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Chapter Text

When Diego Rodriguez was very small, he liked to burn ants with a magnifying glass. If it was just himself and Divina playing, she would let him, but if his cousin Carlos was over Diego would be stopped within a few minutes when he either started crying or went and told their parents.

It had been years since Carlos had been to Diego and Divina’s house and even longer since Diego had burned ants with a magnifying glass, but he was still messing things up for the twins.

“Oh, come on!” Diego yelled aloud, the words echoing down the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Divina asked as she passed by, balancing a cardboard box labeled BOOKS on her arm. “This isn’t—wait, this isn’t even your room!”

Diego scowled, leaning on the closed door. “No. No, it isn’t.”

“This is the teacher’s hall! What are you doing here?”

As an answer, Diego waved a little card. “Found this on the door. It’s Luciano’s room and our dear cousin left a ransom note.” He flipped it open and read aloud. “Luc’s outside. He’s a little tied up at the moment— “

“That was a terrible pun.”

“What did you expect, it’s Carlos. We should just be glad he didn’t make a joke about bonded molecules. He’s a little tied up at the moment and I don’t think he’ll be too happy with the state of his beloved piano when someone cuts him down. If whoever finds this note sees Diego and Divina, give them my love. C.” Diego tossed his sister the card. “Have you been to the chapel yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

Divina pocketed the card, shifting the box she was carrying to her other arm. “Then we can claim innocence. We should probably go help Luc, don’t you think?”

“Probably, yes.” He pushed off the door, expertly balancing on sparkly gold stilettos. “We’ll go put your box away and then help him, how about?”

“Fine by me.”

The two set off down the hall toward the girls dorms in lockstep.

-O-

Upon reflection Luciano had, in fact, had better mornings.

He had started feeling dizzy thirty minutes ago and faint ten after that. The roaring in his ears was a dark angry red and worst of all, no one would be coming outside for a few hours unless they were looking for him.

“Smiling God, please let someone look for me,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

“Ha!”

Luciano opened them again and saw Diego and Divina Rodriguez standing a yard or two away, the former cracking up and the latter sniggering. “Rodriguez and Rodriguez, help me down!” he half-laughed with annoyance.

Diego widened his eyes in false innocence. “But Mr. Silva, you told me just this morning to never touch you again!”

Luciano groaned. Just his luck. “That’s good, because you don’t have to. Just cut the ropes off of the tree trunk.”

Diego grinned, flipped out a pocketknife, and sauntered over to the tree, beginning to saw through the hemp. “My dear cousin left a note. I’d go make sure your piano is okay, if I were you.”

Luciano started laughing again. “What? If your cousin harmed my piano—“

“I don’t know what he did, but I expect it was creative and messy. I could make a sex joke out of that, but I’m not going to.” Diego cut the last section and sent Luciano crashing to the ground. “Whoops, my hand slipped,” he deadpanned.

Luciano scowled but kept chuckling, picking himself up and dusting off his black coat with gloved hands. He pushed his thick braid back over his shoulder and shook the leaves out of his hair. “You two get back to the dorms and finish unpacking. Oh, and tell your cousin it is—what’s the phrase—so on.” He turned and stalked towards the gothic chapel housing the music room, coat swirling in the autumn breeze.

Diego sniggered. “Melodramatic much?”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Divina tugged his hand and began pulling him across the lawn. “Come now, brother mine. It’s the first day of term, we still have to unpack, and your boyfriend is doing the announcements soon.”

-O-

(The voice is smooth and pleasant, even over the scratchy PA system installed thanks to a grant and out of place with the rest of the gothic architecture. The speaker sounds like he’s in a state of perpetual happiness; listen too long and it becomes vaguely creepy to almost everyone.)

Good morning, Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy! It’s Monday, September first, and our first day back at our lovely school! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Kevin Free, your voice on the radio!

And I’m Lauren!

And this is Lauren! We’re here to kick off the term with the morning announcements! Lauren, care to begin?

Sure I will! All classes begin tomorrow at nine a.m., so if you don’t yet have a yellow schedule, stop by our guidance offices and pick one up! All of our guidance counselors are very friendly and personable, so why not stop by for a chat?

Thanks, Lauren! All clubs are having first meetings this week, as detailed on the purple schedule found in all the classrooms. The only incorrect entries are those for the FBLA and Drama Club. The FBLA’s Wednesday meeting has been canceled and moved to Saturday morning at eleven in the same location. The Drama Club meeting has been moved to the—this paper is smudgy. Lauren, why is the paper smudgy? It might say “auditorium”, but it could say “Dumpster”.

It says auditorium, Kev.

Thank you, Lauren. Stop calling me Kev.

Finally, a reminder that all students are strictly and expressly forbidden from getting involved in the escalating prank war between Luciano Silva the music teacher and Carlos Mendez of Night Vale Public High that reportedly began last winter when Carlos, in the middle of a back-alley science experiment, blew up Luciano’s apartment building and set off his synthesia. Remember, DO NOT get involved, at least until we figure out how to get them to knock it off. This concludes—

Oh, wait, Lauren, there’s a sticky note here.

Kev, I don’t think—

”Kevin Free, this year you had better follow uniform or you’ll be expelled, you little shit.”

(Dead silence on the air for nearly thirty seconds; then Lauren speaks again.)

Um. This concludes the announcements for the day. Please have a very good day. (She sniggers.) Unless you’re Kev.

Shut up, Lauren, your boyfriend’s just as bad as I am and I’ll have you know—

(The system clicks off.)

Chapter Text

The chapel where music classes were held was rumored to be centuries old, with stained-glass windows and a high, vaulted ceiling. Where pews once stood were now a dozen upright pianos and perpendicular desks; where an altar had been was a grand piano, sleek black and gold and always kept perfectly in-tune.

Or, well. It was.

Noah Santiago entered the chapel to see Luciano staring in dismay at the once-gorgeous instrument, now covered in half a dozen shades of thick neon paint. It had been, it seemed, a quick and haphazard job, just dumping the buckets onto the body and running paint-covered hands over the keys before making a hasty escape.

“Um…Mr. Silva, sir?”

Luciano turned to look at Santiago, his silver scars glinting in the light from the window. “Noah. Can I—ahaha—help you?”

Santiago held up what he had brought in—a bucket of soapy water, sponges, and towels, precariously balanced on one arm. “Divina told me something happened here and said to bring this for you.”

Luciano blinked at him, then sat down heavily on the short steps up to the dais where the piano sat. “I—yes. Thank you, Noah.”

Santiago carefully carried the implements over, unrolling the towels below the piano. “Erm…this kind of paint takes a bit to wash, but when it’s gone you can’t tell it was ever there,” he said.

“I’ll always know.” Luciano pulled new latex gloves out of a small box and took off his black silk ones. “But there is nothing to be done save a counterattack.”

“Mr. Silva, sir—“

Luciano held up a hand. “You are undoubtedly going to tell me what a bad idea that is. I shan’t listen. Carlos has attacked my piano. This is immensely important and will not go unpunished.” He picked up a sponge, dunked it in the bucket, and began scrubbing at a particularly vivid pink. “Do me a favor, Noah. Next time you see Diego or Divina, tell them to tell Carlos that he is going down.” The music teacher chuckled to himself.

Santiago gripped his cane and quietly slipped out as Luciano began to hum Think of Me, head tilted and eyes closed as he cleaned off the piano, returning it to its former beautiful state.

There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere, but Santiago didn’t care to stay long enough to think of it.

-O-

“Why do you keep calling me Kev—“

“I’ll call you what I want to call you—“

“I just don’t like it when you call me Kev—“

“You two,” Diego said, trying to cut in. “Kevin—Lauren—“ he sighed, motioned to Divina, and walked in between them to lift Kevin by the waist and carry him away from the girls until he stopped screeching at Lauren and yelled “Eggo!” in delight, kissing the top of Diego’s head.

Diego set him down. “Sunshine. Lauren. Knock it off.”

Divina released Lauren from the chokehold she had her in. “So. What’s up?”

“Who’s rooming with who?” Diego asked. “I got a new roommate. He’s our year—my and Divina’s year, at least—and his name’s Samuel. Apparently he’s Daniel’s younger brother, but I don’t know why I haven’t seen him before.

“I’m with Jezebel again,” Divina offered.

“I’m with Daniel,” Kevin said, “and good thing too, I’m sure if Antonio and I were rooming together again he’d end up stabbing me in my sleep.”

“That’s because you’re insufferable. I’ve got a single,” Lauren said smugly.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Told them I had insomnia and would wake up a roommate. Danny’s brother’s going here this year?”

“Yeah, where was he before?” Diego asked.

“Homeschooled by their aunt.” Lauren pulled out her phone and showed them a picture of a young woman with short red hair. “Stella. I met her last winter when I spent Christmas at Danny’s. But she got a job here this year, so I guess Sammy followed.”

“What job?” Divina asked.

“She’s the new matron and chef. And head of the culinary program, but that doesn’t concern us.” Lauren tucked her phone away again. “Let’s take a walk. It’s nice out and Daniel texted me earlier—we can meet him by the chapel.”

Divina winced. “Let’s not.”

“What? Why not?”

“Silva’s on the prowl up there. Odds are Daniel’s already got a detention or a few demerits.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Carlos dumped paint on his piano. He spent the morning cleaning it off and then went around and asked about singing candy-grams so I assume his retaliation is going to be rather spectacular.”

“Where’d you learn that?” Diego asked, raising an eyebrow and holding open the old oak doors of the main building for them to pass through.

“Santiago told me. He saw the piano, and Gareth was calling his parents when Silva was asking after the candy-grams.” They stepped into the sun and strolled across the grounds, past the chapel and classroom buildings down to a large lake with a little dock.

Diego removed his stilettos and dipped his feet in the clear water. Kevin sat next to him with his own legs tucked up behind them, the clunky platform combat boots a sharp contrast to his boyfriend’s delicate gold heels. “Hi, Eggo,” he said happily, resting his head on Diego’s shoulder. The other student chuckled.

“Hello, sunshine,” he said, rubbing behind Kevin’s ear before looking back at Divina and Lauren (engaged in a cutthroat game of Taunt-the-Fish) and said, rather quietly, “I did miss this. It isn’t so bad here.”

Lauren shook her head. “It isn’t, is it?” she said, dangling a small worm over the water. “Not so bad as being all alone.”

