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xp_logsMatch and Sharon's antics find them in a dumpster, and their Oscar the Grouch comedy duo is not appreciated by Jessica.
" - Oh my god. Both of you - get out of the fucking trash, for fuck's sake. What are you even doing?"
The purple tail that had been visible over the edge of the dumpster disappeared, replaced briefly by Sharon's head. The cat regarded her for a moment, then resumed her search.
"Scavenging," came the reply. Sharon turned to Match with what looked suspiciously like a roll of the eyes. "Clearly someone has never lived out of dumpsters before. Thinks she is too good for trash, maybe."
"Yes," Jessica said flatly, crossing her arms. "I am too good for trash, because everyone should be better than rummaging through whatever disgusting shit you two are marinating in, especially when they're going to be riding back in the same van as other innocent people. Get the fuck out of there."
“Oh right. Not being able to smell once again coming in clutch, I guess.” Match’s grin was lopsided though he did not get out of the garbage as instructed. “Just a few more minutes, Catseye’s found a lot of cans and I’ll clean them out when we get back.”
Sharon's tail flicked proudly. "Lived here for two months. All the best spots are known to me." She gave their alleged chaperone a suspicious look. "Do you recycle, Jessica?"
"This alley smells like death, which means you smell like death," Jessica said, ignoring the question entirely. "There are things you can only do when you're not going to inflict them on other people. This is one of them. Get the fuck out of there."
Sharon narrowed her eyes. "I knew it. She does not recycle."
“Oh, Jessica, no.” Now Match had leaned over the side of the dumpster to look at Jess in an over-exaggerated show of disappointment, though he did file away her name — not willing to admit he didn’t know it or remember it. “Never?”
Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose, as though struck by a sudden migraine. "Both of you," she said, her voice carefully even, "Quit it with the Oscar the Grouch comedy routine and, for the last fucking time, get the fuck out of there. I'm not kidding, this is disgusting."
Sharon treated Jessica's command in the same way she treated anything else she didn't want to hear: by ignoring it. She fished a personal pan-size pizza box from the rubbish and flipped open the lid to sniff.
"Typical wastefulness," declared the cat. "Was discarded even though a third of the pizza yet remains. It is still good. But there is cheese and onion. I cannot eat." She turned to offer the box to Match. "You are hungry?"
Always. Match was always hungry, though the lack of taste had made eating more of a chore than it had ever been before his gene activated. Cheese and onion wouldn’t have been appealing then, though, with pepperoni and mushroom having been the reigning favorite. Now, well…
“Why would someone only take a bite outta the crust?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached into the box, avoiding that slice for now in favor of the untouched piece. He couldn’t taste. It didn’t really matter.
Jessica vented a breath out from her nose, supremely irritated and vaguely nauseous. "Absolutely the fuck not. And you can't say I didn't ask nicely first." Before Match could get the slice to his mouth, she put a hand on the dumpster, testing its stability, then tipped 1,700 pounds of metal - plus the weight of two skinny mutants and the garbage they were wading in - over into the alley, stepping aside to avoid the deluge.
Things poured from the receptacle. Garbage bags. Loose trash. The unknowable liquid that settled to the bottom of every dumpster that always smelled inexplicably of sour milk. And, of course, the two occupants.
Nothing could fall out of a dumpster like a cat. Nothing. All five limbs wheeled in competing arcs, and her spine might have twisted through itself at least once. Sharon's screech of protest was loud enough to draw the attention of shoppers on the opposite side of the street.
And then the rats came.
Pouring out like a faucet had been turned, the chorus of shrieks and chittering sounded as the rats righted themselves then just as quickly began the process of scurrying off. Match sat on his garbage bag throne, pizza forgotten as he watched the procession with wide eyed interest. He hadn’t expected that. Any of that. “That one’s as big as a little dog! Catseye lookit ‘im go!”
Carefully avoiding garbage juice he stood up, long legs making it easy to avoid the growing stream of the foul liquid that his nose was immune to. Finally he looked to Jess. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Accusations of abuse had died on Sharon's tongue at the sudden appearance of rodents. Instinctively she fell into a crouch, her haunches tensing beneath her. Everything about her posture screamed that Jessica was about to wish the worst thing she'd see today was a young adult eating a discarded pizza.
"Oh, hell no," Jessica said, darting forward to grab the scruff of the purple cat's - girl's - whatever's neck before the obvious and even more disgusting disaster could befall them. The scruffing allowed her a critical second to loop an arm under Sharon's torso so that she could physically remove her from this scenario.
Sharon thrashed against the sudden interruption but discovered, to her great displeasure, that a woman who could tip over a dumpster had no issues restraining an undernourished twenty year old. "Your crimes against me increase!" Sharon yowled as she kicked her back legs like a furious rabbit. "This is animal abuse. Match, you are witness!"
“Oh no, I’m a witness.” His words were a horrified whisper as the gravity of the situation settled over him. Match was not ready to be a witness, for anything really. This was far too much responsibility/ He had to get outta this somehow. "I legally do not think I can be a witness, because of the warrant for my arrest."
The supremely aggravated glance Jessica threw him was probably at least partially due to the smears Sharon had deposited on her jeans. She let Sharon down - rather, she dropped Sharon abruptly - once the rats had decamped to safer pastures. "The only thing either of you are witnessing is a fucking shower at the community center. I swear to god, if there's any more bullshit, I'm going to carry you there myself." If there was any doubt as to Jessica's ability to carry out this threat, the fact that she reached down with one hand and very ungently set the dumpster upright probably put it to rest.
Sharon hissed. "I cannot be compelled."
Jessica stared at her flatly for a long second, took a deep breath that did not seem to noticeably calm her, then said, “You either walk there yourself or I’m notifying Clarice personally that you need another fucking flea bath from the rats. Your choice.”
There had been a lot of people, a lot of new experiences, and, even though this was exciting, it was still a little overwhelming. Rummaging through a dumpster in a quiet alley had been the closest thing to a break from the stimuli she’d had all day. Now not only was she being told to leave, she was being intimidated into yet another round of Hygiene.
Sharon stared at Jessica, then promptly collapsed on the ground and started to make a low noise that somehow combined all the worst characteristics of a growling cat with a child gearing up for a tantrum.
“For fuck’s sake.” It took Jess all of three seconds to pick Sharon up - more like a sack of potatoes than the toddler she was emulating - and put her over her shoulder, rather more gently than anyone watching this scene would have expected. The look she directed at Match was as irate as a look could get. “You’d better be walking on your own.”
Match looked up from re-collecting the cans they'd found like a deer in headlights, pausing in placing them in the bag he'd brought along for that exact purpose, Sharon's harness slung on his wrist to avoid forgetting and misplacing it while she and Jessica had their moment. He'd zoned out, confused to have attention back on him, but standing up straight again quickly. "I, uh, yup, uh-huh, I can do that, community center, shower, yup."
