Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

8 years old

Pearl can hear her parents arguing all the way from her room. She’s trying to ignore the sound, reading The Little Prince out loud to Grian. He gave up on listening to her or their parents long ago, choosing instead to bundle himself in blankets and pillows in their little blanket fort. It’s not incredibly stable, but Grian really likes building them, and Pearl liked stringing up the lights and arranging the pillows around. Grian has been humming the same song under his breath the entire time, probably some song their mum likes. Pearl is getting kind of annoyed from it, so she starts reading louder. Grian responds by humming louder, starting to actually sing the song. 

“ And the little prince broke into a lovey pe…  lovey peel of laugh…laughter… ”

“ I can’t see me loving nobody but you, for all my lifeeee, ”

“Grian, I’m trying to read . Be quiet.”

Grian lifted his head from the burrow of blankets he’d made, dirty blonde hair sticking out every which way. 

“Tell that to mum and dad.” He went back to humming his song, still loud, albeit without actually singing the words again. His humming eventually gave way to quiet sniffling. Pearl kept trying to focus on her book, but the sounds of their parent’s yelling kept getting louder. Eventually, Pearl gave up, closing the book and leaving their bedroom. She went downstairs to the kitchen, her parents still going at each other.

“You know what it looks like, Lena!”

“Daddy? Mommy?” Pearl looked between the two of them, book gripped tightly in front of her. Her parents whipped around to look at her, suddenly realizing she had been standing there quietly. Her mother quickly composed herself, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

“Yes dear, what is it?” She wiped something from her eyes, long eyelashes damp. 

“Grian’s crying again.” Pearl stated, somewhat matter-of-factly for a kid her age. Her mother gave a small grimace at that. 

“Could you do me a favor then sweetie? Could you bring him a glass of water and ask him to drink it very slowly, and stay with him for the night? Your father and I need to talk.” She grabbed Pearl’s hands as she said that. Pearl thought about it for a few moments, mulling it over in her head.

“But I was reading.” She held the book in front of her face, showing only her wide, blue-grey eyes. Her mother tilted her head at her, frowning.

“Please, Pearl? It’ll only be a moment.” Pearl gripped her book tighter.

“But I was reading, and I’m not sure how to pronounce this word.” She flitted through the pages, trying to find which one she had left on. 

“Pearl, please! I’m asking you to be a good sister to your brother!” She raised her voice, her patience wearing thin. Pearl’s eyes widened. It's not that her mother never yelled at her. It’s just that Pearl didn’t know why she was doing it right now. She hadn’t done anything wrong, right? Her mother seemed to realize this as well, eyes shutting closed again. 

“Great, are you happy now?” Her father cut in from the kitchen table. Pearl’s mother raised her head to snap back at him.

“I’m not the one making our children cry, Denize.” 

“Well it sure seems that way. Come here, darling, I’ve got you.” Pearl’s mother began to protest, but Pearl slinked to where her father was sat, burying her face in his sweater.

“She was being impatient-” her mother began, trying to explain herself.
“She’s a child, what did you expect?” Her father snapped back, before returning to Pearl.

“What were you reading?” He took the small book from her hands, smiling softly at the page. “The Little Prince? This was my favorite book at your age as well. Your grandfather would read it to me all the time.” Pearl had all but forgotten her mother, who was still standing in the kitchen, trying to school her emotions into something more neutral. She waited while her parents had a silent conversation using only their eyes (she couldn’t wait to learn how to do that. Maybe she should start practicing it with Grian.)

“Denize, we have to talk about this at some point-” 

“Lena, do you really think this is the best time?” 

Pearl was currently trying to find the page she had been on, hands shaking (she wasn’t really sure why. It’s not like she was crying or anything. That was Grian’s thing.) 

Her mother sighed, before picking her brother’s favorite cup and filling it with water from the sink. She went up the stairs, Pearl watching her until she turned the corner and left her sight. She went back to her book.

“Here, this word, I can't say it, lag…lag-huh-ter?” She pointed at the word, trying to sound it out, like he had taught her. He peered over her shoulder, scanning the page.

“Ah, that one. Remember how I told you that sometimes, words look like they should say something else, but don’t?” 

“Like kuh-nife!”

“It’s just knife dear, no need to pronounce the K.” 

“Oh, right.”

“Well, in this case, you pronounce the G and H like if it were an F.”

“But there’s no F there.”

“You’re right, there isn’t. However, due to old english -”

Her dad explained in great detail, again, how sometimes words don’t look like how they should. Pearl took it with a grain of salt, not really getting it, but trusting her father enough to know he must be telling the truth. She sat with her knees up to her chest, reading alongside her father, until she could feel her eyes growing heavier with each page, until her head was fully resting on the table. She felt her father carry her up the stairs, book forgotten on the kitchen table. He gently tucked her into her bed, Grian already fast asleep next to her. Her mother was sitting on his bed, hand lightly scratching his scalp. They had another one of their staring contests, but Pearl was too tired to really try understanding them this time. She simply burrowed herself deeper into her sheets, holding tightly onto her stuffed owl. She dreamt of laughing red foxes in knight costumes.

The next morning, she got ready for school. Grian apparently wasn’t feeling too well, and was burrowed underneath his train patterned bedsheet. Her father had already left for work, evidenced by the empty mug he always left behind. Their mother helped her get ready, brushing her hair, and handing her a bowl of cereal, Grian’s breakfast in a tray to be brought upstairs (Pearl liked cocoa puffs, Grian preferred fruity pebbles. If they ever switched them up, they would refuse to eat at all). After passing her her lunch bag, she dropped her off at the bus stop, not stopping to wave goodbye before returning home to check on Grian. 

The rest of the school day went by rather quickly. It was still the first week of third grade, and everything was rather easy (other than reading, but Pearl had always had a few problems with that. Certain letters seemed to go upside down without her wanting to, no matter how many times she read them). It was an okay day, albeit a little lonely without her twin to keep her company. She waited until the bell rang, and all but ran to where the kids who got picked up by their parents waited. Usually by this time, her mother would have already been here, waiting for them with a fresh fruit snack. Pearl stood there and waited, not really sure how much time had passed, until one of the teachers approached her and asked where her parents were. 

Not knowing how to answer, she simply shrugged, and went back to coloring her fish drawing. She was practically finished with her third drawing, a large whale, when her father all but burst into the classroom. 

“Pearl? Where is your mother?” He asked her, stopping to help her with her backpack. Pearl shrugged again.

“I don’t know.” She carefully folded her drawings and slipped them into her lunch bag, not noticing the frustrated look on her father’s face.

“Alright then, time to go home.” By the time they stepped out of the building, almost no cars were left in the parking lot. Her father stopped by to talk with the principal for a few moments, Pearl choosing to slowly spin in place, swinging her lunch bag in front of her. She stopped when her dad grabbed her by the hand and led her to the silver sedan he drove to work each day. Pearl spent the rest of the ride looking out the window, not really listening to the questions her father was asking. When they arrived home, her father opened the door for her, letting her run into the house and kick her school shoes off. She heard him yell out her mother’s name, followed by Grian’s, but no sound came. She went up to her room, taping her finished drawings to her side of the room. She took out the one she had made of a bird, wrote her name in the corner, and left it on Grian’s bed. That would surely cheer him up, right? She hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten until her father tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, face falling upon seeing the grim look on his face.

“Pearl, can you do me a favor? Can you pick out some of your favorite toys and books? We’re going on a little trip.” Pearl nodded, not liking how it sounded. Her father grabbed her suitcase, and began adding some of her clothes in. She carefully surveyed her things, before settling on grabbing her watercolors, coloring pencils, and her stuffed animal. She picked up a few books, making sure they were the ones she hadn’t read yet. Once she was satisfied with her loot, she went downstairs, to where her father was waiting, suitcase already packed. To her surprise, her mother was already there, tears in her face. Pearl hid behind the banister, watching everything unfold.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“You should have thought about it before you forgot about my daughter at school.”

“She’s our daughter.”

“It sure doesn’t seem that way.”

“Oh, and you’re such a present father to your son? You didn’t care that he was crying, you didn’t even ask about how he was feeling this morning, just left for work, no goodbyes, like you always do.”

“He’s going to be the man of the house someday, you can’t keep coddling him.”

“I’m not coddling him, I’m just not raising an empty husk. Not that you would understand.”

“He’s too sensitive, he needs to toughen up.”

“He’s 8 years old, what do you expect from him? He wasn’t feeling well, he needed me.” 

“Oh, but she doesn’t?”

Pearl realized something was missing.

“Where’s Grian?” She timidly stepped from behind, hiding her face with her hair. She peered around, trying to look for him. 

“He’s at a…friend's house, dear.” Her mother explained, suddenly realizing she had been there the whole time.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a friend of yours.” Her father sneered, before turning to Pearl. “Do you have everything you need?” Pearl nodded, and began walking to where the suitcases were.

“Pearl, dear, where are you going?” Her mother crouched down to her level, but Pearl was pulled back by her father.

“Pearl, darling, can you wait for me in the car?” He handed her the car keys, pressing it open. Pearl looked between her father and mother, before nodding at her dad and clambering onto the passenger seat, small bag in hand. She heard more yelling from outside, and closed the car door, waiting for one or the both of them to shut up. She fiddled with the sharp edges of the car keys while she waited. It felt kind of nice, like it was something she could focus on. Her father eventually threw open the backseat doors, sliding the luggage in rather roughly and stepping inside the driver’s seat. Pearl handed him the keys, missing the cold comfort they brought. Her dad fired the car up, and began leaving the driveway, her mother kneeling on the front lawn, quiet sobs racking her body. Pearl avoided looking at her, instead choosing to focus on the flower box outside of her and Grian’s window, a sun and moon design stamped alongside their handprints. She stared at it until the house was out of sight, and the neighborhood became a distant idea in her mind. 

Once she felt her dad start to calm down, she timidly opened her mouth.

“I’m hungry.” Her father quietly nodded, and began looking around for somewhere they could stop for a bite. Once her hunger was satisfied, she dared to ask again. “Where’s Grian?” Her father kept staring ahead. “He’s staying with your mother,” he answered, coldly.

“Can I see him?” she continued avoiding eye contact, fiddling around with her nails instead.

Her father stayed quiet after that. Pearl continued. “Where are we going?” Her father took a large intake of air, as if preparing to give a long winded explanation. “We’re finding somewhere to stay, Pearl.” Before Pearl could ask another question, her father raised his hand. “I’ll tell you when we get there.” Pearl nodded, not wanting her dad to get upset at her like her mother did. She searched around her bag for her stuffed owl, but came up empty handed. She continued rummaging around, hoping her distress wasn’t too visible, until she found it: a stuffed scarlet macaw. Grian’s plushie from their trip to the zoo. She considered telling her dad to go back, that she grabbed the wrong one, but upon seeing her father’s stony face, she swallowed her regret, and held it close to her chest, head leaning on the car window. I’ll just give it back to him when I see him again.