All four shared a glance and fell into a companionable silence. The chapel bells rang out for the six o’clock supper but none of them moved, content to just sit on the docks and watch the water.

-O-

Samuel was in the room when Diego returned, eating a sandwich he had nicked from the kitchens. “Hello, Sammy!” he said with rather uncharacteristic cheer, falling back onto his bed. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Diego Rodriguez.”

“Um…Sammy. Erm. Samuel Vega.”

Diego glanced over at Sammy’s half of the room. Plain bedspread, no posters or pictures, a desk devoid of anything of interest—a few pencils, a spiral notebook, a glasses case. “Scholarship?”

Samuel blushed. “No. Just my first year. I wasn’t sure what to bring.” He looked over at Diego’s black and gold bedspread, posters of James Bond movies, and books piled on the desk. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Nah, you’re new, don’t worry about it.” Diego flashed him a grin. “So. How was your first day on campus?”

“…Overwhelming,” Sammy said quietly. “Not exactly used to it yet.”

The door creaked open and Stella looked in. “Hello, boys! I’m introducing myself to everyone. Stella Vega, the new matron.”

Diego rolled off the bed and onto his feet, offering a hand with half a bow. “Diego Rodriguez, ma’am. And I expect Sammy needs no introduction.”

“Hi, Aunt Stella,” Sammy murmured.

“Hello, Sammy.” Stella smiled widely and shook Diego’s hand. “I’m so glad to be here, boys. Such a lovely opportunity and, of course, I won’t be left at home as much.”

“That’s always good.” Diego’s smile widened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Vega.”

“Please, call me Stella. Lights-out in twenty minutes.” She shut the door behind herself as she left.

Diego collapsed at his desk. “Rules they don’t tell you: curfew at nine, so be back here by then, and lights-out at ten. If you wanna sneak out, I’ll show you some places.” He felt that the offer was remarkably generous and added “I do it all the time.”

“Why?”

“To see Kevin. Or to annoy my sister.” He tugged a historical novel from the middle of a stack and flipped it open to a bookmark. “But hey, it’s first night, so I’m staying in.”

“I don’t see why I would sneak out,” Sammy said.

“You’ll find a reason at some point.” Diego kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned the chair back. “You don’t seem like so bad a roommate, if I’m being totally honest.”

“…Thanks. You don’t seem so bad yourself.” Sammy clambered onto his bed and sat against the wall. “Can I borrow a book?”

“Sure.” Diego tossed a dog-eared copy of Les Miserables at the bed. “Just be careful not to rip it.”

Chapter Text

Everything that happened, or at least part of everything that happened, began in Sergio Vega’s science class; and Sergio Vega’s science class began on the second day of school and first day of term.

In most of the movies and TV shows Divina had watched, science class involved a lot of explosions; if not that, then you could be sure of robots trying to kill their creators, an evacuation of the science wing, or the class inventor building a molecular disintegration ray out of paperclips, string, and spit. This was, she was fairly certain, not how science class was supposed to work.

You wouldn’t know that going to the Academy. Sergio was the only science professor and his methods of teaching involved very dangerous chemicals, pyrotechnics, and the occasional experiment on an unfortunate lab rat.

There were rumors, as well, of experiments done by Sergio and his protégée, junior high student Rosie Carlsberg, after hours, on students who got detention. Experiments that nobody remembered after the fact and that nobody could prove, experiments you could only speculate on based on the suspicious stains in the floor around the drains for the emergency shower.

But those were only rumors, after all.

They weren’t being eased back into classes, that was certain. Divina had scarcely stepped into the lab when Sergio was assigning her a partner (Jezebel, so no surprise there) and a workspace, pointing out where goggles and aprons were, handing her a lab notebook, informing her in no uncertain terms that if she, Diego, Lauren, Daniel, and Kevin disrupted class they would be sent to the headmaster’s office, and sending her off to work on a series of chemistry problems as he filled the next set of arrivals in on the rules (Diego and Kevin, so the rules included a lot of addendums like “not even if it’s especially patriotic” and “not even if it doesn’t specifically say so in the dress code”).

“I am going to KILL HIM!”

Luciano’s characteristic laugh echoed through the room as he stormed in, slamming his hand down on Sergio’s desk. His braid was for whatever reason tucked up under a pageboy cap. “Diego Rodriguez, kindly inform your dear cousin that he is—ahahaha—a DEAD MAN!”

“What’d he do this time?” Diego asked, amused.

Luciano yanked off the cap and his unbraided hair spilled out, a brilliant shade of pink. “Twice in a row! First the piano, now this!”

For a moment the room was dead silent; then Divina started to snigger and soon the whole room was laughing.

Luciano was laughing too, although not because he found it funny. “Stop it! If anyone knows how to get hair dye out I would—ahaha--love to hear it!”

Diego managed to calm down long enough to say “I think this is all part of the same prank, and you could always go down to town and ask Cecil Palmer!” before he was back to laughing, gripping the edge of his desk and holding up Kevin (who was nearly on the floor).

Luciano scowled. “No. Not—aha—in a million years.”

Jezebel, still giggling, offered “T-try dandruff s-shampoo m-m-mixed with b-baking soda. I-it’s s-supposed to h-help.”

Luciano nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Jezebel.” He grimaced. “I’ll need to borrow fifty cents for the payphone.”

“Do we want to know why?” Sergio asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Probably not, no. Suffice to say that it is their first day and Carlos will not be having a fun time.” He swept out of the room, the gravitas rather ruined by his neon hair.

After a moment, everyone returned to their problems. Sergio strolled along the edges of the room, surveying them as they worked with a thin smile. When a few minutes had passed, he returned to the front of the room.

“Welcome back,” he said. “And to any new students, welcome; I am Sergio Vega, our lovely school’s only science professor. This year is going to be rather different from your last—we start weekend labs this year, along with more…” His smile widened. “Hands-on demonstrations. And I will not be slowing down. Let’s begin.”

-O-

Most students at the Academy owned bikes, not for any reasons relating to exercise, but because it was quicker than walking the two miles into town in the afternoons.

The road twisted through the woods before dumping the students out on Night Vale’s Main Street. Diego, Divina, Kevin, Lauren, and Daniel had set out as soon as classes were over (at four) and by four-fifteen were almost to town.

“I was thinking dinner,” Diego said, “and, sister mine, you can stalk that one young man.”

Divina blushed as her bike wobbled. “I do not stalk Mark!” she stammered.

“Um, yes you do,” said Lauren. “Sorry.”

They made the last turn and parked at the little bike stand near the exit. “Here’s hoping we don’t run into—“

“Kevin?”

“—my brother,” Kevin finished.

Cecil Palmer was leaning on a brick wall less than five yards away, piercings out and tattoos half-covered by a button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He put out his cigarette against the wall and stared at them. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting town, Palmer,” Daniel said haughtily. “It’s a free country.”

Cecil scowled. “We don’t need any of you Strexes here.”

“Okay, where the hell did that nickname even come from?” Diego wondered aloud.

Cecil’s frown deepened. “And you. Still corrupting my little brother, are you?”

“I’m not corrupting anyone,” Diego spat. “Kevin is allowed to date me if he wants, and if anyone’s going to corrupt Sunshine, it won’t be us, it’ll be you.”

Cecil was hovering over Diego before they saw him move. He, like Kevin, was tall; unlike Kevin, he was tall enough to have six inches on Diego at least. “Come again?” he said quietly.

Oh, well. All or nothing. “I said if anyone’s a bad influence on Kevin it’s you. We aren’t the ones out clubbing all night and hungover every morning, addicted to cigarettes and god knows what else!”

Cecil pushed Diego back; the younger boy stumbled, heels clicking roughly against the pavement. “At least I don’t have a sex addiction problem!”

“Oh, for the love of--I don’t have a sex addiction problem! I don’t even know how that rumor started!”

“Er, that may have been me,” Lauren said sheepishly. “That time we were fighting last year and you kept calling me a thrice-cursed daughter of a pox-ridden whore. I didn’t intend for it to keep around.”

For a moment the other five just stared at her, then Cecil snapped back. “Do you even give a damn about Kevin, or is this just to see if you can? Slumming it with a scholarship student?”

“Cecil, stop it!” Kevin yelled. “I can take care of myself!”

Diego’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you say that!” he shrieked at Cecil. “Don’t you ever, ever say that—how dare you!”

Lauren raised her eyebrows and looked at Kevin. “Well, you tried. Next time try harder.”

“He’s my brother!” Cecil yelled right back.

“And you’ve done a damn good job with that! You’re not the only one who cares about him!”

“You say that as if you care about anyone but yourself!”

Daniel and Lauren launched forward and dragged Diego back. “It’s not worth it,” Daniel said, holding his arms tightly. “Diego, stop, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

Diego was struggling against their hold. “You don’t know me, you don’t know who I care about!”

“I don’t--”

“You little--”

“Ceec!”

All of them stopped yelling and looked over to where Carlos Mendez had appeared from in the alley. His eyes narrowed as he saw the group. “And my cousins.”

“Hey, Carlos, how was school?” Divina asked with a devilish grin.

Carlos scowled. “I get the feeling you know exactly how school was. The hell did Luc even do?”

“Sent you thirty-eight singing candy grams staggered throughout the day,” Kevin said cheerfully. “We assumed it was obvious.”

“It was obvious, alright,” Carlos muttered. “He better watch his back.”

Daniel and Lauren released Diego, who dusted off his sleeves and straightened, wrapping an arm around Kevin’s waist to draw him closer. “Funny, he told us to tell you that you are going down.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Carlos said with a smirk.

“Can we get food now?” Kevin asked no one in particular.

“Of course, Sunshine.” Diego made a show of kissing Kevin’s forehead while glaring daggers at Cecil.”

“I want sushi, can we go for sushi?” Lauren wondered.

“Sushi sounds great.” Daniel glared at Cecil. “Be seeing you, Palmer.”

“Same to you, Vega.”

The five headed off, Lauren wondering aloud “The hell do you have against Palmer? I mean, I don’t like the guy, but you really hate him”, leaving Cecil and Carlos to whatever business they had outside the alley.

Chapter Text

Christopher Rose held a firm belief in courtesy and professionalism in the workplace. That being said, Ellie was very quiet, and no one ever realized she was there when she played in the corner of the Academy lobby while he worked, so professionalism and courtesy could be maintained even with a four-year-old at work.