Following their little spill, Sharon takes the opportunity to meet with Sooraya at the Community Centre and come clean about some things.
"Sooraya."
The familiar voice floated through the office door, closely followed by Sharon. The young mutant was doing her best to look like something the cat dragged in, which was a complicated piece of theater when that cat also happened to be herself. It wasn't difficult: while not soaking wet, she was clearly damp in a way not even multiple towelings and a pass with a hairdryer had managed to alleviate.
"Sooraya," said Sharon plaintively, "I only wanted to visit, but Jessica forced me to bathe."
Looking up from the piles of books she was sorting through in two bins, Sooraya had to stifle her laughter. She couldn't stop a small smile from appearing though, especially at the catgirl's fake-miserable impression. "What did you do that she made you bathe? I mean, she is not really one for forcing people to do stuff."
Sharon crept into the office, head and tail slung low in the picture of wounded innocence. "Was not only me," she said. "She made Match bathe also. Were doing good deed, taking recyclables people had already thrown away, but she said if we did not we could not get back in van." The cat shook herself, spraying a few remaining droplets of water. "Want to file formal complaint of animal abuse."
She blinked. And blinked again. "Wait, let me get this straight. You literally went dumpster diving? With Match? And that is why Jess made you bathe?"
The cat sniffed. "Humans needlessly precious about smells. Garbage is full of perfectly usable resources. This is a truth only Match and me are brave enough to accept." Sensing she was losing sympathy, Sharon quickly changed subjects. "Anyway, did other things! Ordered from restaurant for first time. Even paid with card I keep here, in pouch Pixie made me." Proudly, Sharon turned to display the handmade harness and saddlebags she wore. In deference to the Pixie's hard work, Sharon hadn't taken it into the dumpster with her.
"Sharon..." Sooraya set her books down and came around the desk, carefully looking Sharon over. "... if it had been up to me, I'd be asking Jean or Clarice to look you and Match over. Garbage can give nasty infected cuts, you know. I've seen it way too often." She shook her head for a moment. "The other stuff sounds great though. What did you order for yourself?"
The young mutant's tail flicked with excitement. "Deli Platter, blackened salmon, and french fries!" That Shatterstar had been the one to place the actual order and use the credit card was dismissed as unimportant. The fact Sharon had chased this with a half-eaten chicken wrap while investigating the dumpster was also omitted. If Sooraya was concerned about what a little cut might do she probably didn't need to be reminded of the kind of things Sharon also saw as a perfectly usable resource.
"Did you like it?" Sooraya pulled over a chair so she wasn't towering over Sharon. "And did you go anywhere else?"
"Many places. It is easier when I am with other people." Automatically, Sharon leaned forward and rubbed her cheek lightly against Sooraya's knee. "Grateful. Not possible without your help."
Sooraya gently petted Sharon's head. "I'm glad you've found a home with us, Sharon. And you seem to be making friends." Sooraya grinned, thinking of all the misschief Sharon had gotten up too. "And livening things up around the place."
"Yes. Friends." Sharon thrummed under Sooraya's hand, enjoying the contact. Then she pulled away, as if something was weighing on her. She licked her whiskers nervously.
"We are friends now," she said, hesitantly, "so I want to confess."
"Okay?" Sooraya narrowed her eyes, raising one eyebrow. "What's going on, Sharon?"
"Did not lie," Sharon said quickly, "but misled, maybe." She lowered her eyes, her clawed fingers knotting nervously against the tiles. "Did not just appear one day. Spied on first, for days. Watched routine, followed staff. Chose to appeal to you and Alani because you seemed most receptive, had best living situation, maybe. Acted a little weaker than I felt, also. To make my case strong." The girl's tail was curling and uncurling against one of her back legs. She looked back up at Sooraya, her yellow eyes anxious. "It was not wrong if it was for survival, was it? Only wanted to be sure you would take me in. But now I know you, and it feels like I lied."
Sooraya let out a slow breath, absentmindedly scratching Sharon behind her ears. "You lost everything you knew, Sharon, and you'd no one to fall back on. You didn't even know much about the outside world." She finally spoke. "It sounds pretty desperate to me to be honest. And you had your own safety to think about. Sometimes you have to do things you don't really like."
Sharon's body relaxed. Relieved, she leaned into the woman's scratches and let her eyes fall closed. She'd seen no problem with lying about or omitting small things that benefited her, but the longer she stayed with these people the more those small things seemed to grow in her mind.
And she hadn't even gotten to the big thing yet.
"So you forgive?" Sharon asked, just to make sure.
Sooraya smiled gently: "Yes, Sharon. You're forgiven."
Of course, nothing gold can stay and Jessica and Match join Sharon and Sooraya to somewhat disastrous degrees.
"So you got to deal with the garbage too?" Sooraya glanced over her shoulder as she pulled open the door to a large cupboard. "Lemme see what I can find here for you."
Scanning the shelves, Sooraya pulled down a stack of clothes. "You know... you might not like this... but at least we know it will fit." She held out a pair of cream slacks and a fuzzy peach sweater. A pair of matching cream ballerina's perched awkwardly on top of the stack.
"I bet you recognize them."
Jess regarded the clothes with open loathing; the only thing that could be said about them was that they didn't smell like a goddamned dumpster. "Fucking kids," she muttered under her breath, taking the pile from Sooraya. "Thanks," she added, trying to be grateful, even though she'd been hoping all of this had been claimed by someone less allergic to pastels already. "I'll wash them and re-donate them as quickly as possible."
"Yeah..." Sooraya straightened an edge of her scarf. "That's a big reason they're still here. They're dry-cleaning only. So what in the world happened?"
Of course they were. Jess sighed. "I saw two of the kids dumpster-diving. I told them to get out. Multiple times, for obvious reasons of health, safety, and general manners when you have to take the same van home again. They didn't listen."
"Let me guess: one of them was Sharon?" At Jess her raised eyebrow Sooraya added: "She was just in with me. Who was the other one?" She explained as she showed Jess the women's changing rooms. "Do you need anything else, by the way?"
"This should be fine," Jess said with a sigh. She was tired. "And yeah, one of them was Sharon. The other was - I think his name is Match? If that's a name? Tall, skinny kid. They said some shit about recycling, which, sure, it's great - but not if you end up with an entire dumpster's worth of filth on you." In fact, Jessica was very aware that she had, if not an entire dumpster's worth, certainly enough filth on her jeans that Sooraya would probably welcome her exit from the office to go find the shower she'd dumped Sharon in.
