

"I understand," Michelle said, grabbing her candy bar from the drop tray and unwrapping it, breaking it in half and sharing it with Keagan as they walked down the hall, each eating their pieces; Michelle pushed her hair from her face, and said, "I'll never know what you went through, my reasons for being hated are far different from yours. Racial hatred and disability hatred are two very different things, even if they are part of the same general sphere, but I want you to know you're not alone, and that I'm your friend."

"I know I'm not alone, and I know you're my friend. It's just that my whole adolescence I had to put up with either being the perfect African American child at my school, or that African American child at my school. Anytime I would go into a new school, it'd start all over again. Am I an example this time, or a target? Same thing with trying to find work. Do they really want me to work with them because they believe in my skillset, or because I make their progressive ideals look realistic? Am I simply a marketing tool used to portray the companies forward thinking diversity? It's so hard to separate all that and come away with an identity that isn't wrapped up in my skin color. And that isn't to say that I'm not proud to be black, because I am, I'm very happy with who I am, but...but I'd be lying if I said the perception others have of me because of my blackness hasn't damaged my self worth a bit."

Michelle stopped and leaned against a wall, finishing her half of the candy bar and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She then exhaled deeply and spoke again.

"When I was 12, I was invited to a birthday party. I was thrilled, because I never got to go to parties. I just didn't have friends, really. But when I got there, I discovered I was early and nobody else had shown up yet. They'd told me to actually come a few hours before the party started, because they wanted to use my oxygen tank to fill up their balloons."

"Jesus," Keagan said, sounding genuinely disgusted.

"After that, I didn't go to any other parties, even on the rare chance I was invited to one. And that one? I didn't stay. I mean, I stayed, but I stayed in the garage where nobody could see me," Michelle said, "Everyone who's labeled different by society has these kinds of stories. Stories where our difference is met with either indifference or outright disdain, and that's why I wanna make your episode, because, yeah, no child should have to feel like they don't belong simply because they're different in some way. Children, more than anyone else, should feel they have the right to exist and be treated as equals. When I was in the hospital, I watched a lot of Beatrice on the hospital TV, and it was what comforted me. I want it to comfort others now too, and that's what Bea wants as well."

Keagan smiled and hugged Michelle, who happily hugged her back.

"Thank you," Keagan whispered.

"You're my best friend, Keagan," Michelle said, "I know we haven't spent much time together lately, but that doesn't change the fact that you're my best friend."

From down the hall, near the water fountains, Bea stood and watched. Suddenly a cactus puppet popped out from around the corner and looked at her, and she looked at it and scoffed joyfully.

"Boy you really are the thing that brings others together, ain'tcha?" Liam asked in his puppet voice, before appearing beside her.

"Sometimes I think about the fact that the show was used to primarily promote a pizzeria, and I get angry," Bea said, "but then I see these girls work together, believe in what they're doing, and I realize there was purpose within that promotion. Maybe what we did wasn't all bad after all."

"That's the spirit," Liam said, patting her on the back before walking off to the set, leaving Beatrice there to think.

                                                                                    ***

"How was work?" Keagan's father, Mitchell, asked as he came into the kitchen.

Keagan had been spending more time at her parents lately, and she'd enjoyed his company. She was waiting for Lexi to get out of class for the evening so they could go to dinner, so she was doing some inventory work in the meantime.

"I got the network to listen to my idea, and agree with me," Keagan said as Mitchell opened up the fridge and too out a can of root beer, then grabbed another for his daughter. He slid it across the table to her before seating himself and popping the top of his can.

"Really? Well good on you, then! I always told you you could make people do whatever you wanted," Mitchell said.

Keagan put her pen down on top of her calculator and grabbed the soda. She popped the top open, took a few sips, then looked at her father as she pulled her bushy hair back into a big ponytail and tied it up. She sighed and smiled.

"Dad, when you were a kid, did you get picked last for stuff, or not invited to things because you were black?" she asked.

"All the damn time," Mitchell said, "but you know, the funny thing about that is how it made me see myself. Sure, I couldn't let it hurt my self worth, slaughter my self esteem, but I just told myself I was too cool for them, and really, they were the ones missing out. I know girls have it harder, so that probably wouldn't have worked for you, but I always thought that about you. Whenever you'd come home crying about not being included in this or that, I just thought to myself "man, what a badass I'm raising" because not only did you let others see how it affected you, being open with your feelings, but you soldiered and and became better than them anyway."

Keagan blushed and took another long sip of her drink before they heard the front door open and her mother, Lauren, come in with Lexi right behind her.

"She was at the front door," Lauren said, "Poor girl couldn't knock cause her hands were so damn full."

"I'm so sorry," Keagan said, standing up and helping Lexi put her things on the kitchen table.

"What are you guys talking about?" Lexi asked, tossing her blonde hair out of her face as she started to sit down and take a few sips from Keagan's can.

"Just how cool it is to raise a kid," Mitchell said, "and what a cool kid we raised."

He then stood up and escorted Lauren out of the room, leaving Keagan and Lexi together. Once they were sure the room was empty, Keagan grabbed Lexi by the shoulders and kissed her deeply, surprising her. Lexi didn't mind though, and happily kissed her back. The girls didn't know it, but Mitchell and Lauren were watching just outside of view, and smiling as they started to head up the stairs to their bedroom.

"She didn't need to be included in anything," Mitchell said, "She gets more tail than all those stupid white boys who made her feel bad ever do."

"You're just jealous," Lauren said.

"I can't be jealous, not being married to you. How could I possibly have gotten anyone better?" Mitchell asked, making Lauren laugh as he kissed her cheek.

That's the thing about being a black sheep, Keagan would think later that night, while watching Lexi sleep, basking in the warm blue glow of the television light...you might not belong to the flock, but there's a lot of other black sheep out there who are more than happy to have you.

You just gotta find 'em.
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Wyatt Bloom was standing downstairs, leaning against the rail, picking at his tie as their babysitter, Gracie, stood beside him. He sighed and let go of his tie before looking at Gracie.

"What do you think of this tie?" he asked, "Does this say 'casual' or 'competitive'? I wanna come across as friendly, approachable, not intimidating."

"Please, like you've ever been intimidating," Scarlett shouted down from the bathroom, making Wyatt and Gracie laugh.

"I think it's nice," Gracie said, shrugging, "It's very colorful. I don't think it says approachable or intimidating, I think it just says....fun."

"I'll take fun, people like fun," Wyatt said, running his hand up his neck into his scruffy short dirty blonde hair; he checked his watch and snapped his fingers, "Come on woman, we're gonna be late! I realize we're going back to highschool, but that doesn't mean you have to put as much effort into your appearance as you used to!"

"Screw you!" Scarlett shouted down again.

"Did you and Mrs. Bloom meet in high school?" Gracie asked, and Wyatt nodded.

"Oh yeah, we've been together for a long time," Wyatt said, "I remember the first time I saw her face."

                                                                                            ***

In fact, the first time Wyatt Bloom saw Scarlett Demure's face, it was in the nurses office. Wyatt was on the baseball team and had pulled his shoulder, while Scarlett, being a cheerleader, had fallen off the top of the pyramid and onto her nose on the ground. As Wyatt entered, he was instantly taken aback by the beautiful blonde sitting in a chair, holding an ice pack to her nose. He took a seat beside her, groaning as he shifted to relieve tension in his muscle.

"What happened to you?" he asked, making her shake her head.

"Carla Mikoni can't hold anything over her head, that's what," Scarlett said.

"Not surprised, she's so thin she makes anorexia jealous," Wyatt said, making Scarlett laugh and immediately apologize for laughing, which made Wyatt smirk; he added, "That was in poor taste, sorry. Still, something wrong with that girl. She's like a bird."

"You should hear her talk," Scarlett said.

"No thank you," Wyatt replied.

"What about you? What're you in for?" Scarlett asked.

"I pulled my shoulder pitching," Wyatt said, "But it'll be fine. I just need to sit a few days out. Let me see your nose."

Scarlett hesitated, then reluctantly pulled the ice pack away, showing off her nose, which really looked okay except for the stained blood. Wyatt shrugged and leaned back into his seat.

"I think you look fine," he said, "But I'd love to see you with a good nose to really make a proper comparison."

And that was all it took to make Scarlett love him. For some people, sometimes it really was that simple.

                                                                                           ***

Sitting in the car, driving towards the high school, Wyatt tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while Scarlett primped at her hair in the rearview mirror. He scoffed as he turned to see this behavior, laughing a little, which made her grimace.

"Don't even judge, buddy. You have no idea how seriously women take these sorts of reunions. It's all about the looks department. Nobody cares how well a woman has done in the business world, alright? If she isn't moderately attractive still, then she's lost all her credibility."

"Wait, what...you're telling me you have credibility?" Wyatt asked, "I am shocked! Why wasn't I made aware of this?"

She laughed and slapped his arm.

"More credibility than you these days," she said.

"Can't argue with that," he replied, before adding, "...so who do you think is gonna be at this thing? You think everyone's gonna be there? I can't really imagine there being a lot of people I'm looking forward to seeing that I didn't bother staying in touch with."

"I'm sure there's some folks we'll be happy to see, like Robbie," Scarlett said, "Remember Robbie? He was the only male cheerleader in the whole group. I've always wondered what he got up to, and I always regretted never staying in touch with him."

"God, I'd forgotten about Robbie, honestly," Wyatt said, "That would be fun."

Honestly, Wyatt hadn't really been all that interested in returning to the high school. He'd long since moved on, and had grown somewhat ashamed of who he'd once been, and how he'd treated certain people while he'd been there. He was worried returning might bring some of that person back, and that genuinely frightened him. But Scarlett was excited to go, and she wouldn't go without him, so he did it as a favor to his wife. She was his best friend, after all.

He'd do anything to make her happy.

                                                                                             ***

Rachel Minnow sat in her car in the school parking lot, staring ahead at the auditorium, wanting go turn and run instead of getting out and going inside. She didn't want to be here, but she desperately wanted to see someone, and this was the only way she could do so without feeling like an outright stalker. She checked her lipstick one more time in the mirror before getting out of the car and heading towards the building.

The music was already too loud, and she wasn't even inside yet. She was starting to wish she'd brought a pair of earplugs or headphones, but somehow that would seem rude, even though that sort of behavior was totally normal as teenagers when they went here. Go figure. She cleared her throat as she approached the door and pushed it open, the light inside blinding her as she stepped over the threshold and into the room. Just like high school, nobody turned to look when she entered, and she was grateful for that.

She walked in, somewhat stumbling in her heels, looking all around for the person she was hoping to see. As she pushed some errant strands of hair out of her face, she suddenly bumped into a tall, lanky man, who turned to look at her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Rachel said, "I didn't make you spill your drink did I?"

"Rachel?" the man asked, smiling, "It's me, Oliver Brighton, remember?"

"...I...no, I'm sorry, I don't remember," Rachel said, chewing her lip, "I'm sorry."

"Eh, it's fine, it's been a long time," Oliver said, adjusting his small glasses and lifting up his drink, sipping it, "didn't expect to see you, honestly."

"Really? Why's that?"

"I don't know," Oliver said, shrugging, "You were always sort of a loner, just didn't expect you to show up for a major social function filled with people who treated you poorly. But, then again, I'm here, and I was treated worse than you, so."

Rachel nodded, pulling at her hair as she looked around for the one person she was here to see. For all she cared, Oliver could be talking to the wall, because she was barely registering anything coming out of his mouth. She started to move through the crowd again, Oliver keeping up pace with her.

"Actually, I remember we were in home ec together, and we were teamed up once to make a set of curtains," Oliver said, "Do you...do you remember that?"

Rachel stopped, and then turned, looking at him.

"Actually I do, yeah," she said, "I still have those. They're hanging over my window in my apartment."

"Really? That's awesome to hear!" Oliver said, sounding genuinely thrilled.

"Oliver?" Rachel asked, "Do you know if Sun Rai is here? Have you seen her anywhere?"

"...no, can't say that I have, sorry," Oliver said, sounding dejected, adding, "but I can help you look for her if you'd like."

"That's okay, I'll do fine on my own. It was nice seeing you," Rachel said, now slinking away into the crowd, leaving Oliver to stand alone. As she made her way to one of the many refreshments tables, she bumped elbows with another woman standing there, and immediately recognized the charm bracelet dangling from her wrist. Rachel groaned and mumbled, "oh no" under her breath as the woman turned towards her.

"Rachel!" she said, grabbing and hugging her firmly.

"Hello Kelly," Rachel managed to say back, trying not to feel embarrassed.

                                                                                                ***

Calvin Klepper was sitting in on a small stairway right outside of the school near the backdoor of the auditorium, trying to escape the noise and commotion. He sighed and stroked his short beard, wishing he could be home right now. He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open, letting the pictures hang down like an accordian. He smiled faintly, and suddenly felt tears rolling down his face. He wiped them away swiftly with his sleeve, before collapsing his wallet again and stuffing it back into his coat pocket.

Just then he saw a pair of headlights pull into the parking lot, and watched as a nice car parked, and two adults stepped out. He instantly recognized Wyatt Bloom's voice, despite not having heard it in so many years. He could hear the woman, whom he recognized just as quickly as being Scarlett, laugh loudly, and watched as the two of them headed for the auditorium. He shook his head and continued to drink from his thermos full of coffee.

The last person he'd want to see would be Wyatt Bloom.

                                                                                                  ***

Rachel couldn't stand being squeezed this tightly, and struggled to pull away from Kelly Schuester's grip. After she finally managed to wriggle away, she stepped back and, politely, patted Kelly on the shoulder like an awkward family reunion with someone you hadn't seen since you were a baby.

"It's so good to see you!" Kelly said.

Kelly, from the looks of things, hadn't changed. She still somehow had braces, and her hair was still in braided pigtails. She looked exactly the same as she had when she and Rachel had been friends in school. Rachel had tried not to be so judgemental but it was hard, because here she was, thinking that Kelly apparently even still had her parents dress her, considering how awful her outfit was.

"Gee, you look exactly the same!" Kelly said, looking embarrassed now for having been so clingy.

"Uh, same to you," Rachel replied, trying to make her response not sound as harsh as she meant it to.

"I'm sorry, I was just...I was really hoping you'd show up, and until I saw you, I was doubting myself for even coming," Kelly said, "I mean, it's not like anyone else here is interested in seeing me, but I knew if you at least showed up, then it would've been worth it."

Okay, now Rachel felt bad. She actually hadn't even really not expected Kelly to be here, it was more that she'd completely forgotten about her altogether. Rachel quickly looked around for a way to escape from this torturous experience, only to spot the backdoor. She bit her lip and then looked back at Kelly, who was digging into her purse.

"You need to see this!" she said, "I brought it with just to show you!"

"Kelly, that's great, get it ready and I will be right back, okay?" Rachel said, quickly excusing herself towards the backdoor. As she pushed on the metal bar across the door, it lunged forward, letting her stumble out onto the small landing near the stone stair steps, only to find herself now next to Calvin, who was looking at her in surprise.

"It's hell in there, isn't it?" Calvin asked.

"It's weird," Rachel managed to say as she seated herself beside him and tossed her hair back, adding, "god, I didn't expect myself to get overwhelmed like this, but it's so painful to come back to such an awful place, full of such awful people who made awful memories for you but don't remember them themself. Somehow those formative moments for you were just another average day for them."

"Ran into an old friend?" Calvin asked, making her smirk.

"Yeah," she said, "and it's like, I feel bad, but...that's what high school is, right? You're friends because of the proximity, because nobody else will be friends with you, right? It's friendship based on survival and necessity, not genuine interest."