It was a particularly quiet afternoon. Christopher had already issued Kevin Palmer’s dress code citation, apologized on behalf of whoever left the Post-It on the announcements the first day back (again), and made a trip down to the chapel to make sure Luciano wasn’t off crafting another prank or laughing madly in the corner (both options were unsatisfactory), so when Ellie got up and started to toddle over, he met her halfway.

“Are there any crayons?” she asked when he crouched down to her eye level.

Christopher smiled. “I’m sure we can dig some up,” he said, lfiting the four-year-old and carrying her to the supply closet near his desk. “Hm…aha!” He held up a pack of crayons. “Do you want some paper, too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ellie said, nodding and grabbing her crayon box tightly.

Her father looked in again and pulled out a small pad of paper. “Will this work?”

“Uh-huh.” She took the paper and hugged him around the neck. “Carry me.”

Christpher chuckled. “Just for a minute, sweetie.” He carried her back over to where she was almost every day and set her down at the little plastic desk. “Do your coloring.”

Ellie nodded and opened her crayon box.

Christpher looked up as he heard the phone ring, ran back to his desk, and picked up. “Desert Buffs Preparatory Academy, front office,” he said pleasantly.

“Can you connect me to the headmaster’s office?” came a vaguely-familiar voice from the other line.

“This is also that.”

“Who’s speaking?”

“Christopher Rose. Headmaster Vega is out at the moment, can I take a message?”

“…Yes. This is Pamela Winchell at Night Vale Public High. Tell him we need to talk about a smiling god.”

The line went dead. Christopher blinked in confusion and scrawled the message on a notepad before returning to filling out the student files and trying to find enough grounds to force Kevin to change his clothes.

-O-

Antonio Vega was proud of his last name; he saw no reason not to be. The Vegas were a very old family and a very rich family and, if you drew out the tree, were connected to two or three other very old, very rich families, including the Silvas and the Rodriguezes. (About a quarter of the school was in some way related to each other, and if you looked at the dating webs it seemed almost-but-not-quite incestuous—like Cecil and Kevin, brothers, each dating Carlos and Diego, cousins). Not to mention that his grandfather was Headmaster and his aunt was the matron.

Incidentally, she was also his teacher for half of the day—just the two of them and two other students in the kitchens. The “culinary program”.

They were cleaning up when Jezebel skipped in and hugged Antonio around the waist. “Hello, brother mine!” she chirped.

Antonio yelped, then smiled at her fondly. “Jezzy, don’t scare me like that. What if I was holding a knife?”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said confidently, resting her head on his shoulder. “I wanted to surprise you. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Really? Are we, now?”

“Uh-huh. Divina and her friends went out yesterday and she said we can borrow their bikes today.” Jezebel beamed. “Finish up, let’s go!”

Antonio grinned, picked up a knife, and swiped a cloth along the blade. “Matron, mind if I leave to spend some quality time with my sister?”

Stella waved her hand. “Go ahead, and I told you that you can still call me Stella.”

Antonio set down the knife and cloth, untied his apron, and offered Jezzy his arm. “My lady?”

She giggled and took it. “The bikes are outside.”

They strolled out and pulled the bikes out of the shed, heading off down the path towards town.

When they arrived, Jezebel led Antonio to one of the town’s nicer restaurants, some place called Tourniquet where the head chef had tattoos up and down his arms. “Who’s he?” she asked as they walked in. “Do you know him?”

“Actually, yeah,” Antonio said, giving the chef another look. “I didn’t realize Earl got a job. I assumed his job was bothering Cecil Palmer with emo poetry at four in the morning.”

Jezebel giggled. “I reserved us a table, so…”

Earl stepped over. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Actually, yeah,” Jezebel said, giving him her most sincere smile. “Antonio and Jezebel Vega.”

He flipped open a book and scanned the page. “Yup. This way. Hey, Tonio.”

“Hey, Earl. I see you got an actual job.”

“I see you got a date—oh, wait, that’s your sister.”

Jezebel blinked at them. It wasn’t the usual school rivalry kind of digging at each other—it was friendlier than that and reminded her of the way Kevin and Lauren acted over the announcements. The kind of thing where you might think they hated each other, then you would go “oh hell, they’re best friends, aren’t they”. “Wait…Earl? Earl Harlan, you’re kidding.”

Earl grinned. “Hey, Jezzy, it’s been a while.”

She smiled right back, her false sincerity melting into genuine happiness. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! You went…very punk rock, didn’t you?”

“It’s been a few years, and yeah, I did.” He gave her a one-armed hug, the other arm scooping up a pair of menus and tucking them against his chest. “Tonio and I kept in touch, but I can’t think of why I haven’t spoken to you in so long. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, the same! Now what was Tonio saying about emo poetry at four in the morning?”

They had reached the table. Earl turned a brilliant red and Antonio began to sing underbreath “Earl’s got a cru-ush…”

“You do? On who, exactly?”

“His roommate,” Antonio cut in. “Cecil Palmer. Who’s dating Carlos.”

“Carlos, as in, neon paint Carlos? As in blew up the building Carlos? As in prank war Carlos?”

“Exactly that Carlos.” Antonio pulled out her chair for her. “Might I assume our parents are paying for the meal?”

“Of course they are,” Jezebel said. “I memorized their credit card number.”

Antonio shook his head. “Sometimes I think I’ve corrupted you.”

“Think? You should probably be certain of that.” She opened her menu. “…The hell is a blood mushroom?”

-O-

Samuel entered his room ten minutes before dinner, shrieked, and quickly turned to face the wall.

“You okay there, Sammy?”

“You’re—you’re—“ he stammered, glancing around.

Diego unwrapped his legs from around Kevin’s waist, gently pushed the other boy off of himself, and swung around so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’re kissing. That’s all. You may notice we’re both fully clothed, as rumors of my eteromania were greatly exaggerated.”

Samuel reluctantly turned back. “I just needed to put away my textbook,” he said.

“Go ahead, don’t let us bother you.” Diego fell back so his head was on Kevin’s lap; the other boy combed gloved fingers through his hair, humming “You Are My Sunshine” softly. “We’re just having a moment.”

Samuel put his book on the desk and slipped out as Kevin hauled Diego up, pushed him down on his back, and the two returned to their “moment”.

Daniel stopped him in the hallway. “Sammy.”

“Daniel. Everything okay?”

“I just wanted to know how you’re fitting in—if you need a new roommate…”

Samuel blinked. “Aren’t you a friend of Diego’s?”

“Yeah, I am, but I know that he can be…” Daniel hesitated. “He’s my friend, but he’s also an asshole,” he finished. “Almost no one can stand him long enough to see his better side. And he does have a better side—it’s the part that buys Kevin flowers and pays for my and Lauren’s anniversary dinner and is just generally a sweetheart and very dorky—but most people only ever see him as that asshole. So I ask again—do you need a new roommate?”

“…No,” Sammy said. “I’ll be fine. He’s not in the room that much.”

“Suit yourself, then. Seen Lauren anywhere?”

“No. But I’ve seen Kevin.”

“Where’s he?”

“In my room.”

“…doing what?”

“I’m ninety percent sure he’s halfway to screwing Diego.”

“What?!”

Chapter Text

Sunday morning chapel would’ve been nondenominational but for the prayers to the Smiling God at the end—it was held in Luciano’s chapel, the upright pianos replaced with wooden benches; the announcements were read by Lauren and Kevin, Luciano played some generic hymns that he somehow made beautiful (and occasionally snuck an instrumental from a musical soundtrack in there somewhere), and someone, sometimes a student and sometimes a teacher, would give a speech on a random topic.

Today the speech was on cultural appropriation and Kevin was giving it, albeit with the disclaimer that Cecil was the one who had written it originally. It was entirely more entertaining than listening to watch Christopher Rose attempting to mentally burn Kevin’s…altered outfit back to the original uniform. The secretary had no patience for Kevin’s visual kei clothing (carefully arranged not to technically break uniform any more than would warrant a simple citation) and barely any for Daniel’s cyberpunk accessories or Diego’s stilettos.

In the back, Diego, Divina, Lauren, and Daniel were taking up a whole bench, Diego’s feet kicked up over the back to show off his sparkly heels, Divina playing with the black-cased smartphone in her lap, Daniel twirling a bracelet with metal studs around his index finger, and Lauren beside him writing an overdue English paper on the back of the crumpled announcements sheet.

“You do realize it’s Sunday,” Divina muttered after a minute or two.

“I know, but I’ve got to turn it in today or I don’t get any credit.” She wriggled around until she was laying back against Daniel with her legs covering the rest of the bench, balancing the paper on her knees.

Kevin finished his speech and within ten seconds Diego had a lapful of happy boyfriend. “Morning, Eggo.”

“Morning, Sunshine.” Diego hugged his waist and leaned back against Divina.

“The earth says hello,” she deadpanned, not looking up from her phone.

“You’re hysterical, sister mine.”

-O-

Sunday trips into town involved about half of the student body and several of the staff, completely unofficially and often by accident.

“Going to stalk Mark today?” Diego asked Divina with a grin.”

“I do not stalk Mark.”

“You stalk Mark—“

“What about Mark?”

The twins looked up to see Marcus Vanston and Jake Lin standing about a yard away. “Sister mine is stalking your son,” Diego said with a broad smile.

“I am not,” Divina sputtered.

“She thinks he’s very attractive,” Diego said, his grin widening. “I think he’s very attractive, in fact.”

“Diego, could you please stop broadcasting your sex addiction problem to anyone who cares to hear?” Divina moaned.

“No. Hey, where is Mark? You’d think he’d be with his parents.”

“I am.”

The twins froze. “Aw, hell. He’s right behind us, isn’t he,” Diego said flatly.

Tandem nods from Mark’s fathers.

“He heard the entire conversation, didn’t he,” Divina said.

Tandem nods.

“Oh, hell.”

They turned and looked towards Mark Vincent.

“Hi, Mark,” Divina muttered.

“My sister fancies you,” Diego announced loudly enough that several passerby turned to give them odd looks.

“Shut up, Diego! Go bother Lauren or Kevin, they’re in town!”

“Kevin took Lauren away so I couldn’t go shopping with her and they’re off to keep Daniel distracted so he doesn’t go kill Cecil Palmer!”

“So go help! Or shop with Lauren anyway! I don’t care!” Divina pushed her brother away. “Just—leave me alone!”