And Match too... Sooraya wasn't surprised. "Yeah, those two make a lot of sense. Go get changed. We can talk a bit in the office after."
A few minutes later, Jess reappeared, looking immensely uncomfortable in the oversized peach sweater, slim-cut cream trousers, and - insult upon injury - ballet flats. However, she no longer smelled like garbage. She was pulling her damp hair back and out of her face as she walked into the room. "Don't laugh," she said, wincing, "I know."
Sooraya let a small grin out as she headed to the office. "Better not let Worthington see. He'll drive you bananas." She added with an eye roll before pulling her chair to the other side of the desk. "How much do you know about Sharon, Jess?"
"She looks like a cat. And acts like one. She eats garbage." Jessica paused to consider. "She's mouthy as - ah - she's mouthy. That's about it."
.
"Look..." Sooraya let out a long sigh. "I'm gonna be blunt. Sharon lost her mom a few months ago. She was the only family Sharon basically had. She ended up on the streets after that and I'm pretty sure scavenging food from the garbage was one of the few ways of getting food. Maybe except what she caught herself."
"Sure," Jessica said, not entirely surprised; normal kids wouldn't have been in the dumpster in the first place. Arthur was probably enjoying his day with the normal two of the group as they spoke. "But if you're trying to tell me she didn't know any better, try again. That's not a stupid kid. Trust me." Jessica declined to say exactly what kind of kid she'd pin Sharon as, out of respect. For Sooraya.
"She also survived by living with a colony of feral cats for much of that time." Sooraya let that fact hang in the air for a few seconds. "It's not about being stupid or not... Or about not knowing any better. It's just about having a very different perspective."
Jess held up a hand, perhaps warding off any further confidences. "I'm not responsible for anything. Except maybe ensuring that nobody gets back in the van smelling like they've spent the day seeing the city from a garbage barge." Which, she had to admit, was mostly a self-inflicted duty - if one she would defend to her dying breath as reasonable.
"Jess, you do realize you're more or less here as an official chaperone? Some of those kids are still minors."
If possible, Jessica looked even more long-suffering. "I never agreed to that. And I did chaperone them. Against everyone's will." Including her own.
She wasn't sure whether to laugh or be abhorred. "Who dragoned you into this? Because I can't see you stepping into a van with four teen boys and a cat-girl out of your own free will?"
Beleaguered, Jess said, "Arthur asked if I wanted a ride to the city. He said he wanted a local guide. He didn't mention any of the above. Until I was already in the van."
"Ohhh, that is evil." Sooraya shook her head, still stifling her laughter. "But in case you get dragged into this again... keep in mind Sharon also has like a half-cat mind and body. Sometimes she acts simply like a cat would... I've seen her bringing in her prey from the woods."
"Because wild food is delicious."
Sharon padded in, fixing Jessica with a baleful glare. A large part of this was due to the fact her fur was still damp from the mandatory shower. She sat down a few paces away and continued, "I do cat things because I have always been cat. And I was not taught to hate what I am." There was something defiant in the statement, as if she was daring the other woman to challenge her upbringing.
The look on Jessica's face turned to sheer exasperation. "Don't be so dramatic," she said. "Nobody's asking you to hate what you are, they're asking you not to swim around in the literal fucking trash, at least when everyone else has to suffer from it too."
Sharon began to lick one forearm with an air of offensive dismissiveness. "Just the sentiment I would expect from a woman who does not recycle."
"Here, lemme." Match, smartly, did not engage with the conversation that had been going on as he entered and instead held out a hand expectantly towards Sharon. The area around him was warmer than it should have been, with the boy looking entirely dry following the demanded shower.
Reaching over, Sooraya grabbed one of the spray bottles they kept around to clean the kids scrapes and cuts and instinctively sprayed Sharon in the face. "Be nice." She chided Sharon firmly. Looking up she added: "Well, I did say there was a lot of cat in her."
The spray bottle was an object from Sharon's childhood. And adolescence. And, actually, the part of adulthood she had thus far attained. It had long held a place in the Smith household as the only thing that could get Sharon's attention when she was overstimulated or particularly obstinate, and as such the reaction was instinctive. Sharon whipped around to scamper away, but instead found herself scampering directly into Match -- who then fell on her.
Jessica had watched, arrested, as this played out, and just managed not to laugh; not only because she really didn't want to escalate the situation, but also because of the memory, in the back of her mind, of being very young and doing and saying really stupid things because there was no one left to care if you did or said them anymore. She reached a hand out to the top of the pile instead. "Need a hand?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at the two of them.
"Dontclawmedontclawmedon-" Match hadn't shrieked when he and Sharon had briefly become a tangle of limbs on the floor so much as yelped before beginning his mantra, immediately doing his best to untangle what had to be the longest limbs of the group however the panic had done nothing to help his brain focus on the task. He hadn't even heard the question, so much as been looking wildly around at the moment Jess's hand was extended. "Yesplease!"
Sharon just stared from Match to Sooraya, her eyes huge with betrayal. Then, with a plaintive noise, she squirmed out from beneath Match and darted off down the hall.
Jess had lifted Match to his feet with no effort, but her eyes tracked Sharon as she fled, something complicated in her expression. She looked at Sooraya. "That feels more like a you thing than a me thing."
Sooraya let out a slow sigh: "I think you're the better choice here then me at the moment. I'll talk with her later, but now... she'll be smarting a little bit." Eying the spray bottle still in her hand, she admitted: "It was a bit of a gamble, but she was being a brat."
It wasn't that she disagreed with Sooraya, it was just that she had been hoping the other woman would have a magical solution that did not involve Jessica going after the kid. She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll be back, I guess."
In the silence that followed after Jess left made Match incredibly uncomfortable, heat radiating off of him. Clearing his throat, he looked at Sooraya, eying the squirt bottle warily. "I got, like a meeting I gotta get to... so, bye?"
Escaping as quickly as he can, Match meets with Angelo and in his attempt to get materials ends up revealing something the older man is entirely unprepared for.
Another appointment to meet the lawyer who'd come to Chicago to make sure he was safe, again at District X, as Match thought that was the least invasive approach. The office was about the same as the last time, but this time he took the proffered seat, carefully taking his backpack off to set it beside the chair. When the door shut behind him, he started, slowly. "So, um, I've thought about it, what you said, back in, like, I don't know February? March? About, uh, documents."
Angelo gave him a reassuring smile. "Sure, I remember. Did you decide about what you want to do?"