The apartment is small. It’s on the third floor, has two bedrooms with a small kitchen, and surprisingly sunny windows. Their landlord is an old lady who loves to pinch Pearl’s cheeks, (which she finds very annoying), and brings them lemon poppy seed muffins (which she finds much less annoying). The first month is the hardest. The showers only have cold water, they barely have any furniture, and Pearl is too scared to go outside just yet. 

She also has to change schools now, which means new, itchy uniforms. The plaid dress feels scratchy on her skin, but she likes the fact that she doesn’t have to go to school with her hair up in any style now. Her new school is a lot bigger than her old one, more people and loud noises and so many doors; she hides in a janitor’s closet during her first day. The custodian finds her hiding behind the mop bucket, and tries to bring her out, but she refuses to move. She talks with him for a while, and she makes her first friend there. The next day, she gives him half of her orange, and she accepts a small dandelion from him. The kids look at her kind of funny, but she doesn’t really feel like talking anymore, so she stays quiet. She spends her breaks drawing and humming along to songs Grian used to sing, until she starts to miss him again, and she quickly changes whatever tune she was humming. Her dad walks her to the bus stop each day, and picks her up at the same stop, same time, every day. She tells him all about her school day, and waits until they’re home to show him her drawings. He pins up his weekly favorite on the fridge, and encourages Pearl to keep the rest of them in an organized folder. He reads her his favorite books from when he was her age, and shows her his favorite music and movies, and Pearl loves all of them. They even make a small game out of it, her dad turning the radio on and asking her “Who is this?”, with Pearl excitedly answering each time. He does most of his work from home, sitting with a laptop on the kitchen table while Pearl does her homework. They’d get takeout, or pop one of those microwave meals in the oven, seeing as her father had never been the one to cook most meals in the house and Pearl was kind of scared of fire. 

She writes her first letter home while her father is out. She grabs her nicest paper and glitter pens, and writes all about her first week at school. She writes about how much she misses Grian humming all the time, and how her dad doesn’t know how to braid her hair, and how much she misses her mother’s hugs. She signs off with lots of X’s and O’s, and she means them oh so much. She’s not sure what her address used to be, but she remembers the neighborhood's name, and her house number, and that should be enough, right? All the houses in the area looked the same, until her mother decided to add the overflowing flower box to their bedroom windows, becoming a beacon for her eyes in the middle of suburbia. She writes the address down, somewhat shakily, and quietly leaves the apartment. She asks a neighbor where she can leave her mail, and they guide her to the outgoing mail box, somewhat surprised by her independence. Then, she waited. And waited. And waited some more. She considered asking her dad if any mail had come in, but decided against it. If they answered back, she wanted it to be a surprise. She could imagine it already: Her dad coming home from the office, tired, and Pearl would be waiting in the kitchen, a plate of freshly baked cookies and a bright red letter, where her mother and brother would tell them all about how much they missed them too, and how they should all live in the same house again. Her dad would agree with their mother, of course, and they would leave the small apartment behind and go back home, where their mother would be waiting with another plate of freshly baked cookies, and they would all laugh about how silly they were for ever leaving each other behind. Or something like that. 

So Pearl kept quiet. 

It became a monthly occurrence. She’d wait to write the letters until her dad left, and would drop them off in the little grey box at the bottom of the stairwell. She’d check the mail each morning, scanning for any names that began with a G. When her dad questioned her insistence with the mail, she simply said she wanted to be a mailman when she grew up. Her dad seemed satisfied enough with that answer, and even got her a new backpack that looked like the ones real mailmen would carry around. She got some funny looks at the school, but she didn’t care, she thought it made her look more sophisticated (maybe if she had a matching hat…).

She just has to wait it out, she kept telling herself. One of these days, she’d get a letter back, and everything would go back to normal. Despite the fact that the apartment was now furnished, and Pearl got to paint the walls in her room whatever color she wanted, and Pearl being 3 quarters of the way through her school year. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It was all temporary. She stares at the moon each night, watching it slowly rise over the horizon, changing shape each night. All temporary . She dreams of postage bags filled with cookies and cars driving away. 

Chapter Text

It was a regular day out, Pearl shining a flashlight wherever her dad pointed her to, the car radio playing in the background, that her father shushed her, pointing to the radio, then her ears. She listened in, the tender voice singing from the tinny speakers. 

“ Hey, you’ve got to hide your love away…Hey! You’ve got to hide your love away… ” The voice gave way to strumming guitars, followed by a mellow, airy sound. It went high and low, smooth to shaky, and for a moment, seemed to gain a brief life of its own. Pearl looked up at her dad, who had his eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. 

“Who was that, Pearl?” He asked, turning to look at Pearl.

“The Bottles, of course.” She grinned at him, briefly distracted from her task. He shook his head, smiling. After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“You know… I used to know how to play this song.” 

Pearl tilted her head in confusion.

“You can play music?” 

Her dad shook his head again. 

“Well, not very well now, but yes, when I was younger, I was in my school’s orchestra. I played the flute. It was that sound at the end, the one that sounded like the wind whistling.” Pearl soaked in the new information. For some reason, she never thought that her father was the music playing type, but she supposed it made sense. They always had some sort of music in the background back home, usually humming or softly singing. 

“It sounded nice. Why did you stop playing?” She asked, flashlight completely forgotten now. Her dad mulled the question over. 

“I suppose I didn’t have a reason to play it anymore after I graduated, and I just…stopped. Funny how that happens.” He had a somewhat distant look on his face. 

The conversation was almost completely forgotten until a few days later, Pearl walked up to where her dad was sitting, checking through his papers, a pair of thin glasses perched on his nose. Pearl cleared her throat, calling his attention, and stood up straight.

“I would like to learn how to play the flute, please.”

Her dad looks up from where he had been crunching some numbers on a calculator, eyebrows raising. He took his glasses off, and leaned forward.

“You know Pearl, if you really mean it, it would be a commitment. As lovely as playing an instrument is, it’s also a responsibility. You have to take care of it, and make sure you practice enough if you want to sound good.” He let her mull those words over, before she nodded quickly in response. 

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll take care of it and I’ll practice with it every day and I’ll even take classes.” She clasped her hands. “Please?” Her dad looked at the bills on the table, seemingly weighing his options. Eventually, he nodded. 

“Alright, you can start flute lessons, but I need you to promise me you’re going to take this seriously. Can I trust you with this, Pearl?” Pearl nodded rapidly, a grin starting to form.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you! Yes, I’ll be super careful with it, and I’ll play it all the time, oh, I’m gonna be the best flute player ever! You’ll see!” With that, she gave her dad a quick hug and dashed to her room, spinning around. She imagined her dad listening to her, watching her play flute on a lit stage, her mother and Grian in the audience. They would be in awe of how gracefully she played, how well she sounded. After her performance, they would throw roses at her, and she’d catch one and give it a gentle sniff, before throwing it back at the audience. Her parents would congratulate her, and Grian would probably be happy too, and they’d go for ice cream afterwards, and then they’d all go home, happy to be together again. 

She spent the remainder of the week waiting for her first music lesson, already itching to find out if she was any good at it or not. Her school offered an after school music program, fortunately, so all she had to do was go to the music room after her classes ended, and wait for the teacher to arrive. Upon reaching the classroom, she was amazed, and a little intimidated by how many instruments there were. A large piano stood in a corner, with other smaller, weirder looking ones surrounding it.  A few guitars of various shapes lined the walls, alongside drum pieces, and strangest of all, small, shiny, curvy guitars stood on stands near the stage. She began to get near one of them, until the doors slammed open and a flood of children entered the room. They all chose a chair, Pearl having overlooked them at first, until she realized that all the ones at the front were taken, leaving only a few ones at the back. She sat down, shyness taking a hold of her. She hid her face with her hair while she waited for the teacher to arrive, fiddling with her hands, raucous students all around her. Just when the noise was starting to become too much, the doors opened once again, bringing forth a warm looking short woman. She had kind brown eyes and tanned skin. Behind her, a young boy awkwardly held a guitar that seemed too big for him. It covered most of his body, dark green eyes peering from behind. He seemed related to her, judging by the way he tugged on her clothes and whispered something to her, before she nodded, and the boy quickly scrambled to the back, guitar carefully in tow. He sat next to Pearl, who gave him a shy smile. Before he could respond, the woman cleared her throat.

“Hello my children, I thank you all for your attendance. I am Mrs. Sosa, but you may call me Mrs. S. as well. Welcome to the music room, I see we have many new participants for this year's band! Now, I will begin with roll call,” the children tittered around, some of them clearly forced to be here. Pearl shrunk further down. She hadn’t realized how much older some of the kids here were until Mrs. S. had started naming them, loud voices calling out their attendance. When she reached Moon, Pearl , she squeaked out a small here! , shrinking down once the teacher noticed her. 

“Now dear, tell me what you’re doing all the way back there? Can you see from that seat at all?” She asked, lips pursed. Pearl shook her head. The teacher tutted, shaking her head. 

“Well why don’t you bring your chair to the front? Wouldn’t that make it easier for you? Come here darling.” She beckoned Pearl over. Pearl felt like every single eye was on her in the music room as she dragged her plastic folding chair to the front. The scraping sound of the legs on the floor would surely haunt her forever. Satisfied, the teacher continued with her roll call, until she finished. She started off on a small speech about how beautiful music was to play, about how while not everyone in the room would get a spot in the orchestra, they should be proud of themselves for trying. She asked who could already play an instrument, and separated them from the rest of the class. After each of them got to demonstrate a small bit of music on their respective instrument, she wrote their names on a list and dismissed them. Then, she turned to the group of newbies. She began asking questions, but Pearl was beginning to space out again. They all sounded so good , she thought. There’s no way I’m getting a place in the band, I should just leave before I embarrass myself . She heard fingers snapping in front of her. Quickly glancing up, she realized that the teacher had asked her a question. Pearl haunched her shoulders nervously, and asked her to repeat herself.

“I was asking, what instrument are you interested in playing?” 

“Th-the flute, please.” Pearl mumbled out. The teacher pointed her to a section of chairs that had a few other kids as well. She noticed guitar kid was still there, but now he was sitting on the piano bench rather than all the way in the back. She quickly hurried to where the flute section was, and waited for the teacher to hand them a flute. She quickly demonstrated how it was one of the more difficult instruments, how you had to purse your lips and blow correctly into the mouthpiece. She showed examples of how to play and how not to play, and taught them a simple tune about hot crossed buns and pennies. One by one, each kid got their turn, Pearl waiting at the end of the line. Her stomach was starting to form knots again as each kid passed and sounded either too quiet or shrill, most taking breaks between each note to breathe. When it eventually reached Pearl, she became acutely aware of the fact that her hands were shaking. She took a few breaths in, a few out, trying to remember the calming techniques her mother would always use on Grian when he cried. She’s about to begin, when she remembers. 