Diego scowled and sulked off towards where Divina assumed the others had gone. She turned back to Mark. “Sorry about that. It’s common knowledge around the school that my brother’s an asshole, but I don’t suppose the news got to here.”

“No worries. So, Divina, I was wondering—“ He cut off and glanced up. “Father. Dad. If you would please?”

Marcus grinned and saluted, took Jake’s arm, and the two sauntered off.

“Anyway, Divina, I was wondering if perhaps you would like to go for lunch with me.” Mark smiled an extended a hand.

Divina took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes. I would like that.” She took his hand and the two strolled off down Main Street to a place that declared itself to be “Big Ricos Pizza”.

Mark slid into a booth by the front window. “This place is pretty good,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes they run out of crust and serve everyone bowls of sauce and mozzarella, but we’re early enough, we’ll be fine.”

Divina sat opposite him and flipped open a menu. “Excuse my brother for his…personality, by the way.”

“He’s always like that?”

“Pretty much. Don’t hold me accountable.” She looked up. “I don’t expect you have any siblings?”

“Nope, it’s just me.”

“Well, growing up Diego and I were twins, of course. But we also had all the other Vega kids in our age group to play with, along with a few cousins from town. Like Carlos—do you know Carlos?”

“I know of Carlos. Grunge kid, really likes science, maybe dating Cecil Palmer, prank war with some Luke guy?”

“It’s Luciano, and you’ve got him pinned.” Divina set down the menu. “Er…thank you for taking me out.”

He flashed her a smile. “It’s hardly a bother. I wanted to get to know you a little better.”

It took a considerable amount of Divina’s self-control not to shriek in excitement.

-O-

And soon enough it was Monday again and the entire student body (okay, all hundred of them) was gathered for breakfast in the dining hall as Luaren and Kevin bantered in the front office recording booth.

“And where the hell is Daniel?!”

“I locked him in the office!”

“What?! Why?!”

“He was pissing me off! Look, now he’s trying to unplug our systems. Well, HA HA, Daniel, I rewired the circutboard and you just unplugged the coffeemaker in the teacher’s lounge!”

“…What’s he saying?”

“One sec, I read lips…” Silence over air. “Oh my, Daniel. Watch your mouth.”

Divina snickered and bit into a cinnamon roll. “I was wondering where he went.”

“And then there were two,” Diego said. “Which of us is going to shoot the other, sister mine?”

“You’re more likely to kill yourself and you have a weird obsession with old guns, so you shoot me.” She licked a little icing of her index finger as Kevin launched into a monologue about school pride that mostly consisted of beating Night Vale High in everything. “Look. Pineapple juice.”

Diego grabbed the pitcher and poured himself a glass. “We should probably be getting our first letter from the parental units today. I’ll go by the mailroom on my way to Silva’s class and grab it.” He passed a plate of croissants along the table, taking one for himself with a cheeky smile.

“And that’s why Night Vale Public High sucks in my unbiased and totally fair opinion. Club meetings! Lauren?”

“The Drama Club will be having a meeting this Thursday as last time no one came to the correct location; rather, everyone went to the Dumpsters. Allow us to clarify: Kev was wrong. The meeting is held in the auditorium and NOT out by the Dumpsters.”

“Don’t call me Kev, Lauren. The Key Club will hold its first meeting at…some point this week. There’s only an inky thumbprint on the paper. If anyone knows what that means, why don’t’ you stop by? And maybe tell the rest of us, too.”

“Sports team tryouts are this week! Check your green schedule for all the times and locations. A reminder that everyone is required to play a sport and no, Diego Rodriguez, running in heels is not a sport nor is it a good name for the punk rock band you and Kev want to start.”

“Stop calling me Kev, Lauren. As a final note, this is a reminder to everyone that you are NOT to get involved with the prank war between Luciano Silva and Carlos Mendez. The infirmary just admitted several students for getting caught in a rather impressive explosion intended to temporarily deafen Luciano. Well, that didn’t work. Your move, Carlos!

“Don’t encourage them. This concludes our announcements for today.”

“So long, Desert Bluffs, so long!”

The system clicked off. Within a few minutes Kevin was next to Diego and Lauren was sliding in beside Divina.

“Where’s Daniel?” Divina asked.

“Attempting to explain to his uncle why he turned off the coffeemaker,” Kevin said with a cheeky grin. “I doubt he’ll get detention, but I for one wouldn’t want Sergio mad at me even if we were related. On a related note—related to coffee, not to Sergio—do we have coffee?”

Lauren grabbed the pot from where it was sitting at arm’s length away and pulled it over. “I wouldn’t want Vega mad at me full stop,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and her toast and beginning to spread honey and marmalade on it.

“Do you know who got caught up in the war this time?” Diego asked, swiping his index finger in the honey and licking it off.

“Not all of them, but it was Jezebel Vega and two freshmen. Their hearing is supposed to return by tomorrow morning.”

“Cool, I get a room to myself,” Divina said. “I thought Jezzy left early this morning.”

“Infirmary,” Kevin said, not-so-subtly inching his way into Diego’s lap.

“Get a room,” came Daniel’s voice. He pushed the junior on the other side of Lauren out of the way and sat down. “So. In the middle of all that screaming Rose came by, which reminded me of some very interesting information I obtained yesterday.”

“Well?” Divina asked.

Daniel leaned in conspiritorally. “Rose was on phone with Aunt Stella when I was stopping by the office to gather my daily citation for dress code, and he said the headmaster keeps calling Pamela Winchell—Night Vale’s principal. And that they talk about the Smiling God.”

All four blinked. “…So they found religion together. Who knows, maybe they’ll get married. I think you’re overstating the importance of this,” Divina said.

“I thought so too, at first, but something about it struck me as odd because they kept using that nickname for the students here—Strexes. So I decided on a lark to Google those terms together.” He opened his notebook and pulled out a small packet of papers. “The nickname comes from a few—ten or so—years ago. A company known as the Strex Corporation came to Night Vale and was immediately funded by the Vega family. The company ended up going under after conning the hell out of everyone and it almost destroyed the Vegas.” Daniel flipped the page to show them a series of logos. “And it turns out that the Strex Corporation was part of a larger entity called Smiles Industries that’s reviving the project. It’s a group that claims to be very religious and in direct contact with the Smiling God.”

“…What are you implying, Daniel?” Diego asked quietly.

Daniel shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Something about it just seemed weird. I thought that maybe we should just…keep watch or something.”

Chapter Text

In late September the days became crisp and chilly. Divina and Lauren began wearing thick knit sweaters; Diego traded his stilettos for heeled thigh-high boots; Kevin’s ripped and shredded outfits regained their sleeves and multiple layers of mesh; Daniel’s short leather jacket became a long, tight leather duster. The matron made apple pies almost every day and pumpkin pies twice a week; bonfires were planned for Sunday nights once October began; the path to town was covered in crunchy red-gold leaves and the orchard’s apples were ripening.

Mondays kept passing, in their way.

Luciano and Carlos had been keeping quiet when the last Monday of September rolled around. Most everyone was walking on eggshells and staying away from the chapel; no one wanted to be around when they went at it with double the intensity.

Cecil and Kevin hadn’t spoken since the fight in the alley and Diego had half a mind to make them. For all he disliked Cecil, it wasn’t right for siblings to be fighting. He and Divina always made up within minutes of seeing each other again after a disagreement; then again, he and Divina never almost came to blows in a filthy alleyway.

There had been no news about the Strex Corporation, Smiles Industries, or the God.

It was the last Monday in September and something was in the air. Things were going to change, and change soon; it was as clear as day for anyone who cared to look.

Not many did.

-O-

Divina was never, ever letting those idiots babysit again.

The faculty’s children were better-known to most of the students than their own brothers and sisters; they certainly watched them enough. One staff member, though, had only recently agreed to lettting his daughter out of his sight.

Why he thought Lauren would be a good choice, god only knew. Because as anyone who knew Lauren could tell you, she would bring Kevin and Kevin would bring Diego and soon enough Diego was chasing after Ellie Rose as Kevin and Lauren bickered.

“Nope, nope, no,” her brother scolded as he caught Ellie. “We don’t run off. Got it?”

“I thought Lauren was babysitting,” Divina said as she strolled over.

“Lauren’s over by the dock arguing with Kevin over whether or not mermaids can have sex, so I’ve got to watch the kid,” Diego said, hoisting Ellie up onto his hip.

Divina sighed and held out her arms. “Give here here.” Diego complied and Divina balanced Ellie in her arms. “Hi, honey,” she cooed. “Are the boys—and Lauren—being idiots?”

Ellie giggled and Divina bounced her on her hip. “Uh-huh. I’m Ellie!”

“I’m Divina.” She carried Ellie over to the dock and stood above Lauren and Kevin, who were sitting side-by-side on the edge, Lauren with her feet in the water and Kevin with his legs up, hugging his knees.

“No, seriously, you can’t sleep with someone without the, y’know, equipment--“

“Oh, for Smiling God’s sakes, Kevin, you’re so uptight about everything. You’d think you’d be a little looser since your boyfriend has a sex addiction problem. And they’ve got to have some way to do it, I’m telling you that there’s a way to, y’know, make more mermaids--”

“You two need to stop talking about sex, there are children present,” Divina said dryly.

“And I do not have a sex addiction problem! You of all people should know that!” Diego added huffily.

Lauren and Kevin looked up in a very deer-in-headlights fashion. “Oh, heeeey, Divina!” Kevin chirped. “Yeah, we were totally gonna get back on that, but we started talking—“

“About mermaids and my brother’s erotomania, I know.”

“Divina! I do not have erotomania!”

“Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is you almost let Diego watch a kid. Watch Christopher Rose’s kid, no less, so what on earth possessed you to think that that was a good idea?”

Kevin and Lauren slowly looked at each other and then shrugged simultaneously. “Well, we didn’t,” Kevin said. “It just happened that way.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do with—“

There was a loud crash from behind them. Divina and Diego jumped, Ellie whimpered and hid her face in Divina’s shoulder, and Lauren almost fell in the lake only for Kevin to grab her arm. “What was that?” Divina asked in alarm.

“Came from the chapel.”

“The—oh, damn.”

Kevin and Lauren scrambled up. “Where’s Daniel?” Lauren asked.

“Inside, he got a detention. Not from Sergio, don’t worry. Let’s go!”

