You hesitate, trying to think. You’re really not sure what you’re supposed to say here. You’ve already answered her. There’s really not that much to say. You’re just an average high school girl, if one who’s done a little more than the assigned schoolwork, so far as anyone around you knows.
Before you can work yourself completely up into a tizzy, Carol offers you another small smile as though she has sensed your nervousness. She relaxes, somehow. The brambles around her darken for a moment before she reins them in, forcing them back down. They’re not gone, not completely, but you can feel the pressure she’s putting on them so they don’t choke her again.
Silence stretches between the two of you for a long minute. Without the spectre of her irritation looming over you, the nervousness fades, but you’re still not quite sure what she expects you to say here.
Finally, her mouth twists down into a grimace as she twists her head away from you for a moment. Then she lets out a loud sigh, one obviously intended for you to hear. “Sorry,” she murmurs, a wry twist to her mouth as she turns back to you again. You’re not sure what she’s apologizing for, but you nod anyway. She continues on, picking her words carefully. “Amy… doesn’t bring many people home. I’m curious. That’s all.”
Understanding dawns on you. Oh. That’s perfectly normal, then. Your shoulders relax a little. “Oh,” you breathe. “Well, there’s still not much to know.” You shrug, your face heating a little. “I volunteer at the clinic sometimes. I met Amy there, but you probably know that already. Um.” You can only shrug feebly again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Hm.” She runs her eyes over you doubtfully. “Okay. How often do you volunteer at the clinic?”
Her questions follow similar lines. Why do you volunteer at the clinic? Because you wanted an extracurricular activity after school hours. What school do you attend? Winslow High. What subjects are you studying? And so on, so forth.
It seems odd, until a thought strikes you, and the only thing you can do is giggle internally. She’s questioning you like a lawyer. You know she’s a lawyer, of course; Amy has mentioned that before, though you still don’t know what kind of lawyer she is (“A criminal lawyer, I think?” Amy had replied nervously. “ I don’t think she handles civil cases, at least.”) or what kind of cases she handles.
You’ve seen people act like this before. Back when Mom was still alive, she was always uncomfortable when meeting new people. She didn’t know how to act around them, so she would revert back into what you used to fondly call “teacher mode”—someone with a strict, no-nonsense attitude and always led the conversation. It was nothing like she acted at home.
It takes an effort to not physically shake your head as you mentally do so. Okay, sinking into thoughts about Mom is not going to be helpful right now. Refocusing on Amy’s mother, you offer her a small, reassuring grin. You don’t know why Carol feels so uncomfortable, but now that you understand why she’s acting so stiffly, it’s actually a little charming.
Of course, understanding why she’s so nervous doesn’t actually help to make the conversation flow any smoother. At least it settles the nervousness in your stomach.
By the time the clock on the wall strikes five, you’re not sure if the woman is satisfied or not. It’s hard to read her, even with your power; she holds a tight grip on most of her emotions, and you’re not quite willing to actively use your power to detangle her emotions when you’re on a date with her daughter. Maybe next time.
Still, if nothing else, she knows a little more about you now. Nothing about your powers, of course, and definitely nothing about your girls—the one time she’d asked about your relationship status, you’d quickly steered the conversation away from the topic, drawing only a momentary self-satisfied smile from her. She knows that you’ve worked ahead in school now, and that you’ve been studying business in your own time, though you hadn’t told her why; and she knows that you’ve been scoring well on your homework, which was something she had been strangely insistent on knowing.
All in all, it had been a strange, stilted conversation, though charming in its own way. Just like Carol herself.
The drive out of Boston takes longer than the drive in, which had already taken a substantial length of time. That probably has something to do with the fact that you have to drive through the city’s traffic itself now, while you’d gone to an outlying city on your way in, though knowing that doesn’t actually help to make the drive go any faster.
Not that that’s a bad thing. You don’t want your date to be over.
Amy is sitting in the middle seat again, close enough that you’re able to feel her hair tickling your neck from where she’s sitting. You didn’t quite dare to start running your fingers up her leg again, not so close to the time you’d have to say goodbye, but she had been quite content to allow you to place your hand on her knee and draw small hearts over it with your finger. A good trade-off.
Nobody speaks during the drive home, just allowing the soft crooning of the local radio station’s jazz night to fill the silence around the three of you as you hold your girlfriend. After about fifteen minutes in the car, you do move your hands so you can wrap an arm around Amy’s shoulders and play with her hair, but that’s all the movement any of you make.
Unfortunately, nothing good can last forever. The drive back to your house is longer than the drive in, but eventually, you recognize the streets of Brockton Bay through the car’s windows, the housefronts illuminated by streetlights and the occasional window not covered by curtains. From there, it’s scarcely ten minutes before the car rolls to a stop in front of your house.
“I guess we’re here.” Amy looks morose as she speaks, her eyes cast down to her lap as she fiddles with the hand still drawing small shapes on her knee. “Thanks for coming along, Taylor. I had a really good time today.” She squeezes your hand as she says it, tilting her head up to give you a small smile.
“Of course.” You hesitate, glancing towards Carol. You don’t want to call it a date in front of her, but that means you’re going to have to phrase this carefully. “It was really nice. We should do it again some time.” You bite your lip, studying her face. “I’ll find out about that ice skating rink,” you promise her. “I’ll let you know soon, okay?”