“Actually, could I have some water?” she asks, innocent eyes pleading at the teacher. The teacher, somewhat surprised by her question, brings her one of the small plastic bottles they had on a table near the door. Pearl slowly drinks half of it, before taking a deep breath and beginning. She’s aware of how it has to sound, and how she’s supposed to hold it, and tries applying what she saw the teacher do to play it, thinking of the proper timing between and during the notes. Before she knows it, she’s finished the song, and Mrs. S. looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Well, it seems we have a pied piper amongst us! I thought you said you had never played the flute before, young lady?” Despite her teasing tone, she’s smiling at her. Pear lets out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

“I-I didn’t know, sorry.” The teacher shushes her.

“Oh, that’s no problem at all dear. Tell me, what did  you say your name was?” 

“Pearl. Pearl Moon.” 

“What a lovely name for a lovely girl. Tell me dear, what made you pick this instrument?”

“We-well, my d-dad played it when he was younger, and, and there’s a song I like that goes like, like, hey, you’ve got to hide your love away , and it has a flute part at the end that sounds really nice, and i liked how it sounded, and my dad likes it, and, and-”

“Oh, I think you and I will get along very well.” The teacher gave her a warm smile, and Pearl gave one back.

First thing next week, she checked the list on the corkboard outside the office, showing the names of who had entered the band. She scanned the list until she read her name.

MOON, PEARL - THIRD FLUTIST

Pearl could hardly believe it. That day, she couldn’t wait to announce the news. When she showed her dad the permission slip he needed to sign, he picked her up and spun her around, promising a celebratory dinner afterwards. They went to the place of Pearl’s choosing (a small diner where they made the best ever sundaes), talking about how excited they were for her first concert in a few months, when Pearl asked the question.

“Can I send mom and Grian invitations too?” She was moving her spoon around the glass, melting the ice cream to a soupy consistency. A small frown formed on her dads face.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be able to come visit, darling.” His voice sounded apologetic. Pearl tilted her head.

“But why not?” She asked, chin propped on her crossed elbows over the table.

“Well, they’re very far away, for starters. Your brother has to go to school, and your mother has to work.” Pearl mulled it over.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But you’ll be there, right?” her large eyes stared into her father’s.

“Of course I will. I will go to every single concert and recital you ever have, even if it’s on the other side of the country.” Pearl smiled softly at that.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That night, Pearl writes another letter back home. While her dad is asleep, she sneaks to the front door, leaving the letter on the outgoing box. She looks up at the moon, and hopes that at least Grian can make it. She goes to bed dreaming of pied pipers and ice cream sundaes.

Chapter Text

13 years old

“Dad, dad, did you see me? I was all, do do doo, dooo do do, dwoooo dee de do do, and Sausage was all, pim-pi-tim-pim-TWANG! Oh, it was wonderful!” she’s spinning around by now, not really caring about who she’s bumping into. She doesn’t mention the moment where she choked up for a second when she thought she saw a familiar head of dirty blonde hair in the audience. 

“You sounded beautiful as always, dear.” She’s too old to be picked up and spun around by now, but the sentiment is still there. She shot up quite a bit in the last few years, among the tallest in her year. Her uniform fits her oddly, concert black skirt hanging awkwardly above her ankles. Her mousy brown hair is long and straightened out for the occasion, freckles hidden under matte setting powder. Her flute case is held against her chest, and she’s beaming at her dad, who as always, has brought her a bouquet of yellow flowers, although tonight’s feel extra special. 

Pearl can most definitely say this has been one of the best days ever. Starting off with her favorite waffles for breakfast, her dad had left her a birthday card waiting for her on the table, alongside some freshly cut flowers from Pearl’s planter box outside. She’d arrived at school just in time to catch Sausage arriving with his mom. His mom brought her a small bag of homemade guava pastries that smelled heavenly, and Sausage gave her an “extra long, extra annoying birthday hug”. After they had finished class, she and Sausage spent most of the afternoon practicing for the school concert tonight, playing Ruby Tuesday over and over until just their two instruments and Sausage’s voice blended together into one melody. After a quick  vending machine lunch (Sausage’s treat, of course), they got ready for the concert, Pearl giving a brief runway show in her new concert clothes (she had already grown out of her previous pair). The concert had gone without a hitch, Pearl nailing her parts on I Talk To The Wind , which she couldn’t wait to show off to her dad for the months she had spent practicing. 

Walking towards the car, Pearl said her goodbyes to Mrs. S. and Sausage, who was already packing up his guitar. Mrs. S. congratulated her, both for her performance and her birthday, and gave her a long hug. She high fived Sausage goodbye, already making plans for tomorrow. 

The car ride home was quiet, but Pearl didn’t mind. Soft rock played from the radio at a low volume, Pearl leaning her head against the window, eyes closing. Before she could doze off, they arrived at the apartment. Her dad opened the door for her, holding her flowers while she stepped out. They went upstairs, a small chocolate cake already in the fridge waiting for them. While Pearl changed into her PJs, her dad lit the candles, and they sat down on the breakfast bar. Her dad sang Happy Birthday to her, and she blew out the candles, making the same wish she did every single year. Before she can tuck into her slice, her dad is positioning a camera, holding it up to her face. He snaps a few pictures, and disappears for a few moments. Before Pearl can ask what’s up, he appears, holding a large box with a red bow on top. 

“Now, I know I said the new concert clothes were to be your present, but 13 years is an important milestone. You’re officially becoming a teenager, and eventually you’ll grow up to be a responsible, promising young woman. These are the years in which I expect you to grow and mature as a person, and start to show some responsibility.” Pearl resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Sure thing dad, I promise I won’t be partaking in any alcoholic or drug induced activities. Now where did I leave my 3 litre bottle of beer? I'm getting a bit thirsty.” She pretended to look around for a bit, before her dad gave her a light scolding.

“Pearl, this is not just a present. This is your chance to show me you can be entrusted with more things. Are you sure you’re ready?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Pearl nodded, slightly confused.

“Yes dad, I can be trusted with-” She got interrupted by a small bark coming from the box. Perking up, her eyes widened. 

“Is, is that-” Her dad nodded, and opened up the lid. Out of the cardboard box (which Pearl now realized had small holes in it) leapt a small, white canine. It jumped into her arms immediately, licking her face and nipping at her clothes. She could hardly contain her excitement.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, dad! A puppy! Oh, oh, I can’t-” she let out a childlike squeal.

“Thank you thank you thank you! Oh, look at her!” She nuzzled her face against the dogs, who began giving her more kisses on the face. She giggled, and scratched her sides.

“Who’s a good girl? You are, you are, oh, what are we going to name you?” She looked up at her dad, who was recording and smiling.

“Birthday wish came true?” Pearl smiled back at him.

“Best gift ever!” she waved at the camera, showing her new dog as well. “Say hi to the camera!” The dog barked at the camera, Pearl laughing. She grabbed her furry face between her two hands. 

“You and I are going to be the bestest friends ever.” She gazed into her grey eyes, pressing her forehead against hers. 

That night, Tilly (that was her name, after brief consideration and quickly rummaging through her childhood books) slept at the foot of Pearl’s bed. Pearl was already tucked in, before she remembered something. Slowly tugging the covers away, she took out a small slice of birthday cake and a single candle. She brought it to her room and carefully lit the candle. Quietly humming to herself, she began to sing.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday dear Grian,

Happy birthday to you. 

She left the cake slice with the candle still on it on the windowsill, making sure no flammable objects surrounded it. The candle eventually melted down into a stub, suffocating in the cream layer of the cake. Pearl eventually covered it with a napkin and tossed it in the trash.

As much as she had always wished for a dog, it wasn’t the wish she made every year on her birthday, or every time she saw a shooting star or blew out a dandelion. It had been the same since she was 8 years old.

I want my brother back.

Chapter Text

14 years old

Tilly grows almost as fast as Pearl did. Within the month, she’s the size of a medium dog, and follows Pearl around everywhere like, well, a puppy. It's been a full year, and Pearl feels as if she's known her her whole life. Pearl takes her on long walks every day after orchestra practice, when the sun is starting to set. She plays with her every weekend at the park, sometimes even inviting Sausage along (even though he’s slightly scared of her). She sleeps at the foot of her bed every night, and follows Pearl throughout the house the entire time she’s getting ready for school. Rather than getting annoyed by her trailing around, she finds comfort in the assured companionship. Sure, she sheds a bit, and she bit through several of Pearl’s shoes while she was teething, and maybe she peed on the carpet during her first week, but Pearl wouldn’t change her for the world. 

Life in the city is becoming more permanent. Other than the new pet to take care of, Pearl is finally adjusting a bit. She has a friend, her neighbors know she exists, and even the regulars at the park recognize her now. She’s happy, kind of. Sure, she could do with having her family not be divorced , (officially this time) but her dad is good with her, and all she can do is hope that Grian is doing well with their mother as well. She’s still her dad’s number one girl, and she’s doing great in school and orchestra, and she has a best friend now, and whenever she needs human contact, she can just go to Sausage’s house and annoy him. 

So of course it comes to a big surprise when she comes along.

It starts out innocent enough. Her dad stays longer at the office, he takes more phone calls, and laughs a lot more. Pearl can’t complain. More time alone at home means more Tilly On The Couch Time. But then, one Wednesday afternoon, while she’s hanging her backpack up and yelling out “I’m home!”, she freezes upon what she sees. It’s not anything bad, technically. Just, well, who is this woman and what is she doing in my kitchen? Obviously Pearl doesn’t say that out loud, but it must be clear enough on her face that her dad clears his throat. 

“Pearl, so glad you’re here. This is Tamsin. We’ve been seeing each other, and I’ve wanted you two to meet for a while now.” He smiles at her, and Pearl isn’t really sure how to respond. The woman at the table has curly black hair and a prominent beauty mark above her red painted lip. She looks like she’s come straight out of those black and white movies she would watch at night when she couldn't sleep. The woman, Tamsin, stretches her hand out.

“Hello, it's so good to meet you Pearl, your father has told me a lot about you.” She stretches her red lips into a smile, and Pearl is still frozen. Somewhat stiffly (because her dad raised with manners), she gingerly shakes her hand. She’s still frozen when her dad clears his throat. 

“Tam and I were supposed to get dinner at the greek restaurant across the street, but our reservation got cancelled, so I thought we could have dinner here instead, and well, what better moment for you two to meet?” Her dad’s eyes must have been pleading for her to play nice, but Pearl isn’t really sure if she can play at all right now. 

They order takeout from the Chinese place down the street, but even the promise of noodles and sour chicken is enough to please Pearl. She sits across from the two of them in their small dining table, Tilly resting her head on Pearl’s lap. 

“So, Pearl, your dad tells me you're a musician. Do you like being in the orchestra?” 