They ran across the lawn and into the chapel only to see Luciano standing in the middle of the room surrounded by wood splinters and ceramics. The piano was missing from its usual place.

“He strung it up on the ceiling,” the music teacher said. “How did he even manage that?”

“My dear cousin doesn’t like being underestimated,” Diego said, strolling down the aisle. “Erm…you can get a new piano, right?”

Luciano sighed and looked dejected. “It won’t be the same. She was my baby.”

“Ooookay, vaguely creepy, moving on. Get a new piano and then go back and kick my cousin’s ass, why don’t you?”

Luciano brightened. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. Mind if I request your help?” He either didn’t see or was completely ignoring Lauren, Kevin, Divina and even Ellie frantically shaking their heads and slashing their hands across their throats in the background.

“Of course,” Diego said with a mischievous grin. “I can think of…several things you could do.”

“Excellent!” Luciano clapped his hands. “One of you, be a dear and call the front office and tell them that I’ll be needing a new piano and for Sergio to come down as soon as it’s arrived. Rodriguez and I have work to do!”

“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” Divina muttered.

-O-

They were dissecting things in science class. Quite a few things, in fact, starting with chicken wings and moving on to frogs, pigs, and cats.

“I thought this was a chemistry class,” Samuel muttered to his lab partner, a girl named Vanessa who spent most of the class staring at Kevin Palmer.

“It is,” she muttered back. “Right, you’re new. Well, Vega never actually follows curriculum per se, it’s always more of what kind of thing he wants to teach on a given day. So we sometimes learn chemistry. And sometimes we learn how to dissect cats, and sometimes we learn how to reorganize brain chemistry to cause certain reactions on, say, hearing music.”

Samuel shuddered and looked down at his lab notebook and the instructions he had neatly copied in block print. “I don’t really…want to do this.”

“None of us do, but we’ve got to. Fail this project and you could fail the semester, and if you’re failing the semester then Vega gives detention weekly until your grades are back up.”

Samuel glanced up and saw Sergio helping Kevin with his diagrams, so he muttered to Vanessa “What’s so bad about detention, anyway?”

Vanessa fidgeted. “With most teachers? Nothing. You’re just bored for a while. But with Vega, well…no one’s quite sure what happens in detention with Vega and no one really much wants to find out. But there are a lot of…rumors. Really nasty ones.”

Samuel weighed the benefits of knowing the rumors against the issues of being completely disgusted and possibly running out of the room, then asked “What kind of rumors?”

Vanessa looked over at Sergio, apparently decided he was well-occupied, and bit her lip. “Well. Rumors like that he and his protégée--this girl Rosie Carlsberg—do…experiments on kids who get detention. Really nasty stuff, and—he’s your uncle, isn’t he? What’s it like?”

“Well, I’ve lived with him since I was really little,” Samuel said hesitantly. “Spend the school year just with Aunt Stella, but he was around for holidays. He’s more like my dad. And he isn’t that bad, really. I can’t imagine him doing anything to anyone, especially not just students who get detention.”

“It’s not only that, though. And, well, keep in mind that these are just rumors. You’re probably right, he’s probably perfectly harmless, but…you know how people talk. They say that he did it to some of the teachers as well. When the Headmaster complained about their lack of productivity. And people use that to explain why, well…” Vanessa looked up again, watching Sergio as he showed Kevin the various muscles in a cat’s back legs. “They use that to try to explain why Luciano’s got those scars around his mouth like the Joker and why he laughs all the time, even when it seems wrong to be doing so. Why he acts so cheerful all the time.”

Samuel thought about Luciano, ever-cheerful and laughing even when his piano was destroyed, and shuddered.

“These are only rumors, of course,” Vanessa said again. “You really are right. He’s harmless. Just a little strange, that’s all, and likes dissecting things a bit too much—but only dead things, and never humans.”

Samuel turned to look at her in alarm. “What?”

“Nothing.” She turned back to her own paper, diligently copying down the labels on the diagram of the cat she had drawn. “It’s not important, anyway. Like you said, Sergio Vega isn’t that bad. Just a little eccentric.”

Samuel looked up again. Sergio had finished helping Kevin and was now sitting at his front desk, twirling a thin and deadly sharp blade and staring right at Vanessa.

He’s my uncle, Samuel told himself firmly. He’s my uncle. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone.

If he really focused, Samuel could almost make himself believe that.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time there was a young couple living exactly the type of life you’d expect young couples in the Northeast to live. They had a smallish house in the suburbs, one of them had a corporate job, and the other was staying at home for the time being to raise their small daughter.

The young woman was once an actress; the young man was once her PA. They were inexperienced and very much in love and even three years into raising a child, they had never had a major fight.

The young man’s brother used to be a PA to the rich and famous, too. Like the young man, his brother had married his employer, in this case a rich socialite with a preteen son and no clue what to do with the millions of dollars he had besides throw it at people and hope for the best. This sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t; the young man’s brother was helping him to stop this not-always-great habit and instead throw the money where it needed to be thrown, such as charity auctions, because the socialite didn’t really need a table made out of human bones, did he?

And then things changed.

In the time it took a week to pass, the young man no longer had a wife; he only had a now-too-large house filled with uncomfortable memories in the suburbs and a young daughter who wanted to know where her mother had gone. He only had a brother who was waiting for him to ask for help, ready to welcome him into the house with open arms without realizing he would never ask for that. He only had a job that he could do without thinking, freeing his mind to think about his wife all day long.

So he packed everything up. He sold the furniture in the house and then he sold the house; he kept his and his daughter’s clothes and personal items and hid every picture of his wife under her old sweater in the bottom of a cardboard box. He applied for a job at the prep academy near the small town near the suburbs where he lived and got the job because the young man was still a very good PA, and he moved to the apartment they provided him with on campus and took his young daughter along.

Christopher and Ellie Rose moved on-campus of Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy during the holiday break of 2013 and Jake Lin, left in his big mansion in Night Vale with Marcus Vanston and Mark Vincent, never did figure out what Christopher thought he did wrong.

-O-

Fall of 2014 was looking to be better than last year’s. Last year’s autumn was murky grey and overcast; clouds rolled through every day and soaked the leaves until they were damp, slightly moldy, and not at all suitable for jumping in, raking, or doing anything with besides getting rid of them by pushing them into big green bags and sitting those on the sidewalk.

This year, Christopher could spend a lazy afternoon raking leaves for Ellie to jump into under the trees. Over by the docks Lauren Mallard and Daniel Vega sat holding hands; he could see by the chapel Kevin Palmer and Diego Rodriguez talking with Luciano. (Yesterday’s babysitting attempt had been a disaster, but now he knew to call Divina if he needed someone to watch Ellie for a while.)

“Ellie, darling, come here,” he said, watching one of the black-and-orange fuzzy wooly-bear caterpillars climb up a tree. “Look at this.”

Ellie picked herself up out of the leaves and ran over, several still stuck to her thick sweater and curly hair. She watched the caterpillar in fascination and reached out to brush against it with a finger. “It’s furry!”

“It certainly is,” Christopher said softly, watching Ellie and pulling the leaves out of her hair. “That’s a wooly bear.”

Ellie tilted her head. “I like the name!” she said happily, reaching out to pull the caterpillar off the tree and let it crawl up her arm.

Christopher looked up again, past Ellie, past Diego, Kevin, and Luciano, only to see a very familiar man walking towards him with hands in the pockets of his jeans.

He felt a chill. “Ellie, dear,” he said softly, “why don’t you go show Lauren what you found? I bet she’ll be interested.”

Ellie gave him a toothy grin and scampered off, the caterpillar cupped in her hands, towards the docks.

She was out of earshot just in time and Christopher tilted his head. “Jake.”

“Chris.” He swallowed. “I know that things haven’t been great between us for a while, even if I don’t know why. But I—we—“ He looked, if Christopher hadn’t known Jake not to cry, close to tears. “Marcus and I had a fight. I’m aware you have some kind of problem with me even if I haven’t figured it out yet, but could you—that is—“ He took a deep, ragged breath. “Marcus kicked me out. I need a place to stay. Chris, please?”

-O-

Noah Santiago and Antonio Vega were not the sort that you’d expect to get along. With the way that the children of the Vega estate acted most of the time, everyone unconnected to the family was beneath them, and Noah had only the most tenuous connections via the cousin of a second marriage of a parent.

Which really begged the question as to why Antonio had proposed a trip into town to him of all people. Sure, he was happy to get away for an afternoon; Gareth was sick (actually sick, not “I have the Spanish influenza/swine flu/Black Plague” faking sick that everyone did at least once a year to get out of classes) and wouldn’t be out of the infirmary for a couple of days. But he couldn’t think of why Antonio hadn’t taken Jezebel instead.

“Jezebel’s got detention,” Antonio said. “With Silva, not Vega, so she’s fine. She’s mostly just been recruited to help Silva and Diego Rodriguez come up with the ‘best prank ever’.”

Santiago gaped. “Can you read minds?” he asked breathlessly after a minute.

Antonio laughed. “Nah. Wish I could, that’d be…kind of awesome, actually. But no, you just looked like you were dying to ask where Jezzy was and weren’t going to out of politeness.” He turned to look at Santiago with a serious expression. “Don’t bother with politeness near me. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Santiago said hesitantly.

“Anyway, I feel like most people go to town with someone and I heard your boyfriend’s sick, so I figured why not? I mean, if anyone feels a need to get out today it’d probably be you.”

Santiago shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, it was boring, but…” He saw Antonio’s expression and stopped. “Never mind.”

Antonio rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said, riding the bike neatly into the rack and chaining it up. Santiago followed, significantly less gracefully and bumping into the edge of the rack, then fumbling the lock. “Let’s do lunch.”

They had lunch; afterwards, Santiago tried to convince Antonio he could ride a skateboard only for the other boy to call his bluff, drag him to a skate shop, and make him try to ride one.

Santiago fell off seconds after putting his foot on the board, tripping and crashing into the ground. The board flipped into the air and landed on him.

“I’m still cool,” he said warningly when it looked like Antonio was going to laugh at him (he probably was).

Antonio held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I can’t help thinking that you look like a dork when you are a dork.”

Santiago blushed and picked himself up, pulling his hair back into a ponytail.

“Hey, by the way, Jezebel wants to know if she can do your hair. I just remembered this.”

“Do…my hair?”