"Sure," Calvin said, "That's a fair assessment."

"Are you waiting for someone?" Rachel asked.

"Nah, I just don't wanna be in there," Calvin said, "You?"

"I came for the very same reason others came. To see someone. But I haven't seen her yet, so, I don't know if she even showed up," Rachel said, sighing, tugging at her hair, playing with it absentmindedly, continuing, "besides, she wouldn't even know me, so really I'm no better than the awkward weirdos I'm trying to avoid."

"I've seen everyone arrive, I could tell you if she's here or not," Calvin said.

"Sun Rai? Do you remember Sun Rai? She was the Vietnamese girl who was, like, the only foreign student who attended here? She was mostly in honors classes, but she and I shared gym class, and she got to sit out cause her parents paid the gym teacher off, and I got to sit out cause of my asthma, so we talked a bit, but only during those classes."

"I think I do remember her, yeah," Calvin said, "I don't think she showed up. I would've seen her, being the only foreign person to attend here. Sorry."

"It's fine. It's my fault for being dumb enough to expect her to come back," Rachel said, sighing sadly, "I guess that's what I get for getting my hopes up."

"That's the spirit," Calvin said, patting her back, "never expect anything good, cause reality will come and snatch it away."

Calvin's attitude at least made Rachel feel a bit better, being rather cynical herself. Rachel didn't want to go back inside to Kelly, so she opted instead to stay out here with Calvin and just talk shit about their former classmates, because as she'd learned during her friendship with Kelly, misery loves company.

                                                                                                 ***

"What?" Scarlett asked, mouth agape, eyes wide at this news Oliver had just told them.

"Yeah," Oliver said, "Robbie died in a car accident a few weeks ago, I'm surprised you guys didn't see the news."

"Jesus," Wyatt said, pinching his forehead, "that's...that's tragic. I feel so bad. I was hoping he'd be here. I need a minute."

Wyatt walked off, trying to process this. He hadn't expected people his age to already be dead, especially not people he'd known. He'd known it was always a possibility, but he'd always just pushed the possibility out of his head. He walked calmly through the crowd, finally reaching a table where an African American woman was seated, rubbing her feet. Wyatt said at the same table, and casually glanced over at her.

"You okay?" she asked, "You need aspirin?"

"No, I'll...I'll be okay. You?" he asked, pointing at her feet.

"These shoes are killing me. I never get out, so I never wear any nice shoes," she said, "bad enough to have to pay for a babysitter, but now I gotta walk for hours in these stupid spiked death traps."

Wyatt chuckled and looked at the nametag sticker she had on her jacket.

"Celia Moss," he read, "Celia Moss...why's that name sound so familiar?"

"Because I'm responsible for shutting down BigDrip last year," Celia said.

"Riiiight! They dumped excess oil in nearby lakes to write it off as stolen, so not only defrauding the government but also endangering the environment, that was a big damn deal," Wyatt said, "Well good for you, those guys were scum."

"Thanks," Celia said, smiling faintly, "and yes, they really were."

"So you're a lawyer or something?" Wyatt asked.

"An environmental lawyer, yeah," Celia said.

"That's really cool."

The two of them looked back out at the crowd, dancing, chatting, enjoying themselves as if they were still in high school. Wyatt loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. Celia looked over at him and nodded.

"I like your tie," she said, "it's very fun, makes you very approachable."

Wyatt smiled again, almost blushing now.

"...I just learned a friend of mine died a few weeks ago," he said, "and it only reinforced the truth that I didn't wanna come back here. Most of these people were horrible when we were teenagers, and really they're no different as adults. They just aren't as open about it. Everyone has secrets. But...the fact that they're not as transparent is almost worse. At least when you're a teenager you almost take pride in your sleaze. You knew where everyone stood. Now I don't know who to trust, and frankly I don't feel like I'm that person anymore."

"I know what you mean," Celia said, strapping her shoes back on, "I don't feel like I relate to any of these people anymore either. I feel like just an ordinary, boring adult. Just another aging skeleton on a dying planet, clawing against the ever oncoming inevitable darkness."

"Jeez, Kafka," Wyatt said, "Save some edge for the rest of us."

Celia laughed loudly, throwing her head back, "I just...you know what I mean!" she said, "It's like...I feel like I matured, and these people didn't. I do what has to be done now because it's the right thing to do, not because it's what I want to do. I don't do it for my own selfish needs."

"Right. I wanna be a better person than I was in high school, otherwise what's the point of aging? I wanna be, just...you know, like...someone who grows, someone who learns and changes. I wanna be normal and boring and ordinary. Just one of the everyday people."

Celia nodded, feeling herself warm up to him. Wyatt smiled at her, feeling shy now about conversing this freely with a stranger. He adjusted his tie, smoothing it out, looking down at his dress shoes.

"Anyway, sorry to get so philosophical," he said.

"It's fine. Probably the most enlightening conversation I'll have all night, so thank you," Celia said softly.

And then Scarlett appeared at the table. She and Celia greeted one another politely before Celia excused herself, and Scarlett dragged Wyatt back to the crowd, to listen to more inane banter about people he'd rather have forgotten.

                                                                                             ***

On the drive home later, he looked over at his wife, half asleep in the passenger seat, somewhat tipsy from having drank most of the night, and he smiled. He reached over with his free hand and squeezed one of her hands. When they pulled into the driveway, he carried her inside and, after putting her to bed, he drove the babysitter home. When he got home, he pulled out the senior yearbook and turned to his graduating class, running his index finger along the page until he came across Celia's picture, and he smiled. That was a friendship he'd like to have.

Rachel, on the other hand, had arrived home in worst shape than she'd been in when she'd left. She cried all the way home, so when she got back to her dingy studio apartment over the coffee shop she worked at, she wiped all her now running makeup off her face and then took a quick shower. She laid on the couch and turned the television on, but put it on mute. She pulled out a photo of Sun Rai she'd clipped from the school paper back in the day - Sun in a beautiful suit at a debate tournament - and felt like she wanted to throw up. She'd tried so hard to forget Sun Rai, but she never could. She loved her just as much now as she had back then.

Calvin also returned home to less than stellar feelings. His folks weren't up when he got in, which he was grateful for, but he did find his mom had left him some dinner. He reheated it and ate before heading out to the shed in the backyard and locking the door behind him after entering. Once inside, he pulled out his tools and started back to work on his project, occasionally glancing up at the photo pinned on a corkboard on the wall, featuring a beautiful woman and two cute little girls. He was doing this for them, and he wouldn't them down.

And Celia arrived back home to her son happy to see her, and she wasn't even annoyed he was still awake. If anything, she was grateful. She cherished any time she got to spend with him. She relieved her babysitter, and then the two of them ate ice cream in her large bed, watching cartoons until he finally fell asleep against her, and she would then carry him to his bed, tucking him in. She'd stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. At least something good had come from that marriage.

And Kelly got home, only to curl up with her dog on her couch, and eat popcorn most of the evening as she watched nature documentaries. All she'd wanted to do was reconnect with her best friend, and Rachel had spent most of her time outside with Calvin. Kelly tried not to take it too personally, but it was hard not to, especially when the last thing Rachel had said to Kelly in high school had been to leave her alone because she was so lame. Stuff like that still stung so many years later.

But while everyone else arrived home with quiet and uneventful feelings, Oliver's arrival at the house was anything but. His daughters were looking out their bedroom window when they saw him pull into the driveway, and they quickly rushed and piled stuffed animals under their blankets in their beds, before hiding in the closet, just like most nights. He never came in and checked to see if it was really them, which they were thankful for. They just knew that most of the time, unless it was time for them to work again, he would leave them alone.

As Oliver climbed into bed, clicking his bedside lamp off, his wife, lying on her side, asked a question in the meekest voice.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked.

"It was fine," he said, removing his glasses and putting them on the nightstand.

"That's good," she mumbled, waiting for him to drift off so she could get back up and continue coming up with a plan on how to get away from this house. Away from this man. Because truth was, the men who seemed the worst like Wyatt often grew to be the best, and the men who went out of their way to appear the best, like Oliver, were actually the monsters. Passing themselves off as your average neighbor, citizen, upstanding friend and family member. Someone you'd never expect. They didn't look like monsters.

They just looked like everyday people.
Published on
Delores Stiltskon was sitting at her breakfast table eating her morning oatmeal, drinking coffee, reading a magazine. It was raining outside, like it had been lately, and she didn't have to be into the office today, thank goodness. She hated going anywhere in the rain. Delores had always felt like rainy days should be spent indoors with warm drinks and good reading material. Maybe she'd finally tackle some of those chores she'd been putting off. As she took another bite of oatmeal, she heard a knock on the door, and she looked up, furrowing her brow in confusion...who could be here?

Delores stood up, walked through the foyer to the front door and answered, only to find a soggy and upset Michelle standing on her porch. Delores stepped aside and allowed her entrance.

"You poor thing! Get in here and we'll get you warmed up! I'll turn on my fireplace!" Delores said, rushing to flick on her electric fireplace, before she helped Michelle pull her soaking wet sweatshirt off, before Michelle turned and just hugged Delores tightly, surprising her yet again as she started to cry into Delores's shirt. Delores just patted her on the back and smiled.

"There there," she said warmly, "you're okay now. I'm here."

                                                                                              ***

Beatrice aimed the heater at herself as Liam turned, heading down yet another empty dirt road. He looked over at her as she chewed on her nails nervously. Liam sighed and shifted in his seat, adjusting his seatbelt with his free hand.

"So why'd you ask me to come?" he asked.

"I didn't wanna go alone, and we don't do much together anymore. We should do more together," Beatrice said.

"Well, I welcome the opportunity," Liam said, smiling, "Besides, it'll be neat to see where you came from."

"Take another right up here," Bea said, nodding her head at an upcoming fork in the road, and Liam did as he was told; she sighed and shook her head, "Don't call me Beatrice around my parents, please. My name is Amelia."

"Okay, whatever you need," Liam said, surprised by this admittance.

"God I'm nervous."

"Don't they know you're coming?"

"Yeah but it...it's still nerve wracking. My folks and I haven't spoken much in the last decade since the show went off the air. I kind of recoiled even from my family after everything went to shit. They weren't happy about a lot of my decisions in the first place, but...even then."

"To be fair, I'm the one who made the bad decisions in regards to the shows success and longevity," Liam said, "But sure, a lot of show business people remove themselves from their past. I'm not one to judge you on that front. Lord knows I haven't spoken to my parents anywhere near as often as they'd wish I did. Then again, my folks were never really all that comfortable with me and Marvin, so."

Liam pulled up a long dirt driveway and parked under a large old oak tree in front of a beautiful old fashioned farm house, complete with a white picket fence surrounding it. Liam turned the car off, undid his seatbelt and looked to Bea again, exhaling deeply.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yes. I need to do this," Bea said, undoing her own seatbelt, then pulling herself out of Liam's car. They walked up the flagstone walkway that went from the end of the fence up to the front door, and Bea knocked firmly a few times, waiting for an answer. Finally the door opened and an old man stood there, looking at them. He smiled immediately and pulled Bea in for a hug, stroking her hair.

"My baby," he whispered.

"Hi daddy," Bea said.

Gordon stepped aside, allowing Bea and Liam into the house. Liam was surprised to see the place was well kept, modern inside. Liam pulled his hand out from his rain slicker and stood his arm out towards Gordon.

"Hello, I'm Liam Grearson," Liam said, "I'm Amelia's friend."

"Welcome to our home, Liam," Gordon said, shaking his hand before walking past them and into the living room. As they passed through the small hall leading to the living room, Liam couldn't help but take in the photographs hanging on the wall. Photos of Beatrice as a little girl, doing dance, or reading, or learning how to swim, and a few family photos at various ages, and graduating high school and college. Liam smiled. He'd always knew someone as loving as Bea had to have come from a good home, and he was glad to discover she wasn't actually a tortured artist after all. Not all greatness had to be birthed from pain, he'd once told her.

And then he saw it, the photo that stopped him in his tracks. There she was, sitting just outside, on a bucket under the same oak tree they'd parked under, and with her, partially jumped on her lap making her laugh, was a beagle. It was like the world around him, everything he'd ever known, suddenly clicked together, like a puzzle missing a singular piece that was necessary to complete the picture. He looked towards Bea and her father, talking in the living room, laughing lightly, and Liam couldn't believe how stupid he'd been all these years. Suddenly Liam felt a hand on his shoulder, and he yelped, jumping a little, turning to see an old woman standing behind him. She was chuckling slightly.

"Sorry dear, didn't mean to surprise you," Gloria said, "Would you like some coffee?" she added, holding out a steaming warm mug for him to take, which he graciously did.

"It's okay, uh, hi, I'm Liam Grearson, I'm Amelia's friend," he said, shaking her hand as well before turning his focal point back to the photo, "...was this her dog? She never told me she had a dog."

"Yep," Gloria said, holding her mug with both hands, looking at the photo wistfully, continuing, "that's Amelia outside with Beatrice. She was the best dog, a girls best friend. Losing her absolutely crushed Amelia, she's never been the same since."

Liam wanted to cry. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like he was going to sob uncontrollably. But he held it together, for Amelia's sake. Gloria then suggested they join the others in the living room and Liam happily agreed. As he plopped himself down on the couch and watched Bea interact with her parents, he couldn't help but smile. This was a side of Bea he'd never seen before, and he was so very thankful to be given the chance to.

He still wanted to sob, though.

                                                                                                  ***

"What are you even doing here?" Delores asked, bringing Michelle some fresh, dry clothes she could change into, which she did. Delores sat in a recliner while Michelle quickly changed behind her, grateful for the dry clothing.

"My mother," Michelle whispered, like she was scared to even say those words together. As she finished, she came around and sat on the couch opposite of the recliner, looking at the floor. Delores sipped her coffee and leaned back in her recliner, nodding.

"I know things aren't great between you two," she said.

"You don't know the half of it," Michelle said, "I would've gone to Bea, but...she's having a hard enough time dealing with what happened on the set recently, and...and besides...she's not..."

"Yes?" Delores asked.

"...motherly, not like you are," Michelle said, "I don't know exactly how to put it, because she's great, but she's more like a cool aunt, and you're more like a mom. I'm sorry. You're just the woman who was helping my find employment, but still, I can't help but feel like-"

"Did I ever tell you about my child?" Delores asked, interrupting Michelle, and surprising her.

"...no?"

"I had a daughter," Delores said, "I had two children, my son and my daughter; classic nuclear family situation. My husband and I bought this house years ago, I got pregnant and that was that. Raised my kids in this house. You may be surprised to learn I'm pushing sixty."

"You don't look it."

"Thank you," Delores said, "But I'm not one of those people ashamed of aging. I'm proud to have grown through so much time. My daughter, Justine, she was a lot like you. Wanted to do creative things. She went to college in Boston, trying to be a childrens book illustrator. Lord knows she had the skill. Anyway, one day she was going to fly back for summer break...she was seeing this lovely guy who had just gotten his pilots license. They weren't here by the time they said they would be, and I, being a mother, started worrying, and later I discovered it was for good reason. He wasn't familiar with this plane he was flying, and the whole thing went down."

"oh my god," Michelle whispered, putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

"She survived, but she's never been the same. Her boyfriend wasn't so lucky. Ever since then, she and I don't speak much, and she hasn't been working on her illustrations like she used to. She's essentially been living off the money she got from various lawsuits regarding his family and the airplane manufacturer. You remind me so much of her, and I guess I just felt like..."

"My mom's an artist," Michelle said quietly, "She is such a nasty woman, and she's so mad at me for not following in her footsteps, and for being so sickly. She says I took away her possibility for success because she had to spend so much money keeping me healthy growing up, as if I chose to be this screwed up medically."