Pearl resigns herself to a long night of shallow questions.

Chapter Text

15 years old

Tamsin also has a daughter, Terie, who’s just turned 10. She has dark hair, practices ballet and seems to do well in school. She’s also very fond of Pearl, for some bizarre reason. The first time they met, the younger girl had thrown herself at Pearl, hugging her around the waist and rambling about how excited she was to meet her while Pearl stood frozen. She hadn’t even tried hugging her back before she sprung back and started talking about how cool it was that their parents had met and now they were meeting as well, and about how nice her dad was, and how he always brought flowers when he visited, not for her mom, but for her . Pearl could only stare dumbly, feeling something ugly crawling inside of her, bile creeping up the back of her throat, hands shaking, 

Who does this kid think she is? She thinks she knows dad? My dad? 

“That’s…great.” she mumbled, trying to avoid looking back at the kid. She was still rambling about something, but Pearl had tuned out already. Looking up, she saw Tamsin looking back at the two girls, hand clutching her chest, clearly endeared by the situation. Her father, on the other hand, was giving her his patented don't be rude look, something that was becoming more common these days. Pearl vaguely rolled her eyes, turning her attention back at the kid. 

“- and then we went to the zoo, and he got me this adorable monkey plushie, look, this is him, his name is Pancakes because the next day, well, today, he made pancakes for breakfast, and my mom just loves pancakes, and I love pancakes, and he also loves pancakes! so-”

Didn’t know dad liked pancakes. Or that he knew how to make them.

Of course, yesterday. She had asked if her dad wanted to go to the cinema in the evening, one of the old black and white movies they used to watch having a re-release, but her dad had turned her down, saying something about “plans with Tam”, leaving her with a few dollar bills to order a pizza, and saying he’d be back by 7. True to his word, he was back by 7, but Pearl was already too tired to really do anything, so she shut herself in her room, drawing fishes and birds in her notebooks. She’d fallen asleep at her desk, Tilly waking her up at the crack of dawn with licks on her face. She roused herself up, barely noticing the crick in her neck, and decided to take Tilly out for an early morning walk, but when she passed by her father’s room, leash and hoodie in hand, she found his bed already made. At the kitchen table, another note was left behind, telling her there were cocoa puffs in the pantry and fresh milk in the fridge, and that he’d be back by noon. By the time noon rolled around, Pearl was lounging on the couch, a tired Tilly taking a nap next to her. Her dad arrived, primped and preened, like how he always got when he was with Tammy , and told her to get dressed, nicely. He also gave Pearl a light scolding for letting Tilly on the couch, and for not having showered yet, so late in the day already. At first she was going to go in just a regular t-shirt and shorts, the weather being too hot for anything nicer, but her father had insisted she change into something more presentable, still not telling her why. 

Now in her capris and henley blouse, she realized why her dad had been so adamant about looking nice, and also why he said they couldn’t bring Tilly. Tamsin was waiting at the entrance of the boardwalk already, dolled up as well, daughter in tow. 

And that’s how they found themselves walking along the cobbled roads of the promenade, deciding on where to go for lunch. Pearl had suggested sandwiches, but her dad said he wanted something nicer, like seafood. Pearl was considering giving in, until Little Kid (she should probably have learned her name by this point) said she also wanted sandwiches, and Tamsin conceded, saying she knew a place with excellent lobster rolls. Pearl resisted the urge to scoff at that, something about rolls not being sandwiches, but her stomach answered before she could. They had laughed at that, Pearl’s face starting to burn in shame. After their lunch, Pearl was ready to leave, but Terie said she wanted to see the games they had, and of course they had to do what she asked now. They wandered around, losing at most games they tried playing, Pearl hanging in the back and having stilted conversations with the carnies. It was during one of the hoop-in-bottle games that Pearl finally gave in, nailing 5 out of the 7 bottles they had. The carny gave her a pick of the prizes, Pearl giving her pick to Terie (she considered taking it back when she heard Tamsin going “ awww ”). Once night was starting to fall, string lights turning on around them, that Pearl pointed out the ferris wheel. She started darting towards it, weaving around people and settling into the relatively short line. She turned around, waiting to see her dad behind her, but he saw that he and Tamsin were still a few paces away, Terie looking up at the wheel with large eyes.

“Dad, come on! The next round is coming up!” She yelled over the hubbub, waving her arms, in case he couldn’t see her. Her dad lifted his head, before walking over to her, Tamsin and her daughter in tow behind him. 

“Pearl, I’m so sorry, but Terie has a fear of heights.” He looked at her apologetically, as if that answered anything at all.

“Oh, well, she can stay. I think we can share a basket with another pair, it has to be even on both sides, is what they’re saying, and…” Pearl trailed off upon looking at her dad’s face, slightly disappointed frown.

“Pearl, we can’t leave them behind just because you want to ride the wheel. You’ll have another chance.” Pearl started to protest, Tamsin coming in quickly.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really Denize, Terie and I can stay down here, you both go and enjoy the ride.” She gave Pearl a smile, to which Pearl responded by raising her eyebrows to her dad.

“See? They don’t care, come on,” she started walking towards where the ride operator was organizing people around, setting them in their respective baskets, but her dad grabbed her by the wrist.

“No, it would be rude, hey Tammy, why don’t we go and find a ride all four of us like?” 

“I like the dizzy dragons!” Terie piped up, and Pearl knew she had lost. She scowled throughout the entire lame ride, the dragons not even spinning enough to warrant their name. Liars. 

It doesn’t take long for them to move in. Apparently, her dad had met Terie way before Pearl had even known of her existence, and Pearl’s room became Pearl and Terie’s room. Pearl’s bed was moved to the corner of the room, right next to the window, Terie’s bed on the other side, beside the door. Pearl also has to share her desk now, and she keeps all her pencils and papers and unsent letters stuffed into drawers now, not wanting Terie to stumble onto them and show them off to anyone. She can’t practice with her flute in her room alone anymore, now that Terie is always staring at her in awe, making Pearl itch under her skin. She also can’t stay awake late into the night, because Terie can’t sleep if the light is on, and Pearl isn’t allowed to be inconsiderate, ever. Terie gets to play her music and practice her ballet steps in the living room, and she also shares closets with Pearl now, so now she has a bunch of stupid pink and white leotards occupying her closet space. She’s also still in fifth grade, so she has to wear uniforms that also occupy space in her closet, to the point that ⅔ of the closet now belongs to her, Pearl’s stuff being pressed to the side and the boxes at the top. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Terie is nice. She’s considerate of Pearl’s things, she offers her the last bowl of cocoa puffs, she doesn’t complain about Tilly leaving her hair everywhere or Pearl leaving the bathroom with puddles of water everywhere each time she showers, and she says “please” and “thank you” after every. Single. Thing . She’s nice, even when Pearl snaps at her for not knocking before entering their shared room, or when Pearl ignores her while she’s telling her about something her friends did, or… the list could go on. And forbid Pearl ever do something nice to her, because then it's Tamsin or her dad going “awww, aren’t you both so sweet?” and making Pearl want to shove Terie to the floor. She doesn’t do that of course, but she considers it.

Tamsin, of course, is just as nice. She gives Pearl rides back home when her dad isn’t able to come pick her up, she compliments Pearl on her clothes and music (of course it’s great music, it’s the same stuff her dad listens to), she even offered to braid Pearl’s hair once (Pearl had shot her down immediately. No one touches her hair anymore, and she’s not about to let her get near it). She’s near perfect, except for a few things that drive Pearl up the wall. For starters, she tries too hard to get Tilly to like her. Tilly usually loves anyone who will give her neck scratches and speaks in a baby voice to her, but Tamsin isn’t there yet. Tilly just stares blankly at her whenever she tries to play with her. She always picks the movie, always leaves lipstick stains on the coffee mugs, always has a story that “reminds her of something someone once said”. 

Pearl hates them. Well no, not really, hate is too strong a word. She just wishes they never met her dad and left them alone. 

Pearl brushes her sweaty palms down her dress. The dress fits her a bit shorter than it used to, the growth spurt coming from nowhere. The hem of the skirt now brushes above her knees, no matter how much she stretches and pinches it down. Pearl currently wants to crawl out of her skin, everything is getting on her nerves right now. The setting powder on her face feels gross, the lace on the back of her dress feels itchy, her lips feel chapped and she just feels overall bad. She doesn’t like feeling nervous. She doesn’t feel nervous, because Pearl doesn’t get nervous. Sure, maybe she felt a few jitters during her first ever performance, but after that, it was pretty smooth sailing. Even if she did mess up, she’d quickly brush it off and return to her performance. But now, right now, she felt like she was going to die. While everyone else would be sat down in the back of the stage, blue lights shining off to the sides, Pearl would be at the very front, spotlight shining down directly on her. Even when they’d done their practice rehearsals, Pearl felt blinded by it, eyes tightly shut the entire time. 

She’s considering going out for a few minutes, letting the night air cool her skin, but before she can locate Sausage to tell him she’s heading out, Mrs. Sosa’s voice speaks loudly above everyone else’s chattering and scales, telling them to head towards the auditorium. Show’s on, then. Pearl follows the rest of the band members, headed towards the backstage area, where everyone else is filing into line to get into positions. Pearl lines up with the rest of the woodwinds, ignoring the stink eye the two other flutists give her (it’s not Pearl’s fault she’s better than them. She got the solo, fair and square, despite what everyone else thinks). She’s the tallest of the bunch, which allows her to discreetly look around for her dad in the crowd. She usually finds him in the front rows, especially during important concerts like these, but he’s not there. Before she can properly crane her neck and scan for him in the audience, Mrs Sosa does her usual introductory announcements. She greets the audience, and gives a general rundown of the show: starting with the guitars, then horns, woodwinds, double bass and finishing with violin. 

The beginning of the concert goes by in a flash. Sausage played Granada on his classical guitar, red lighting the back of the stage. She caught him flashing his mother a quick smile after his performance, hands still shaking (he always did get more nervous than her). She’s getting into the groove of things, getting used to the routine of it all by now, in the weird space she gets into during concerts, where the only thing she’s really paying attention to is the music. She gets brought back from her reverie rather quickly, however.  

“-give you Pearl Moon, with Suite de Trois Morceaux by Godard on flute.” Pearl snaps back to attention, hearing her name and the small claps from the audience. She gets up from her chair and walks to the marking on the stage, Mrs Sosa giving her a graceful smile, before changing the page on her podium. She looks at the pianist, who looks at Pearl, who nods. 