“Yeah—like style it, I guess? She told me to tell you this a while ago and I, eh, sorta forgot.” Antonio rubbed the back of his head.

Santiago shrugged. “Er, sure, I guess. Why not?”

Antonio grinned. “Great, she’ll be thrilled. What now?”

“I dunno, you decide.”

They ended up leaving the skate shop (much to Santiago’s relief) and heading down to the Inked Botany tattoo parlor (much to Santiago’s chagrin).

“I’ve never been in here,” Santiago admitted nervously. “Haven’t been in town much, for that matter. At all.”

“Well, it’s nothing dangerous, come on in.”

They stepped through the doorway and saw a woman who looked more than a bit like the matron lying on her stomach. A tattoo artist was standing over her, carefully adding the lines of a rose to the mural of ink that covered her back. His own arms were encircled by everything from geometric patterns to more flowers and he had more piercings than Santiago could count.

“Wait just a sec, Steph,” he said. “Customers.”

The woman—Steph—raised her head. “Antonio! Come on in!”

“Hey, Stephanie,” Antonio said.

Santiago looked at Antonio incredulously. “You’re on first-name basis with the tattoo lady?”

Antonio grinned. “Yeah, kinda.”

Santiago followed Antonio deeper into the shop as the man came around the table. “I’m Silvio,” he said warmly. “And you?”

“Er—Santiago. Noah Santiago.”

“Any relation to Caesar Santiago?”

Santiago blushed furiously. “N-not that I know of.”

“Hey, doesn’t he go to our school? His dad owns the King’s Ransom—you know, the strip—“ Antonio began before getting cut off by Stephanie.

“You’re making Noah uncomfortable,” she scolded, sitting up and stretching. “Silvio, dear, we’ll finish later.”

“Of course. How can I help you two?”

Antonio pushed Santiago forward. “He turned eighteen last week. He’s getting a tattoo.”

“Wait, what?” Santiago squawked.

Chapter Text

“You’re happy,” Divina said with suspicion when Diego strolled up to her, grinning. “Who’s dead?”

“No one’s dead, sister mine, at least not yet.” He pulled his phone out of his blazer pocket and showed her a photo. “Luc and I had a bit of fun implementing phase one, is all.”

Divina looked at it. “What the—“

“We taped the entirety of his furniture and knickknacks to the ceiling,” Diego said, smiling widely.

“…What the hell did you think that was going to accomplish?”

“Well, on its own, next to nothing, aside from annoying Carlos and making him paranoid because Luc is better at pranks than that. But when we start moving his stuff around bit by bit he’s probably not going to notice.”

“…You’re gaslighting him? You’re impossible.” She handed him his phone. “Where’s Kev?”

“Seeing as I just got here, right here, in five-four-three-two—“

“Eggo!” Kevin shrieked, launching off and latching onto Diego’s back.

“One,” Diego finished, his smile turning from mischievous to self-satisfied and fond.

“So,” Kevin said, twining his legs around Diego’s waist. “I heard Carlos is recruiting, took, and that he got some students here to help.”

“Is that so. Who?”

“Caesar Santiago. Amicable exes, I think. So they’re off plotting—and trying to get Carlos’s stuff off the ceiling, from what I heard.” Kevin grinned, eyes alight. “While annoying and difficult to fix, that can’t have been what you and Luc spent so long working on!”

“Nope,” Diego said, hooking his arms under Kevin’s legs and twisting his head around to receive a kiss. “We’re ensuring he won’t notice as quickly as he usually does when we start gaslighting him. Ordinarily he’s quite perceptive, but after such a noticeable and large-scale annoyance he’ll—hopefully—only vaguely wonder why he’s bumping into things.”

“You’re evil,” Kevin said, wriggling around so Diego was carrying him bridal-style and kissing his neck.

“Get a room,” Divina groaned.

Diego stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re such a child!”

“We’re the same age exactly!”

“I’m older by three minutes!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Well, how do you know?”

Kevin grinned and snuggled into Diego’s arms, contentedly watching the fight.

-O-

“Hey, what’s the name of that botany student?”

Kevin looked up from his laptop and wrinkled his nose. “Andres? The one with the crush on me?”

“Yeah, him.” Lauren collapsed on the bed next to him.

“What about him and how’d you get in here?”

“I walked in. And I saw him mucking around with hallucinogenic mushrooms.” She smiled lazily and rolled her head to watch him. “I’d watch my back.”

“I’m sure it was perfectly innocent,” Kevin sighed. “Believe the best in everyone, Lauren!”

“You’re insua—insuffer—insufferable.”

“Isn’t that Divina’s line?”

“See what I mean?” She fell back and stared up at the ceiling. “Ever wonder?”

“About sand?”

“About the sky.”

“Yeah….” Kevin suddenly shook his head. “Okay, we can expect this from me, but did you get too close to those mushrooms?”

Lauren grinned. “Silly Kev…”

“Don’t call me Kev. You totally got too close to the mushrooms, didn’t you.”

“Nooo…”

“Let’s go to the matron.”

-O-

Stella was pretty far from pleased. “Come along,” she said to Lauren gently, then to Kevin “What got her like this?”

“Stood too close to Andres Ramirez’s hallucinogenic mushroom science project,” Kevin said. “I thought she should probably rest in the nurse’s office a bit.”

Stella clucked her tongue. “No, no. I’ll take her to Sergio. He’ll know what to do.”

Kevin felt the blood drain from his face. “S-Sergio? No, that’s—she’ll be fine with a little rest—“

Stella shook her head. “I assure you it’s better if she spends a little time with Sergio. I’ll have her back by tomorrow and it’ll all be fine.”

Kevin desperately grabbed Lauren’s hand; the girl giggled and stared loopily at where he was holding. “No, matron, that’s fine—“

“Kevin.” Stella’s voice was firm, bordering on dangerous. “Lauren will be fine. She just needs a bit of rest and something to counteract the hallucinogens. Please let go of her arm.”

Kevin reluctantly obliged. “She’ll be fine?”

Stella’s warm smile was back. “Of course she will. Why, tomorrow she probably won’t even remember this happened.”

As Stella escorted Lauren away, Kevin stared worriedly after them. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.

-O-

“…Diego, the actual hell are you doing.”

Diego stopped in his tracks, barely managing to keep the boxes he was holding from falling and steadying himself on his stilettos. “Well, Sunshine, Christopher told me that if I could raise two hundred dollars from doing errands for people in a week he’d match it.”

Kevin looked at him incredulously and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the heir to a multimillion dollar trust fund! Why do you need two hundred dollars so badly you’re scrounging for petty cash?”

As an answer, Diego raised his foot to show off the cracked heels. “See? I need new heels. These ones are going to break any day now. And according to Mother, my trust fund isn’t to be used for fashion until it’s fully mine.” He scowled. “Divina gets to use hers for dresses.”

“Divina used hers for her quinceanera dress. Remember? I went shopping with you guys? And then I was at the party? She didn’t even get to wear the dress because you stole it!”

“It wasn’t fair if only she got a quinceanera,” Diego pouted. “’Sides, I gave it back.”

“After an hour of parading around the party in a gold slip. Give me those boxes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re an idiot, I love you anyway, and if you’re going to walk around in high heels then you’re going to do it in style. Just be sure not to drag me along, I hate shopping. Well, hate’s a strong word. I dislike shopping. Take Lauren once she’s out of detention.”

Diego almost dropped the boxes on Kevin’s foot. “What?!”

“Oh, yeah. Lauren got too close to Andres Ramirez’s hallucinogenic mushrooms and Stella took her for detention with Sergio,” Kevin said breezily.

Diego stared at him in disbelief. “Sunshine! She’s your best friend, how are you being so calm about this?”

Kevin looked at Diego with what was probably the most sadness Diego had ever seen him express. “Of course I’m worried about her. I’m more worried about what’ll happen if any of us says that we know what’s going on in there, especially when we don’t.”

Diego quickly shifted his box. “Yeah, about that…”

“…wait, you know what happens in Vega’s detentions?”

Diego nodded slowly.

“Will you tell me? Is Lauren going to be okay? Please tell me Lauren’s going to be okay.”

“Lauren’s going to be okay,” Diego said. “I can’t say any more than that. I think I’ve already said a little too much.” He slid one of the boxes into Kevin’s outstretched arms. “C’mon, we’re taking these to Luc’s chapel and I’m getting paid ten bucks.”

“It’s heavy!”

“That’s why it’s not five bucks. Now c’mon. New heels, and I want to prove to Rose that I’m not a completely useless spoiled brat.”

-O-

Sammy was out walking when he first saw the boy.

He was tall, with dull brown hair and washed-out skin and eyes. The sort of person who would fade away if you weren’t watching, blend into a crowd or a wall and just disappear.

And then he looked at Sammy and smiled.

“Oh my god,” Sammy muttered, feeling a little faint at the way that face lit up, suddenly the most beautiful thing under the sun.

“Hey there,” the boy said cheerfully, running over and sticking out a hand. “Do you go to school here? What’s your name?”

“Samuel,” Sammy said, “and yes, I do.”

“That’s pretty cool. This place is great.” He grabbed Sammy’s hand. “I’m Smiles. Not my real name, but everyone calls me that anyway. I’m told I’m really good at smiling, so they nicknamed me.”

Sammy couldn’t help himself—he felt the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a smile.

Chapter Text

Carmen and Keith Rodriguez were not unreasonable people. Some might call Keith a crook for the way his family made their wealth; he would just smile and donate another thousand dollars to charity. Some might call Carmen a co-conspirator for the way that her family had always been involved with his in some way; she would then go and volunteer at a soup kitchen for two weeks. Image was important. Not that they didn’t enjoy helping out, but if it could happen at a time with a photo op, well, why not?

The twins were also arranged to be a reasonable and practical pair. Carmen read every parenting book she could get her hands on; Keith hired decorators for their bedrooms; they both raised the kids in the best way they knew how and kept Carmen’s connections to her family, the Vegas, alive.

Carmen Rodriguez was a Vega, and that made a lot of a difference. The general consensus among anyone who kept up with such things was that the Vegas were worse than the Rodriguezes because their legitimate business practices were often ruthless and they rarely gave anything back; the Rodriguezes and their less-wealthy-but-still-morally-ambiguous cousins the Mendezes began as thieves and made their fortune stealing what others had, but they were agreed to be the nicer of the families.