“Kinda? Yeah?” No, he wasn't sure. In fact, he didn't know if the thought he'd had even made sense, but Angelo didn't seem the type to laugh at him. "So, I don't... I can't, like, legally drive, so I probably shouldn't do that, and looking into it, you gotta like, prove citizenship and social and... well I'm pretty sure all those documents burned up when I, uh, set my house on fire, so-" and here he held up his hands to show he'd connected the dots of life. "I was thinking if I could just get like a fake student ID, or a couple, that'd work for photographic identification. Because, well, I need something to sell cans back but I've just been asking another guy to do it and giving him a cut."
"Burned up documents can be replaced, but we would have to deal with the whole wanted fugitive thing first." He considered. "This is off the record, but if fake ID is what you need, I know people."
“Yeah, you’d… said something like that when I brought it up. Can I, well, could you introduce me to who could do it, and I can take care of it from there.” As he spoke, Match dropped his eyes to focus on pulling at a loose thread.
Angelo eyed him, unsure of what was really going on here. "Well... yeah, I could do that. You might even've already met them. But is that what you want?"
"What else do I really got?" Match's question wasn't edged in sarcasm or barbs, it was entirely flat as he met Angelo's gaze. "A card's a card at least and I can work with that."
"That's not what I asked." His voice was calm and gentle. "If you could have any way out of this situation, right now, what would you want?"
As far as Match was concerned, Angelo wasn't listening, so the need to respond to the question was null and void. "Your last name's Espinosa, right? There a lot of Espinosas who help out mutants or just you and that lady in LA?"
He shrugged slightly, accepting. “Okay, I’ll introduce you to the people who do the ID… lady in LA?”
Looking up from pulling at his hoodie strings blankly until the meeting was over or he was dismissed, Match raised a brow slowly before nodding. “Angel was from LA, some lady with the last name Espinosa got her as far as Chicago when she needed to get out. Then Trader and Electric Eve found her.”
Angelo said nothing for a long moment. Then, carefully, “Did Angel tell you anything else about her?”
Match slowly made a face as he racked his brain for anything Angel Dust had said, though the girl had always been quieter. Puffing out a breath of hot air he put together what he could remember. "Uh, lady's kid was a mutant, I... I don't know if she ever said her name, older, er, I mean, ya know, an adult lady with an adult mutant kid. I don't remember remember, honestly. J...Julia? J- no, if I guess that and I'm wrong I sound racist and I'm not about that, my dude."
There was another long silence and Angelo had gone very still. The next word was filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation. "Juanita?"
A snapping of fingers was accompanied by a brief spark of a flame that he quickly extinguished against his jeans. “That was it! Yeah. Juanita Espinosa, outta Los Angeles.”
He sat down quickly at that, looking a bit poleaxed at the confirmation.
"Oh my God. She's alive... and you said she knows she has a mutant kid?"
This was a reveal of some kind to the man. Making it the third exchange that day Match was unsure of how to deal with and being extremely underqualified for. “Yeah. I think? Uh, you okay man? You need like some water or something?”
"I'm okay. Just... I didn't know what happened to her, and I thought... I ran away, when I was... God, younger than you, the day I manifested. I thought she must've thought I was dead."
“You seem to be processing some stuff, I’ll just-“Match motioned towards the closed door. “Let myself out.”
...and he was making the kid uncomfortable. He stood back up, visibly shoving all the stuff in a box for a moment. "Okay. I'll email the folks you need to talk to, copy you in."
“Cool, cool, cool,” Match stood at the same time as Angelo, like a kid being excused by the principle, grabbing his backpack quickly to make his exit a little more expedient. Then he turned back to check on the man, brows drawn together to try and offer some comfort but — nope, nothing came to mind and he turned back on his heels to exit. “See ya.”
Jessica tracks down Sharon using her world class PI skills and the two have a chat that neither really expect to have.
Sharon had a wide variety of sounds at her disposal. The one she was currently making sounded not dissimilar to the distressed motor of a chainsaw stuck in a stump. The fact she had chosen a long, low work table in a room set up for pre-K childcare as her current hiding spot did nothing to make the noise any less ominous. Rather, the stiffly twitching purple tail against the primary-colored rubber mats instantly conjured images of rattlesnakes coiled amongst the dead leaves.
It was a very tired, very uncharacteristically-clad Jessica Jones who entered the classroom to hear this. She held up her hands, saying, "I'm not here to catch you, spray you, or yell at you," and, rather than getting any closer to Sharon herself, sat down on the edge of a seat made for a pre-schooler. At 5'9", this meant she was leaning her forearms on her knees for balance.
Two yellow eyes glared back at her. The young mutant made no reply, but the tenor of the noise dropped to something much closer to a growl.
"Yeah, I get it, I get it." Jess sighed and rubbed at her face with one hand. "Sooraya told me about your mom." She pressed her lips together and looked away from the glaring yellow gaze, up at a colorful display of cardboard and construction paper on the topic of 'fall leaves'. "My parents and my little brother died when I was thirteen. I'm not saying I understand you or anything. But . . . " She had not started today imagining talking about this, and knew her voice was a little too even. "I know what it's like to wake up and you're suddenly alone. And then make that everyone else's problem."
Sharon didn't move, but the growling stopped. Her tail, until now twitching with agitation, went still.
The silence was less threatening, at least. Jessica kept her eyes on the fake leaves. "I would get frustrated in PT and just sit on the floor refusing to move. They had to carry me back to my room. More than once. I was in detention for every single day for four months of tenth grade because I told my English teacher to fuck off, and then I told the vice-principal to fuck off when she sent me to him. I put my foster sister's bra in the garbage disposal - which she deserved." Her voice twisted dryly, at the end, not quite as much of an endorsement of the destruction of Aleshia's bra as it sounded.
The silence from beneath the table continued.
"Anyway, it's not like I have any life lessons or whatever to share." Jessica vented a sigh, not frustrated, just ill-at-ease; her fingers twisted subconsciously. "It sucks to have to be the one who keeps going, that's all." She pushed the sleeves of the stupid fuzzy sweater up her arms, and added, "I'm sorry about your mom."
The silence stretched on. There was a sense the younger girl was grappling with something. Perhaps it was the content of the monologue itself, or the implications it cast over her own behavior. Or perhaps it was simply the realization that Jessica, of all people, might be capable of understanding some of what she had been through. Whatever conclusion she reached, it wasn't one she was willing to share. At least not aloud.
Slowly, the cat emerged from beneath the table. Her tail hung low and subdued. Sharon dropped her head and looked at her hands.
"I am sorry I said you do not recycle," she said.
Jessica, to her credit, did not snort. She nodded, blankly. "Thank you," she said, the image of a person who absolutely recycled. She gave Sharon a sidelong glance. "We don't have to go back right away. But if we don't go back eventually, Sooraya's going to come looking for us."
"I will go." Sharon began to pad towards the door, the picture of cooperation -- for the moment, anyway. Then she paused. "The bra. Was the garbage disposal destroyed?"
