"Isn't today a schoolday?" he asks. You just nod and half-shrug your shoulders. "... Does your father know you're here, at least?"
"Yeah," you reply. "He, um, rang the school and told them I wouldn't be in today. I needed to, to do something else. I can't go in today. So I came here. That's okay, isn't it?" You can't help the fact that you're pleading with him by the end of your sentence.
He looks at you searchingly. Whatever he finds in your face, he seems to come to a decision as he steps forward, past you, and moves to the sign-in book. For a moment, your heart falls when he picks up the pen and scribbles your name out, but then he turns to you with a gentle expression on his face.
"We can't have a minor volunteering during school hours," he begins. "I'd be forced to report you for truancy if I knew you were here. But I don't know you're here, and I'm going to be very surprised when I walk into the storeroom later today and find that someone has inventoried all our supplies for us. Okay?"
You nod, your jaw set. Yeah, you understand. He's bending the rules for you. You don't understand why— you'd been hoping he just wouldn't find out— but you're not going to argue. "Yeah," you say. "It's weird how that happens sometimes."
"Good." He stands, then hesitates. "Did you bring lunch?" Shit. No, you didn't. He must see the answer on your face, because he continues, "No, that's okay. Take your lunch break at one, and tell Claire I told you it's okay to have one of the sandwiches in the fridge."
"Okay," you say. Then, impulsively, you lean forwards and give him a quick hug before rushing off to the storeroom.
You've been in here before, but you weren't really paying attention to just how much stuff is in here when you were last here. You'd just been focused on cleaning it up. Now, you look around, and you marvel a little. You had a vague idea before now of how many supplies a clinic or hospital needed to run, but now you can really appreciate it. There are eight stacks in here, each with five shelves on them longer than your forearm. And there aren't many empty spaces on them.
Inventorying the room is going to keep you busy, at least. Just as you like it.
Spotting a clipboard containing a thin sheaf of papers hanging on the side of the stacks, you grab it off and check that they're the right sheets. They are, and so you get to work.
When you emerge a good three and a half hours later, you've done a very solid amount of work. Five shelves have been fully inventoried. Along the way, you've been checking the seals on the boxes, marking down which ones have been opened and how many supplies have been removed from each box. You don't know if it's helpful, but if anyone's stolen supplies, at least Doctor Fitzgerald will know.
Doing this has... helped, you think. It's calmed your mind, at least. Your thoughts aren't jumping from place to place, now, and you're not feeling quite so miserable. You're not feeling perfect, but you can deal with that. You're used to not feeling perfect.
It's actually a little past one when you make your way out to the break room. A handful of nurses are still trailing their way out of the room, some of them clutching cups of vending machine coffee in their hands. You tilt your head, considering— but, uh, yeah, you haven't even received your first paycheque yet. Yeah, you'll avoid buying any for the moment.
There aren't a lot of people in the break room when you make your way in there. There's a woman with shoulder-length hair, as black as your own, two men sitting down at a table— you note their clutched hands beneath the table; your chest feels warm again at the sight— with empty mugs sitting before them, and-
"Taylor?"
— Amy is sitting in what looks like an awfully comfortable little lounge at the back of the room, clutching another styrofoam cup in one hand and a book in the other. She's giving you a bewildered look, which you return. What? You're not that surprising, you think...
"Aren't you-" She climbs out of her chair and moves closer to you, but her words trail off when she gets close enough to get a good look at you. She shuts her mouth, raising her cup awkwardly to take a sip before she says anything. "Um, never mind. Are you on break right now?"
You nod. "Yeah. Doctor Fitzgerald told me I should take a break now, and ask, uh, Claire? For a sandwich."
She snorts. "A sandwich. God, that man. Okay, no, come on." She grabs your hand, but— no. You dig your heels in, refusing to move.
"Where are you trying to take me?" you ask steadily.
She pauses and looks back, giving you a scrutinizing look. "Just to the cafeteria," she says slowly. "My f— New Wave funds it. This coffee tastes awful anyway, so I was going to get myself a better one. I'll buy you some lunch and we can talk."
If warm feelings keep bubbling up in your chest like this, you're not sure how you're going to stay angry even at Emma for long. You discard that thought as quickly as it floats through your head, choosing instead to waggle your eyebrows at Amy. "Buying me lunch already? That's moving a bit fast, but okay..."