"That just isn't okay," Delores said.

"And then, today, she sent me an e-mail of her at her latest gallery opening," Michelle said, "...she looked so happy, standing there next to the poster with her name on it, and pointing at one of the works to be shown in the gallery. She called the show 'Financially Free'."

"...like, because she doesn't have to pay for your medical needs anymore?" Delores asked, sounding simultaneously disgusted and shocked, feelings which aren't mutually exclusive.

"Yes," Michelle said, "and I just lost it. I was going to send this extremely aggressively worded rebuttal, but the more I thought about it, that's what she wants. She feeds off that negativity, and can use it to further her victim complex, especially to those she's trying to get to bankroll her future projects. No communication means no more ammunition. I just needed to see someone who would care about how hurt I was."

"Well, you came to the right place then," Delores said, smiling again, adding, "you can stay here all night if you need to. We'll order in."

And that's exactly what they did. Michelle knew Delores would take her in, and she was happy to know she'd made the right choice in deciding to come here today. As she waited for Delores to order food from the kitchen landline, Michelle sipped her drink and looked out the window at the pouring rain, wondering where in the world Beatrice may have gone off to.

She'd catch up with her at work next week, she figured. Tonight was a night just for her.

                                                                                              ***

"It wasn't your fault, sweetheart," Gloria said, patting Bea on the knee as they sat in the kitchen together, "you didn't mean for that to happen, you certainly didn't cause it either, and nobody could've expected the response to it."

"...I'm starting to wonder if I'm just cursed," Bea said, "ever since Beatrice died, it just feels like nothing has ever been good. Like that was a good as life was ever going to get. I feel stuck, trapped in a memory, and the hopes of getting back to that moment with her."

"Beatrice wouldn't want you to feel that way," Gloria said, "You know that. She'd want you to be happy. She was always happy."

"Yeah, she was," Bea said, smiling a little, "...she was my best friend."

"That man you brought with you said he was your best friend," Gloria said.

"...he did?" Bea asked, looking at her mom, "Really? Liam said that?...I guess he is, he's certainly the one I've known the longest at this point. I'll be back in a minute, mom, I need to see something."

Gloria didn't even respond. She knew what Amelia was doing. Bea stood up and headed outside, in the backyard, pulling her slicker hood over her head and zipping the front up. She could hear the dirt squish underneath her feet, quickly turning to mud in the cold rain. The day garden was still there, lively as ever, just as it had been when she and her father had started it all those years ago. As Bea trudged along, she pushed aside a few bushes and made her way to the back of them, where a small engraved stone sat on the ground. She knelt and put her hand on the dirt, trying not to cry.

"Hi Bea," she said, "I'm home. Not for long, but for today anyway."

The stone had the dogs name on it, along with a little image of a bone Amelia had engraved herself, with her fathers help. Suddenly she heard the bushes part behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Liam standing there.

"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

"You didn't frighten me," Bea said.

"...I think I finally got it," Liam said, stepping closer, kneeling down beside her, sitting on a somewhat large rock, "I think I finally got the passion, and the love for the character. Your protectiveness. Your name. Soon as I saw that photograph, it all made sense now. I'm so sorry, Bea. I've never had to feel this sort of loss. I mean, Marvin, but...I don't know what I'm trying to say, except that it all makes sense now and I'm sorry for trying to take her away from you, or changing her."

"...you get a dog because you're lonely. Because you're the kind of person who relates to animals better than you do to people. You never think about the fact that their lifespan is a mere quarter of our own, or less in most cases. You just think 'finally, a friend who will love me unconditionally', and that's all that matters. You keep the reality of their mortality pushed down in the back of your head, just like you do to your own, knowing it's inevitable, yet praying it won't come anyway."

Liam put his hand on Bea's back and rubbed the wet slicker, trying to comfort her.

"...I'm not mad that I'm getting older. I'm mad that she's not getting older with me," Bea whispered, "She should still be here, and I figured by creating a character out of her, by sharing her personality with the world, maybe others would come to love her the way I did, but...it isn't the same. No matter what I do, whether I wear the suit or I change my name, I'll never be Beatrice Beagle."

Liam got down on his knees beside her and pulled her to his side, hugging her warmly.

"No, you won't, but that's the thing, she loved you, so maybe you should let others love you as well," Liam whispered.

After a while, they got up and went back inside. After saying goodbye to her parents - her mother giving them a few tupperware full of home baked cookies to take with them - they climbed back into Liam's car and started driving down the dirt roads again, in the rain. Listening to the rain hit the windshield, Bea looked in the rearview mirror, watching the farmhouse, her parents, her past, get smaller and smaller, and she pried open the tupperware lid, handing Liam a cookie before taking one for herself.

They stopped off at a small diner on the way into town and had some early dinner, before Liam dropped Bea off at her apartment, heading to his own place afterwards. Bea climbed the long stairs to her floor, put her key in the door and let herself in. She flicked the light on and saw the note posted to her door. Bea took it off and read it.

                                        "Needed to see you, but you weren't home. Call me. Michelle"

Bea made a mental note to give her a ring tomorrow. Bea got out of her clothes, took a long bath, then made herself some cocoa and turned on her television set. She laid on the couch in her pajamas and watched a few shows about antiques. After a while she got back up, took the tupperware off the counter and brought it back to the couch. She plopped back down and pulled the lid back off, eating some more cookies as she watched TV. After pulling enough cookies from the center of the tupperware, she looked down to get another and stopped.

There, sitting in the middle of all the cookies, was a dog treat, staring right back up at her. The very same ones she used to give Beatrice. Bea tried to hold back her tears, but failed. This time, however, she was happily crying. She would have to thank her mom for the little gift. Even after all these years, and all their differences, her mom still knew what would make her feel better.

There was simply no denying it.

Mothers really did know best.
Published on
"What?" Lexi asked, sounding stunned, as she sat across from a man in a nice suit behind a desk. He smiled, leaned back and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "It's true. He sang like a canary, thusly fingering his business partner as the brains behind the operation and including the proof necessary to back it up. Trails of receipts, ledgers, you name it. Handed it all over. Because of this, they're going more lenient on him, unfreezing his funds, while still giving him a sentence, albeit a much shorter one than before."

"...oh my god," Lexi said, "...so...what does this mean for me?"

The lawyer smiled, happy to give her the best news she'd get all day.

                                                                                              ***

Keagan and Michelle were sitting outside the studio, eating lunch at a small picnic table in an area that the network had provided for its employees. They'd both ordered something out of a nearby food truck and were scarfing it down, each hungry as a wolf from working all day. Neither one spoke, as there wasn't a single moment neither one wasn't chewing. Finally after a bit, Keagan put her fork down and exhaled longingly, blinking a few times.

"I need to eat more often than one meal a day," she said, just as Eliza saddled down beside Michelle with her own lunch.

"You're not eating in The Hole today?" Michelle asked as Eliza shook her head, digging into her bag and pulling out small separate containers of food.

"Wow, so organized," Keagan said, playing with her dreads absentmindedly as Eliza smiled and started to eat; Keagan looked back to Michelle and said, "so, how's Bea? I mean, after that incident I wouldn't be surprised if she was having a rather hard time readjusting."

"She's...struggling, yeah, it's kinda messed her up," Michelle said, "But she'll be okay. She and Liam are working hard to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. They're even bringing in a psychologist for anyone on the crew who might wanna get things off their chest."

"That's very new agey of them," Keagan said, just as a car horn honked brightly and the girls all looked to the right at the parking lot to see Lexi pull up in a nice little sports car. She got out, looking as perfect as always, and strolled up to the picnic table, seating herself beside Keagan and kissing her on the cheek.

"Where'd that come from? Did you a rob a dealership?" Michelle asked.

"It's my fathers," Lexi said, "I get everything he had. He turned states evidence on his business partner, and as a result, he'll get a shortened sentence and he transferred ownership of everything to me. All his money, all his stocks, his car, everything. It's all mine now. At least until he gets out of jail, but that's gonna be another year at least."

"Well I ain't driving that thing without you in it," Keagan said, looking over her shoulder back at the car.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I'm black, Lexi, the cops will think I stole it," Keagan said, making Michelle laugh.

"Sorry," Michelle said, "Sorry, I just...you're right. Screwed up as it is, you're right."

"Well how about, then, I buy new cars for everyone?" Lexi asked, making the table hush up.

"...what?" Keagan asked quietly.

"I couldn't accept that," Michelle said.

"I don't drive," Eliza said softly.

Lexi felt her gut plummet. All she'd wanted to do was share the good news she'd gotten that day with the people she cared about, and it was starting to seem like nobody but her was interested in it. She sighed, then stood up and rummaged through her purse for some change.

"I'm gonna go get a soda from the machine," she said, vanishing inside the building.

Keagan felt bad, but she didn't know what to think. She had known Lexi had come from a lot of money, but she wasn't expecting her to return to that lifestyle so quickly or so eagerly. Now she felt the gap between them widen all the more. Yes, she liked Lexi, perhaps even loved her, but that class difference was really starting to be hammered home. After all, Keagan had once told Michelle that "Lexi could get any job she wants, while I only have the job I have because I know you and Bea", and now with this new car, it was beginning to set in just how different they really were.

Michelle suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Beatrice standing there. She wasn't even in costume, just an old fashioned dress and a cardigan. Michelle smiled as she looked up at her, and Bea nodded.

"I need to speak with you," she said, and Michelle excused herself.

As the two of them started to walk down the backlot of the studio, Michelle could tell Bea was rattled by something.

"What's going on?" Michelle asked.

"I just haven't been sleeping well these last few weeks," she said, "Liam and I are trying to make this all financially feasible, but we're running out of money, and the network won't give us anymore, and...and then with what happened...I don't know, Michelle, please tell me that what we're doing here isn't a giant legacy tarnishing mistake."

"It isn't, it's gonna be great," Michelle said, coughing a little before adding, "and I'll do anything I can to help, Bea, you know that. If you need to save money on sets, I'll design more myself. You know I can."

Bea smirked. She did know that Michelle could do anything she set her mind to, and she did know that with her by her side, everything would be fine. But the guilt over what had happened to those former crew members was eating away at Beatrice internally, and she was scared to share that with even those closest to her. She sighed and looked out at the studio buildings.

"I used to do plays," Beatrice said, "that's how this all started. Beatrice was nothing but a one woman play. A small stage production. Now look at it. Does something lose its charm when its given more money, more room to explore? Or does the charm grow with the program? I don't know. I just know that the first time Liam and I showed up to the network back in the day, I was so nervous. I didn't come a city, Michelle, I grew up on a small piece of farmland somewhat removed from the city, and I wasn't a very social child."

"Hey, neither was I, being stuck in hospital beds and all," Michelle said, nudging Bea with her elbow, making her chuckle.

"But," Bea continued, "...I just can't help but feel like I'm walking down the same kind of path again. What seems like a great experience starting out will only in the end leave me bitter and hostile...and alone."

"You'll never be alone again, Bea," Michelle said, hugging her, "I'll make sure of that."

"You know, I've been doing a lot of reading online these days, and one of the things people really talk against are parasocial relationships," Beatrice said, "people who think they're friends with famous people or influencers or whomever, but in reality they're not. They misjudge and misevaluate these relationships so gravely that it often leaves them feeling genuinely wounded when something terrible happens, like they've lost a family member. I don't want us to have that kind of relationship."

"I don't think we do," Michelle said, "In the first place, I prefer parasocial relationships. Much less expectation put on me to be the best me I can be. I'm not there to prove anything to anyone. That's how I know what we have isn't one, because I AM trying to prove myself to you all the time."

Beatrice took Michelle's hand and patted it gently.

"You're a good kid," she said, "but if I ever start to take advantage of you, please, stop me."

"Will do," Michelle said.

                                                                                                ***

"It's like...we're just two different people, you know?" Keagan said, "When we both worked fast food, we were of the same stock. We both had come from different places, sure, but now we were more or less equal in societies eyes. Nothing but burger flippers. But now, with her having access to her money again, I don't know...I feel like she's not the same person I knew."

"People shouldn't remain the same," Eliza said as she dipped her brush in some red paint and started applying it to the puppet she was toying with, "people should never be the person you once knew. People should always grow."

"I mean, yeah, and I don't want her to not grow because of me, or whatever, but...I don't know," Keagan said, leaning against a workbench and sighing. Eliza turned in her chair, setting the puppet on the towel in her lap and looked at Keagan.

"I've never dated," Eliza said, "So I don't...like...really understand how relationships work. The only people I've ever really been associated with are Bea and my parents and Liam, but...shouldn't you be happy for her? She's happy, right?"

"Yeah she's happy, and yeah I want her to be happy and yeah I'm happy for her, but it just feels like the difference between is growing ever wider," Keagan said, "You don't get it, you're not black. There's different rules in society for me then there are for pretty privileged rich white women like her."

"But she's gay too, right?" Eliza asked.

"I mean, yeah, we're together."

"So she isn't perfect, at least, uh, not in societies eyes. I mean, that came out wrong, um...oh I'm stupid."

"No, you're not stupid, I know what you mean," Keagan said, smiling, "And I guess you're right, in the sense we're both minorities. But even that's a different kind of minority. The queer community still is eons ahead of the black community, despite us fighting for longer amounts of time for equality. And I know that makes me sound bitter, but I'm not, I'm...I'm happy about that in many regards but...ugh, it's all so complicated."

"It doesn't have to be," Eliza said, "...I like puppets. Puppets are exactly what they're made to be. Nothing is misrepresented. There's no hidden truths. See this Armadillo? He's an Armadillo. He's never going to be anything other than an Armadillo. Even if I give him a tuxedo and a limo, he's still going to an Armadillo. Just...a fancier one. That's how people should be. They're just people, and everything else is just a facet that makes up their whole."

Keagan was surprised. She'd known Eliza was damaged mentally, and yet here she was, proving she was in fact the smartest one of all, even when it came to a topic she herself admittedly had no experience within; relationships.

"...I guess you're right," Keagan said.

"We should all be Armadillos," Eliza said, making Keagan laugh.

"We should," she agreed.

                                                                                                  ***

Lexi was lying on the couch, eating food from a take out box in her pajamas, watching a Hockey game, when the front door opened and Keagan came inside. She tossed her jacket and her purse down on the floor and walked around to the couch, seating herself on it as Lexi sat up and put the food container down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Where's Michelle?"

"She and Bea and Liam and Eliza went out to dinner together. I had to come home and talk to you," Keagan said.

"Okay, what's going on?" Lexi asked, pulling her knees to her chest, feeling nervous.

"...I'm sorry," Keagan said, "I'm sorry that I was kind of...a  bitch earlier, I guess, and I'm sorry that I am letting your parents wealth influence my opinions about us as a couple. I just was...so afraid to...I guess, lose you? I don't know, you're the first girl I've ever really had a relationship with, and this is all kinda new to me, and I just didn't feel like...I felt like before you had the money, we were kinda the same. We were both kinda broke, we both worked at a shitty job, and we liked one another."

Lexi smiled.

"But then," Keagan continued, "you got this money and...suddenly I saw you for who you actually were, before you met me, and it scared me. I think success in general scares me, because my family has always just scraped by, you know? I mean, we weren't poor or anything, but my parents worked multiple jobs to keep us fed and housed and clothed, and we were always treated poorly by rich uppity white people, but having been with you, I know that's not what you are. You're not that kind of person, money or otherwise."

"I'm really not," Lexi said, giggling.