In a rare moment, Jess grinned. "Completely."
" - Oh my god. Both of you - get out of the fucking trash, for fuck's sake. What are you even doing?"
The purple tail that had been visible over the edge of the dumpster disappeared, replaced briefly by Sharon's head. The cat regarded her for a moment, then resumed her search.
"Scavenging," came the reply. Sharon turned to Match with what looked suspiciously like a roll of the eyes. "Clearly someone has never lived out of dumpsters before. Thinks she is too good for trash, maybe."
"Yes," Jessica said flatly, crossing her arms. "I am too good for trash, because everyone should be better than rummaging through whatever disgusting shit you two are marinating in, especially when they're going to be riding back in the same van as other innocent people. Get the fuck out of there."
“Oh right. Not being able to smell once again coming in clutch, I guess.” Match’s grin was lopsided though he did not get out of the garbage as instructed. “Just a few more minutes, Catseye’s found a lot of cans and I’ll clean them out when we get back.”
Sharon's tail flicked proudly. "Lived here for two months. All the best spots are known to me." She gave their alleged chaperone a suspicious look. "Do you recycle, Jessica?"
"This alley smells like death, which means you smell like death," Jessica said, ignoring the question entirely. "There are things you can only do when you're not going to inflict them on other people. This is one of them. Get the fuck out of there."
Sharon narrowed her eyes. "I knew it. She does not recycle."
“Oh, Jessica, no.” Now Match had leaned over the side of the dumpster to look at Jess in an over-exaggerated show of disappointment, though he did file away her name — not willing to admit he didn’t know it or remember it. “Never?”
Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose, as though struck by a sudden migraine. "Both of you," she said, her voice carefully even, "Quit it with the Oscar the Grouch comedy routine and, for the last fucking time, get the fuck out of there. I'm not kidding, this is disgusting."
Sharon treated Jessica's command in the same way she treated anything else she didn't want to hear: by ignoring it. She fished a personal pan-size pizza box from the rubbish and flipped open the lid to sniff.
"Typical wastefulness," declared the cat. "Was discarded even though a third of the pizza yet remains. It is still good. But there is cheese and onion. I cannot eat." She turned to offer the box to Match. "You are hungry?"
Always. Match was always hungry, though the lack of taste had made eating more of a chore than it had ever been before his gene activated. Cheese and onion wouldn’t have been appealing then, though, with pepperoni and mushroom having been the reigning favorite. Now, well…
“Why would someone only take a bite outta the crust?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached into the box, avoiding that slice for now in favor of the untouched piece. He couldn’t taste. It didn’t really matter.
Jessica vented a breath out from her nose, supremely irritated and vaguely nauseous. "Absolutely the fuck not. And you can't say I didn't ask nicely first." Before Match could get the slice to his mouth, she put a hand on the dumpster, testing its stability, then tipped 1,700 pounds of metal - plus the weight of two skinny mutants and the garbage they were wading in - over into the alley, stepping aside to avoid the deluge.
Things poured from the receptacle. Garbage bags. Loose trash. The unknowable liquid that settled to the bottom of every dumpster that always smelled inexplicably of sour milk. And, of course, the two occupants.
Nothing could fall out of a dumpster like a cat. Nothing. All five limbs wheeled in competing arcs, and her spine might have twisted through itself at least once. Sharon's screech of protest was loud enough to draw the attention of shoppers on the opposite side of the street.
And then the rats came.
Pouring out like a faucet had been turned, the chorus of shrieks and chittering sounded as the rats righted themselves then just as quickly began the process of scurrying off. Match sat on his garbage bag throne, pizza forgotten as he watched the procession with wide eyed interest. He hadn’t expected that. Any of that. “That one’s as big as a little dog! Catseye lookit ‘im go!”
Carefully avoiding garbage juice he stood up, long legs making it easy to avoid the growing stream of the foul liquid that his nose was immune to. Finally he looked to Jess. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Accusations of abuse had died on Sharon's tongue at the sudden appearance of rodents. Instinctively she fell into a crouch, her haunches tensing beneath her. Everything about her posture screamed that Jessica was about to wish the worst thing she'd see today was a young adult eating a discarded pizza.
"Oh, hell no," Jessica said, darting forward to grab the scruff of the purple cat's - girl's - whatever's neck before the obvious and even more disgusting disaster could befall them. The scruffing allowed her a critical second to loop an arm under Sharon's torso so that she could physically remove her from this scenario.
Sharon thrashed against the sudden interruption but discovered, to her great displeasure, that a woman who could tip over a dumpster had no issues restraining an undernourished twenty year old. "Your crimes against me increase!" Sharon yowled as she kicked her back legs like a furious rabbit. "This is animal abuse. Match, you are witness!"
“Oh no, I’m a witness.” His words were a horrified whisper as the gravity of the situation settled over him. Match was not ready to be a witness, for anything really. This was far too much responsibility/ He had to get outta this somehow. "I legally do not think I can be a witness, because of the warrant for my arrest."
The supremely aggravated glance Jessica threw him was probably at least partially due to the smears Sharon had deposited on her jeans. She let Sharon down - rather, she dropped Sharon abruptly - once the rats had decamped to safer pastures. "The only thing either of you are witnessing is a fucking shower at the community center. I swear to god, if there's any more bullshit, I'm going to carry you there myself." If there was any doubt as to Jessica's ability to carry out this threat, the fact that she reached down with one hand and very ungently set the dumpster upright probably put it to rest.
Sharon hissed. "I cannot be compelled."
Jessica stared at her flatly for a long second, took a deep breath that did not seem to noticeably calm her, then said, “You either walk there yourself or I’m notifying Clarice personally that you need another fucking flea bath from the rats. Your choice.”
There had been a lot of people, a lot of new experiences, and, even though this was exciting, it was still a little overwhelming. Rummaging through a dumpster in a quiet alley had been the closest thing to a break from the stimuli she’d had all day. Now not only was she being told to leave, she was being intimidated into yet another round of Hygiene.
Sharon stared at Jessica, then promptly collapsed on the ground and started to make a low noise that somehow combined all the worst characteristics of a growling cat with a child gearing up for a tantrum.
“For fuck’s sake.” It took Jess all of three seconds to pick Sharon up - more like a sack of potatoes than the toddler she was emulating - and put her over her shoulder, rather more gently than anyone watching this scene would have expected. The look she directed at Match was as irate as a look could get. “You’d better be walking on your own.”
Match looked up from re-collecting the cans they'd found like a deer in headlights, pausing in placing them in the bag he'd brought along for that exact purpose, Sharon's harness slung on his wrist to avoid forgetting and misplacing it while she and Jessica had their moment. He'd zoned out, confused to have attention back on him, but standing up straight again quickly. "I, uh, yup, uh-huh, I can do that, community center, shower, yup."