The pianist started with a few notes, quietly, before Pearl took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and started playing. The music flowed up and down through her. Suddenly, the bright light wasn’t so harsh anymore, everything else around her melting away, the only things present being the trickling notes of the piano and streams of flute music. Before long, she was closing the song off, the flute going higher and higher until it went down, then back up again, then down, the piano accompanying her with the last, high note. She took a deep breath in and out, opening her eyes to the sound of loud clapping from the audience. She scanned around, hoping to see her dad among the few that had stood up to clap for her, but to no avail. She felt her heart plummet, barely managing to give a gracious smile to the audience before returning to her chair. The rest of the concert went by in a blur, songs blending in together, sounding somewhat sorrowful from her dour mood. She’s grateful once they finish, Mrs Sosa giving a quick bow and heading off the podium, to once again give her thanks to the audience and her students. Pearl is sat frozen in her chair, even after the curtains drop and everyone gets out, relatives and friends waiting with bouquets and flowers in the stands. In a small fit of hope, she stands up and darts around the crowd, hoping to find her dad, holding his usual arrangement of purple and yellow flowers for her. 

She gives up after her sixth lap around the auditorium. Most people have left by now, off to celebrate their children or console them and tell them they’ll get the solo next year. Pearl is heading to the music room where she’d left her flute case and change of clothes when she hears two of her classmates speaking in barely hushed voices.

“- I mean, it’s obvious why she got the part. She’s obviously Mrs. Sosa’s favorite.”

“Yeah, all she does is hang around the music room all day, it’s like she lives here. Doesn’t she have a family waiting for her at home?”

“She probably doesn’t, haven’t you seen how she follows after Mrs. Sosa and her son like their stray dog? No wonder she got the solo, they probably felt bad for her.”

 The two girls let out a giggle, as if Pearl being compared to a dog is the funniest thing on earth. They step out of the room, completely ignoring Pearl’s presence in the hallway, running out to their awaiting families in the parking lot. Pearl stays there for a while, words running around her head. She gets brought back to reality to the sound of Sausage running over to her.

“Pearl, you were amazing! It was like, hello? Philharmonic Orchestra? Yeah, we found your newest flute player, and she’s a highschooler from- Pearl? You alright?” Sausage’s rambling stops, and Pearl’s eyes feel wet when she brings a hand up to hide her face. 

“Yeah, doing fine. Just a bit tired is all.” Her voice sounds quiet, and she lets out a small sniffle. “You were great too, by the way. Felt like I was in Spain or something.” She gives him a shaky smile, hoping he doesn’t notice her damp eyes. He obviously does. 

“Pearl, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I, I have to go, see you later.”

He reaches out a hand to Pearl, but she pulls back and darts into the music room, stuffing her things into her backpack. Pearl usually puts her things into her bag with great care, but she needs to be out of this place right now. She nearly shoulder-checks Sausage on her way out the room, mary janes clicking against the linoleum school floors. The night air hits her face with a blast, and she takes a deep breath, looking around. She knows how unlikely it is to find her dad there, but maybe he was late and couldn’t get in? She walks around the parking lot, hoping to find her dad’s car, but once again, he’s not to be found. She feels a sob coming up her throat, and she muffles it with her elbow. She feels a light tap on her shoulder. Behind her, Mrs. Sosa looks worried.

“Pearl, mija, you’ll freeze to death, what are you doing out? Where is your father?” Her eyes are full of warmth and concern. Pearl clears her throat.

“He’s uh, he’s not here. He couldn’t make it, I think.” She’s avoiding looking at her, not wanting her gaze to turn pitiful. It of course does. 

“Oh, Pearl, I’m so sorry. He probably had something important come up, he never misses a show of yours. Would you like for us to give you a ride home?” Pearl considers telling her no, that she’ll walk, but she doesn’t feel like walking home in uncomfortable shoes and short dress. She nods, and follows Mrs. Sosa to her car, where Sausage is waiting in the passenger seat, already starting to doze off. They drive home in silence, Sausage’s light snores and the hum of the road being the only sources of sound. Pearl tries to keep the tears from falling, and she thinks she’s doing a pretty good job right now. The warm yellow street lights flash into the car every now and then, illuminating her pensive face. They arrive at her apartment building much too quickly, Pearl fanning her face to hide her red eyes. She gives Mrs. Sosa a quick hug goodbye, remembering the comments the girls had made earlier the entire time. She hoists her backpack on her shoulder, taking the stairs. 

Before she arrives at the apartment, she can hear her father inside, chuckling. She tries not to slam the door open, but she opens it too quickly, and all three heads turn to face her. Tamsin and her dad are dressed up, and Terie is in her ballet clothes. She’s holding a pink and white bouquet of flowers, and the kitchen table is set up with bowls of ice cream from a brand Pearl doesn’t recognize, probably too expensive for her. Not too expensive for Tamsin and Terie, apparently. Pearl stares at them, before Tamsin smiles at her. 

“Pearl, so glad you could join us at last. Hurry up, or the ice cream will melt even more.” She’s already scooping up a serving for Pearl, but Pearl is squinting at her dad, and her dad is frowning back.

“Why are you home late, Pearl? We told you Terie’s recital started at 6.” He’s standing up to greet her. Terie looks down at her bowl, smiling. 

“It was fun, we did Swan Lake, and I was one of the swans.” She glances back at Pearl, flinching at Pearl’s face. Pearl herself isn’t really sure what face she’s making right now, but it must be intense enough to cause that reaction. Pearl still hasn’t answered the question. 

“I was at the recital, dad. The one I told you about a month ago.” She says rather dryly, dropping her backpack rather loudly in the entryway. Tilly chooses that moment to make her entrance, running towards Pearl. Her dad’s eyebrows wrinkle, Tamsin and Terie’s eyes darting between the two of them. 

“What recital, Pearl?” He seems to realize that she’s wearing her formal concert clothes, pieces clicking together.

“I told you the moment I got told I got the solo, dad. I even wrote it on the calendar.” She points at the calendar they have on the fridge, only to see that it had been covered with a large , heart shaped post-it with Terie’s handwriting, the words SWAN LAKE written in bold glitter pen. Pearl has to resist the urge to throw the whole thing at Terie’s face. She turns from the calendar to Terie, who has a guilty look on her face.

“Sorry Pearl, I didn’t see it, I just didn’t want them to forget, and mom was really excited-”

Pearl doesn’t hear the rest of her apology. She’s already on her way to the room, Tilly nipping at her heels as she slams and locks the door shut. Pearl sits down on her bed, Tilly bounding up to join her. She’s gripping her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry, that’s Grian’s thing, and dad doesn’t like it when he cries, don’t cry don’t cry DON’T CRY

She hears light knocking on her door, but she ignores it. She wants to rip the Terie’s stupid ballet posters off the walls, wants Tilly to leave her bed full of dog hairs and rip her pillows apart, wants to go into her dad’s room and throw away all the pictures he has with Tamsin and Terie and not with mom and Grian. Instead, she crawls into bed and screams into her pillow, Tilly burrowing her nose into Pearl. She scratches the back of her ears while silent, frustrated tears fall down her face. She’s probably going to get scolded tomorrow for being so selfish and leaving Terie locked out, but that’s not her problem. She can sleep on the couch for all she cares. Pearl falls asleep to the sound of Tilly’s breathing and scraping chairs and plates. 

He’d promised he’d go to every concert of hers, even if it were on the other side of the continent. She wonders if he also should have specified if that included the ones that coincided with his new favorite daughter’s recitals.

Chapter Text

16 years old

Pearl stares at the house. The house stares back. It reminds her of how Grian would always find faces in buildings, making accompanying voices with them. She pushes the thought away, her hold tightening further onto Tilly’s leash. She was originally going to go in the car alongside her dad, Tamsin and Terie, but she didn’t think locking the little kid in the car with her allergy would make for a great case. She also couldn’t stand being around the three of them at the same time for periods longer than 5 minutes anymore. They would get all domestic and wistful, talking about “their future” and “new beginnings” and “how far they’ve come”. Pearl doesn’t feel like she’s come very far, if she’s being honest. For starters, it's only an hour and 45 minute walk away from their old apartment. While she would have usually complained about the distance, the early summer weather was nice, and she’d been out for longer walks with Tilly before. 

Her dad’s car was already parked, the moving truck not having arrived yet. She came in through the back fence gate, hoping to avoid the rest of the family, but stopped in her tracks  once she saw them on a picnic blanket in the back, enjoying the sun. Terie was resting on Tamsin’s lap, pointing out clouds, while her dad served up cups of store bought lemonade. Pearl kept Tilly on the leash, not wanting her to bound over and ruin their picturesque afternoon, but wouldn't it be funny if I did?, trying to make herself scarce. She’d already been told that Tilly would no longer be allowed in the house as often, seeing as she now had a backyard to run around in, but she supposed they wouldn’t mind it too much if she were to let her in , just for a few moments, before the movers got there. She tried to sidle through the backdoor as quietly as possible, even going as far as grabbing Tilly by the collar instead of her leash. She was stopped as soon as she opened up the door.

“Pearl, I thought we agreed on this: no dogs in the house.” Her dad called out from the lawn, not even looking up from the book he was now starting to read. Pearl bit back a groan.

“I know, but I just thought, since the furniture isn’t here yet, I could let her get to know the layout? You know, in case if anythi-”

“Pearl.” Her dad looked at her sternly from the top of his glasses. Pearl stomped her foot on the ground, not caring much about looking like a petulant child.

“But dad , it’s too small for her, she’s gonna get bored of it in like, one day. Also, most of it is paved over, and we don’t even have the doghouse for her to stay in.” Her father ignored her “perfectly sound” logic. 

“Do we really need to have this argument again? She’s going to end up scratching the hardwood floors, and leaving hair all over the place, really the yard is the best place for her to stay.” He looked as if he was going to continue, probably to complain about how she was also “too hyperactive” and “too loud”, before Tamsin stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Den, it’s fine. The movers haven’t arrived yet, and I see no harm in letting her sniff around. She might even be less likely to get inside if she knows what’s there already.” Her logic made enough sense for her father to quietly concede, looking back at Pearl with a warning on the tip of his tongue. Pearl had already turned around by then, leading Tilly into the house. Before she could shut the door, she heard her father call her out again.

“Say thank you, Pearl!”

Pearl peeked her head out, mumbling out a quick “Thanks, Tamsin”, much to her father’s exasperation. 

“It’s no problem, sweetie.” She smiled at Pearl, and Pearl gave her the usual flat, tight-lipped smile she gave them. She ducked back into the house, Tilly already loose and sniffing around the corners. She barked when she saw Pearl going up the stairs, clambering noisily behind her. She hadn’t really been too participative when it came to the move at all, just requesting the place have enough space for Tilly and hopefully, her own bedroom. She went around the house, counting the rooms available. One, two, and three, a small bathroom in the hallway. The master bedroom was nice, but it was obviously going to her dad and Tamsin. She peered into the two other rooms, both equal in size, one having a nicer window than the other. She pictured what her room should look like. Obviously, she would have the room with the nice window, being older and everything. She could have her bed against it, letting the moonlight shine on her at night, or, she could have her desk there, letting her people watch while she worked on her drawings and practiced. She spun around, Tilly following suit, already feeling slightly better about having her own space back. 

