— Success chance: 40%. Will be available every weekend in future until successful or Taylor decides against getting a regular job.
— On a success: Finds a job, the details of which will be determined on success.
— On a failure: Youth unemployment continues to remain steady.
1.13
> Success chance: 70%.
> Necessary roll: 30. Rolled: 95. Success.
> Success chance: 50%.
> Necessary roll: 50. Rolled: 85. Success.
Despite all the work you put in at the clinic yesterday, and the fact that you stayed up past midnight getting to the end of your maths textbook, you find yourself stumbling out of bed just after six on Saturday morning, blinking drearily at the peeling wallpaper in the hall as you incautiously make your way out of your room and down to the kitchen.
You set the percolator to bubble away and busy yourself making some toast for breakfast. Dad must have gone shopping again, because there are more groceries in the fridge again— including, this time, three whole tomatoes. Excellent. Several slices of a tomato are cut off, as thinly as you can cut them, and you carefully wrap the rest of the tomato in plastic before tossing it back in the fridge.
It's not the fanciest breakfast, you lament a few minutes later; a cup of sugar— er, a cup of coffee— and two slices of toast with thin slices of cheese, tomato, and cucumber atop them. As garnishing, you shake a little pepper over the top and sit at the table. It's somehow even less exciting when you're actually eating it. It does wake you up a bit, though.
You eye the clock, noting the time. It's just passed six thirty; you have plenty of time to do some simple investigation before you head downtown or whatever.
Remembering the disaster that had happened last time you turned the computer on this early, you retrieve a towel from the linen closet, dropping it over the modem before you turn the computer on. The muffled sound of the dial-up kicking in is still worryingly loud, but not so disastrously so that you're worried it'll wake Dad up.
You set the percolator to boil again, making a mental note— not that those have actually been helping— to make yourself another cup in ten minutes or so, and load up a search engine to begin your search.
Soon enough, you're forced to duck back to your room and retrieve a notebook and pencil to keep track of the information you're getting. There's a veritable flood of it on some very easily accessible pages now.
As far as you can tell, there's a new mayoral election coming up soon, and every candidate and their mothers have started talking about their plans to "fix the problems facing minorities in less accessible areas of the lower Bay area" and "introduce economic stimuli to incentivize the youth population of Brockton Bay to remain in school and find gainful employment in the tech/customer service/sciences industry". You're not very good with politics, but you know enough not to trust a politician to say what they mean outright on their page, so you spend most of your time reading up on them and then checking various political blogs written by people in the Bay to see what they're really saying.
From what you can tell, the problems facing Winslow are as such:
First, and most pressingly, 'gang culture' has become firmly entrenched in the minds of youths living in areas of low economic stability.
This is one you feel confident in believing, because you've seen the signs around Winslow. A lot of students there have already signed up to one of the big gangs in the city.
Not many of the articles go into much detail on the topic, but you don't need them to; you already know all about this one. It wasn't as bad as it is now even five years ago, but as gang culture has entrenched itself more and more solidly in the minds of the citizens of Brockton Bay, it's become easier for them to recruit people. Recruitment of people as young as thirteen or fourteen swelled a few years ago, when there was essentially no oversight of the students at Winslow, and it was realized that the school could be used for trafficking.
As the gang population at the school swelled, cliques started to form. Brotherhood members would harass members of minority groups, leading to the members of the minority groups signing up to the ABB to join together against the Brotherhood in solidarity. This would lead other people to grow frightened, allowing Empire recruiters to prey on the newly vulnerable teens.
Second, and directly related to the first problem; there's a very real crime problem amongst disadvantaged youths.
Many of the political blogs you read talked about how this is due to those youths being hit hardest by economic disadvantages and the current unemployment problem in the Bay, leading to swelling crime rates as youths seek to find additional sources of income for their families, and are preyed upon by recruiters along the way. It makes sense, you suppose, although something about that niggles at you.
Third, and following implicity from the second, is the drug problem running rampant through Winslow.