Following their little spill, Sharon takes the opportunity to meet with Sooraya at the Community Centre and come clean about some things.
"Sooraya."
The familiar voice floated through the office door, closely followed by Sharon. The young mutant was doing her best to look like something the cat dragged in, which was a complicated piece of theater when that cat also happened to be herself. It wasn't difficult: while not soaking wet, she was clearly damp in a way not even multiple towelings and a pass with a hairdryer had managed to alleviate.
"Sooraya," said Sharon plaintively, "I only wanted to visit, but Jessica forced me to bathe."
Looking up from the piles of books she was sorting through in two bins, Sooraya had to stifle her laughter. She couldn't stop a small smile from appearing though, especially at the catgirl's fake-miserable impression. "What did you do that she made you bathe? I mean, she is not really one for forcing people to do stuff."
Sharon crept into the office, head and tail slung low in the picture of wounded innocence. "Was not only me," she said. "She made Match bathe also. Were doing good deed, taking recyclables people had already thrown away, but she said if we did not we could not get back in van." The cat shook herself, spraying a few remaining droplets of water. "Want to file formal complaint of animal abuse."
She blinked. And blinked again. "Wait, let me get this straight. You literally went dumpster diving? With Match? And that is why Jess made you bathe?"
The cat sniffed. "Humans needlessly precious about smells. Garbage is full of perfectly usable resources. This is a truth only Match and me are brave enough to accept." Sensing she was losing sympathy, Sharon quickly changed subjects. "Anyway, did other things! Ordered from restaurant for first time. Even paid with card I keep here, in pouch Pixie made me." Proudly, Sharon turned to display the handmade harness and saddlebags she wore. In deference to the Pixie's hard work, Sharon hadn't taken it into the dumpster with her.
"Sharon..." Sooraya set her books down and came around the desk, carefully looking Sharon over. "... if it had been up to me, I'd be asking Jean or Clarice to look you and Match over. Garbage can give nasty infected cuts, you know. I've seen it way too often." She shook her head for a moment. "The other stuff sounds great though. What did you order for yourself?"
The young mutant's tail flicked with excitement. "Deli Platter, blackened salmon, and french fries!" That Shatterstar had been the one to place the actual order and use the credit card was dismissed as unimportant. The fact Sharon had chased this with a half-eaten chicken wrap while investigating the dumpster was also omitted. If Sooraya was concerned about what a little cut might do she probably didn't need to be reminded of the kind of things Sharon also saw as a perfectly usable resource.
"Did you like it?" Sooraya pulled over a chair so she wasn't towering over Sharon. "And did you go anywhere else?"
"Many places. It is easier when I am with other people." Automatically, Sharon leaned forward and rubbed her cheek lightly against Sooraya's knee. "Grateful. Not possible without your help."
Sooraya gently petted Sharon's head. "I'm glad you've found a home with us, Sharon. And you seem to be making friends." Sooraya grinned, thinking of all the misschief Sharon had gotten up too. "And livening things up around the place."
"Yes. Friends." Sharon thrummed under Sooraya's hand, enjoying the contact. Then she pulled away, as if something was weighing on her. She licked her whiskers nervously.
"We are friends now," she said, hesitantly, "so I want to confess."
"Okay?" Sooraya narrowed her eyes, raising one eyebrow. "What's going on, Sharon?"
"Did not lie," Sharon said quickly, "but misled, maybe." She lowered her eyes, her clawed fingers knotting nervously against the tiles. "Did not just appear one day. Spied on first, for days. Watched routine, followed staff. Chose to appeal to you and Alani because you seemed most receptive, had best living situation, maybe. Acted a little weaker than I felt, also. To make my case strong." The girl's tail was curling and uncurling against one of her back legs. She looked back up at Sooraya, her yellow eyes anxious. "It was not wrong if it was for survival, was it? Only wanted to be sure you would take me in. But now I know you, and it feels like I lied."
Sooraya let out a slow breath, absentmindedly scratching Sharon behind her ears. "You lost everything you knew, Sharon, and you'd no one to fall back on. You didn't even know much about the outside world." She finally spoke. "It sounds pretty desperate to me to be honest. And you had your own safety to think about. Sometimes you have to do things you don't really like."
Sharon's body relaxed. Relieved, she leaned into the woman's scratches and let her eyes fall closed. She'd seen no problem with lying about or omitting small things that benefited her, but the longer she stayed with these people the more those small things seemed to grow in her mind.
And she hadn't even gotten to the big thing yet.
"So you forgive?" Sharon asked, just to make sure.
Sooraya smiled gently: "Yes, Sharon. You're forgiven."
Of course, nothing gold can stay and Jessica and Match join Sharon and Sooraya to somewhat disastrous degrees.
"So you got to deal with the garbage too?" Sooraya glanced over her shoulder as she pulled open the door to a large cupboard. "Lemme see what I can find here for you."
Scanning the shelves, Sooraya pulled down a stack of clothes. "You know... you might not like this... but at least we know it will fit." She held out a pair of cream slacks and a fuzzy peach sweater. A pair of matching cream ballerina's perched awkwardly on top of the stack.
"I bet you recognize them."
Jess regarded the clothes with open loathing; the only thing that could be said about them was that they didn't smell like a goddamned dumpster. "Fucking kids," she muttered under her breath, taking the pile from Sooraya. "Thanks," she added, trying to be grateful, even though she'd been hoping all of this had been claimed by someone less allergic to pastels already. "I'll wash them and re-donate them as quickly as possible."
"Yeah..." Sooraya straightened an edge of her scarf. "That's a big reason they're still here. They're dry-cleaning only. So what in the world happened?"
Of course they were. Jess sighed. "I saw two of the kids dumpster-diving. I told them to get out. Multiple times, for obvious reasons of health, safety, and general manners when you have to take the same van home again. They didn't listen."
"Let me guess: one of them was Sharon?" At Jess her raised eyebrow Sooraya added: "She was just in with me. Who was the other one?" She explained as she showed Jess the women's changing rooms. "Do you need anything else, by the way?"
"This should be fine," Jess said with a sigh. She was tired. "And yeah, one of them was Sharon. The other was - I think his name is Match? If that's a name? Tall, skinny kid. They said some shit about recycling, which, sure, it's great - but not if you end up with an entire dumpster's worth of filth on you." In fact, Jessica was very aware that she had, if not an entire dumpster's worth, certainly enough filth on her jeans that Sooraya would probably welcome her exit from the office to go find the shower she'd dumped Sharon in.
And Match too... Sooraya wasn't surprised. "Yeah, those two make a lot of sense. Go get changed. We can talk a bit in the office after."
