Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

               ***September 9, 2026***

They asked if they could go in early.

Alexandra Eames Goren was already speechless at the sight of both children. Olivia appeared first, wearing a blue-with-violet-highlights plaid dress whose hem had been let down for the final time, her freshly trimmed hair in its matching violet headband, and carrying a backpack with kitsune charms bobbing on the zipper pulls. No "dressing-down" to blend in with the crowd like the previous year, she'd decided. She would be herself. Where the left lapel of her official school blazer would be for the rest of term, she wore a new kitsune pin, an early birthday gift--an event coming up in four days.

Alex was prodded by the memory of the day they'd had to make a life-changing decision: "Then in a little more than three years she turns thirteen...oh, Bobby, I remember me at thirteen--let the fun begin!"

Two thirteen-year-olds already. Bobby's right; this is going by too fast.

And she was the sensible one in the household--how her mother would have laughed!

Then Randall had emerged from his bedroom, and something in her stance must have altered, because she found Robert Goren's strong hand on her shoulder and he murmured, "Smile, Captain Eames."

Randall's hair was also trimmed, much more this year than in two previous Septembers, by personal choice. It wasn't close-cropped by a long shot, but a slightly more thorough clipping had caused his thick dark hair to curl at the ends, like Bobby's had when she first met him. The satin-finish hunter-green shirt he'd won at the raffle at Cole's indeed worked well with his hazel eyes, which were arresting even behind his eyeglasses.

"You two look like you could be modeling for the school catalog," she said, her smile crinkling her eyes.

"Merci, Mama," and Olivia curtsied.

"You see," Randall explained, hefting his own new backpack marked with a Star Trek comm badge patch, "I want to go by Brother Michael's room and say hi before we walk to the Upper School."

Bobby, especially, was concerned for him, until the summer had brought about their experience at SpaceFest, and then the previous week's frightening encounter at Cole's, when they had discovered what had happened to a kidnapped teen from nearby Southbury. Olivia had experienced a recurrence of nightmares, but Randall, who'd borne the brunt of the discovery, was oddly accepting.

"If you want to go in early," Bobby said, tearing his eyes away, "I need to get moving," and he headed downstairs.

Later, Sam, the family's tricolor collie, had his big dark head laid on Olivia's lap as they ate breakfast, and she stroked between his ears with her right hand while eating oatmeal and scrambled eggs. Their houseguest, the little golden Pomeranian known as "Flounce," sat at attention by Randall's side, his fluffy tail beating against the floor, waiting, hoping for a bit of egg, which Randall slipped him before cleaning his plate.

They had expected that, once Marikje Van Amstel had been freed on bail, she would demand her dog back, but the imperious woman had snapped, "Oh, let them keep the little wretch. I'm done with him." Was she angry about being caught after such a heinous crime, or was she in a snit after discovering the little animal had been comforting the teen she had abused?

Randall didn't care. As far as he was concerned, Flounce was Sebastian De Castro's dog now and their "foster dog" until Tito was well.

Bobby and Alex had warned him that "it might be a long time." He understood.

So they ended up dropping the children off at St. Gregory's Academy thirty minutes early, but this enabled them to chat with Sister Mark Anthony, who directed drop-off and pickup each day with regular precision, without the usual "hurry up and go." She was tall and formidable, but smiled when she saw Bobby's vintage Mustang pull up.

"A blessed new academic year to you, Mr. and Mrs. Goren!" she said cheerfully as they emerged from the car to facilitate Olivia and Randall's exit from the rear seat. "You look very smart today, both of you! Randall, that shirt suits your eyes so well. Let me see the kitsune pin, Olivia--it's a new one, isn't it?"

"Say hello to everyone for us," Bobby bade before they left.

"I wonder if they'll take alone time today?" Olivia mused as the sports car zipped away.

"After last week," Randall said thoughtfully, "maybe they need it."

They strolled through the long hall of the original 1882 building because they wanted to (and also because someone, even one of the lay teachers, might admonish them for "running" through the halls); Olivia loved traditional architecture, and Randall had to admit it was pretty nice looking, all dark polished wood-inset paneling and vintage artwork, rather than the austerity of a public school. It smelt of first day: furniture polish, candle wax, a little incense from the Sisters' and Brothers' Mass in the attached chapel, and even a small hint of dry-erase markers. It was a walk you savored--except perhaps between classes when it was a mayhem of hurrying feet.

They said hello to Sister Rosamund from Admissions, and to Olivia's tennis coach, Ms. Preble, before reaching the final classroom to the left of the big double doors out to the quadrangle that led to the Upper School.

Randall peeked into the doorway; Brother Michael, tonsured and stout, already had his head bent over a manual seating chart--like Bobby Goren, Brother Michael never did on a computer what he could do on paper.

"Hi, Brother Michael!" Olivia called from behind him, and the man straightened, and said in surprise, "Good morning, Olivia. And good morning, Randall--I hardly recognized you. What's your father feeding you?"

Randall blushed and ducked his head, and Olivia answered slightly enviously, "Everything, Brother Michael, and he never gains a gram."

Brother Michael patted his rounded stomach. "Never had that problem, alas."

Randall asked eagerly, "Did you get a postcard from Kenny?"

The monk beamed. "I did indeed! From Air and Space at the Smithsonian. He said to tell you he saw the Enterprise."

Olivia giggled, and Randall grinned. "He sent us a postcard from the Natural History Museum, of the Triceratops. He said to tell you he saw Alan Grant's favorite dinosaur."

Everyone in Special Needs knew Brother Michael's favorite movie was Jurassic Park, and he chuckled, "Sounds like Kenny wanted to make sure we stayed in touch."