Not just a drug consumption problem, either. Drugs are actively being sold by suppliers at Winslow. Teens are sold low-grade drugs like marijuana or low-grade amphetamines, acting as 'gateway drugs' and slowly drawn into trying and buying heavier drugs like methamphetamines or ecstasy. Some of them are in turn drawn into selling drugs to support their own habits, while others simply drop out of school.
There are a lot of people arguing about that one in the comment sections on the blogs, though, so you're not sure how much you should buy into it.
You're pretty sure that this is why the Protectorate and New Wave focus so much on their public outreach programs. They could spend their time out on the streets arresting drug dealers, but that wouldn't deal with the issues that have caused them to spring up. People would still be out of a job, and people would still be addicted. It might make things more difficult for a few weeks, but eventually, you'd just find more suppliers on the streets, and the situation would repeat itself.
You're about to give up when something catches your eye— a comment on a blog you'd just been about to close.
[3 days ago] GreenArien replied to xxTreeLover22xx:
"They should just shut down Winslow XD Evryone knows its got most of the drugs going thru it nyway!!"
That wouldn't help anything. My buddy at the school tells me that Rune's been riding them to push more lately. Going through Winslow's the only way they're able to keep up with demand and avoid her punishing them. Shut it down and you're not going to see less being pushed— you'll just see more aggressive pushing outside of the school.
First step's to take down Rune and her Brotherhood buddies. Hate to say it, but I think I gotta support the ABB here. They're full of dickheads, but they're making a difference. Protectorate's got it going, but they're thinking long-term. ABB's all short-term right now. Gonna have to take them down eventually, but if they can take down the Brotherhood down, good on them.
I miss Shadow Stalker being around as often as she used to be. I know she was brutal, but she was getting results like the ABB are. Too bad she decided to join the Wards. Gotta make a living, I guess. Just wish she'd waited a few more months."
Well, that's intriguing. You're about to load up PHO and read up more into that when you hear the halls creaking as Dad walks out of his bedroom. It's nearly ten, you see when you look at the clock, so that makes sense.
Hastily, you close the windows you were working on and set the computer to boot down. Dad doesn't notice, too busy glaring sleepily at the percolator— oh, damn, you forgot to make yourself another cup— to pay any attention to what you're doing.
"Morning, Taylor," he mumbles eventually. "Coffee?"
"Yes please," you reply with a smile. He grunts, but a smile tugs at his lips.
Neither of you says anything further until Dad's halfway through his second cup of coffee. His cheap digital watch beeps at him, and he looks down at it, surprised for a moment.
"Oh," he says, looking mournfully down at his coffee. "I'd better go have a shower. Alan's invited me over for lunch today, Taylor, did you want to come?"
You shake your head. "I already have plans today," you say quickly. "With Madison." You didn't, but you do now, you quickly decide. "Gotta study some biology."
He nods, accepting that. "Alright then, kiddo," he says, ruffling your hair affectionately. You squeal a little and back away, leaving him to chuckle quietly to himself. You pout at his retreating back. Messing with the hair is not cool!
Five minutes later, Dad's in the shower, and you're on the phone to Madison. Terry answers, voice already chipper and hyper, but he hands the phone over easily enough.
"Madison!" he calls out in a loud whisper. "It is Tay-Tay!" He giggles naughtily at the newly-bestowed nickname as Madison takes the phone off him.
"Taylor, hi!" she says breathlessly. "Um, excuse me for a moment— Terry!" Her voice rises abruptly. "Get out!"
"But I don't wanna!" you hear the kid whine. "I wanna talk to Taylor too!"
"Too bad." There's the brief sounds of a scuffle, then a loud wail and the click of a door. "Sorry," she says sheepishly. "He's being a brat because Dad told him he wasn't allowed to have a new game until he gets five more stickers on his chore chart."
A chore chart? Huh. You vaguely remember having one of them when you were a little kid. "That's okay," you reassure her. "Take your time, Maddie."
"Don't need to, already kicked him out." Satisfaction is evident in her voice for a moment, before shyness overtakes it. "Um, so. Hi."
"Hi again," you reply dryly. She responds with awkward laughter, and you can't stop a huge grin from taking over your face at the sound of it. "So, guess what?"