"I'm sorry, Lexi. Lately I've been feeling really apart from us as a whole and it's bummed me out and it wasn't until I talked to Eliza that I realized that the one thing we have in common is what's most important...we love one another, and that's what we should focus on."

Lexi nodded, leaning in and kissing Keagan.

"I have a surprise for you," Lexi whispered, getting up off the couch and running into the other room before coming back, holding a piece of paper as she sat back down.

"You got me paper? Wow, how did you know?" Keagan said, laughing, making Lexi roll her eyes.

"You need to sign this," Lexi said, "...it's a document that cuts what I got in half, and gives half to you."

"...what?" Keagan asked, taking the paper and looking at it, then looking back up at Lexi.

"Yeah," Lexi said, "You wanna be equals? Let's be equals. It's not my fuckin' money anyway, and all it ever brought my father was bad luck, so let's share the wealth, shall we?"

"No, this is, you've gotta be-"

"Sign it," Lexi said, "Sign it and then kiss me again. I liked that."

Keagan blushed, then took the pen from Lexi's hands and signed it. She looked at the paper, then looked back at Lexi.

"Wow, that's a lot of money made in a matter of seconds. Now I feel like I'm in show business," Keagan said, the both of them laughing as they laid together on the couch for the rest of the evening. When Michelle got home, she found them asleep, and instead of waking them, she simply laid a big quilt over the two of them and then went to bed.

                                                                                                ***

Beatrice woke that night in her darkened bedroom, hearing the rain tap at her window.

She struggled to climb out of the bed, put her robe on and head into the living room. She walked to the kitchenette, got herself a glass of water from the sink and drank it in one swift gulp before heading back to the bedroom. As she stepped into the living room again she screamed and dropped the glass on the floor, where it shattered, as she looked at a Beagle sitting on the couch, reading a book.

"...Beatrice?" she asked.

"Amelia," Beatrice said, looking up from the book.

"...what are you doing here?" she asked, approaching the couch cautiously.

"You don't have to be careful, I never bit," Beatrice said, "Sit with me."

Amelia nodded and sat beside Beatrice on the couch. Beatrice licked her cheek and Amelia started to cry as she pushed her face into the beagles furry neck.

"It's okay," Beatrice said, "you cry all you need. I'm here."

And then Beatrice woke up. Still in bed. Sweating profusely. She could've sworn her dog was here. She could've sworn that she was holding her best friend. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. Instead she got up from the bed, walked into the living room and picked up the phone, dialing a number before sitting on the couch. It rang a few times before a woman answered.

"Hello?" she asked, sounding half asleep.

"Mom, it's Amelia," Beatrice said, "...I need to come home."
Published on

That blinding light, shining right in Lillian's eyes, making her squint upwards as she attempted to stumble onto the stage, in front of all the other little girls, facing the crowd in front of her. She could see her mother sitting in a first row seat, filming her with a camcorder, grinning happily. Lillian just wanted to scream and run away. She looked to the judges table, and saw one of the men adjust his microphone. He was a handsome enough man, in his early thirties, who had the look of a cool college professor. He lifted up his cards and cleared this throat.


"Lillian Phillips...please, in your own words, tell me why you think you deserve to be The Harvest Queen this fall?" he asked, making Lillian blink a few times, trying to figure out her response. She shouldn't have had to think; she and her mother had rehearsed this a million times over, and she knew the correct response to give.


And yet...


...that wasn't the answer she'd wind up giving, and the one she'd wind up giving would end her beauty pageant career for good.


                                                                             ***


Lillian had a week off.


For the first time in months, she had an entire week off, and she was grateful for it. She'd ordered in last night, stayed up watching crappy game show reruns and eventually passed out on her couch, chinese boxes littering her coffee table, her robe partially open. She only woke up because her landline rang, rudely interrupting her sleep. She groaned, rolled off the couch to her feet and walked across the room towards the landline hanging on the wall in the nearby kitchen of her apartment. She picked it up, still half asleep, and rubbed her eyes.


"Yeeeah, hello?" she asked.


"Lily! It's mom!"


Her heart sank.


"Hello," she said flatly.


"I'm in need of some help, if you'd be so willing," her mother said.


"Depends on what it is I have to do," Lillian replied.


"Oh, nothing, I just want you to come with me on some errands and give me your opinions on some stuff I'm buying," she said, which made Lillian feel a little bit better.


"Yeah, okay, that sounds...normal," Lillian said, making her mother laugh.


"I'll be there in a half hour, okay? I'm bringing coffee and donuts, and we can eat in the car!" she said, before hanging up without even saying goodbye. Lillian hung up as well, then stared at the phone. She picked it up and slammed it into the base a number of times before calmly hanging up one last time again. It sounded normal, sure, but it rarely if ever was.


Lillian got dressed; a plain white v neck t-shirt under some overalls and pulled her hair in pigtails. Seemed like she always regressed to being a kid when she was around her mother, which she was certain her therapist would have an absolute field day with if he knew. She packed a small pleather backpack full of some items (a book, some medication, a water bottle and some granola bars; just odds and ends for a day out) and tossed it on her back before heading to the parking lot of the apartment to wait for her mother.


When her mother pulled up in her car, Lillian almost didn't recognize it. After it slowed to a crawl, the door opened automatically and Lillian climbed inside, clicking her seatbelt tight as her mother leaned in and kissed her cheek.


"This car looks new," Lillian said.


"It is," Jane said, "Well, relatively new. Figured it was time for a little upgrade, considering I'd been driving that old car since you were a kid."


"Well it's nice," Lillian said, almost impressed, adding, "...so, what exactly is it you need me to do?"


"I just wanted to spend the day with my daughter," Jane said, "Is that too much to ask?"


"I don't know. Sometimes things don't go too well..."


"Well, I recognize that, but it doesn't mean we should stop trying," Jane said, making Lillian smirk, even if she remained somewhat hesitant. Her mother was nothing if not smooth, a trait Lillian herself had always admired and envied for herself. Unfortunately, she'd seemed to have been saddled with her fathers blunt awkwardness. Jane pulled out of the parking lot and began heading down the street, the late October sun shining down through the somewhat grey sky, warming Lillian's face. She shut her eyes, rolled the window down a smidge and took in the sound of the crunching leaves beneath her mothers tires.


"You doing anything for Halloween this week?" Jane asked.


"Um, I have to go to a work party, yeah," Lillian replied, "Why? Are you doing something?"


"I'm having a get together with some of the other women on my block," Jane said, "Nothing special, just something low key while their kids are out trick or treating, you know. That's actually part of why I needed your help today, I need to find a Halloween costume to wear."


Lillian genuinely smiled.


"Well, okay, I can definitely help with that," Lillian said.


She liked these good times. She liked them so much, she often forgot that most of her life with her mother had been bad times.


                                                                            ***


An hour before the show had started, Lillian had been in the dressing room with the other little girls and their mothers, but now she was the only one still in there. She was tired, she was scared, and she didn't want to go out on stage. Her mother had forgotten the camera, so she had to quickly run home to grab it, telling Lillian not to leave the room until she got back, something Lillian happily obliged to. Sitting there on the little couch, eating apple slices from a tupperware on the table and reading a book, there was a knock on the door. Lillian looked up at it to see the door slowly open, and that handsome young looking judge peer inside cautiously.


"Hey, just wanted to make sure nobody was still in here, you're all on in about an hour," he said, coming in and shutting the door behind him.


"I know, my mom forgot the video camera," Lillian said.


"Ah, okay then," he said, sitting down on the coffee table across from her. Lillian liked his cool grey suit, and his slacked haircut, his beard stubble, his green eyes. He was extremely charming, and she understood why he was one of the judges; he cocked his head at her and asked, "What are you reading?"


"It's a fantasy book about a time traveling cat," Lillian said.


"That's pretty cool. Do you have cats?"


"No, my dad's allergic. I want a cat, but I can't have one," Lillian said, "Maybe when I'm grown up I'll get a cat."


"That's a shame, cats are cool," the judge said, "Don't sit too long, or you might put a crease in your dress and, as a judge I have to say, that sort of thing is noticeable. You should get up now and then and just pace or something to keep it bouncy."


"Oh...okay, thanks, I didn't think about that," Lillian said.


She stood up and set her book down on the table, and then started pacing around the room. The judge watched her for a moment, as she stopped and looked at her makeup in the mirror. She felt weird, being so young and having to wear makeup, but it'd always been a necessary requirement for the pageants. Still, she hated the way it felt on her face. Suddenly she felt hands on her shoulders and looked up, expecting them to belong to her mother, except they didn't. The judge was standing behind her, looking at her in the mirror, his hands squeezing her shoulders. She felt uncomfortable as he pressed up against her from behind, way too close for comfort.


"You look fine," he whispered.


"...okay," she said.


"Trust me, I think you have the strongest chance to win," he continued, speaking softly, "you're easily the prettiest contestant, not that beauty is all that matters in these things, but it plays a pretty big role considering it's in the title."


She felt his hand running down her arms, but she didn't dare move or speak. She just stayed deadly still, as she felt his hand slide under the ruffles of her dress, and slide itself into her leggings, getting close to her front. Lillian shut her eyes tightly, wanting to scream but instead staying silent as possible as she touched her. Suddenly the door jiggled, and his hands were off her. The judge walked to the door as Lillian watched him in the mirror; he smoothed his hair, adjusted his pants and straightened his tie before unlocking and opening the door, letting her mother back in.


"...why was this locked?" Jane asked.


"Habit," the judge said, "I came to be with her so she didn't have to be alone. Actually I was just checking to see if the room was clear and found her her, then thought I'd wait with her until you came back. I lock doors at my house all the time, it's just a bad habit."


"...okay," Jane said quietly, adding, "Well thank you. We'll see you out there."


Lillian didn't take her eyes off the judge, who - as he shut the door behind him, winked at her - had made her skin crawl. She wanted to vomit, hide and cry. She felt disgusting. Jane came over to her and sat down on the table, twiddling with the camera until Lillian sat down beside her.


"...mom?" she asked softly.


"Yes?"


"...would you believe me if I told you something?" she asked.


"Of course," Jane said, putting a small tape into the camera and looking through the eyepiece.


"...I don't wanna do these anymore," Lillian said.


"Well, we'll talk about this after the show, okay?"


Lillian nodded. She wanted to tell her mother the truth, about what the judge had done, how he'd touched her, but she was scared. Instead she told her mother the truth about something else, which is how she wanted to quit pageants altogether. After the incident at the theme park, and now this...it just didn't seem as fun as it once had.


                                                                             ***


After they finished shopping, they headed back home, and Jane tried on the various costumes in the bathroom while Lillian wandered into her childhood bedroom. She stood in front of the shelf that housed all her trophies, ribbons and, of course, all the plastic crowns she'd accrued throughout her pageant years. Lillian stood and touched each one gently with her fingertips, feeling like she was a totally different person now, and yet still unsure who exactly she was. She felt like she'd lost herself, somehow, without ever even knowing who she had been to begin with.


The door opened and her mother stood there, dressed like a scarecrow. Lillian looked at her mother, and tried not to laugh, which only made Jane laugh as she came further into the room, leaning over in front of Lillian's childhood vanity table and checking herself in the mirror.


"God, I used to have the body for sexy costumes," Jane said, "Now it's a hit or miss."


"...mom, remember when we used to play dress up?" Lillian asked.


"Of course!" Jane said, pushing her curly bangs from her face, "while your father went to work, you and I played dress up all day, and that's part of why you wanted to do beauty pageants. I mean, I had a hand in that, obviously, having done it myself, but you were excited about the idea."


"I feel like I've been dressing up as someone else my entire life, and I've never figured out who I am," Lillian said, sitting on her childhood bed, turning over a tiara from a former pageant in her hands, "...I have to tell you something, something I never told you."


Jane turned and looked at her, before walking and sitting beside her.


"What is it? Are you gay?"


"...I don't think so," Lillian said, laughing, "No, not that I'm that interested in anyone one way or another these days, but, no, I'm not gay. No, um, the last pageant I did, remember? When I...anyway. When you came into the room, and that judge was in there...before you got there, he..."


Lillian clutched her overalls tightly, trying not to cry.


"...uh, he touched me," Lillian whispered, "and I've been in therapy about it for a while now, and uh, and I don't like having sex anymore, and...and I wanted to tell you then but you so badly wanted me to do well in that pageant and I'd already told you that I'd wanted to quit, and I just...it always felt like I was never good enough, no matter how much I won. I'm sorry."


"...are you okay, Lily?" Jane asked, reaching over and gently stroking her daughters pigtails.


"I'm not okay, mom, no. I'm really messed up. I don't know who I am. I spent my whole adolescence dressing up to impress others and now I spend my whole adulthood dressing up to make others happy. I never learned to like myself for who I was, because I never found out who I was, and it's made me wary of anyone, and I feel like I don't trust anybody, and..."


She sniffled and wiped her nose on her arm.


"...a few weeks ago, this friend of mine I work with, he did a party for a little girl and this classmate of hers died at her party, and I started to talk to this little girl and hang out with her because...because I just knew her parents weren't, and I knew what it was like to be a kid and be confused about something horrible that had happened around you, and...and I just didn't want her to feel like I'd felt."


Jane leaned over and hugged her daughter warmly, exhaling.


"You're a good kid," Jane said softly, "I'm sorry I wasn't such a good mom."


"You were fine, mom."


"No, I...fine wasn't enough, okay? I recognize that now. I have felt so bad for so long for pressuring you to continue doing something you didn't have your heart in, and...and now after hearing this, like, I feel guilty, like if I'd just let you be you, and let you quit before that show, maybe this creep wouldn't have-"


"No, mom, no, it isn't your fault, it isn't my fault, that's something my therapist has taught me. These things just happen and the only person to really blame is the asshole who did it, and who probably kept doing it to other little girls long after that," Lillian said, "...but thank you."


Jane smiled and kissed her daughter on the forehead.


"You'll always be my baby," Jane said quietly, "Even when I'm not a great mom, just know that I'll always love you. It wasn't easy for me, I wasn't ready to be a mom. That's why I always acted more like a friend than a parent. I was too young. I just...I wasn't grown up enough myself. I'm sorry, Lily."


Lillian hugged her mom back and the two just sat like that for a while. All in all it wasn't a bad day after all. As she left the room, she picked out a tiara from the collection as her new costume tiara. It was time for a change.


                                                                            ***


Standing on the stage, staring her near molester down, she waited, thinking of what to say. He tapped his mic again and repeated the question.


"Miss Phillips?" he asked, "Uh, please, in your own words, tell me why you think you deserve to be The Harvest Queen this fall?" he said.


"....I don't," she said quietly, which made people in the audience audibly gasp; she continued after a moment, "...I don't deserve to be The Harvest Queen. We're all equally pretty, and this is stupid and I don't wanna do it anymore."


Lillian unclipped the small microphone from her dress, dropped it on the stage and walked off, smiling as she did so.


She never did a beauty pageant again.

Published on

Lillian was sitting in the parking lot, amongst a large crowd, while ambulances and cop cars tried to make sense of the tragedy. Children were crying, parents were comforting their kids, and yet Lillian's parents were nowhere to be found, and she was seated on a bench outside the theme park by herself, watching them wheel a stretcher with a body bag atop it out the gate, towards the nearby ambulance. How had this happened? Why would anyone do this to themselves? These were questions that Lillian once found so hard to answer, but now, as an adult, completely knew the answers to.


And that scared her more than anything else.


                                                                              ***


Lillian was sitting at the bar of the bistro, drinking water while watching Rina wash some glasses. Lillian glanced around at the other people sitting at the bar, each one nursing their own drink or eating bar snacks or appetizers. Lillian looked back at Rina, who was stood in front of her, wiping one glass in particular down.


