August did that thing again where he's waiting for me after I come down the driveway from work. Only this time everyone else is gone and he's in charge of food + brood or so they call it when I get home from work, ravenous and needing to unload for a few minutes before I make my way back to a reasonable state of-
As if I do.
Come on. You know me better than this.
August's idea of a snack is fresh kombucha and a cold curry couscous salad. He might be trying to kill me. Over huge spoonfuls of the salad I ask him if he's ever had a pop-tart. He narrows his eyes and changes the subject. How long were you at Batman's?
Long enough to start a war.
Is that why you took a shift today?
Maybe. Is that why no one is home?
I doubt it. Caleb and Lochlan got into it pretty bad but Schuyler broke it up and then had a few terse moments with Batman. I think they sorted it all out. The only issue left is your movements. We take our eyes off you for one second, Bridget-
I was there for four hours, August. No one even missed me.
Right, well, you should have been at home.
I know.
And?
What would you like me to say? Sorry? Won't happen again? Sometimes I get sucked in.
So he's like a tidal wave?
More like an unpredictable current. Is that so bad?
Who takes the fall for it?
We both do. Him for taking advantage of historically documented vulnerabilities and me for exploiting that history thoroughly.
August is temporarily speechless at my self-awareness. I never said it wasn't there. I said I live around it. The twelve-year-old me is much stronger than all the rest. And it never changes.
So what happens now?
A shoving match between Lochlan or Caleb or whoever, I get grounded, my circle gets really fucking small and Lochlan needs reassurance.
What do you need?
Do you have any pop-tarts? Couscous is like really old caviar.
That's the best reason for a pop-tart that I've ever heard. Go find PJ. He's got some from grocery shopping this morning.
It wasn't until I went across the driveway that I realized he dismissed me just like Lochlan does. Like a little kid.
As if I do.
Come on. You know me better than this.
August's idea of a snack is fresh kombucha and a cold curry couscous salad. He might be trying to kill me. Over huge spoonfuls of the salad I ask him if he's ever had a pop-tart. He narrows his eyes and changes the subject. How long were you at Batman's?
Long enough to start a war.
Is that why you took a shift today?
Maybe. Is that why no one is home?
I doubt it. Caleb and Lochlan got into it pretty bad but Schuyler broke it up and then had a few terse moments with Batman. I think they sorted it all out. The only issue left is your movements. We take our eyes off you for one second, Bridget-
I was there for four hours, August. No one even missed me.
Right, well, you should have been at home.
I know.
And?
What would you like me to say? Sorry? Won't happen again? Sometimes I get sucked in.
So he's like a tidal wave?
More like an unpredictable current. Is that so bad?
Who takes the fall for it?
We both do. Him for taking advantage of historically documented vulnerabilities and me for exploiting that history thoroughly.
August is temporarily speechless at my self-awareness. I never said it wasn't there. I said I live around it. The twelve-year-old me is much stronger than all the rest. And it never changes.
So what happens now?
A shoving match between Lochlan or Caleb or whoever, I get grounded, my circle gets really fucking small and Lochlan needs reassurance.
What do you need?
Do you have any pop-tarts? Couscous is like really old caviar.
That's the best reason for a pop-tart that I've ever heard. Go find PJ. He's got some from grocery shopping this morning.
It wasn't until I went across the driveway that I realized he dismissed me just like Lochlan does. Like a little kid.