But when it came to family names and fortunes, Carmen occasionally wondered and worried whether her son might have turned out differently if he had been raised by an ordinary family. Maybe not the Mendezes, with their criminal past, but something like them. A family that wouldn’t accidentally spoil their children to the point of brattiness. Or maybe it was just something about Diego that was just him, and no amount of different lives would change that.

Whatever way it went, Carmen was in the center of it all regardless. A Vega and a Rodriguez, with heavy connections to either side and a manor in New York, twin children who fit the exact mold of how twin children should look, the money to send said children to boarding school in Maine, a husband who doted on her, and a family tree that could be traced back to when either side lived in Spain.

She still wasn’t sure what to do with it all.

-O-

It was Parent’s Day at Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy. Some, like Diego and Divina, had both parents visiting; some only had one; some, like Kevin, didn’t have anyone to visit.

“Of course he can come with us,” Carmen had said over phone when Diego asked. “Er—Kevin is your boyfriend, right?”

“Yes, Mamá, he’s my boyfriend,” Diego sighed. “Thank you.”

So the twins were with Kevin, sitting on the edge of a stone railing, when Carmen and Keith showed up.

“Mamá!” Divina said, jumping off the railing. “Papá! Hello!”

“Hey,” Diego said with a bored expression, although that may have just been because he had woken up less than ten minutes before and had yet to realize his heels were on the wrong feet and he had his tie knotted wrong.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez!” Kevin said, dragging Diego with him as he ran over. “Don’t mind him, he hasn’t had his coffee yet.”

Keith chuckled. It was exactly how you’d expect a businessman to laugh, to be honest. “Please, call me Keith. And perhaps we should fix this issue?”

“Oh, please do,” Divina said. “He’s been impossible and he’s only been awake for ten minutes.”

“Shaddap, sister mine,” Diego snapped.

“I’ve been up for hours!” Kevin announced happily.

“That’s because you have enough energy to power a small country for a year, sunshine,” Diego said, tone less snappish and more fond. “Do you even sleep?”

“Sometimes!”

Diego sighed and looked at his boyfriend with the kind of expression you’d expect to see in sappy romance movies.

“Get a room,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Kevin jumped. “Lauren! You’re okay!”

“Okay?” Carmen asked. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“She got detention,” Diego said.

“…Care to elaborate? Why is detention so bad?”

All four exchanged a glance. “…no reason. She just really hates detention,” Kevin said.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Lauren said with a very Kevinish amount of cheer. “I barely remember it, to be honest.”

“Er, let’s talk about this later, shall we?” Divina said hastily. “Your mother’s here, I think. Go find her.”

Lauren ran off, joined halfway across the lawn by Daniel, and disappeared.

“…Anyway,” Diego said after a moment, “Mamá, Papá, how have you been since we’ve seen you last?”

Carmen smiled and petted his hair down. “Excellent, Eggo. And you two?”

“Just fine,” Divina said. “The year’s going wonderfully. Diego has a new roommate, I’m with Jezebel, and everything’s just lovely in general.”

Carmen looked at them suspiciously. “That’s…very cheerful. It doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“She was replaced by a well-behaved clone,” Diego deadpanned. “Very tragic. Can I have her clothes?”

Divina smacked him. “Shaddap.”

“You shut up.” He gave a winning smile. “Anyway, Mamá. For the day—“

A pair of senior boys walked by, saw Carmen, and one wolf-whistled.

Within a few seconds Keith and Divina were holding Diego back as he snarled and cursed them out in Spanish. “Brother mine!” Divina yelled. “Knock it off!”

“Vaya al inferno, mi cabròn!” Diego shrieked, tugging at them.

“Diego!” Carmen chastised.

Diego stopped struggling. “Mamá—“

“Diego. You are fifteen years old. Act like it.”

Diego almost pouted, thought better of it, and shoved his hands in his blazer pockets. “Mamá—“

“Diego,” she said sharply. “Act your age and stop being so touchy.”

Diego slumped. “Yes, Mamá.”

“Good.” Carmen patted his shoulder. “What kind of activities are there for Parent’s Day?”

“A picnic,” Diego said, “a chapel meeting, a group dinner. Things like that.”

“So specific,” Divina muttered.

“Divina, stop antagonizing your brother,” Keith said impatiently. “Diego, stop being an asshole.”

They all stopped and stared incredulously at him for a moment.

“Sorry.”

-O-

“What?” Lauren asked when they caught up with her and her mom. “Your dad was just stating the number-one known fact of the school. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Cecil Palmer is a weirdo and Diego is an asshole. All facts.”

“Shaddap, Lauren,” Diego muttered.

Kevin giggled.

“Sunshine, you traitor.”

“She’s right,” Kevin said happily. “Hey, Eggo, why aren’t you wearing your jewelry?”

Diego froze up and looked at Carmen. “Erm.”

Carmen’s eyes narrowed. “Diego Kerr Rodriguez, where did you get jewelry when you cannot spend your trust fund?”

“I…er…had some money left over after buying my new heels?” he tried.

“Liar. Try again.”

“I, um…”

He broke away from the group and sped off across the lawn to the (relatively) safe refuge of the chapel.

Carmen smiled smugly. “I knew he took my jewelry,” she said to no one in particular. “It’s been gone since the day you two returned to school and Divina doesn’t steal.”

Kevin sighed. “Yes, but he did look good in it.”

“I’ll get him some of his own as a Christmas present or something, but I did want to see the look on his face.”

Divina cracked up laughing.

-O-

Sammy Vega was in the chapel when Diego burst in. Luciano, oddly, was not. “Er—Sammy?”

Sammy jumped, removed his earbuds, and stopped humming. “Oh! Diego! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Where’s your uncle?”

Sammy shrugged. “He lives here. So does Aunt Stella. The triplets are at the lower school now. Every day is Parent’s Weekend.”

Diego sat next to him on the piano bench. “Where are your real parents, by the way?”

Sammy blinked at him. “Uncle Sergio and Aunt Stella raised me. Daniel just barely remembers our biological mother and father. They are our real parents.”

Diego nodded slowly. “You’re being very…contemplative. So what’s up?”

Sammy hesitated, then smiled. “I may have met someone.”

Diego started, looked at him closely, and then grinned. “What? That’s great. Who’s it? Do they go here?”

“He doesn’t,” Sammy said. “I’m, um, not actually sure how he got on campus? He just showed up.”

“What’s his name?”

“Smiles.”

Diego raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”

“Heh. His name is Miles. I…can’t pronounce his last name. But everyone calls him Smiles, he says.”

“There a particular reason for that?”

As a response, Sammy sighed dramatically.

“Let me guess—his smile looks good on him.”

“Yes.”

Diego sniggered. “Well, roomie, my clinical diagnosis is that you’ve got it bad for this Miles guy. Don’t ask me though, ask Santiago, he’s a doctor.”

“You’re good at the romance stuff, though,” Sammy groaned, falling halfway off the bench and resting the top of his head on the floor.

Diego peered down at him. “Clearly either you have a skewed view of romance or you’re thinking of someone else, possibly someone who looked like me and was wearing my clothes. It’s a common mistake since half the people here look like me and everyone wears my clothes.”

Sammy pouted at him. “You bought your boyfriend a ticket to Prague after he fought with his brother.”

“Because I wish someone would buy me a ticket to Prague when I fight with my sister.”

“You met him by kissing him in the remnants of the punch table at the Halloween masquerade.”

“True. How do you even know that?”

“Daniel told me. You dyed your hair to match his.”

“I’d been meaning to anyway.”

“You walk around in high heels because he likes it.”

“I did that before I met him.”

“Stop fighting and tell me how to do the romance thing!”

Diego sighed and lowered himself so he was upside down, his head resting on the floor next to Sammy’s. “Fine. All I ever do is give him a lot of gifts. Not necessarily expensive ones, although those work too and I enjoy picking them out. Gifts like, say, kissing in the punch. Although that was sticky and ended in demerits, so you may want to skip that one. Why don’t you go talk to your brother? He’s good at this.”

Sammy blushed. “Ask my brother for romance advice?”

“…good point. Although your logic is flawed, I think I’m your cousin.”

“You’re my parents cousin. So…um, second cousin?”

“Something to that effect.” Diego rolled his head around and pulled himself back up, hooking a leg around the piano and straightening himself. “Look, I’m not a romance person.”

“Kevin would say differently.”

“Up until last week Kevin thought the school motto was ‘Science for the Science God’ because of a joke Carlos made while he was over at his house. Don’t trust anything Kevin says.”

Sammy sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine. Don’t help me.”

“Good. I’m not planning to.”

That night when Sammy returned to the dorm room, Diego had left directions to the florists on his desk.

Chapter Text

Unknown to Diego, outside the chapel as he was talking to Sammy, Carlos and Andres Mendez were walking in the cemetery.

“Why couldn’t Mamá and Papá come?” Andres asked, not wanting to sound like a child but still rather disappointed.

“Papá had work and just couldn’t take off today, and Mamá’s visiting her sister in Florida,” Carlos said. “What, I’m not good enough?”

“It’s fine,” Andres said. “I was just…looking forward to seeing them again.”

Carlos bumped his shoulder. “Hey, keep your head up. You live two miles away, you can visit any time.”

“Any time someone’s willing to loan me a bike,” Andres said glumly.

“Or you could walk. I wanna see your project, but first I’ve got something to take care of.” Carlos grinned mischievously.

Andres groaned. “Not this again…”

“He taped all the furniture in Cecil’s apartment to the ceiling! D’you know how long it took to get it down without Cecil waking up?”

“Cecil slept through it?”

“Cecil sleeps through anything that isn’t Earl, me, or sex,” Carlos said. “Or some combination thereof.”

Andres winced and shut his eyes. “Too much information, Carlito!”

“Sorry. Anyway, yeah, Cecil slept through it. He usually does not sleep through me coming into the apartment so I had to do everything insanely slowly.”

Andres laughed a little bit. “Still. You two’re starting to drag everyone else into this. Can’t you all just, I dunno, get along?”

Carlos stopped and looked back at him. “You’re one to talk. Thanks for the excellent conversation changer, though, as I notice not one person has stopped to say hello to you today.”

Andres felt his blood run cold. “Carlito, I can explain—“

Carlos was beside him in an instant, barely two inches taller than him but suddenly Andres felt like he was five again. “Andres,” he said gently. “Do you have any friends?”

Andres bit his lip, shut his eyes tightly, and shook his head.