"How many jobs do you even have?" Lillian asked.


"I like to help my community," Rina said, shrugging, "and then when I'm not helping my community, I like to take advantage of it. I get off work in about 3 minutes, if you're capable of waiting that long."


"I've already sat here for a good 2 hours, so what's another 3 minutes really," Lillian said, as Rina smirked and placed that glass down and picked up yet another, wiping that one down, clearly just doing something to pass the time until she was off work; Lillian sighed and asked, "What do you wanna do?"


"I'm going to show you something really cool," Rina said, "Trust me, it's gonna blow your mind."


"I doubt that," Lillian said, running her hand through her thick hair, exhaling, "Not much blows my mind anymore, and if something does somehow manage to do so, it's often because it's something truly awful and disgusting."


"Well this isn't awful and disgusting, so I guess we'll see," Rina said, as her watch beeped, and she sighed, "Thank god."


Rina tugged at the straps on her apron and pulling it off, shoving it into the backpack she picked off the floor behind the bar. Lillian finished her water and watched as Rina came around the side of the bar.


"Aren't you going to tell anyone you're leaving?" Lillian asked.


"Why? I'm off work. This is someone else's problem now," Rina said.


Lillian followed Rina out of the bistro and towards the parking lot while Rina tried to pull the straps of her backup around her shoulders.


"Slow down, I'm wearing heels," Lillian said.


"Why are you wearing heels?"


"Because I worked today too, remember? I was at a party until about 5. They always make me wear heels, it's one of the few times in my life that footwear has been dictated upon me. Otherwise I'd never wear heels, but princesses wear heels, so I have to wear heels."


"What was the other time footwear was dictated upon you?" Rina asked as they reached her car and she unlocked it, tossing her backpack into the backseat as Lillian headed to the passenger side door and looked over the roof at Rina.


"What?"


"You said this was one of the few times in your life that footwear was dictated upon you. What was the other time?" Rina asked, and Lillian debated momentarily telling her about her mother, and about the beauty pageants, but instead she just shook her head.


"Nothing. Just other jobs, you know," Lillian said, "Forget it."


As the girls piled into the car, Lillian couldn't help but feel like crap. She was only a few weeks into this friendship, and she was already lying to her. What would Vera say?


                                                                           ***


"I always imagine pirates go out of style for some reason," Tyler said, sitting in the booth at the diner and cutting his sandwich in half while Alexis sat across from him, eating soup.


"What do you mean?" she asked.


"I don't know. Stuff kids like seems to go in cycles, you know? Like for a while all the kids will be into knights and dragons and stuff, and then for a while it's all space oriented, and I just...I guess I haven't seen a whole lot of pirate stuff for a while so I figured it was on the downturn," Tyler said, biting into his sandwich.


"Pirates never go out of style," Alexis said, "That's why I picked it as my costume. Because pirates are always universally cool. Action and adventure, mysterious islands and curses. Kids love shit like that."


Tyler scooted over as Vera sat down in the booth beside him, unscrewing the lid on her thermos and sipping her coffee gently as she looked between the two of them.


"What are we talking about?" Vera asked.


"What the most popular kid characters are for parties," Tyler said, "I was just saying that I'm surprised that pirates are still so highly sought after."


"Are you kidding?" Vera asked, pulling a small black book out of her cardigan pocket with a pen and opening it, "Kids love pirates. It's all excitement and violence. Kids love violence, no matter what someone might tell you. Plus, pirates get to be on their ship and go anywhere they want, do anything they want; kids like that level of freedom, and it allows them to use their imagination. Alex made the best choice of all of you."


"Thank you," Alex said, going back to eating her soup.


"What are you doing?" Tyler asked, nodding to the small black book Vera had pulled out.


"Going over your paychecks for this month," Vera said, "How many parties did you do this month?" she asked, looking up across the table at Alex.


"Like I keep track of that. I'd have to find all the addresses I've been given, and that stuff's all at home," Alex said.


"You guys are useless," Vera said, exhaling annoyed.


"I think Lil's got the most timeless character of us all," Tyler said, "I mean, honestly, a princess is never going to go out of style, especially since the United Kingdom ensures the monarchy will always exist in the real world no matter what."


"That isn't why she's a princess," Vera said, "Trust me, she doesn't want to be a princess, it's just what she's most familiar with."


"...what the hell does that mean?" Alex asked, giving Vera a strange look.


"Ask her sometime. Ask her about her mother. About the pageants. About the women who threw herself in front of the train at Disneyland. It'll make more sense," Vera said.


Alexis looked from Vera at Tyler, who just shrugged.


                                                                             ***


"Are we there yet?" Lillian asked, batting at the beads hanging down from Rina's rearview mirror.


"No, and stop playing with that like you're a cat," Rina said, grabbing the beads and pulling them off the mirror, shoving them into her coat pocket.


"What are they?"


"They're prayer beads," Rina said, "My mom likes me to drive around with them. She thinks driving isn't safe, and she's not exactly wrong."


"Your family religious?" Lillian asked.


"Not really. My mom is sort of, but even then not as much now as she was when we were kids," Rina said, "It's more of a superstitious thing...my cousin was killed in a car accident when I was young, and I guess that just scared her to death, so I've never driven without them."


"Wow, that's screwed up, I'm sorry," Lillian said.


Lillian didn't say anything else until they finally pulled up to a building and parked. Rina got out, as did Lillian, and together they headed inside. It looked like a library, and once they got indoors, Lillian realized that was exactly what it was. She was confused, but curious, so she just followed Rina quietly into the library, until they reached the childrens area, where she saw it.


A circle of chairs, most of them filled with someone, everyone wearing a costume of some kind. Lillian's brow raised in confusion, and she watched as Rina stopped by a nearby bookshelf filled with young childrens picturebooks and watched from afar. Lillian stood beside her and whispered.


"What is this?" she asked.


"It's a support group for people who do dress up," Rina said, "I figured you might find something here that would be of interest to you, even if you don't want to participate. I used to come regularly, back when I did cosplay and stuff. Not so much these days."


"This is wild," Lillian said, "But I don't dress up for fun, it's for work."


"Doesn't have to just be for fun. It's for anyone, with any reason," Rina said, "That includes you, if you have anything you'd like to share or talk about or whatever."


Lillian looked at the group, and she felt a gnawing in the pit of her gut. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk about her mother, about the beauty pageants, about that day...the day she saw a princess die, but she couldn't do that with strangers. Hell, she hadn't even told Tyler about that stuff yet, and he was basically her best friend. She sighed and looked at Rina.


"...I can't do this," she whispered.


"That's okay, I just wanted you to know you had the choice," Rina said.


"Why'd you even care?"


"Because when we met you told me you were looking out for Maddison's best interests, but is anyone looking out for yours? You wanted to make sure she was okay after what happened, but has anyone ever made sure you're okay?"


"I mean, I have a therapist, but, I don't know," Lillian said, "I guess I just sort of bottle everything up and I never really talk about anything...I just instead want to ignore it, move on, forget about it. Try and pretend none of it is a part of me. But I know that's stupid. I'm the way I am because of what I've gone through...I've never told anyone this, but I used to do child beauty pageants, and I was the best at it. I won all kinds of awards and ribbons and medals and, god, I was the best."


"And?"


"I don't know," Lillian said, leaning against the bookshelf and sliding down, sitting on the floor, Rina doing the same, as she added, "I guess I just like thinking about it because it wasn't something I really wanted to do. It was something my mom was obsessed with, and she kind of made me do it. And then, the last one I ever did was The Little Miss Princess Pageant, and I just..."


Rina pulled the prayer beads out of her pocket and handed them to her. Lillian smiled weakly, taking them and squeezing them tightly as she tried her best to hold back tears, poorly.


"...I had a complete breakdown. I was like 12. Way too young for a mental breakdown, but I lost it," Lillian said.


"Pressure can do that to a child."


"It wasn't the pressure," Lillian said, "It was because, just a year before that, I saw a princess die."


That got Rina's attention.


                                                                             ***


Alexis had left, leaving Tyler and Vera alone in the diner. It was getting later, darker, and Tyler was starting to feel like he should head home himself. He sighed, picked his hat up from the table and set it atop his head before looking at Vera, who had taken Alex's seat.


"I guess I should be getting home," Tyler said, "I have a party in the early afternoon tomorrow. You need a ride home?"


"Naw, I'll be okay," Vera said, scribbling something down on a napkin, still clearly doing bookkeeping; she looked up at Tyler as he got out of the booth and looked down at her, she smiled and stopped writing, asking, "You want me to come over for a bit?"


"I think I'll be okay," Tyler said, "If Lil stops by, tell her I said hi."


"Will do," Vera said, watching Tyler leave the diner. As she saw him get in his car from her window seat, she couldn't help but feel sad. She wanted to go home with him. She'd wanted to go home with him for a while, but he always seemed uninterested, or simply too busy and tired. Vera had liked Tyler for a long time now, but she also knew how messy it could make things, having a relationship with someone whose career she also oversaw. So instead Vera sat in the booth and continued doing her paperwork, slowly sipping the coffee from her thermos well into the evening.


She didn't expect to see Lillian, and she was kind of relieved. She needed a break.


                                                                               ***


"You know," Rina said, "My family has always been supportive of me, so I guess I have a hard time understanding how someone can dislike their family, but you're not alone. Plenty of people want to disown their parents, and from what you've told me, you have genuine reason to do so."


"I'm just mad," Lillian said, looking at the prayer beads in her hand, illuminated by the overhead streetlamps as Rina drove; she continued, "I just wish she'd listened to me once I said I didn't want to do it anymore, and now my entire self esteem is based upon my physical appearance, my self worth tied up in how attractive I am and still being a princess in one way or another. I don't want to be a princess, but it's all I've ever known, really. Beauty and elegance."


Rina wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say, so instead she just stayed quiet. Finally, after a few moments, she just whispered, "...you can keep the prayer beads. You need them more than I do."


This made Lillian genuinely smile as she looked out the passenger window.


"Thanks, Rina," she whispered back.


                                                                               ***


Walking through the parking lot, looking for her parents, Lillian couldn't help but feel confused and scared, lost and sad. She held her own hand, to keep herself from feeling like she was alone, but it didn't help much. After a moment, she saw the ambulance start up, about to drive away, when one of the EMTs threw something bundled up in the nearby trashcan. After the ambulance pulled away, lights spinning, siren blaring, Lillian approached the trashcan and looked inside.


She reached inside and pulled out the bundle; a mess of bloody cloth, glitter covered and wet with warm blood. She unwrapped the costume the woman had been wearing, throwing it back into the garbage can, and then she looked at the tiara she'd gotten from the bundle. Still perfect. Still pristine. She put it on her head and then continued looking around, still looking for her parents, feeling a little braver now.


After all...she was a princess, and princesses can do anything.


Even throw themselves in front of trains.

Published on
All it took was a split second.

The rehearsal was about to start, the set was more or less set up, and Beatrice was waiting to put the head of her costume on, sitting on the edge of the stage, when Michelle sat beside her. Beatrice looked up from the script in her big costumed paw hands and smiled at Michelle, who smiled back.

"This is exciting," Michelle said, "I'm excited anyway. I've never been a part of anything like this."

"You didn't do theatre in school or anything?" Bea asked.

"No, I always wanted to, but my breathing kind of kept me locked off from a lot of the extracurricular activities I wanted to participate in," Michelle said, glancing over her shoulder at the stage behind them, adding, "that's why this is such a big deal to me."

"Well, I'm glad to be able to give you that experience then," Bea said.

And that was when they heard it. The snap. All it took was a split second. A split second of unawareness. Someone shouted as a young grip leaped out of the way as one of the stage lights overhead came crashing down, just missing hitting her head. As she rolled over onto her back, Beatrice stood up and raced over to her, kneeling down.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and the woman nodded hesitantly, unaware of how she was meant to respond.

"I...I just...I heard something snapping and...and I saw someone waving at me to move and I jumped," she said, pushing some errant strands of black hair out of her eyes and adding as she looked up at Bea, who was cradling her head in her lap, "All I knew was the universal signal for 'move out of the way fast', so that's what I did."

Bea laughed and nodded, "Well, thank goodness you at least managed to dodge it. I'll go have a talk with the stage hands and see why this happened."

Bea looked at Michelle as she approached them and whispered to her as she passed by.

"Take her to the first aid station please, I'm going up to the lighting catwalk," Beatrice said. Michelle did as she was told and helped the young woman up, taking her away into the halls, towards the first aid station as Beatrice strode to the ladder that led up to the catwalk where the lighting was rigged. As she began climbing, she heard footsteps on the ladder behind her, and looked over her shoulder briefly to see Eliza coming up behind her.

"Did you need something sweetheart?" Bea asked.

"No, just following," Eliza said, making Bea smile a little.

As the women reached the catwalk, they spotted a young man with short scruffy brown hair and a dirty beard shadow, wearing a salmon colored button down shirt and light brown pants, approach them, already apologizing profusely with his face alone.

"I am so so sorry," he said, "It was a total accident, it just wasn't attached properly and I realized too late and I-"

"What's your name?" Bea asked.

"His name is Simon," Eliza said, surprising Simon, who looked at her confused.

"How did you-"

"She knows everyones name," Bea answered, "Simon, listen to me, okay? You're right. It was an accident, and accidents happen, and thankfully nobody was hurt. I like to think that's because I've cultivated a crew that looks out for one another. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and come back in tomorrow, okay? We have more than enough people who can set up these lights. Just take it easy, maybe go see the girl you almost squished and tell her how sorry you are."

"Yeah, okay, sure, I'm...okay," Simon said, clearly frazzled as he walked towards the ladder to head back down. As soon as he was out of earshot, Bea looked at Eliza and shook her head.

"I can't fire him," Bea said, "I'm not that kind of person. That'll be up to someone else if they so chose to do that, but it can't be me...can you do me a favor? Can you go with him to see that girl, and if you see Michelle please bring her back to me. She and I need to talk to Stephanie about what's happened."

"Yes, okay, I can do that," Eliza said, hurrying to the ladder and heading down, following Simon quickly.

They reached the first aid station in no time flat, just as Michelle was exiting the room.

"She's in there," Michelle said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the door, "if you wanna-"

"Yeah, thank you," Simon said, hurrying past her, trying not to be rude. Michelle cleared her throat and looked at Eliza, who was chewing on the end of her braid, trying not to laugh.

"What?" Michelle asked, smirking.

"It's like, one of those things, you know, where people meet in a cute way and then they tell their kids the story," Eliza said, giggling.

"Right, 'hey kids, wanna hear about how I almost beaned your mom in the brain with a piece of lighting equipment? it's SUPER romantic'," Michelle said, the both of them breaking out in laughter now; after a moment, Michelle asked, "Since production is probably halted for a bit, do you wanna go get coffee or something?"

"Bea said she needs you, that, uh, you and she need to talk to Stephanie," Eliza said, "but...I guess it could wait a little bit."

                                                                                          ***

"What do you mean someone almost died?" Leslie asked, sitting on her office phone back at the public broadcasting station, "Like, you personally, or you inadvertently? Second hand murder or something?"

"There was an accident on set before rehearsal," Bea said into the phone in her and Michelle's office, still partially in costume, sitting on the desk, "a young woman almost got her head crushed by a light that fell from the ceiling."

"Jesus," Leslie said, "That's terrifying."

"I need to make sure that nobody on this crew ever comes to harm, okay?" Bea asked, "I'm gonna talk to Steph in a bit when Michelle gets back to me, but I think we need to have a safety inspector or something. Far too much bullshit happened on the last set, and I...I refuse to allow anyone to work like that again. I refuse."