The following days consisted of lots of takeout, and sleeping on the bare floor of the rooms. Terie took the smaller room without any complaint, just shrugging and dragging her blanket behind her. Her dad had tried to subtly nudge her to let Terie sleep in the room with her, but Pearl faked a few loud snores to get him to back off. After two days of stiff backs, they finally dragged the mattresses upstairs. Terie’s smaller mattress was in Pearl’s room right now, but she assumed it had something to do with it being easier to leave it there while they got the rest of the bedroom adjusted. Pearl’s walls were already painted white with sky blue borders, which she found kind of strange, since she was pretty sure she’d picked out lavender, but it was probably just different in the light or whatever. She started hanging up some of her clothes in the small walk-in, organizing them by color, when Terie entered the room, boy band posters in tow. Pearl cleared her throat, trying to get her attention. Terie started hanging some of them up, taking the side with the window, where Pearl had already decided to put her desk. She coughed again, much louder this time. Terie stepped back and admired her work, still not noticing. Pearl sighed, and closed the closet doors.

“Terie, hate to break it to ya, but your room is the one next door. You can put your stuff there.” Pearl turned around, back to her task at hand, still not decided if her hoodie leaned  more towards grey or blue. 

“Mum and Dad didn’t tell you?” Terie asked, genuine in her tone, unlike Pearl’s tone of contempt that bled into every other conversation they had. Pearl continued, deciding it was definitely more grey, ignoring the fact that Terie now called her father “Dad”.  

“Tell me what?”

“That we’re sharing a room.”

Pearl whipped her head around.

“Come again?”

“Hey, I wanted my own room too, but Mum said we had to share it for now.” Pearl gripped her clothes tighter.

“There’s a whole other room next door, why on earth would we need to share it? Just go back and put your stuff in there.” She didn’t snap at her, but she was getting awfully close to it.

“Can’t, it’s occupied already.” Terie said it all with a tone of indifference, as if she just did anything her parents asked her to, like a silly toy soldier. Pearl nearly snapped the hanger she was holding onto in half. She started marching towards the other room, Terie stepping back to avoid Pearl’s upcoming wrath. Pearl swung the door open, calling back out to Terie.

“Oh come on , it’s just a room, what can they possibly have put in it to…oh.” Pearl stopped in her tracks. A small bureau with a basket of stuffed animals. An armchair with a quilt thrown over the top of it.  Decals of cute farm animals decorated the daisy yellow plaster walls. And to top it all off, a small, white bassinet in the middle. Pearl could vaguely hear Terie behind her, telling her not to open the door. She stopped as well, clearly surprised. 

A high pitched sound started ringing around in Pearl’s ears. Before she could give any sort of reaction other than her agape mouth and wide eyes, she heard Terie call out for her mom.

Tamsin came in through the door, stopping once she saw that the girls were already inside, surprise ruined. Pearl’s dad followed soon after. Tamsin had a sheepish grin on her face.

“Well, girls, you caught us. It was supposed to be a surprise, once we got all settled, we’d show you the room, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?” Tamsin gave a small shrug of her shoulders, still grinning. Pearl’s dad had a small, shy smile on his face. Before any of them could say anything, Terie let out a squeal.

“You’re having a baby? I’m gonna have a little sibling?” Her face was split wide open, grinning from ear to ear, tears threatening to spill from her face. She turned to look at Pearl.

“Pearl, Pearl, we’re having a baby in the house!” She started rambling to her mother, both parents nodding and replying, but Pearl could barely hear them over the ever growing ringing sound in her head.

Of course . Of course the new house wasn’t just about the space. Of course they had been so insistent on “new beginnings” and how far they had come, as a family. Of fucking course. Pearl hadn’t realized how tightly she was balling her fists, or how they were now talking to her, trying to get an answer from her. 

“Pearl? Pearl, you there? Did you hear, we’re having a -”

“I fucking heard you the first time, Terie.” Her voice sounded alien to her ears, harsh and biting in a way she didn’t know it could sound. She heard Tamsin gasping in shock, before feeling a harsh hand on her shoulder. Her father spun her around, turning her to face him. 

“Pearl.” He growled at her, hand growing more firm.

“ What .” She said through her teeth. 

“Apologize to your sister now. ” His stony eyes reflected Pearl’s defiant stare. 

“She’s not my sister.” Pearl snapped back.

“She is, and you’re going to apologize to her and -”

“I said, she’s not. My. Sister .” She’d barely finished her sentence when she felt a sharp crack against her face. She cradled her face, Tamsin yelling out “ Denize !”, while Terie stared at them in shock. Pearl looked back at him, tears welling up in her face.

He had never hit her before, not even when she slammed the door in his face during her early teenage years or when she scratched the car door during her first driving lessons. Before he could say anything, Pearl was already shoving past them, going into her closet to grab her blue-grey hoodie and trampling down the stairs. As she walked past them, she felt Tamsin reach out to her. Pearl flinched back, ignoring her and glaring at her father, who was starting to realize what he had done. 

She stormed out of the house, quickly whistling for her husky. Tilly bound out through the doggy door in the back, joining her down the driveway. Pearl glanced back at the house for a moment. She could see Tamsin trying to calm her father down, who was trying to leave the house and reach Pearl. She picked up the pace, Tilly bounding beside her, trying to play with her, Pearl batting her nose away, not wanting to break down in the middle of the street.

They kept marching for who knows how long until Pearl found herself in a familiar neighborhood. She quickly dried her tears away, before knocking on the door. Sausage opened up, his mother’s apron on. Before he could properly greet Pearl, she collapsed onto him, letting out a sob. Sausage started patting her back, guiding her indoors. Tilly followed them in, settling onto the worn couch and nuzzling Pearl again, while Sausage sat them down on the couch.

“Pearl, what happened?” Sausage tried lifting her face up, but Pearl ducked it down, hiding it in her sleeves. She didn’t know if the slap had left a mark, and she didn’t want Sausage asking any questions.

“Nothing, it’s fine, just…can I crash here for the night? My dad and I had this fight and, oh, Sausage, they’re gonna have a baby .” She fell into another sob, pulling her knees up to her chest and hiding her face even deeper. 

“That’s…good news right?” Sausage tried to amend, but Pearl glared at him through a crack in her arms.

“No, it’s not! He’s trying to replace us, like, like Grian and I never existed!” Pearl cried more, sobs racking through her body. She’d only mentioned Grian to Sausage once, during a sleepover, when Pearl told him of her twin brother and how they had been split up. She had kept the details vague at the time, not wanting to cry in front of him. Sausage looked confused.

“Grian? Is that your missing brother?” 

Pearl shook her head. “He’s not missing, we just- I never- I don’t know! I don’t know where he is or how to reach him or anything, and he never wrote back, and I mean, I expected that from my mother but not from him! I sent him letters for like, 5 years! And he didn’t respond to a single one!” She started spilling everything out, how her dad took her away from her mom because her mom didn’t care for her as much as Grian, how her dad kept surprising her with new family members instead of just telling her, how she wrote letters to Grian and their mother once a month, convinced they would eventually answer. Sausage consoled her the entire time, rubbing circles on her back and prompting her to open up whenever she stopped talking. Eventually, the tears and the emotions tired Pearl out, and Sausage led her over to his bedroom, letting her take his bed. Tilly followed them in, curling at the foot of the bed, just like she used to when Pearl was younger. Sausage took the couch, but not before leaving Pearl with a box of tissues and glass of water. 

At around midnight, Pearl snuck out through the front door. Fortunately, Sausage was a heavy sleeper, loud snores covering up the tap of Tilly’s nails on the tiled floor. Pearl eventually found herself walking back to the new house. Tilly stayed vigilant, ears perked up and growling at any sound. Pearl climbed in through the back fence gate, trying to keep as quiet as possible. She clambered through the window, gently propping it open and sneaking inside. Terie was fast asleep, her back turned against her. Pearl took her shoes off and tucked herself into bed, turning her back as well. She really didn’t want to imagine the talk she’d probably have with her father the next day, so she just slept through until the late morning, ignoring the sounds of the rest of the world waking up.

They never had that talk. Life went on. Tamsin’s belly got bigger, Terie no longer spoke to Pearl, and both Pearl and her dad pretended like nothing ever happened. Pearl spent more and more time out of the house. If she wasn’t out walking Tilly, she was staying in school, practicing with her flute until the janitors kicked her out. She would arrive at the house late, starving, fixing herself up a plate of whatever they had for dinner and eating it alone in the backyard, Tilly resting with her. She eventually got tired of walking everywhere, and started saving up for a car. She paid for it with the money she got for school lunch, walking dogs around the neighborhood, and the cash her distant relatives would send her for her birthday. She settled for a used sedan from the 90s, decent condition and a CD player that sounded somewhat tinny but worked. She kept it parked in the street, much to her neighbors' chagrin, and when Tamsin asked where the car came from, Pearl shrugged and answered “drug money”. Tamsin couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. 

It goes on like that for about three months, long enough for Tamsin to reveal that it’s a boy. They haven’t decided on a name, and Pearl suggests calling it L’accident , to keep with the french theme of their names. She walks out and drives away before her father can yell at her. The junkyard car has become her newest sidekick, alongside Tilly. She drives around, listening to her collection of CDs, which really used to be her dad’s, but now he listens to whatever Tamsin and Terie want to listen to. She doesn’t know how long she’s been driving around, until the headlights of the car turn on, and she’s finished her drive-thru meal. She pulls into the driveway, resting her head on the steering wheel, before entering. Following her usual routine, she lets out a quick whistle, calling for Tilly, before readying her leash. Tilly doesn’t come bounding from the backyard, however. Pearl whistles again, walking towards the backdoor and calling out for her. 

“Tilly, time for your walk!”

“Pearl, we need to talk.” Her father appears behind her, arms crossed. Pearl keeps looking for Tilly.

“Sure, just let me take Tilly out on a walk and we can-”

“Tilly isn’t here anymore.” 

Pearl’s blood freezes at that. She slowly turns to face her father, who isn’t looking at her in the eyes.

“ What .” She grits out. 

“Pearl, when were you going to tell us Terie was allergic to dogs?” He’s pinching his eyebrows now, still not looking at Pearl.

“Well, it’s not like it’s my responsibility. I’m not her mother or anything. If she wanted to say something, she would have. Where’s Tilly?” Pearl is already checking out of the conversation, looking around for Tilly. Her father is about the same height as her, but still finds a way to block her way out. 

“Pearl…with Terie’s allergies, and the baby coming up, we can’t keep Tilly in the house anymore.”

“She lives in the backyard, I know, I’m the one who built her dog house, now tell me where she is.”

“She jumped onto Tamsin’s stomach, Pearl.” 

Pearl freezes at that.