She splutters, and you grin, darting past her. She follows you, still attempting a denial. "That's— that's not what I mean, Taylor!"
You stop, schooling your face into a pout, and turn to her. "Oh," you say, trying your best to sound dejected. "You don't want to have lunch with me?"
"I— I-" Her face goes red. You can't help the grin that takes over your face, and her pleading expression quickly turns into a scowl. "Taylor!" she groans. "Stop teasing me."
"But I'm not teasing you. You just want to go on a daaate~" you say in a sing-song voice. Her face goes even redder, and all she can do is gape at you for a moment, before she groans and buries her face in her hands.
"Argh," she growls. "Call it whatever you want. Keep teasing me and I'll make you pay for your own lunch."
Ack. You pout at her. "Fine, fine," you say. You don't actually know where the cafeteria is, so you let her show you the way. You don't actually follow her, though— you remain in front of her, turning your head just enough that you can see when she's about to turn. You almost trip over twice. Worth it.
You haven't actually been in the cafeteria before. It's not a very large place, just a small place with a counter at one end and half a dozen tables at the other.
"Yeah, it's not very big," Amy tells you when she sees you looking. "It's more here so the families of the people who come in to get treated can get something cheap to eat. Um, is a pie okay? They have beef or chicken. And a drink, maybe..." She deliberately sweeps her eyes up and down your body, and says in a sweet tone, "A chocolate milk?"
You smile at her, probably showing a few too many teeth. She looks far too proud of herself for managing to tease you in turn. "Why, Amy, I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."
"There's a lot you don't-" she says instinctively, then stops and recoils when she realizes what she is about to imply. "Uh. Uh, never mind! I'll just get you a Coke. Be right back!"
You snort as you watch her run off. Teasing Amy is hilarious.
She comes back a couple of minutes later bearing three large paper bags, two bottles of Coke, and a face that's finally cleared of its redness. She places two of the bags in front of you, then eagerly tears open the other one, revealing a slice of marbled cheesecake. "I know I shouldn't," she says matter-of-factly, "but Idra makes some really good cheeesecake." And she takes a large bite of it. You can't help but watch, fascinated— not by her eating, but by the way her eyes flutter closed, by the smile that steals across her face, by the way her little pink tongue darts out to brush off a few extra crumbs and wow, you're actually feeling jealous of a cheesecake. That's a new level of weirdness, even for you. You're going to have a new image for tonight, you think, although the kind of eating you're imagining is rather less literal.
Her eyes flutter back open, and she freezes when she sees you staring intensely at her. "Wh— what?" she asks, her face heating up again. That didn't take long.
"Nothing," you hum. Probably a bit too early for you to be sharing those thoughts with her. "So what kind of pie did you buy?"
She gives you an odd look, but drops it. You do see her looking consideringly down at her cheesecake, though. "Chicken," she says. "I didn't know which you'd prefer, sorry."
"No, it's okay," you assure her. "Thanks for buying me lunch, Amy."
She shrugs. "Thanks for having lunch with me. Most of the people here wouldn't dream of it."
"Yeah, well, that's their mistake," you say, and smile at her. "They're really missing out, but I don't think I'll tell them. I want to keep you all to myself."
Her face turns red again, but oddly, she looks pleased rather than flustered. Damn, your teasing must be off. You're not getting the right reactions from her now. "Thanks," she mumbles. "So! Um, um. Oh! I was reading a new book. It's an Earth Aleph book, my cousin gave it to me, said she thought it was sexy, she's always been a bit weird... It's called, um, Twilight, I think. It's a bit creepy, though..."
You and Amy end up being drawn into a discussion for well over an hour. A little after two, you see Doctor Fitzgerald stick his head into the cafeteria with a harried look on his face, but Amy doesn't notice, and when he sees the two of you talking animatedly, he stops, then quickly retreats, an odd look on his face.
Eventually, enough time passes that Amy actually yelps when she casually glances at her watch. "Three?" she shouts. "Oh man— Taylor, I'm sorry, I have to get back to work. Um, I'll see you again, hopefully?"