A few minutes later, Jess reappeared, looking immensely uncomfortable in the oversized peach sweater, slim-cut cream trousers, and - insult upon injury - ballet flats. However, she no longer smelled like garbage. She was pulling her damp hair back and out of her face as she walked into the room. "Don't laugh," she said, wincing, "I know."
Sooraya let a small grin out as she headed to the office. "Better not let Worthington see. He'll drive you bananas." She added with an eye roll before pulling her chair to the other side of the desk. "How much do you know about Sharon, Jess?"
"She looks like a cat. And acts like one. She eats garbage." Jessica paused to consider. "She's mouthy as - ah - she's mouthy. That's about it."
.
"Look..." Sooraya let out a long sigh. "I'm gonna be blunt. Sharon lost her mom a few months ago. She was the only family Sharon basically had. She ended up on the streets after that and I'm pretty sure scavenging food from the garbage was one of the few ways of getting food. Maybe except what she caught herself."
"Sure," Jessica said, not entirely surprised; normal kids wouldn't have been in the dumpster in the first place. Arthur was probably enjoying his day with the normal two of the group as they spoke. "But if you're trying to tell me she didn't know any better, try again. That's not a stupid kid. Trust me." Jessica declined to say exactly what kind of kid she'd pin Sharon as, out of respect. For Sooraya.
"She also survived by living with a colony of feral cats for much of that time." Sooraya let that fact hang in the air for a few seconds. "It's not about being stupid or not... Or about not knowing any better. It's just about having a very different perspective."
Jess held up a hand, perhaps warding off any further confidences. "I'm not responsible for anything. Except maybe ensuring that nobody gets back in the van smelling like they've spent the day seeing the city from a garbage barge." Which, she had to admit, was mostly a self-inflicted duty - if one she would defend to her dying breath as reasonable.
"Jess, you do realize you're more or less here as an official chaperone? Some of those kids are still minors."
If possible, Jessica looked even more long-suffering. "I never agreed to that. And I did chaperone them. Against everyone's will." Including her own.
She wasn't sure whether to laugh or be abhorred. "Who dragoned you into this? Because I can't see you stepping into a van with four teen boys and a cat-girl out of your own free will?"
Beleaguered, Jess said, "Arthur asked if I wanted a ride to the city. He said he wanted a local guide. He didn't mention any of the above. Until I was already in the van."
"Ohhh, that is evil." Sooraya shook her head, still stifling her laughter. "But in case you get dragged into this again... keep in mind Sharon also has like a half-cat mind and body. Sometimes she acts simply like a cat would... I've seen her bringing in her prey from the woods."
"Because wild food is delicious."
Sharon padded in, fixing Jessica with a baleful glare. A large part of this was due to the fact her fur was still damp from the mandatory shower. She sat down a few paces away and continued, "I do cat things because I have always been cat. And I was not taught to hate what I am." There was something defiant in the statement, as if she was daring the other woman to challenge her upbringing.
The look on Jessica's face turned to sheer exasperation. "Don't be so dramatic," she said. "Nobody's asking you to hate what you are, they're asking you not to swim around in the literal fucking trash, at least when everyone else has to suffer from it too."
Sharon began to lick one forearm with an air of offensive dismissiveness. "Just the sentiment I would expect from a woman who does not recycle."
"Here, lemme." Match, smartly, did not engage with the conversation that had been going on as he entered and instead held out a hand expectantly towards Sharon. The area around him was warmer than it should have been, with the boy looking entirely dry following the demanded shower.
Reaching over, Sooraya grabbed one of the spray bottles they kept around to clean the kids scrapes and cuts and instinctively sprayed Sharon in the face. "Be nice." She chided Sharon firmly. Looking up she added: "Well, I did say there was a lot of cat in her."
The spray bottle was an object from Sharon's childhood. And adolescence. And, actually, the part of adulthood she had thus far attained. It had long held a place in the Smith household as the only thing that could get Sharon's attention when she was overstimulated or particularly obstinate, and as such the reaction was instinctive. Sharon whipped around to scamper away, but instead found herself scampering directly into Match -- who then fell on her.
Jessica had watched, arrested, as this played out, and just managed not to laugh; not only because she really didn't want to escalate the situation, but also because of the memory, in the back of her mind, of being very young and doing and saying really stupid things because there was no one left to care if you did or said them anymore. She reached a hand out to the top of the pile instead. "Need a hand?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at the two of them.
"Dontclawmedontclawmedon-" Match hadn't shrieked when he and Sharon had briefly become a tangle of limbs on the floor so much as yelped before beginning his mantra, immediately doing his best to untangle what had to be the longest limbs of the group however the panic had done nothing to help his brain focus on the task. He hadn't even heard the question, so much as been looking wildly around at the moment Jess's hand was extended. "Yesplease!"
Sharon just stared from Match to Sooraya, her eyes huge with betrayal. Then, with a plaintive noise, she squirmed out from beneath Match and darted off down the hall.
Jess had lifted Match to his feet with no effort, but her eyes tracked Sharon as she fled, something complicated in her expression. She looked at Sooraya. "That feels more like a you thing than a me thing."
Sooraya let out a slow sigh: "I think you're the better choice here then me at the moment. I'll talk with her later, but now... she'll be smarting a little bit." Eying the spray bottle still in her hand, she admitted: "It was a bit of a gamble, but she was being a brat."
It wasn't that she disagreed with Sooraya, it was just that she had been hoping the other woman would have a magical solution that did not involve Jessica going after the kid. She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll be back, I guess."
In the silence that followed after Jess left made Match incredibly uncomfortable, heat radiating off of him. Clearing his throat, he looked at Sooraya, eying the squirt bottle warily. "I got, like a meeting I gotta get to... so, bye?"
Escaping as quickly as he can, Match meets with Angelo and in his attempt to get materials ends up revealing something the older man is entirely unprepared for.
Another appointment to meet the lawyer who'd come to Chicago to make sure he was safe, again at District X, as Match thought that was the least invasive approach. The office was about the same as the last time, but this time he took the proffered seat, carefully taking his backpack off to set it beside the chair. When the door shut behind him, he started, slowly. "So, um, I've thought about it, what you said, back in, like, I don't know February? March? About, uh, documents."
Angelo gave him a reassuring smile. "Sure, I remember. Did you decide about what you want to do?"
“Kinda? Yeah?” No, he wasn't sure. In fact, he didn't know if the thought he'd had even made sense, but Angelo didn't seem the type to laugh at him. "So, I don't... I can't, like, legally drive, so I probably shouldn't do that, and looking into it, you gotta like, prove citizenship and social and... well I'm pretty sure all those documents burned up when I, uh, set my house on fire, so-" and here he held up his hands to show he'd connected the dots of life. "I was thinking if I could just get like a fake student ID, or a couple, that'd work for photographic identification. Because, well, I need something to sell cans back but I've just been asking another guy to do it and giving him a cut."