“Tilly can’t stay here anymore. I’m sorry Pearl, but…she’s not here.” Pearl hears buzzing in her ears, and before she’s realized it, she’s pushing her father back.

“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s my dog, you can’t just, just get rid of her like she’s some piece of trash!” Pearl yells at him, and he’s still not fucking looking at her.

“Pearl you have to understand-”

“Where is she, what did you do to her, where is Tilly !” She’s loud enough that she’s pretty sure the neighbors can hear them, and now he’s finally looking at her, remorse in his eyes.

“We dropped her off at the vet.” He finally says, sighing, and Pearl is off like a bullet. She ducks past him, pushing past Terie, who was heading downstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. She ignores Terie’s outcry of “ what the heck, Pearl! ”, slamming her car door open and screeching out of the driveway. She’s on her way to the nearest vet when she realizes she’s not sure which one they dropped her off at. She probably should have asked, but the idea of spending one more moment in that house made her want to burn everything down to the ground. She went from clinic to clinic, sky turning darker and darker with each visit. 

The fourth clinic finally gave her some results. The young intern told her that they couldn’t keep her, sadly, but that she had gone home with the chief veterinary officer. He’d barely written the details down before Pearl snatched the paper from him, thanking him quickly and immediately heading towards the address. Rain had started to pour, drenching Pearl on her way out of the car and towards the front door of the apartment building. She knocked on the front door, rather loudly and urgently, and waited until the door opened. An older looking man opened the door, already in his pajamas. 

“Who are you and what are you doing at my house?” He asked, rather gruffly. 

“You have my dog!”

“What?”

“MY DOG!” Pearl yelled over the thunderstorm. Before the vet could tell her to fuck off, Tilly came out bounding, barking for her. She leapt onto Pearl, licking her face and pawing at her clothes. 

“This your husky?” The vet asked, confused.

“Yes, this is Tilly. She’s my dog.” Pearl had now knelt down to scratch her, rubbing her back.

“Very irresponsible, what your folks did. We’re no shelter here. Fortunately I know a friend who had been looking to adopt a husky a few months back. Guess I’ll have to cancel.”  Pearl buried her face into Tilly’s damp fur, ignoring the smell. 

“Thank you for keeping her, thank you so much.” She all but sobbed out. 

The vet looked at her sadly, before nodding and closing the door, wishing them luck.

Pearl opened the backseat door for Tilly to hop in, already shaking her fur out. Pearl stepped into the car. She drove until she arrived at Sausage’s place. The rain had finally let out, allowing Pearl to knock on the front door. She heard his mom yelling at him from outside, asking him to see quién madres was knocking at the door at this time. Sausage peered through the peephole, before unlocking the door and letting Pearl in.

“ Solo es Pearl , ma .” He called out, confusion in his face. “You look like shit. Why do you look like shit?” 

“I’m leaving.” Pearl rushed out. Sausage’s eyes widened.

“No, no, don’t leave, stay. Sorry I said you look like shit, it’s not you, it’s just that your car is really ugly and-”

“I’m leaving town, Sausage. This is me saying goodbye.” She huffed out, rubbing at her arms. Sausage stared at her blankly, his mother arriving in her robe upon hearing it was just Pearl.

“Pearl, mija, what happened to you ? Mijo, traele una toalla para que se seque. ” Sausage darted out, Mrs. Sosa bringing Pearl over to the dining table.

“Really Mrs. Sosa, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to wake you or your husband up, I just wanted to talk with Sausage for a moment.” Mrs Sosa tutted at her. 

“Pearl, with you, it’s never a problem.” Sausage finally arrived, towel in hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” Pearl nodded, avoiding eye contact.

Mrs. Sosa eventually relented, giving Pearl a quick peck on the forehead and patting her on the arm, before heading back to her bedroom. She wished both teens a goodnight, and closed the door behind her. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sausage turned to her.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? What happened?” He handed her the towel. Pearl started patting herself dry.

“I can’t stay here any longer. I have to leave.” She shook her head, toweling her hair. 

“Where are you going to stay?” Sausage rubbed her arms, attempting to warm her up.

“I don’t know, anywhere but here. I have the car, I have Tilly and I have my savings. School’s out, so I don’t have to worry about any teachers asking where I am. It’s now or never.” Sausage looked back at her with a steely expression. 

“I’m coming with you.” Pearl shook her head.

“No, you’re not. I’m not coming back, Sausage. I’m not making you leave your family behind.” 

“Then come and stay with us. My parents love you, they see you like the white daughter they never had.” Pearl gave a small laugh at that. 

“Sausage, I can’t do that. I have to leave, go somewhere they won’t be able to find me.” Sausage cocked his head at that.

“They? Who’s they? Pearl, are you on the run from the cops? I thought you were kidding about the drug money, but if that’s how you paid for the car, then I guess–”

“My father. And Tamsin and Terie and everyone else in that family. I’m not going to fit in with them ever. They tried to give Tilly away, Sausage.” Sausage looked shocked at that last part.

“Tilly? Is she okay?”

“She’s okay, just a bit clingy. She’s in the car. Sausage, you can’t tell anyone I’m leaving. Can you swear on that?”

“Okay, okay, Pearl, but there has to be a better way-”

“Swear it to me, Sausage.” Pearl pleaded. Sausage finally sighed, dropping his head.

“I swear.” Pearl sat up from the chair and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll keep in touch. Just, maybe not immediately.” Sausage patted her back.

“Yeah, you’d better.”

Pearl left the Sosa residence, using the spare towel they gave her to lay out on the backseat, Tilly lying down on top of it. Dawn was about to break, and Pearl had to be quick. She parked a few numbers away from the townhouse. Creeping in through the front door, using her set of keys, she quietly traipsed up the stairs to Terie’s bedroom. She pulled out a duffel bag and started packing in a few days worth of clothes. She added her flute, along with its case, her sketchbooks and pencils, and the rest of her CD collection. She went over to the desk, and pulled out the box of mementos she’d kept since she was a child. Inside it was the stuffed macaw and drawings she’d made, along with some letters she never sent from her teens and her savings. She was stepping out of the room when she heard Terie stir. She holds her breath, not wanting to wake her up. Once she’s certain Terie is back asleep, she heads down to the pantry, picking up some food for Tilly and anything she can find. She grabs her box of cocoa puffs, water bottles, and instant coffee. She considers taking all the coins from the tray of spare change they keep at the door, but she decides that would be too loud, and they could probably call the cops on her for stealing. 

Somehow, someway, she gets out without alerting everyone of her presence. When she opens up the car door, Tilly lets out a bark, and Pearl is grateful she parked far away. When she steps on the pedal, she doesn’t look back at the blank townhouse. There’s nothing to look back on, anyways. 

It’s been a few days of driving. She stops now and then for quick breaks, letting Tilly stretch and do her business while Pearl tries to open the cans of food with her car keys. She considered sleeping in a motel, but decided against it, choosing to save her money where she can. Instead, she pulls over and hides the car between the foliage, reclining her seat back, leaving Tilly as her watchdog. 

On the seventh day, Pearl ran out of food. Apparently, cocoa puffs and instant coffee aren't actual meals one can live off of. She’s hungry and exhausted, sleeping poorly, constantly paranoid of everything around her. She finds a diner on her way to nowhere, which fortunately has a gas station outside. She can’t decide on whether she should pay for gas or food, until her stomach answers for her with a loud rumble. She’s feeling pretty faint, and she’s pretty sure she can get away faster without paying for gas than food. She enters the diner, and she’s the only person there, aside from a waitress who greets her at the door and an old man sitting on one of the stools. She slides into a booth, and the waitress hands her a menu, telling her she’ll be back soon. Pearl looks at the food, and realizes she can’t afford most of the stuff. She can, however, afford coffee, and she knows they always come with little creamer packets. That should help keep her full for a moment, right? She can also afford a side of bacon, and she signals the waitress over. In total, it’s just enough to cover it. She can’t leave a tip, but it’s not like she was planning on it. The waitress gives her a strange look at her order, but jots it down anyway. While Pearl waits for her food, she keeps an eye out on the car. The windows are rolled down a bit for Tilly, but she’s still paranoid. She’s keeping an eye out for anyone who looks shifty or scrappy, completely ignoring the fact that she herself looks very scrappy, not having showered in days and eating and sleeping very little. She had gotten a motel room for the night after she was sure she was far enough away, using their crappy showers and lumpy mattress that felt like heaven on her back. She’d slept until noon that day.

Pearl is startled when her food arrives. To her surprise, accompanying the bacon is a plate of scrambled eggs and, much to her delight, waffles. The waitress sits across from her.

“I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake, I didn’t order this, I mean I did, but not the eggs and waffles, just the bacon-”

“You’re not from round these parts, are you?” She asks. Pearl stares at her food, then back at her. Pearl stays quiet, until the waitress sighs.

“I ran away from home when I was your age too. You must be what, 16, 17?” Pearl nods, still not touching her food. The waitress motions over at the plates.

“Food’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat it.” 

Pearl doesn’t hesitate. She starts scooping up fluffy eggs with crispy bacon, spearing waffles with her fork and sipping coffee, finishing half the plate before she remembers her manners. She politely wipes her mouth. “Thank you.” 

She continues eating, albeit slower this time. She has a strip of bacon and a waffle left before the waitress asks her another question.

“Where are you from, kiddo?” 

Pearl motions around with her fork and knife. “Oh, you know. Around.” Pearl’s not really sure how far away from home she is, just that she’s far away enough that the landscape has changed from endless pine trees to endless fields. 

The waitress purses her lips. “And you came here…how?” 

Pearl shrugs. “Was driving around in the area, got hungry.” She keeps her answers as noncommittal as possible. She’s not in the mood for disapproving adults. The waitress hums in response.

“I came in from ‘around here’ too. Was about 17 years old, boyfriend said he’d take care of me and the baby. Meant it for about two years, until he ran off with the first blonde who winked at him. She just happened to be the waitress here, and I was in sudden need of a job. Life has a funny way of working out, don’t it?” 

Pearl sips on her coffee while the waitress continues.

“I’ve been working here for longer than I haven’t, if I'm being honest. Sometimes I just wish I had just picked up the phone, called Ma and Pa. Too late for that now, so now it’s just me and old Tom.” She nods over at the older man behind the kitchen window, whistling along to the radio. “So kid, tell me. What’s your story?” 

Pearl nibbles on a waffle while she thinks where to begin. She starts off with the simplest part.

“I have a twin brother. Haven’t seen him in a couple of years.” From there, she continued, telling the waitress all about her parents, their splitting up, her move to the city, and her dad’s new life. She doesn’t realize how long she’s been talking, until her plates have been cleared off, her coffee long-gone cold. The sun hasn’t started setting yet, but it hangs in the horizon, bathing the diner in golden light. The waitress listens to her the whole time, nodding along to her story. 