You nod firmly. "Definitely," you vow. If nothing else, you're going to keep coming back just to see her, and that cute little tongue of hers. And the cute rest of her, but you're fascinated by that tongue. The fact that she actually has good taste in books, well— that's just an added bonus, you think.
It's with that positive thought that you go back to inventorying, barely aware of how much your mood has improved since last night.
It hits four when you finally prepare to go home. You only need to be home by six, but you don't think Amy's going to be coming back down, and you need to prepare for Sophia's arrival.
More than that, though, you sieze the bus ride as an opportunity to begin writing down your plans for the next couple of days. You blew today— and you're pretty sure you're going to have to make up for that— but there's still two more days in the week after you finish up with Sophia tonight.
You plan to... [Choose two of the options below.]
[] Make it up to Madison. Yeah, okay, it was one tutoring session. You still missed it, and you hate seeing that disappointed look on Madison's face. You can't do any of the things Madison wants you to yet, but, maybe something else? [Write-in a date Taylor can take Madison on. Please keep in mind that Taylor currently has no money and no transport.]
— General results: Taylor will take Madison out on a date. Results will vary based on location, but taking Madison on a date will soothe Madison's anxiety at not seeing you yesterday.
[] Work late at the theater on Thursday. You already have to cut off your study session with Sophia a bit early so you can make it there by eight thirty, but you know there's another midnight session that night. Mr Harding might be willing to let you work a few extra hours off the record to keep everything clean. You'll be tired the next day, but you'll have some extra cash, and prove yourself to Mr Harding to boot.
— General results: Taylor will get a little extra cash in hand for the weekend, allowing her an additional cheap purchase for the weekend. Proves Taylor's work ethic to Mr Harding some; if Taylor proves herself at least two more times within the next four weeks (starting next Monday), Taylor will gain the option to work long hours on weekends for greater pay.
[] Work around the hosue a bit. You already do a lot of the housework, but... you can't face Dad yet, but you think you can do this, at least. Some of the doors are squeaking, and one of the tap handles is a bit loose, and... there are a few other jobs you think you can do. Maybe that'll make his life a bit easier.
— General results: Danny will recognize and appreciate Taylor's efforts around the house, smoothing over the rough edges in their relationship incurred by Taylor's breakdown.
[] Push things just a little further with Sophia. Honestly, this Chemistry work is boring. Like, super boring. Some people might consider it blackmail, but you think it's more bribery. You'll make a deal with Sophia; you'll pull in enough work to guarantee her an A+, if she performs sexual favours for you.
— Success chance: 20% increments (20%, 40%, 60%, 80%, 100%).
— General results: For the promise of an A+ on an important test in a subject she's struggling in, Sophia will agree to Taylor's terms.
— On a success: Each increment will allow Taylor to push Sophia's sexual favours further. Starting at kissing, and eventually working its way up to semi-nude fondling.
1.19
> Success chance: Incremental.
> Rolled: 29. Two increments.
The sky is showing the faintest hints of darkening by the time you get home around four thirty. There's still a couple hours of light left, but you can tell you're still in the colder portions of the year.
You head inside, giving Dad just a small wave as you head inside. He gives you a small nod and a warm smile from where he's sitting in the living room, but doesn't try to get up and give you a hug, which you're very grateful for. You don't know how you'd take it, but you're pretty sure it wouldn't be well— you're not in nearly a good enough mood at this exact second to accept spontaneous hugs.
Oh— wait. You stop. "Um, Dad, I have a friend coming over around seven. We're working on a Chemistry project together."
He raises his eyebrows. "Your Chemistry teacher is giving you a lot of work," he notes. You fight down an instinctive blush. "Okay. Do you need me to cook dinner for her?"
You think about it for a second, then shake your head. "No, don't worry about it. In fact, just cook yourself something, I'll make Sophia and I something to eat after she gets here."
He accepts that easily enough. "Okay. If you need anything, come get me."
You're glad he's not standing close enough to see the way you instinctively try to shake your head before you manage to stop yourself. "Uh, okay. I will." No you won't.
With Dad notified, you feel safe in moving to your bedroom, where you stand.
... It might have been done during the middle of a breakdown, and you probably shouldn't feel good about it, but your room is so clean.