"Burned up documents can be replaced, but we would have to deal with the whole wanted fugitive thing first." He considered. "This is off the record, but if fake ID is what you need, I know people."
“Yeah, you’d… said something like that when I brought it up. Can I, well, could you introduce me to who could do it, and I can take care of it from there.” As he spoke, Match dropped his eyes to focus on pulling at a loose thread.
Angelo eyed him, unsure of what was really going on here. "Well... yeah, I could do that. You might even've already met them. But is that what you want?"
"What else do I really got?" Match's question wasn't edged in sarcasm or barbs, it was entirely flat as he met Angelo's gaze. "A card's a card at least and I can work with that."
"That's not what I asked." His voice was calm and gentle. "If you could have any way out of this situation, right now, what would you want?"
As far as Match was concerned, Angelo wasn't listening, so the need to respond to the question was null and void. "Your last name's Espinosa, right? There a lot of Espinosas who help out mutants or just you and that lady in LA?"
He shrugged slightly, accepting. “Okay, I’ll introduce you to the people who do the ID… lady in LA?”
Looking up from pulling at his hoodie strings blankly until the meeting was over or he was dismissed, Match raised a brow slowly before nodding. “Angel was from LA, some lady with the last name Espinosa got her as far as Chicago when she needed to get out. Then Trader and Electric Eve found her.”
Angelo said nothing for a long moment. Then, carefully, “Did Angel tell you anything else about her?”
Match slowly made a face as he racked his brain for anything Angel Dust had said, though the girl had always been quieter. Puffing out a breath of hot air he put together what he could remember. "Uh, lady's kid was a mutant, I... I don't know if she ever said her name, older, er, I mean, ya know, an adult lady with an adult mutant kid. I don't remember remember, honestly. J...Julia? J- no, if I guess that and I'm wrong I sound racist and I'm not about that, my dude."
There was another long silence and Angelo had gone very still. The next word was filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation. "Juanita?"
A snapping of fingers was accompanied by a brief spark of a flame that he quickly extinguished against his jeans. “That was it! Yeah. Juanita Espinosa, outta Los Angeles.”
He sat down quickly at that, looking a bit poleaxed at the confirmation.
"Oh my God. She's alive... and you said she knows she has a mutant kid?"
This was a reveal of some kind to the man. Making it the third exchange that day Match was unsure of how to deal with and being extremely underqualified for. “Yeah. I think? Uh, you okay man? You need like some water or something?”
"I'm okay. Just... I didn't know what happened to her, and I thought... I ran away, when I was... God, younger than you, the day I manifested. I thought she must've thought I was dead."
“You seem to be processing some stuff, I’ll just-“Match motioned towards the closed door. “Let myself out.”
...and he was making the kid uncomfortable. He stood back up, visibly shoving all the stuff in a box for a moment. "Okay. I'll email the folks you need to talk to, copy you in."
“Cool, cool, cool,” Match stood at the same time as Angelo, like a kid being excused by the principle, grabbing his backpack quickly to make his exit a little more expedient. Then he turned back to check on the man, brows drawn together to try and offer some comfort but — nope, nothing came to mind and he turned back on his heels to exit. “See ya.”
Jessica tracks down Sharon using her world class PI skills and the two have a chat that neither really expect to have.
Sharon had a wide variety of sounds at her disposal. The one she was currently making sounded not dissimilar to the distressed motor of a chainsaw stuck in a stump. The fact she had chosen a long, low work table in a room set up for pre-K childcare as her current hiding spot did nothing to make the noise any less ominous. Rather, the stiffly twitching purple tail against the primary-colored rubber mats instantly conjured images of rattlesnakes coiled amongst the dead leaves.
It was a very tired, very uncharacteristically-clad Jessica Jones who entered the classroom to hear this. She held up her hands, saying, "I'm not here to catch you, spray you, or yell at you," and, rather than getting any closer to Sharon herself, sat down on the edge of a seat made for a pre-schooler. At 5'9", this meant she was leaning her forearms on her knees for balance.
Two yellow eyes glared back at her. The young mutant made no reply, but the tenor of the noise dropped to something much closer to a growl.
"Yeah, I get it, I get it." Jess sighed and rubbed at her face with one hand. "Sooraya told me about your mom." She pressed her lips together and looked away from the glaring yellow gaze, up at a colorful display of cardboard and construction paper on the topic of 'fall leaves'. "My parents and my little brother died when I was thirteen. I'm not saying I understand you or anything. But . . . " She had not started today imagining talking about this, and knew her voice was a little too even. "I know what it's like to wake up and you're suddenly alone. And then make that everyone else's problem."
Sharon didn't move, but the growling stopped. Her tail, until now twitching with agitation, went still.
The silence was less threatening, at least. Jessica kept her eyes on the fake leaves. "I would get frustrated in PT and just sit on the floor refusing to move. They had to carry me back to my room. More than once. I was in detention for every single day for four months of tenth grade because I told my English teacher to fuck off, and then I told the vice-principal to fuck off when she sent me to him. I put my foster sister's bra in the garbage disposal - which she deserved." Her voice twisted dryly, at the end, not quite as much of an endorsement of the destruction of Aleshia's bra as it sounded.
The silence from beneath the table continued.
"Anyway, it's not like I have any life lessons or whatever to share." Jessica vented a sigh, not frustrated, just ill-at-ease; her fingers twisted subconsciously. "It sucks to have to be the one who keeps going, that's all." She pushed the sleeves of the stupid fuzzy sweater up her arms, and added, "I'm sorry about your mom."
The silence stretched on. There was a sense the younger girl was grappling with something. Perhaps it was the content of the monologue itself, or the implications it cast over her own behavior. Or perhaps it was simply the realization that Jessica, of all people, might be capable of understanding some of what she had been through. Whatever conclusion she reached, it wasn't one she was willing to share. At least not aloud.
Slowly, the cat emerged from beneath the table. Her tail hung low and subdued. Sharon dropped her head and looked at her hands.
"I am sorry I said you do not recycle," she said.
Jessica, to her credit, did not snort. She nodded, blankly. "Thank you," she said, the image of a person who absolutely recycled. She gave Sharon a sidelong glance. "We don't have to go back right away. But if we don't go back eventually, Sooraya's going to come looking for us."
"I will go." Sharon began to pad towards the door, the picture of cooperation -- for the moment, anyway. Then she paused. "The bra. Was the garbage disposal destroyed?"
In a rare moment, Jess grinned. "Completely."