"Alright, well, if that's your call then so be it," Leslie said, chewing on the cap of the end of the pen in her hand, "but, uh...well, just don't push it. She's already being lenient enough with you guys as it is, so. If you need me to come in, be the big guns, just lemme know."

Bea smirked at this and said, "Yeah, I'll let you know if you should come and flex your muscles."

"The ladies can be quite persuasive," Leslie said, the both of them laughing now.

                                                                                           ***

"What was it like, you know, working with Bea before?" Michelle asked, her hands cupping her styrofoam coffee cup on the table by the window as Eliza sipped hers cautiously.

"It was...neat," Eliza said, "She gave me my own space, and she...she told me that I could create whatever I wanted to, you know, in the downtime. She gave me a lot of creative freedom. No other job has ever done that, at least not, uh, to the same degree that she has."

"She's pretty supportive, it's true," Michelle said.

"How did you meet her?"

"A friend and I tracked her down after some research and...and once I showed her how I'd rebuilt the set from the show in my basement, she became so much more understanding of just what Beatrice Beagle represented to me. I think she understood that I saw in it the same thing she saw in it. I guess, the same thing a lot of you saw in it. You and Liam and Marvin and everyone."

"I never spent much time with anyone besides Bea. Liam was always nice to me, but I...I've never really had a friend before, so thank you for inviting me out," Eliza said, looking into her cup, almost as if she were outright embarrassed of this admittance, adding, "...are you sick too?"

"Yeah, I have breathing issues," Michelle said, trying not to get too into depth about her illness, "I sometimes have to have oxygen tanks to help me get through the day. Are you sick? You seem perfectly fine to me."

This made Eliza giggle uncontrollably as she looked away. Michelle cocked her head to the side, confused.

"What?" she asked.

"That's just...the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Eliza said, which only made Michelle feel all the worse for her.

                                                                                             ***

It was early when the phone rang.

Michelle rolled over, still half asleep, and clutched at the phone beside her bed, pulling it off the base and pushing it to her face. She half mumbled something relatively intelligible, only for the next thing she heard to wake her up almost completely. She sat up in bed and pushed her hair out of her face, staring dead eyed at the wall.

"Repeat that please," she said sternly, so Bea did, her voice shaky like she'd been crying.

"They're dead," she said, "they're both dead. I need you to come to my apartment now."

Michelle didn't have to be asked twice.

Upon arriving at the door, Beatrice let her in quick as possible. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying for hours, and she had a kettle of tea on the stove, whistling, which Michelle immediately raced to recover. As she lifted it from the stove and onto the counter, she looked back at Bea, who huddled back onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around her.

"Who's dead?" Michelle asked.

"...the girl...the girl from yesterday...and the guy who...the lighting guy," Bea managed to whisper, her voice hoarse, as if she'd been wailing all night, "...they killed themselves."

"What happened?" Michelle asked, walking over to the couch and sitting on it fully, putting a hand on Bea's back, massaging it.

"They...they met in the...in the first aid of the studio, and they talked about the situation, and she was extremely rattled from almost having died, and he was extremely rattled from almost having killed her, and they...they spent the whole night just...crushing up pills and snorting them in her apartment. I feel sick. This is all my fault. I sent him to speak to her. Maybe if I hadn't done that, they...they wouldn't have-"

"No, no Beatrice, this is not your fault, okay? This is just a freak occurrence, alright? Please listen to me," Michelle said, "I...you didn't do this, you didn't do anything wrong, okay?"

"I try and cultivate a workplace where people look out for one another, and have eachothers backs and-"

"And you know what, they did. She might've done that alone, or he might've done it alone, but instead they did it together. I think, if anything, it was inevitable and all you're really responsible for is giving them each someone else to do it with," Michelle said, uncertain of what she said even as she was saying it, "And I realize that's pretty fucking bleak, but...like...that's...I've been there. I've been on the verge of not being here. Being as sick as I was when I was so young...it changes you. I think I understand how she might've felt. She was probably never going to come back from this."

Bea looked at Michelle and bit her lip, trying not to cry anymore.

"...the show's on hold for a week. The funeral's in two days if you want to come," Bea said, "...but if you want to get away from this, away from me, I'd understand and-"

"I never wanna get away from you," Michelle said softly, "You're the best friend I've ever had. I'll be there. We all will."

And then she held her. She held Beatrice for what felt like hours. She got her some tea, and she held her until she fell asleep. Beatrice had always been there for her, and now it was time for Michelle to be there for Beatrice. It only felt fair.

                                                                                                ***

Standing in the cemetery, after the funeral was over and everyone was headed to a nearby restaurant to calm down from it all, Michelle couldn't help but feel glued to the gravesite. Standing there in the sunlight, bright and warm, she felt so confused about everything. How quickly this whole thing had turned on its head had thrown her, and everyone else, for a loop. She heard the sound of grass beneath shoes coming up behind her, and soon saw Eliza standing beside her, dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks, clearly the most formal thing she owned for such an occasion.

"...this is fucked up," Michelle said.

"I think the worst part is the sun," Eliza said, looking upwards to the sky.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Michelle asked.

"...like...you know how in movies and stuff, funerals always take place during rainy gloomy days. But that's just atmospheric, ya know? And...and that's not real. Funerals happen on sunny days too. They happen on days when...when kindergarten is in session and people get engaged. But it just seems so kind of sick to see the sun on such a sad day. But the universe doesn't care about us. About our sadness. You know? Like...like, uh...like it only matters to us, you know what I mean? We're the only ones who recognize its self imposed importance."

Michelle was surprised. Eliza was fairly eloquent for someone she had been told was somewhat challenged intellectually.

"...I don't know. Maybe. All I know is that I feel so screwed up now," Michelle said, "and Bea is even worse. She feels responsible, despite how many times I reiterate to her that none of this was her fault at all. I just hope-"

"Let's be friends, okay?" Eliza said bluntly, "I...I don't wanna be alone. She didn't wanna be alone. He didn't wanna be alone. You don't wanna be alone, do you?"

"No, I don't," Michelle said, shaking her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Bea said she cultivates a workplace of togetherness, where people watch out for one another, so let's be friends, and watch out for one another, okay?" Eliza asked, making Michelle nod again, smiling a little now.

"...should we go to the wake?" Michelle asked, and Eliza shrugged.

"I don't usually eat in front of others. I don't like groups. That's why I stood so far away during the procession," Eliza said, "...do you wanna come back to The Hole with me? I could show you puppets."

"That sounds cool, yeah," Michelle said.

Together, the women walked to Michelle's car and got in; Eliza later explained how she'd gotten a ride here since she didn't drive, and Michelle was more than happy to give her a ride home. Michelle was happy to have a new friend, especially one who seemed so insistent to be her friend no matter what. Beatrice could tell herself whatever she wanted, but the two women knew the truth. Beatrice was right. She did in fact cultivate a place that fostered togetherness, and bad things even happened in the brightest of places. Nowhere was safe from the pain, no matter how happy it all seemed.

                                                                                            ***

Liam sat in his armchair of his apartment, looking at the framed photo of himself and Marvin at a restaurant on his birthday. He smiled as he ate a lemon square he'd baked himself that afternoon, instead of going to the funeral. Nobody could blame him, honestly. Liam had had enough death to last him a lifetime.

"So how was your day?" he asked the photo, almost as if he expected an answer; he took a bite of the lemon square and nodded, saying, "Yeah, it was pretty shit, wasn't it?"

Because Liam understood the one fundamental rule behind life...

...the one thing that even Michelle had understood, that had kept Bea alive in her heart lo those many years...

...you're never gone so long as someone remembers you.
Published on

Sitting in the hallway of Froth's Elementary, right outside Maddison's classroom door, Lillian couldn't help but realize just how long it'd been since she'd actually set foot inside of a school. She didn't feel old, but somehow she'd become an adult seemingly overnight, and now here she was, helping a kid when she still felt very much like a kid herself. She looked at the girl sitting beside her and sighed. The girl, a few years younger than her and Japanese/American, smiled at her.


"This is awkward, right?" Lillian asked, and the girl shrugged.


"It is what it is," she replied, "The thing about caring for kids is you'll do anything for them, even stupid awkward things. Learned that after being a babysitter for a long time."


"I never liked talking in class when I was in class," Lillian said, exhaling, making the babysitter, Rina, laugh.


"I was the same way. Model student, except when it came to participating with other students," Rina said, just as the door opened and Maddison popped her head out, looking at them, grinning.


"It's time! Come on!" she said, signaling to Lillian, who merely exhaled, looked at Rina, then stood up and followed Maddy into the classroom.


                                                                             ***


"Do you guys ever come up with backstories?" Vera asked, sitting in the booth at the diner beside Tyler, Lillian across from them in the usual order.


"What do you mean?" Lillian asked, sipping her coffee.


"I mean what I asked. Do you ever come up with backstories for the characters you play at parties and events?" she repeated, "Like, Ty, do you ever think about what it is your sheriff has been through and does that differ depending on what type of situation you go into that day?"


"He's a lone wolf, a rebel, but he has a heart of gold," Tyler said, cutting his sandwich in half, making Lillian chuckle as he continued, "He wants to make kids feel better because his own children died so violently, thanks to a ruthless gunslinger named Rusty Spurs. Rusty was the meanest, cruelest man in the west, often traveling from town to town and shooting horses in the forehead just to see what would happen-"


"Okay, forget I asked," Vera said, smirking as Tyler laughed and bit into his sandwich; Vera looked at Lillian, nodding, and asked, "What about you?"


"I don't know. I'm not really acting, you know? I'm just...there. It's not like a play or a movie or something. I mean, sure, believeability is nice and all, but...you think it really matters?"


"I'm sure it does," Vera said, "I read a report recently from the company that said the more in depth and real the character seems, the more immersive the experience, the more satisfied the child is. They want to truly believe they've met a princess, or a cowboy-"


"Or a pirate?" someone asked, sitting beside Lillian and pulling up their eyepatch, rubbing their eye beneath it.


"Or a pirate, yes," Vera said.


"Hey Alex," Tyler said, swallowing his bite, "You work today?"


"I just got off, but I have another party this evening," Alex said, pulling the pirate hat off her head and setting it on her lap, revealing a large amount of bushy black hair, "So we talkin' backstories, I guess? I sometimes try and come up with something. Gives it a bit more pizzazz, but really it depends on what kind of kid I'm being hired for. Some kids don't give a crap and some kids are really into the whole make believe thing."


"I just never saw this as anything other than a job," Lillian said, shrugging, "Like, I'm no different than a clown or something."


"Like Stinko?" Vera asked, confusing Tyler and Alex, who looked at Lillian, who now appeared irritated.


"What? Who's Stinko?" Tyler asked, half laughing.


"Nobody. I don't wanna talk about him," Lillian said, deflecting and adding, "A magician is hired to do a job, so am I, so there. End of story."


Lillian's watched beeped, and she made Alex get up so she could slide out of the booth and pull her coat on over her costume.


"Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I have a prior engagement to attend to."


As they watched her leave, Alex pulled some leftover fries from Tyler's plate and dipped them into Lillian's still warm coffee mug, eating them.


"She's weird," Alex said.


"Yeah, she's weird," Tyler remarked, rolling his eyes, making Vera chuckle.


                                                                               ***


When Lillian pulled up to the house, she was surprised to see someone was already there. Not Maddison's parents, no, but another car was parked in the driveway. Lillian stepped out of her vehicle and crossed the street, now wearing her regular civilian clothes. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets, her teeth chatting from the crisp breeze, as she headed up the walkway and knocked on the door. It opened, and a young woman, not much younger than herself, stood there. She was wearing jeans, a striped t-shirt and a green jacket. She had long black hair pulled back a bit, and looked to be a mixture of Japanese and American.


"Can I help you?" she asked.


"Uh, hiiii....my name is Lillian, I'm here to see Maddison, she invited me," Lillian said.


"...okay, come on in," the woman said, stepping aside, "I'm Rina, her babysitter. You know, most people probably wouldn't let their kid be friends with random adults."


"Oh, well, I'm not a random...I mean...my friend worked her birthday party, and when I heard about, you know, what happened, I guess I just sort of made it my mission to check up on her, make sure she was okay."


"...that's very sweet, actually," Rina said.


"You're here!" Maddison said, running down the hall and hugging Lillian around the waist.


"Indeed I am, yes!" she said, laughing nervously, "You didn't tell me you had company."


"She didn't tell me someone was coming, so I guess we're both allowed to be weirded out here," Rina said, sitting at the kitchen table and biting into a cracker.


"Lillian, come with me, I wanna show you something!" Maddison said, sounding excited in a way only a child could; she dragged Lillian by the arm through the hallway, towards, presumably, her bedroom. Upon entering the room, Lillian discovered she was right in assuming it was her bedroom, thanks to the litany of kids clothes strewn across the floor and books and toys all over the place. Lillian sat down on the bed while Maddison rushed to the dresser and grabbed something, then brought it over to the bed.


"My grandma got me this," Maddison said, lifting the lid of the box and showing her essentially a music box featuring a princess spinning round and round to the tune; she went on, saying, "See, she's a princess just like you. I took this into school for show and tell, but they said it wasn't a real princess, and they're not wrong cause she's small and made of glass, but you're a real person."


"...I mean, I think I am anyway," Lillian said, hearing Rina laugh snarkily at her response from the doorway.


"That made me think that maybe I could bring you in for show and tell tomorrow! You're an actual princess, and they'd have to respect that," Maddison said.


"You know I'm not-" Lillian started, but then sighed, nodding, "...okay, I'll come."


                                                                              ***


Alex was sitting outside on the porch of a house, smoking a cigarette, when Lillian pulled up and parked. She got out and walked up to the porch, seating herself. Alex offered her some of her cigarette, but Lillian politely declined.


"How'd you even know where I was?" Alex asked.


"Vera," Lillian said, "She has all our schedules."


"Stalker."


"...I need your help," Lillian said, "You're a writer, right?"


"I dabble," Alex said, putting her cigarette out and pushing it into her shirt pocket, "Why?"


"I need you to help me come up with a backstory," Lillian said, "That thing Vera asked earlier, it really bothered me, because it made me feel like maybe I don't do enough for the kids I am hired to entertain, and maybe I should take more pride in what I do. What's your backstory?"


Alex leaned back, exhaling smoke into the air and clearing her throat, tapping her nails on the cement step.


"I'm an exiled Pirate Queen, always looking to get revenge on the bloodthirsty SOBS who stole my ship, my treasure and left me to rot on a cannibal island," Alex said, "I will not rest until I finally have my revenge, and see my thieving backstabbing shipmates heads impaled upon pikes."


"...that's a little dark," Lillian whispered.


"Kids are sick fucks," Alex said, shrugging, "They love violence, and hey, everyone loves an underdog. Did you have anything in mind for your own backstory? Even something basic we can mesh into something somewhat original or interesting."


Lillian sat and thought for a moment, then nodded.


"Yeah, I was thinking that perhaps I'm imprisoned by a queen of great beauty, one who demands too much of me, who plans to use my rightful rule to the throne for her own nefarious purposes," Lillian said, as Alex watched closely, listening. After a moment, Lillian added, choking back a few tears, "...I hate my mother."


"That's why moms are usually evil in fairytales," Alex said, patting Lillian's back, "Wait for me to finish this job, and we'll head to the diner and work on something, okay?"


Lillian nodded and watched as Alexis headed back inside. As she sat there and watched the world go by, she couldn't help but feel like so much of her life these days was spent waiting for other people, instead of doing anything for herself. Perhaps her therapist was right. Perhaps she was too much of a people pleaser.