She squeezes your hand again, her smile growing wider now, somehow more genuine. “That would be great,” she murmurs. Then your eyes widen and your arm slips from her shoulders as she leans over and presses a kiss not quite on your lips, a little to the left. She studies your face for a moment, taking in your wide eyes and the way your hand is now squeezing her knee, then she leans in again. This time, she doesn’t miss.
She’s wearing lip gloss, you realise dimly, in some small part of your brain that isn’t being overwhelmed by the fact that she’s actually kissing you in her mother’s car. Apricot flavoured lip gloss.
She pulls back after a moment, red flushing up her cheeks and her hand squeezing tightly against your own. You stare back at her with wide eyes as she gives you a self-satisfied smile, then uncurls her hand from the hand you’re still squeezing her knee with and pats your knee. “You should grab your books before you go inside,” she murmurs. “I’ll message you later, okay?”
You manage to nod your head, though you’re still stunned. You—you really hadn’t expected her to kiss you then. To kiss you. In front of her mother. “Okay,” you murmur vaguely. Still, you just sit there staring at her with a dopey expression for a few more moments before she giggles quietly and leans over to open your door.
The cool breeze from outside wakes you up enough to remind you to climb out, casting a wild glance at Carol. She’s staring out of her window, studiously avoiding looking at either of the two of you, although after you finish climbing to your feet outside, the car’s trunk opens with a soft click. Still, you don’t feel any seething resentment or hot disdain burst forth from her, so… she probably won’t murder you for kissing her daughter?
Your bag of books is just as heavy as it was before. You have to heft it up to your chest before you can manage to reach awkwardly up with one hand to close it, which at least frees up your hands enough that you can wave goodbye to Amy as Carol starts the car up again. She waves back, her cheeks still red as she slides into the seat you’d just been occupying and does up her seatbelt again, refusing to look directly at her mother.
Then, with a low purr, their car peels away, and you begin your trek inside.
Thankfully, Dad is tired from work today. He greets you well enough, and kindly carries your books up to your bedroom easily enough once he spots you struggling to walk through the house with them, but it’s obvious to both of you that he’s too tired to inquire much more about your day than to ask how it went.
Which is good, because now that your onrush of excitement has faded—now that the date itself is over, and your thoughts are no longer consumed by thoughts of Boston and Amy—you’re reminded quickly of the unpleasant things you have facing you ahead.
Or, more specifically, one unpleasant thing; your date with Sophia tomorrow. You’ve been putting it off, first because you were busy through the week, and now because of the revelation as to her possible identity as Shadow Stalker.
You can’t put it off forever, though. And despite the headache it’s causing you, you’re not willing to give up on a date with her. It wasn’t easy to secure a date with her, and putting it off without a legitimate excuse to offer her is just going to ruin any future chances you have with her.
You’re still consumed by thoughts of the upcoming date by the time you fall into bed, at the relatively early hour of nine. You didn’t get much sleep last night, and you’re going to have a stressful couple of days coming up, you think. It’s probably going to be best to sleep while you can.
[Pick two of the following actions. The date with Sophia, set up at noon tomorrow, will be proceeding regardless.]
[] Ignored by her family, feeling lonely and seeking validation once more, Charlotte will once again call Taylor. She’s not sure why, but a small part of her knows that Taylor won’t ignore her.
— Chance of success: 80%
— General results: Increases Lust, Loyalty and Servitude by 1. Charlotte will call Taylor while she’s in the shower again, resulting in a call back afterwards. (Oh, the mental images.) Ignored by her family once again, Charlotte will call Taylor seeking validation and attention, which Taylor will happily provide.
— GM notes: Provided further interaction, Charlotte will eventually become another source of passive stress relief when interacted with, similar to Madison.
— On a success: Increases Servitude by 1. Thinking aloud about what she plans to do when she’s back in Brockton Bay, Charlotte will mention plans to go and watch a play. Taylor, seizing the opportunity, will offer to take Charlotte out to watch the play—purely as friends, of course. Charlotte will undoubtedly agree.
— On a failure: No additional progress.
[] Madison has a proposal for Taylor, or more of a date idea, or… something. Rick’s shop is participating in a bakery contest, and Rick has agreed to enter some of her pastries to the junior division. If Taylor will let her buy some ingredients and use her kitchen to practice baking, she will come over in the afternoon and make some pastries for Taylor.
— Chance of success: Cannot be failed.
— General results: Blunts the effect of Taylor’s date with Sophia, and provides a small measure of stress reduction outside of that. After Taylor’s date with Sophia, Madison will come around and bake some pastries for Taylor, in Madison’s usual manner. No particular benefits outside of the stress reduction, but Madison scenes are very easy for the GM to write, encouraging a quicker update… and Madison may or may not bake dressed solely in an apron.
[] So many things are piling up. Amy, Charlotte, Aisha, Victoria, Sophia. You’ve got so many tasks, so many things to look after, so many plans on the back-burner, that you’re starting to lose sleep obsessing over it all. And you’re not the only one who’s noticed. Seeking a way to help his daughter destress, Danny will gently question Taylor as to her opinion on getting a pet.
— Chance of success: Cannot be failed.
— General results: Provides a minor and ongoing source of stress relief. Taylor will adore the notion of getting some fish—although she wants to get a kitten, she recognizes that the costs of caring for a cat are too high. Having some pet fish to store in her new room (or, intermediately, in the living room) and care for will provide Taylor with a measure of peace of mind she can’t get anywhere else. Also provides more positive interactions with Danny.