Randall knew he'd miss Kenneth Shepherd, the older boy Brother Michael had paired him with his first day at St. Gregory's. Kenny had suffered oxygen loss at his birth and cognitively was at the level of a ten-year-old, but, now eighteen, he was attending a vocational school and working as a cleaner at a grocery store. Randall knew he was proud to be earning money for his mother and little sister Ivy.

"So what's happened with you this summer?"

"That would take more time than we have before the first bell," Randall said after a pause. "Maybe after class? I'm going to sign up for Pacemakers, but I'll be free afterward."

Brother Michael looked slightly concerned by the answer, but agreed. "You know you're both welcome to come talk--any time."

"Yes, sir," Olivia said. "But it'll be only Rand this afternoon. I have to go to History Hunters--and tell Brother Bertram we have a brill speaker willing to come talk to us--and meet with Ms. Preble for tennis."

He bid them farewell, and a few moments later they stood side by side at the double doors, looking across the grassy expanse between the Lower and the Upper School. Already other students were crossing the quadrangle, with one or two younger children trudging in their direction and three teens dawdling toward the 1980s-era Upper School, including a slim Black girl in a colorful dress who'd just appeared from the direction of the athletic fields.

"Are you ready?" Olivia asked, and when he nodded, she tilted her head at him, looking so much like Bobby when he was curious that Randall bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"You were worried about today all summer," she said softly, "but you don't seem to be now."

Randall shrugged. "I still am. Dad and I talked about it Labor Day, and then Mom came into my room last night before bed. I know there'll be jerks. But they were in Wilton, too." He looked at her sideways. "I hope not as bad as Callandra."

Olivia winced, because the previous autumn had not been one of her best.

"And phys ed will be mid as always," he added with a roll of eyes, "but I will join the running club this afternoon, if they want me."

"Of course they'll want you," Olivia objected indignantly.

"See, that's the difference between you and me," Randall admitted. "But-" And here his eyes darkened. "-but the main reason...last week I figured out...that nothing in ninth grade could be as scary as Mrs. Van Amstel."

She bit her lip, looking unhappy. "That's bang on. Randall--promise you won't do that again."

"Were we just supposed to leave Tito?" he countered.

"No," frowned Olivia, then she admitted, "But you scared me! I mean, I was bloody terrified."

"So was I!" he protested. "She had eyes like...l-like a snake. And I sc-scared Mom and Dad. You know Mom doesn't cry, and this time she did."

"That's another thing," she returned, looking grave. "We need to be more careful. Mama and Papa are too old for that sort of thing. It was hard enough...losing Maman and Papa Marcel...not Mama and Papa, too! Even if there are bags of people who'd love us and take care of us."

Randall assumed a paternal attitude. "Didn't Dad lecture you last year about worrying by yourself instead of going to him?"

"Yes, but they forget we've been through...things, too. You with your dad...then your mom, and before that me. They want to protect us, but we already know," she sighed. "And nobody has parents as old as ours. Papa just turned 65. That's like...old. Older than everyone else's parents, anyway. And they've already been through bad times. We should take care of them, too."

Randall looked around quickly, and, seeing none of their peers in the hallway, leaned sideways and hugged her so quickly it was over in a blink. "We do," he whispered.

It was only then she smiled as he let his eyes wander back to the quadrangle. "Because we're Gorens, and that's what we do."

He pointed outside. "Hey, isn't that Cerise?"

Olivia followed his gaze. "Wow, what's she wearing?"

Randall pushed open the door, and they hurried outside, where Olivia's classmate saw her at once and hurried toward them with a welcoming grin. "Hey, girl! How are you?"

"What are you wearing? It's beautiful!" Olivia asked her classmate, enchanted, for Cerise was clad in a striking, geometrically patterned dashiki in orange, red, black, and touches of mustard yellow. At the compliment, Cerise spun around. "Isn't it boss? It was my grandmother's. She wore it in the 1960s at a rally for Dr. King!"

"For real?" Olivia was open-mouthed. "Wow, can you come to History Hunters this afternoon, or do you have to get home? You could tell us about your grandmother at the rally."

"You think they'd be interested? I could call my dad and-"

"Randall!" interrupted a boy's voice from the opposite direction. A carrot-haired, freckled stringbean of a teen, Randall's friend Samuel from science class, jogged up, as always in a white shirt with a tie, school pants, and a pocket protector for the five pens he kept in his shirt pocket. Randall said Samuel always looked like a Mission Control guy from Apollo 13. "Hey, man!" he said, offering his right arm in a dap. Randall expertly returned it, having practiced with Bobby.

"Hey, Samuel," and they sized each other up, until Cerise eyed Randall critically. "You're looking sick, Rand. That shirt really brings out the green in your eyes."

"Maybe Katy Sherman'll think you're rizz." Samuel teased, pushing at Randall's shoulder, and Randall's ears turned pink.

"We could walk to homeroom and see if she's here already," proposed his friend, but Randall hesitated. He'd already agreed to walk with Olivia to Room N102, and she would introduce him to Ms. Perkins...

But instead, she looked like Alex, regarding him with crossed arms but a big grin. She finally waved her fingers as if shooing him away instead. "Get off and do your boy talk, you two. See you this afternoon, Rand--at Brother Michael's room, okay?"

He smiled gratefully at her for understanding, strolling off with Samuel, and it was Cerise who said, with some surprise, "So Randall's...okay?"

Olivia chewed her lip, then nodded soberly. "I think he is. I really think he is. Look, there's Jacob! Let's catch up--wait till you hear what happened last week..."