                                                                              ***


When Lillian showed up at the school the following morning, she couldn't help but feel anxious.


She'd washed her dress that night, added lots of glitter to it and even shined her tiara. Still...she couldn't escape feeling odd and out of place. She parked in the visitors lot and headed inside, where she immediately spotted Rina pushing in a large cart. Lillian jogged up and helped her get the cart over the first few steps and into the school foyer proper.


"Thanks," Rina said, looking her up and down, "Wow, that's some outfit."


"What are you doing here? Do you babysit all these kids too?" Lillian asked, making Rina chuckle.


"I'm a helper for the cafeteria," Rina said, "I guess you need help finding Maddison's classroom? They're already all in class, but I can take you there anyway."


Lillian nodded, appreciating her help and following Rina down the hall. This school was not the elementary school Lillian herself had attended, and yet it had an odd air of familiarity to it, a stench of disgusting similarity. Did all elementary schools seem the same? Were they made that way to ease the transition of children who had to transfer one to another, so they didn't get too overwhelmed by a new location and new students?


"I feel so stupid," Lillian said.


"Naw, I think what you're doing is cool," Rina said, "Honestly, what you do in general is cool. You make kids days better. That's something a lot of these teachers never manage to accomplish, and that's something they'd be jealous of."


They arrived outside the classroom, and Rina let the cart come to a full stop. She took a seat on a plastic chair outside the door, with Lillian doing the same. Lillian removed her tiara and looked at in in her hands; so shiny, so sparkly, covered in faux jewels and yet still alluring. Reminded her of all the crowns she'd won as a child. She quickly shook that thought from her mind and exhaled, looking around the hallway.


Sitting in the hallway of Froth's Elementary, right outside Maddison's classroom door, Lillian couldn't help but realize just how long it'd been since she'd actually set foot inside of a school. She didn't feel old, but somehow she'd become an adult seemingly overnight, and now here she was, helping a kid when she still felt very much like a kid herself. She looked at Rina, who just smiled at her.


"This is awkward, right?" Lillian asked, and Rina shrugged.


"It is what it is," she replied, "The thing about caring for kids is you'll do anything for them, even stupid awkward things. Learned that after being a babysitter for a long time."


"I never liked talking in class when I was in class," Lillian said, exhaling, making Rina laugh.


"I was the same way. Model student, except when it came to participating with other students," Rina said, just as the door opened and Maddison popped her head out, looking at them, grinning.


"It's time! Come on!" she said, signaling to Lillian, who merely exhaled, looked at Rina, then stood up and followed Maddy into the classroom.


The classroom immediately made Lillian's head become flooded with memories of her own adolescence. Lots of students arts and crafts stapled to the walls, a color sheet on the wall to help kids express their emotions throughout the day, an alphabet chart above the board with a cursive one right beneath it. Lillian took some kind of pride in the fact that this didn't look too different from the way classrooms looked when she was a kid. Made her feel like, perhaps, not much time had actually passed after all. Maddison tugged on her dress, pulling her to the front of the class, in front of everyone.


"This is my friend Princess Lillian!" Maddison said, "She's what I brought for show and tell today. Lillian, tell them about yourself!"


"Uh, hello, my name is Lillian, and I'm..." she looked down at Maddison, and felt a pang of her past, always playing someone she wasn't, but she quickly shook it away, plastered on a smile and looked back at the kids, "My name is Princess Lillian, and I come from the Kingdom of Stromburg! I escaped the clutches of my evil mother today just to come to this show and tell, which wasn't easy, because she's particularly clever. See, she uses my beauty to put the citizens into a trance and do all her bidding! This is why I agreed to come to this little 'show and tell' you all have, was to see if you all could help spread my story and help me free my people from her awful clutches!"


Rina, standing outside the door and looking in, smiled as the kids started laughing and asking questions. She put her hands back on the cart and continued pushing it down the hall towards the cafeteria. She had a job to get back to. After all, they couldn't all be princesses from far off lands.


But she certainly appreciated Lillian's efforts to make the world just a bit more magical, even if only for a few minutes

Published on
Leslie Swann was late for work.

Truth be told, she was late for work most days, but being the network head, she could get away with it. And besides, she often stayed late into the night to make up for it, so she felt nobody had any right to complain about her being late since she wound up making up the hours long after work had ended for everyone else. While they were sitting snugly at home, she was sitting in her office still, trying to find a budget that would work. But today was raining, and Leslie Swann hated rain, and it hadn't started raining until after she'd left the house, meaning she was unprepared for this type of weather because it wasn't just rain, no, it was a goddamned downpour. After spilling her coffee on her shirt, getting honked at by a dictator mom in a minivan with a cheap 4 dollar haircut and the 6 kids she was stuck with because she believed a wife couldn't say no to her husband, Leslie finally pulled up to the building, only to find someone had parked in her spot, despite there being a sign designating it hers. She wanted to scream, but she had more important things to do, and she couldn't waste the energy on that right now. So instead Leslie parked somewhere else, stepped out of the car, and - in her brand new pumps - right into an enormous puddle that went halfway up her leg.

Now she screamed.

In fact, she did more than scream. She threw a whole ass temper tantrum in the parking lot, and didn't care who saw. Her makeup was running, her hair was a mess from the rain, her coffee was staining into her nicest dress shirt and now she was soggy from a puddle. As she collapsed against the back of her car, she heard shoes approaching her, and looked up to see a woman standing in a dog covered rain slicker, holding an umbrella and smiling at her.

"Let me buy you breakfast, screw going in today," Beatrice said, and Leslie, without waiting, flung herself around her old friend and cried.

                                                                                              ***

"This is very nice of you," Leslie said, sitting at a table in a diner across from Bea as she dabbed at her work shirt to no avail. She pulled her wet hair back and sighed, adding, "I've had a bad week, Bea."

"So it isn't just today?"

"No, god...it's been an awful week all around. I was thinking today would be maybe alright, and since it's Friday I could go home and then relax and enjoy myself for a few days and then..."

"Isn't Friday casual clothes day?" Bea asked, sipping her cocoa, and Leslie sighed, leaning back into the vinyl diner booth.

"Yes, but I don't like wearing my civilian clothes to the office," she said, making Beatrice laugh.

"Your civilian clothes? Leslie, you work in public broadcasting, not the federal bureau of investigation," she said, trying not to laugh, which only made Leslie start to chuckle herself.

"I wanna set a good example, you know? I mean, I don't care if other people wear theirs on casual day, but...I feel like a leader should be well dressed, maintain order, without being a dictator, you know what I mean? How're these people gonna respect me if they see me in my Snoopy pajamas and horse slippers?"

"You have horse slippers?" Bea asked, "God, I came just at the right time."

"...why were you waiting for me?" Leslie asked, now raising an eyebrow as their waitress set down stacks of pancakes for them.

"I need your help, Leslie," Bea said, "The show's coming back, we're already well into pre-production, but...this network head, she and I don't see exactly eye to eye, and I need you to come in and back me up on some things. I wanna hire you."

"What kind of credit would it be?" Leslie asked, slicing off a hunk of pancake and dabbing it in syrup before eating it.

"Executive Producer," Bea said, "plus, the public broadcasting station will get first airing rights on the new episodes after they've been on the streaming service for a year. Not only will it boost your network, but it puts more eyes on the product."

"You sound like you've been sitting in with tech heads," Leslie said, "It's not a good sound."

"Believe me, I don't like it either," Bea said, making Leslie smile again.

                                                                                            ***

Michelle had been having that dream again.

The one where she was still 7 years old, and her mother had put her into an art class during the summer because she so badly wanted her daughter to be like her. Michelle had stayed inside during break one afternoon, to finish a drawing, and she'd started having trouble breathing. It became so bad that she started stumbling around the room, looking for the front door, and instead bumping into everything in sight. Paint cans spilled, everyones hard work ruined, and herself covered in colors. When she finally made it out, her teacher immediately called an ambulance. Her peers were even more worried about her than about their now ruined work (they were only children, after all), but her mother...

"It's okay," she'd said on the way to the hospital, "Every artist has setbacks."

Michelle woke that morning with a terrible headache. As she walked to the kitchen, she found Keagan sitting by herself at the table, reading a book and eating toast. Michelle seated herself across from her after finding some painkillers and popping them. Keagan looked up at her and smiled.

"Where's Lexi?" Michelle asked.

"At her parents," Keagan said.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, she just went to help her mom do some things," Keagan said, "...can I ask you a question, Shell?"

"Yeah, of course," Michelle said.

"...do you think Lexi and I make sense?" Keagan asked.

"I don't have a whole lot of relationship experience, so maybe I'm not exactly the best person to give advice on this sort of thing, but...she seems to really like you, and I think that's pretty important in a relationship. I don't mean just, like, enjoy being in a relationship, either. I mean she genuinely likes just being around you, and I think if you can find one person in the world who you can genuinely like being around, then...you know...yeah, I think that's good."

"She's just so prim and proper, she's from such an upper class family, she's so..."

"White?"

"Okay, sure, yeah. I didn't wanna say it."

"So what? You're not from 'the hood' or something, Keagan. And even if you were, who cares? Isn't the whole appeal of Romeo and Juliet the fact that they come from different classes of society and yet they manage to find undying love for one another?"

"Not sure 'undying' is the right word to use in this context in regards to that story, but okay," Keagan said, making Michelle snicker, "...no, you're right, and I know you're right. I guess I just let other peoples judgements make me judge us. You sound pretty knowledgeable about this sort of stuff, why haven't you been in many relationships?"

"Uh, I don't...know."

"Are you gay too?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I've found girls pretty, but I also like guys, probably moreso honestly, but...it's all aesthetics for me, you know what I mean? Like...it's all visual, and it doesn't elicit any kind of response other than awe or...or admiration. There's no...uh...I don't know how to put it."

"You don't wanna sleep with anyone?"

"I guess, yeah, I don't really feel sexual attraction," Michelle said, "I guess I've never really openly said that."

Keagan smiled and reached across the table, touching her hand, "I'm glad you did, because I think it helps us understand one another more. You know, at first I was worried living together with people I barely knew would be okay, but...I guess there's a reason we all get along after all, outside of our love for media."

Just then the phone rang, and Keagan, sitting beside the landline on the wall, reached up and picked it off the hook, putting the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, before handing the phone to Michelle, whispering, "I think it's Liam."

Michelle furrowed her brow. Why would Liam be calling her? She cautiously took the phone and put it to her ear.

"Liam?" she asked, "...oh, okay, I'll be right there."

"Something going on?" Keagan asked, and Michelle looked at her.

"Can I borrow your truck?" she asked.

                                                                                             ***

Liam had given her the address, but even when Michelle reached it, she was surprised at how out of the way and sort of dingy it was. Sure, it was a storage facility, but even then, she was surprised someone who'd worked in television would put their belongings in someplace like this. She pulled up to see Liam opening the gate from the keypad for her, and then drove through until she parked. She climbed out of the truck and rushed under the awning, Liam approaching her with a duck umbrella.

"I like you umbrella!" she stated happily, making him smile.

"It is cute, isn't it?" he asked, "Sorry to ask you to help me with this, but I couldn't get a hold of Bea. She's busy."

"It's okay, I don't mind. We're coworkers now, right?" she asked, smirking, hitting him playfully in the shoulder. Together the two of them headed inside and to the elevator, where they stepped inside. As the doors shut, Liam punched in the floor he wanted to ascend to, and then looked at his shoes.

"You can't tell Bea I brought you here, okay?"

"But...but you were gonna invite her first, so what's it matter if-"

"Because nobody besides us knows about this place," Liam said, sounding deadly serious.

Michelle kept quiet until the elevator stopped and they both stepped out. The lighting overhead was soft, pleasant, and the sound of their shoes clacking on the hard floor beneath them as they strolled down the empty hall made Michelle feel a bit calmer. After a few minutes, they finally reached a unit and Liam fished a pair of keys out of his pocket, shoving one into the lock, and the second into a second lock. He then pulled the lock off, and started to bend over to pull the door open, but quickly retracted this stance, putting his hand on his back.

"Would you?" he groaned, as Michelle nodded and bent down, pulling the door open.

What was inside was boxes, furniture, and other odds and ends. Michelle was confused. She expected something amazing, something spectacular, not something so...mundane.

"Uh, this is just stuff," Michelle said.

"It's Marvin's stuff," Liam said, entering the unit and running his hand up and down a beautiful rolled up rug, "...or, it was Marvin's stuff. It's mine now. But there's one box in here in particular that I'm looking for. It's big and dark green and plastic, it should be labeled BBC."

"British Broadcasting Corporation?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh.

"Beatrice Beagle Costumes," he said, "How he wound up with it is beyond me, but he told me one of the last times we spoke that he had it stored in his unit, which he left me directions and the key to after he...well, you know."

"Is that it?" Michelle asked, pointing to a box in the dark corner, underneath a few other boxes. She helped Liam move the other boxes, before she bent down and pulled the other box out and together they knelt to the floor and Liam lifted the lid. Michelle couldn't believe her eyes. Inside was Marvin's costume, and costumes to numerous other human characters who showed up on the series - like Bea's veterinarian Veronica and her dog trainer Theresa - which Michelle immediately wanted to touch.

"This is amazing," Michelle whispered, making Liam smile.

"Indeed," he said, "I figured we needed to pull these out for the show when it starts shooting soon, so I wanted to ask Bea to come, but I figured...well, this wouldn't even be happening without you, so you should know where this stuff is."

"...what was Marvin like? I mean, as a person?" Michelle asked, and Liam sat down in a nearby rocking chair, running his thumb over the wooden head of his duck umbrella, smiling warmly.

"He was such a great guy. So much fun, so smart, so caring. Most of the people Bea recruited were very empathetic folks, hence doing a childrens show, and Marvin and I really understood one another...once the show ended, we were still..."

He paused and bit his lip, either trying not to cry or trying to choose his words carefully.

"...I miss him so much every day and I just wish he'd reached out to me instead of killing himself," he whispered, tears starting to roll down his face, as Michelle crawled over to him and put her arms around him, hugging him tight, and him hugging her back, somewhat surprisingly.

"...this morning, Keagan and I were talking about sexuality, and how, even though I'm not exactly queer, the fact that I differ from 'the norm' makes why we became such good friends make a lot more sense, because she's gay, and you're gay, and...I guess it's nice to find a community, even if it is one often steeped in loss," Michelle said, "...but it doesn't have to be loss, right? Because, look, he isn't gone. He's still here, in a way."

"He always will be, not just in this unit, but in my heart," Liam said, which made Michelle almost weep at how sweet this was. She might not feel sexual attraction, but she certainly understood the concept of undying love.

                                                                                                ***

Eliza was pacing nervously outside Stephanie's office door, chewing at her fingernails, as Bea and Leslie were inside, talking to Steph. Eliza had been told to wait, but she didn't understand why, and the waiting was beginning to drive her nuts.

"You're treating the show as a commodity," Leslie said, sitting across from Steph, "but the thing is, art isn't a commodity. It's a creation. To treat it as anything else is to cheapen it. There's nothing inherently wrong with making money from art, but to see it as nothing other than pure financial net gain...that's where it loses something special, and people notice."

"So you're suggesting we don't push the advertising right off the bat?" Steph asked, and Leslie shook her head.

"No, I'm suggesting you don't advertise it at all. I mean, sure, commercials, print ads, whatever is fine, but the minute you start churning out toys, dolls, etc, that's when people start to see it as not something personal or special but as just another thing to entice children. That's where you lose respect."