“- and I suppose it was easier for him to choose them over me, I mean, they were a new start, I was just luggage from his past he kept carrying around,” her voice cracked at the end there. “So I just up and left. Went back and took my dog too. Didn’t want to keep tying him down.”

The waitress looks like she’s asking a question Peal already knows the answer to, so she stops her before she can ask it.

“I could go back, if I really wanted to. I just… don’t want to . Look, I just need to figure out my plan, whether I’m going to become a roadside waitress like you, or sell my car and become a hitchhiker, or whatever. People do it all the time in movies.” She swings her legs back and forth on the bench. 

“Oh, honey. The last thing you want is to end up like me. Young thing like you, you got your whole life ahead. Don’t throw it all away because of some argument.” 

“But it’s not just an argument. It’s everything else. I don’t want to go back, and I’m not going to, no matter what you tell me.”

“I didn’t mean you had to go back to him.” 

Pearl stops at that. Right. She’s an idiot. 

“Do you have a phone I can use? Preferably with a phone book?”  The waitress nods, and leads her to the back, where a rusty telephone box sits in a small wooden booth. There’s advertisements stuck to the walls, along with a few choice words of vandalism, but the thick book inside remains intact. The waitress hands her some spare change, and wishes her luck, as Pearl quickly flips through the pages. She quickly reads through all the names that start with M, moving onto Mo-, but no dice. She checks for any Lena’s in there, but again, there’s no Lena Moon. Just as she’s about to give up, she remembers. Right, divorced . She switches index, going over to the X part of the phonebook. It’s a rather uncommon name, so she quickly finds it on the same page that starts the letter. She quickly calls the phone with the rotary dial, hearing it ring out ten times. She doesn’t pick up. Pearl groans and inserts another coin, ringing her up again. This time it rings thrice, before it picks up. 

“ Hello? ” 

Pearl freezes at the sound of her voice. She was so sure when she was dialing it, but now she feels kind of like an idiot for not even having a script planned. She wings it. 

“Hi, mum. It’s me, um…Pearl.” 

The line goes silent. She can hear the sound of static over the phone line more than her mother’s breathing. She’s starting to think she called the wrong number, and starts to apologize, before the phone comes back to life.

“No! No, it’s, yes. Pearl. It’s good to hear from you.” 

“It’s good to hear from you too.” 

The two of them stay quiet on the phone line for a moment before Pearl remembers why she called.

“Mum, I was wondering… if it might be okay if I visited for a few days.”  She rushes that last part out, nervously wiping the swat from her palms.

“Oh, sweetie. Of course it’s okay. Would, would your father be visiting as well?” 

“No, no. It’s just me right now. Dad’s not…around.” Pearl’s not sure why she had to add that last part. 

“Oh, he isn’t? Is he at a work trip, or are you home alone, or–” 

“I ran away.” 

The line goes quiet. Pearl’s fighting the urge to hang up the phone and run out the door, just drive away from everything, when her mother answers again.

“ Oh, Pearl .” 

Just the soft voice of her mother is enough to send Pearl into tears, shaking as she holds the receiver away from her face. 

“I’m s-sorry, I just couldn’t stay there any longer and, and, I just, oh mum .” She's trying to wipe the tears from her face, but they keep coming. 

“Pearl, sweetie, what’s going on? Do you need me to come and pick you up? I can–”

“No! No, mum, it’s fine, it’s okay, really. I um, I can drive. Just, could you tell me the directions to get back home?” Her sleeve is covered in snot and tears by this point from all the times she’s wiped her face with it. 

“Pearl, are you sure? I can come pick you up, really, it’s no worry–”

“Mum, please.” 

She reluctantly gives her the directions home. Pearl finds a map tucked into the back of the phonebook, and quickly scans around until she finds the town her mother mentioned. She circles it with a greasy red pen, and decides she’ll wing it from there. 

“Thanks mum, really. I’ll uh, I’ll call you soon, okay?” Pearl’s not sure how many days away she is, just that they’re on near opposite sides of the map.

“Of course sweetie. If you need anything else, you have my number, okay?” Pearl hears that she’s also sniffling a bit on her end of the phone. 

“Bye mum. Love you.”

“I love you too, Pearl. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Pearl hangs the phone up. She folds the map and tucks it into her pocket, leaving the pen behind. She heads to the diner, where the waitress has already cleared her plates, and is wiping the table down. Pearl approaches her. 

“Thank you, really. For everything.” She tries to hand her the spare change she had given her, but the waitress shakes her head.

“Looks like you’ll need it more than I do, dear. I wasn’t sure what you’d need, so I asked Tom to help out as well.” She hands her a paper bag. Inside, there’s a takeout container with a few bread rolls and bottles of water.

“Oh, I couldn't possibly–”

“You can, and you will. You be careful out there, okay? Anything happens, and you know where to find us.” She gives her a wink, and a short hug. Pearl’s too stunned to really reciprocate, but she thanks her profusely as she heads out the diner. She quickly fills her car with gas, leaving a few coins as payment behind.  

Pearl slides into the car seat, Tilly barking behind her. Pearl adjusts her rearview mirror, with its dangling pine freshener, opening the map up and propping it on the dashboard. She slips a CD inside, heavy bass shaking the speakers, followed by guitars and drums. 

Got me a movie, I want you to know–

She drives away, the roadside diner becoming a small speck in the rearview mirror. She may not have a lot right now, but at least she has a destination. It's better than what she had before. 

Chapter Text

It’s early in the evening when she arrives. The house looks almost exactly as they had left it, same small, side-split detached building; the exact same way it did as the day they left. The bricks were slightly worn down, with the mixed clay roof tiles and bleached white siding being the only signs of age. It had taken her a while to find it, most of the houses looking the exact same, until she spots the one with the sun-bleached flower box, dried out pansies and worn down drawings of the sun and moon identifying the place. 

Pearl slowly parks her car in front of the house, not stepping out. For a moment, she considers driving away, pretending like nothing ever happened. Like she didn’t call in a fit of tears, miles away, asking for her mommy, like some snivelling baby. She rests her head on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath in and out, before quickly opening the door. Like ripping a bandaid . She picks up her duffel bag and leaves Tilly in the car, windows cranked down. She doesn’t want to overwhelm them just yet with her hyperactive husky.

Walking up to the front door feels like the longest she’s ever walked. Now that she’s closer, she can see the small changes in the house that went from four people to only two. There’s a pale yellow bike parked neatly on the side, with a little basket attached. No signs of any car, which either means that nobody’s home, or they never got another one after they left. Pearl is hoping for the latter, not wanting to sit on the stoop. She raises her fist, knocking only once before the front door suddenly swings open. A woman with light brown hair and deep blue eyes pulls the door wide open; she has smile lines and freckles, much like the ones she remembers Grian having and like the faint ones she has on her own face. 

 Suddenly, Pearl is 8 years old all over again and she’s tugging on her mother’s nightgown to help her read her book. 

“ Mum ?”

Pearl’s mother grabs her sharply by the shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. She’s holding her as if she’s afraid she might dissolve in her hands. Pearl stays frozen for a moment, before returning the hug and burying her face in her hair. She smells like vanilla and tea and lilies, the same way she always did. She can feel a few tears escaping her eyes, but she lets them fall, just this time. They stay like that for a while, until the sprinklers on the yard turn on and they’re forced to separate to head inside. 

Her mother immediately starts fussing, apologizing for the mess in the kitchen, asking Pearl if she prefers tea or coffee. While the coffee machine starts warming up, Pearl looks around the house. Unlike the exterior, which looked the exact same after 8 years, the inside of the house has changed a bit more. She can see little bits of her mother’s personality scattered around, like the retro themed appliances in the kitchen and the island with the little cake stand. There isn’t so much a dining room as there is a small table set inside the kitchen, four chairs placed but only two placemats. By peeking through the small opening through the kitchen, she can see the living room, with flower patterned couches and a small CRT propped on a table nearby. 

Her mother disappears for a few moments, and Pearl wonders if she’s going to pop out with a new husband, but her mother reappears alone, mismatched coffee mugs in hand. She hands Pearl one with a nautical flag pattern, pouring hot coffee and offering her a plate of the orange drizzle cake she had spotted earlier. Pearl politely declines, and they sit in awkward silence for a few moments. Pearl opens her mouth and closes it a few times, but she doesn't really know what to start with. Her mother eventually breaks the silence.

“You’ve grown a bit since I last saw you.” Pearl lets out a small chuckle at the understatement.

“Yeah, a little bit. Just got a haircut, no biggie.” They stay in silence after that, not sure where to go. Her mother sighs, and Pearl bites the bullet.

“Where’s Grian? He lives here, with you, right?” Her mother nods.

“He’s over at Jim– a friend's house. He’ll be back in a few hours, I suppose.” Pearl takes the information in. She doesn’t know who Jim is, but she hopes he isn’t another Tamsin waiting to happen. She looks back at her mother, whose eyes are digging into her, and Pearl starts talking. She knew she had to start sometime, better get it out of the way first. 

She keeps most details vague, not wanting to get too into it. She talks about life in the apartment, how she and her dad used to work together on everything. She mentions Tamsin, how she came into her life out of nowhere, along with her daughter, and how they moved in after a month or two of Pearl meeting them. She avoids mentioning too much about them, because what if she wants her to go back with them? She probably does, judging by her silence, but Pearl just needs a place to stay for the summer, probably longer, until she figures out where else to go. She’ll probably send her with some distant relative, out in the isles, to live with. Her blood runs cold at that idea. She mentions Tilly, and when her mother asks where she is, Pearl offhandedly says she’s in the car. Her mother asks if she can meet her, and Pearl considers it for a few moments. Eventually, she brings Tilly in, leash still attached, in case she gets too excited. Tilly seems a bit cold and standoffish to her mother at first, but then she brings a small container with leftover meatloaf and feeds it to her (with Pearl’s permission, of course). Tilly warms up to her quickly, wagging her tail against her feet while her head lays in Pearl’s lap.

The hours go by quickly. Pearl is telling her about how they left Tilly at the vet without telling her, when the front door slams open.

“Muuum, I’m home! Timmy says thanks for the cake, by the way, he really liked it.” The voice sounds both familiar and unrecognizable at the same time. Pearl’s heartbeat quickens, and she’s looking for an exit, until a head of dirty blonde hair pokes into the kitchen. He doesn’t notice her at first, rambling on about something a certain “Joel” did, and her mother must notice her anxiety, because she takes her hand lightly into hers, brushing her thumb across her knuckles.

“- so Joel isn’t allowed near the park anymore, also, did you see that old banger in front of the house? Think it might be the neighbors again, we’ll have to tell them-” 

He turns around, finally, and freezes at the sight of Pearl. His face goes through several emotions at once: confusion, realization, shock and finally, confusion again. They stare at each other, Grian eyebrows frowning, Pearl’s eyes tearing up, until Pearl clears her throat.

“Hiya, Gri. Long time no see?”