"Um, giant insects have invaded the Bay?" She sounds so uncertain that you can't stop a loud peal of laughter from bursting out your chest.
"Oh jesus, Madison," you wheeze. "Where did that one come from?"
"I'm sorry!" she replies petulantly. "I'm not good at guessing games. You should— um, please just tell me?" You don't miss the way that her demand turns into a plea halfway through the sentence.
You lean against the wall, smiling broadly down the phone. "I don't know that I want to now," you tease her. "I wonder what you'll come up with next~"
"Taylooor!" she whines. You don't give in, and she continues on grumpily, "Fine. Um, you bought a limousine?"
"Nope," you say cheerfully, but you don't have the heart to keep her in suspense any longer. "Dad's going to lunch with Emma's dad again, so I have the house aaaaall to myself today."
There's silence for a few moments, and you can almost hear Madison's cheeks sizzling over the phone. "U-u-um, that's nice," she says shakily. "Did— did you want me to-?"
"Yep!" You tangle your hands in the phone line, almost shaking in your anticipation. "Can you come over?!"
You're taken a little aback by how vehement her response is. "YES!" she practically yells. "Sorry, yes. Um, let me go ask Dad. Did you want me to... bring anything?"
For a moment, you consider it. "Nope," you decide. "I only need you." She inhales sharply at that.
"Okay," she says. "I'll be there in an hour, then."
It turns out to be a little less than an hour. Dad has already left by the time Rick pulls up with Madison in the car, waving genially at you. Madison climbs out of the car, clutching her schoolbag and— is that her chemistry book? You wave back at Rick, then give Madison a quizzical look.
She looks down at her books and lets out a little embarrassed laugh. "Oh, yeah," she says sheepishly. "Um, I just told Dad that we'd be doing some more tutoring. It's so embarrassing otherwise."
You roll your eyes affectionately at her, then pull her inside and quickly close the door. She looks a little nervous as you lead her to your room, so you reach down and grab her hand, squeezing it in your own. "Don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound encouraging. "There's nothing to be nervous about."
She gives you a tremulous grin. "Yes there is," she says simply. "But it's okay."
You're a bit confused. "There's not," you say more firmly as you finally make it into your bedroom. "Madison, you're the cutest girl I know. You don't-"
She abruptly comes to a stop, tugging against your hand to bring you to a stop as well. "No, that's not it," she says firmly. "Taylor, I'm not nervous about showing you my body. My body is yours. You can look at it whenever you want. I'm nervous about seeing you."
Which, well.
Ouch.
"No, wait, that came out wrong," she corrects herself quickly. "I'm not— I don't mean... I don't mean I think it's going to be bad." Her voice grows progressively stronger as she talks. This is evidently something she feels passionate about. "I want to do this. I really do. I've even been dreaming about it," she admits frankly. "But I can't— I can't just make myself not nervous. This is a big thing for me, Taylor. I can't be as casual about this as you are. This, all of this, it really means a lot to me, and that makes me nervous."
You don't know what to say to that, so in lieu of a quick response, you pull her over to your bed, then push her down and curl up beside her, wrapping your arms loosely around her waist. Your lips are suddenly dry.
Everyone wants to talk about feelings lately. You hate talking about feelings.
But you hate seeing Madison upset more.
"I'm not-" You stop, clenching your jaw as you try to formulate words. "I don't— It's not-" A frustrated growl escapes you before you can stop it. Madison trembles in your arms, but for once, doesn't turn around to try to comfort you. You let out a long sigh and try to think your words through.
"You know..." The words drag on for a moment. "I'm not... I'm not being casual about this, Madison. I'm not." The girl in question shifts in your arms, turning to look at your face for a moment. "I know it might seem like I am, but I'm not." You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, buying yourself another moment to formulate your thoughts. "I might be interested in other women, but that doesn't mean, it doesn't mean I don't like you, Madison. I do. You don't know how much I like you."
Frustration rises in you. You don't know how to say any of this.
So you just say the first thing that comes to mind.
"You're important to me." You press another kiss to her face, this time on her nose, a little ritualized gesture you've come to use whenever you want to reassure her. "Our relationship is important to me."