Steph sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She should've known Beatrice would find a way to throw a wrench in her longterm advertising plans. Suddenly, Bea stood up and walked to the door, opened it and pulled Eliza in gently by the arm.

"This is my puppet maker, Eliza. She worked with me on the original show," Bea said, "Eliza, please, show Stephanie why making money off something cheapens it."

Eliza nodded, then put a dog hand puppet on her arm before kneeling down in front of the desk, hiding herself. She popped the puppet up in front of Stephanie, and Stephanie smirked, unsure of where exactly this was going, but curious to see certainly.

"My name is Brisket!" Eliza said in a high pitched voice, "Right now I'm your friend, and that makes you feel good doesn't it?"

"I...suppose," Stephanie said, trying not to laugh.

"You need to put yourself in the mind of a child watching the show," Bea said, and Steph nodded, trying to do just that as Bea added, "Go on Brisket."

"Right now you know I'm here for you, to listen and to help, and make you not feel so alone, and that's a good feeling isn't it? Because the world is big and scary and it's easy to feel overwhelmed," Eliza continued as the puppet, "but then you see another kid, maybe even a kid who bullies you every day, with a backpack with me on it, and that makes you sad doesn't it? It makes you not trust me anymore, and then you will have a hard time trusting anyone, all because little ol' me was also friends with your bully. That doesn't feel good, does it?"

Steph's eyes widened, and she looked from the puppet back up at Bea.

"Do you get it now?" Bea asked, and Steph glanced to Leslie, who cleared her throat and patted Eliza's head, telling her she could get off the floor, as she leaned forward and crossed her legs.

"Children aren't stupid. They aren't reliable gullible consumers. They can tell when they're being sold to, likely moreso than any adult can," Leslie said, "You go down that route, you lose that connection, and soon you won't be any different from any other show. Being on a streaming service, along with the addition to be beamed into every home thanks to my public broadcasting network license, means you're gonna have more eyeballs than anyone else right off the bat, and your show will be more accessible than any other kids show. You tell a child they're special, then sell the very thing that makes them feel special to other children, all you're doing is giving them lifelong relationship issues."

Steph nodded as Eliza stood up and pushed her glasses up on her face, hugging Brisket to her chest.

"I think I get it," Steph said softly, actually meaning it.

As Eliza left the room, she bumped into Michelle, who was hauling the green plastic box down towards the costuming room. Both women immediately apologized to one another, and Michelle smiled at the puppet on Eliza's hand.

"That's cute," Michelle said, and Eliza held Brisket back up, putting the voice back on.

"Thanks! I am pretty cute!" she said, making Michelle laugh before she continued on her way.

The door opened, and Bea and Leslie stepped out into the hall. Bea put her hand on Eliza's back and rubbed it gently.

"You did great, kiddo," she said, "Go back to The Hole. I'll have your lunch delivered, okay?"

Eliza nodded and headed along her way, as Bea turned to Leslie.

"Thank you," Bea said, "I knew you could make this work."

"I'd do anything for you Bea," Leslie said, "...thanks for including me. I should probably get to the office now, though," she added, checking her watch.

Leslie and Bea hugged, then Bea stood and watched Leslie Swann walk off towards the parking lot. Bea stood there and smiled to herself, not knowing Leslie was smiling to herself. Leslie had had a bad week, but once again, all it took to make her week better was the dog. All it ever took was the dog. Mans best friend, as they said. Leslie reached her car, let herself in and started it up. Being with Bea again as a team made her feel so good inside, that now she couldn't go to work in a bad mood.

Leslie Swann was still late for work.

But this time it was worth it.
Published on

"This is weird," Tyler said, sitting in the passenger seat of Lillian's car. They'd decided to carpool to save money, and seeing as Lillian was doing better than he was these days, she was the one who offered to drive. She nodded, pulled down the rearview mirror and started applying glitter makeup to her face sparingly.


"It sure is," she said.


"I mean, I guess it's cool, like, for their parents to be this open," Tyler said, "Sure wasn't like that when we were kids, but a lot of things weren't like how they are now when we were kids."


"Progress is both wonderful to see and frustrating that you didn't get to experience it," Lillian said, starting on her eyeliner, "You're happy that so many kids don't have to go through the bullshit we did, but you're also mad that you're not one of them."


"Exactly. Why don't you do your makeup before you get here?" Tyler asked.


"Because," Lillian said, stretching her eye and drawing alone the edge, "if I do it before I come, it has the potential to get smudged, smeared or, on the chance I cry, runny. This way I walk in looking good."


Tyler opened a small container of sunflower seeds and started eating some as he waited for Lillian to finish. He watched her as she did her makeup, and he couldn't help but notice how calm and collected she was. She had this air about her of genuine ease, even if she swore she never felt any, and he was somewhat jealous. After the things he'd recently seen, he'd been anything but at ease.


"Alright," she said, finishing applying her lipstick, "Let's go."


Together they climbed out of the car and headed up the walkway towards the front door. They could hear kids screaming and shouting and hollering, having the time of their lives inside. As they reached the door, Tyler pushed the doorbell, and Lillian adjusted her bangs.


"You look pretty," Tyler said, making her smile.


"Thank you, so do you."


"Oh, you're just saying that," Tyler said, scoffing, making her laugh.


The door opened and a middle aged man with small round glasses and somewhat balding was standing there, his button down dress shirt tucked into his slacks. He looked at them, like he had forgotten they'd been called in for the day, then shook his head as if he remembered, and stepped aside, allowing them entrance into the house.


"Sorry," he said, shutting the door behind them, "Today is...weird. I'm not used to all this screaming."


"I often wear earplugs," Lillian said, "Do you want some earplugs?"


"No," the man said, chuckling, "No thank you, but thank you."


"So, where are we supposed to be?" Tyler asked.


"Well, here's the thing, we have twins, as you know, and we hired one of you for each of them. But, uh, it isn't exactly going to be what you think it is," he said, wringing his hands nervously, making Lillian and Tyler look at one another.


                                                                            ***


"Hey," the father, Clark, said as he opened the bedroom door and found his son, Chase, sitting on the floor and waving a little stick streamer around. Chase didn't look up at his father as he came in, and instead Clark let Lillian into the room to see the sight, and then pulled her back into the hallway.


"What's going on?" Lillian asked.


"Our daughter wanted the cowboy, and our son wanted you," Clark said, "And we don't have a problem with that, but...well, a lot of girls don't mind being rough and rowdy, but...no boys wanted to come to a princess themed party, so while our daughter's out in the backyard with her friends, he's in here...by himself."


"Jesus that's depressing," Lillian muttered, crossing her arms, "Well, I guess I'll stay in there then."


"Thank you," Clark whispered, before turning and heading back out towards the backyard.


Lillian entered the room and sat down on the bed, looking around the room. It was furnished fairly feminine, with a lot of pictures of famous women and girls cut out from magazines and put up on a corkboard on the wall over the desk. Lillian cleared her throat and looked down at the little boy sitting on the floor, wearing a long blonde wig and a sparkly dress, and she felt her heart caught in her throat.


"Hi," she finally said, "I'm Lillian."


"Hello," they said, not looking up at her.


"I like your dress," Lillian said, smiling warmly.


"Thank you," they whispered, almost as if scared of being complimented.


"I'm sorry nobody is here, but I'm here, so...I can be your friend. I think what you're doing is cool," Lillian said, "I mean, it's cool that you do whatever you want and that your parents are letting you do it. I think the fact that nobody came is something you should be proud of, like, you're too cool for them. They're embarrassed cause they aren't as cool as you are."


Chase looked up at Lillian, seated on the bed, and the two locked eyes momentarily.


"It's my birthday, and I'm gonna have a cake, and I don't wanna make a wish cause it never comes true," they said softly, "mom and dad make us say prayers every night but nothing ever comes true, and Santa never gives me what I want, so I don't wanna make a wish on a candle. It isn't fair. Your hair is real, mine is a wig."


"Lots of people wear wigs," Lillian said, shrugging, "Nothing wrong with that."


"I just wanna look like you," they whispered, starting to cry.


Lillian climbed down to the floor and sat beside them, taking off her tiara and looking at it in her hands.


"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I wish I could say something that would make you feel better, but...there's nothing I can really say that would truly help. This is something you're going to have to deal with as you get older, and it seems like your parents are okay with it, so it shouldn't be a big deal. I don't think it's fair, you're right, that nobody would come to your party but people came to your sisters. I don't think it's fair that girls get to like boy stuff and boys don't get to like girl stuff. I know things are changing, but the stigmas are still there. It's going to take a long time before those preconceptions really break down and everything is truly for everyone. But...do you wanna wear my tiara?"


Chase looked at the tiara in her hands, and nodded, wiping their arm on their sleeve. Lillian smiled and plopped the tiara down on their wig, removing the paper crown they'd had on before. She rubbed Chase's back and sat beside them.


"For what it's worth, I think you look very pretty," she said, "And I hope this makes up for having an otherwise lousy birthday."


Just then the door opened, and Tyler was standing there. Lillian looked up at him as he walked into the room and looked down at the two of them on the floor. He looked at Chase, in their little gown, wearing Lillian's tiara, and tipped his hat at them.


"Ladies," he said, making them chuckle, "Uh, your majesty, if I may...now I may just be a simple cowboy and I may not understand your customs and your culture, but if there's one thing I understand it is that family is important, and your sister is requesting your presence."


"She wants me to come out there?" Chase asked.


"Absolutely. She doesn't care what her friends think, she just wants her sibling with her. It's your birthdays, it should be spent together," Tyler said, "She told me she always plays dress up with you, and that's really no more different than this, right?"


"...but they'll laugh at me," Chase said.


"If they laugh at you, then I'll put 'em in the pokey, how about that?" Tyler asked, making Chase laugh and stand up as Tyler added, "Now you run along outside lil' miss, and we'll be right behind y'all."


As Chase exited the room, Tyler held his hand out to Lillian and she took it. He helped her back up and dusted off her dress. She looked at him and smiled warmly.


"That was really sweet, Ty," she said.


"Well," he replied, "it was the least I could do. She told me she wasn't having any fun without her sibling, so I figured I could maybe get them out there together. You should see it, it's quite a sight, a buncha little girls all dressed up in western garb, it's great. Who's to say a princess has no place among them? Besides, after not being able to do anything at the last party...I felt I should do something here."


"...I think I take for granted what I have," Lillian said, "It's so easy to whine and complain and feel sad about what I'm lacking - funds or a real career path or whatever - and I never really think about the fact that just who I am, the way I was born, is something so many people would die to have. The basic essence that is me, my body, is enough to be jealous of, and I think I take my femininity for granted a lot."


"That's understandable," Tyler said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the room and down the hall towards the backyard. They stopped and watched the kids, Chase included, all running around and playing together. Each smiled, each for their own reasons.


"It ends so quickly. You think it won't, but before you know it it's over, and you're left wondering where it went," Lillian said.


"It doesn't have to though," Tyler said, "That's the thing. So many people see growing up as an unavoidable thing, but really, who says you can't be the same kid you always were just because you're an adult now? It's mentality, more than anything else. What you were saying in the car, about kids having it better and feeling jealous, sure, talk about a fucked up form of hero worship, but...it's for the best. Yes, we could've been happier children, but we're also who we are because of when and how we grew up, and I think you're perfect and I think I'm pretty okay."


Lillian blushed and looked at her glittery shoes, trying not to let him see her tearing up.


"Yeah," she finally said, "It's for the best, you're right. We might not have gotten what they have, but we can enhance what they get, and I think that's pretty important."


"Righty o," Tyler said, sticking his toothpick back in his mouth and winking, "Now how's about we go out there and wrassle us up some grub, lass?"


"You're such a dork," she whispered, laughing, as she linked arms with him and walked out together.


                                                                           ***


Driving Tyler back home that night, Lillian had a million things she wanted to say, but for some reason, the only thing that really kept running through her head was about the kid who'd died at the previous party. The kid they'd watched from across the street. She cleared her throat and looked over at him as he fidgeted with getting his pin on badge off his vest.


"You remember that girl, you know...the party where-"


"Yeah, I try not to think about that," Tyler said.


"Sure, fair, I just...I can't stop thinking about that poor kid," Lillian said, the car slowing to a crawl as she pulled up to Tyler's apartment. He sighed and undid his seatbelt before looking at Lillian, nodding.


"I know, I can't either, and I was the one who was there," he said, "but you can't let it run your life. If you let it overtake you, it'll eat you alive inside. Thanks for driving me."


"Anytime," Lillian said, watching him get out and head on into the apartment. She gripped the steering wheel, then pulled away from the curb and started to head back to the house they'd been to before.


                                                                              ***


She didn't mean to fall asleep there, but when the sun woke her up the next morning, she was surprised that she'd allowed herself to sleep in her car. Drool running down her lip, she groaned and shifted, realizing she was still dressed like a princess. Then she heard the tapping on the window, and screamed. As Lillian looked over, she saw the little girl from the lawn staring inwards at her.


"...are you gonna kidnap me?" she asked.


"Uh, no?" Lillian replied groggily.


The passenger door opened and the little girl climbed inside, shutting it behind her. Lillian looked her up and down, and noticed she was wearing a girlscout uniform.


"...what time is it?" Lillian asked, and the girl checked her watch.


"It is 2pm," she said, her braids bouncing as she looked back to Lillian from the watch, "I noticed your car here this morning, and it was still here when I got back from scouts. My mom told me not to get into cars with strangers, but you don't look dangerous."


"...thanks?" Lillian asked, as she pulled her rearview mirror down and started wiping off her makeup with a box of tissues she had in the backseat, "ugh, I'm sorry, I...my friend worked your party, and he was there when..."


"Yeah."


"Yeah. I guess I was just worried how it might have effected you. I know it's weird, we don't even know one another, and I'm not a mom or anything, but-"


"You're a princess," the girl said, "If you were a mom, you'd be a queen."


Lillian chuckled at this, then looked at the girl, and held her hand out.


"I'm Lillian."


"I'm Maddison," she said, shaking her hand firmly.


This little girl was very mature for her age, and this took Lillian by surprise.


"Aren't your parents worried you-"


"They aren't home. They don't get home until really late on weekends," Maddison said.


"...I need coffee," Lillian said.


"And donuts!" Maddison said, grinning.


"Right, and donuts, can't have one without the other," Lillian said, turning the car on and taking off down the street as Maddison buckled her seatbelt; Lillian glanced at Maddison, who was looking at her badges on her sash, and asked, "so, you're in girlscouts?"


"Mhm," Maddison nodded, "were you ever in the girlscouts?"


"Nah, I was in ballet classes and stuff," Lillian said.


"That's neat," Maddison said, "And now you're a princess?"


"Only for birthday parties," Lillian said quietly.


"...you can't be a princess every day?"


This was something Lillian had never really questioned, but it made her uneasy to think about. To be a princess every day would be like giving into her mothers idea of perfection, especially in regards to beauty. She'd had enough of that while growing up, and she felt gross enough projecting that kind of beauty to children as it was.


"Do you want some donuts?" Lillian asked.


"I like bear claws," Maddison said.


"And coffee?"


"My mom won't let me drink coffee," Maddison said.


"Probably for the best. What about cocoa?"


"I like cocoa!"


Lillian smiled and nodded.


"Cocoa it is," she said.


She suddenly didn't understand why she had been so worried. This child was more than well adjusted.


So what did that say about her then?

Picture

About

So Happy Together is a dramedy about couple Aubrey & Brent. After Aubrey plays an April Fools joke on Brent that she's pregnant, Brent confesses out of panic that he actually has a secret daughter with an ex wife, and everything changes overnight.

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