“And is everyone nice to you?”

“…No,” Andres whispered hoarsely.

“Andres.”

Andres blinked back tears and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry—“

“No, no, don’t apologize!” Carlos said hastily. “Andres, stop apologizing!” He held Andres’s shoulders. “I just want you to tell me the truth.”

Andres let out a sob and launched himself at Carlos, hugging his brother around the shoulders. “I’m sorry, Carlito, I lied…”

“Shh, shh, what’s going on?” Carlos asked gently.

“No one likes me,” Andres sobbed into his neck. “They don’t even know I exist. And I may or may not be selling drugs now.”

“Wait, what?”

“M-my mushrooms. People kept walking into the greenhouse while I was w-working without gas masks and g-getting high so they started p-paying me. I didn’t f-figure out for a week why they were l-leaving money there.”

Carlos let out a noise that was half-laugh, half-frustrated. “Andres—“

“I didn’t mean it, it just happened, and it started like two weeks ago and I thought it would make people l-like me more but they still d-don’t even k-k-know who I am.” Andres tried to wriggle out of the hug, but Carlos had a grip on him now and tightened his arms. “L-let go.”

“No way,” Carlos said. “Andres, look, this—we’ll talk about the other stuff in a minute, but first let’s focus on the hallucinogenic mushrooms because you do know that’s illegal, right?”

“I k-know,” Andres muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Andres, please stop apologizing. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Carlos released him and held him by the shoulders at arm’s length. “Now. We’re going to go have brotherly bonding time at Luciano’s expense, and then you are going to sit down and talk to me about this, alright?”

“O-okay.”

“Okay.”

-O-

Technically speaking, Noah Santiago had lied to the guy at the tattoo parlor.

He did in fact know Caesar Santiago. Rather well, all things considered. That happened when you had a brother.

Santiago was older by two years, a senior where Caesar was a sophomore, and they were vaguely and distantly related to the Vegas, just enough that people shot them Looks if they knew anything about the family. Of course, that may have also been because their mother owned a strip club.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Celeste “Coco” Santiago was still the nicest parent Santiago could ask for. Mainly because when he very quietly explained to her that he was in fact a boy and not a girl, her first question was “So do you want to go shopping now or wait until the new season’s out?” followed by “Do you want to do hormones? Or surgery?”, snapping at her PA, and shouting “Jessica, go find me someone who does hormones! Don’t you worry, Santi, we’re gonna find you someone who does hormones, m’kay?” This in addition to not batting an eye when Caesar brought home not one but two boyfriends and, oh yeah, the strip club thing.

Not many people knew that Celeste herself ran the strip club; most just assumed that she worked the floor while her husband or father ran it from the back room. Her father, Juan, was perfectly happy to remain at home with his wife Adelaide, however, and as for a husband she had never had one. Santi and Caesar’s father was generally assumed to be the same person simply because Celeste had never said otherwise; no one actually knew, not even her parents, because she had shown up with a three-year-old Noah and infant Caesar and bought what would become the King’s Ransom strip club with money no one knew she had.

She, Adelaide, and Juan were also over for Parent’s Day, and Santiago was remarkably grateful that no one knew who really ran the King’s Ransom because the last name thing was bad enough, let alone the fact that Caesar had no qualms about who their mother was and was in fact glad to be someday taking over the club. (Of course, Caesar had a lot of issues, some of which desperately needed addressing…)

It was almost seven and beginning to get dark when the five made it back to the circle. Santiago took a deep breath as Celeste gave Caesar a hug and turned to him.

“I’ll miss you,” he said as she embraced him.

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” she said. “But you still live two miles away.”

“I don’t have a bike.”

“Walking is good exercise,” Caesar cut in.

“It’s always about that with you,” Santiago muttered.

“Caesar, darling, you need to feel free to take breaks from exercise sometimes,” Celeste chuckled.

“I’m fine, Mamá,” Caesar muttered quietly.

“I’m sure.” She kissed his forehead. “So I’ll see you two soon?”

“Yes, Mamá,” they said in unison.

“Good!”

She got in the back of the car with Adelaide and Juan and was driven away.

After a moment, Santiago turned to Caesar. “Caesar—“

“Shut up, Santi.”

“Casear, listen to me. This is starting to become a problem.”

“You’re making it a problem.” Caesar kicked a loose stone. “I’m not.”

“It is a problem and ignoring the fact that you’ve lost twenty pounds in a month isn’t going to make that fact any better!”

Caesar scowled. “Stop telling me what to do, Santi.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying that if you told Mamá what’s going on—“

“She knows I like exercising.”

“This goes beyond that. You’re going to waste away. You’re sick, Caesar.”

“I’m not sick. I’m perfectly healthy. I make sure of that.”

“You don’t eat anymore!”

“I do so!”

“You eat rabbit food!”

“Shut up, Noah!”

“You need to start dealing with this!” Santiago followed Caesar as his brother stormed away.

“I’m not going to. It is not an issue. Not like your inability to so much as look at another human being!”

“I’m an introvert!”

“No, I’m an introvert. You’re scared of the world!”

“Don’t walk away from me!”

“Make me!” Caesar ran off and slammed the door of the main building behind himself.

Santiago started to follow, then sighed, pulled out his cellphone, and called Gareth.

-O-

The sun was setting over the lake as the last sets of parents got into cars and limos and drove off. Carmen and Keith Rodriguez were some of the last to leave.

“Before we go,” Carmen said, beaming, “I have some good news to share with you two!”

“Good news as in we built a library or good news as in Vega family reunion?” Divina asked, eyebrows raised.

“Good news.” Carmen put a hand on her stomach and smiled proudly at them. “You two are going to have another brother or sister?”

A moment of silence, then Diego shrieked “Are you kidding me?!”

“Diego!” Divina admonished, smacking his arm.

“Mamá, you can’t! You’re—you’re—“

“Too old?” Carmen asked, eyebrows raised. “You’re aware that I’m thirty-three, right, Diego?”

“Yes, but—but—“

“Brother mine is concerned that after the baby’s born he won’t be as spoiled,” Divina said, grinning.

“Shaddap, Divina, I am not!”

“You totally are,” Kevin said.

“Whoa, did not realize you were still here. Have you been holding my hand this whole time?”

“Yes, I have, and you are very jealous of an unborn kid,” Kevin said matter-of-factly.

“Shaddap, Sunshine.”

“You wound me with your words.”

As they continued to banter, Divina put a hand on Carmen’s stomach. “Girl or boy?”

“Too soon to tell,” Carmen said. “If you could choose?”

Divina tapped her chin. “Girl. I need a comrade-in-arms against Diego.”

“Good choice.” Carmen grinned. “Tell your brother we said goodbye, alright? I doubt he’ll stop arguing long enough to listen.”

“Got it.” Divina hugged her mother. “Miss you.”

“I’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” Carmen said.

“See you.”

She and Keith got into the car and drove off. Divina watched them go, then turned back to the boys. “Brother dearest, you missed our mother’s parting!”

“Whaaat?” He turned quickly and darted forward.

There was a thud.

Kevin began sniggering as Divina laughed outright. Diego, his heel caught in the grating and currently face-down on the ground, pushed himself up with a grimace.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” he hissed.

“Too late!”

Chapter Text

Jake had been living for Christopher for all of a week and it was already starting to feel too crowded.

The apartments given to single teachers weren’t the largest in the world. Ellie was sleeping in a trundle bed already, and with Jake crashing on the couch, Christopher was at his wit’s end (not to mention that he could barely feed himself and Ellie on his abysmal salary, let alone his wayward brother).

“I can’t stand it, Cleopatra!” he moaned into his cell, watching Ellie out of the corner of his eye as she played with her Lego. “It’s going to drive me insane if he’s here any logner!”

Cleopatra sighed. Christopher could practically hear his best friend rolling her eyes. “So kick him out.”

“I can’t do that, he’s my brother!”

“So? I never let that stop me.”

“You’re awful,” Christopher grumbled halfheartedly, getting up to grab a tax portfolio for the Silva branch of the family and opening it. “I need to get back to work to make money to do nice things like eat, but I also need a drink and Divina Rodriguez isn’t so bad a babysitter. Care to meet me tonight?”

“I’d love to. Where’re we going?”

“Hm…the Moonlite All-Nite? They’ve got vodka and cherry soda rum.”

“I’m in. Does seven work for you?”

“Seven’s fine.”

At seven-oh-seven Christopher entered the diner. Cleopatra was already sitting on the counter, her dark hair swept back into a loose bun. “Chris, you’re late.”

“Good to see you too, Cleo. Did you order?”

She pushed a shotglass nearly filled with coconut rum at him “Double shot. You might as well get pleasantly wasted early on.”

“Good call.” He drained the glass in ten seconds flat and the bartender turned to look at him, vaguely impressed. “So. Times have been changing—what’s up?”

“Not much. Still out of a job. Still working on a solution. How’s the extended Vega clan?”

“As they always are—chaotic, impossible, and cheating on their taxes. I wasn’t around to do those last year, so there are some…interesting discrepancies.”

Cleopatra chuckled. “Remember when I worked for the Mendezes? They cheated on everything, I swear to the Smiling God. Miguel taught them all how to steal—Silvio does locks, Lovino does handwriting, so on. Even Carmen learned how to break in and Feliciano does mail-order scams.” She sipped her own drink and twirled an unlit cigarette. “They’re all messed up.”

“You can say that again.” Christopher ordered a proper drink and turned to face Cleo. “So. About Jake.”

“What were he and Marcus fighting about?”

“Smiling God, I don’t’ even know. He won’t tell me. Just mopes around.”

Cleopatra considered this and grinned. Christopher looked at her apprehensively. “Oh, nonono, I know that look. That’s the I-have-a-plan look.”

“But Chris—I’ve got a plan.”

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it! You’re supposed to be the logical one!”

“Chriiisss…”

“Every time you do this it goes wrong. Every time anyone does this, it goes wrong! Didn’t I tell you about the ones the students cook up?” He sighed. “But because I have no sense of preservation or apparently sanity and really want to know what they fought about and how to get Jake to knock it off, now I’m curious. What’s this plan of yours?”

Cleopatra grinned.

-O-

“Psst. Psst, Lauren. Lauren, wake up.” Divina shook her friend and smacked her shoulder. “Wake up!”

“Wha—wha—I’m awake!” Lauren said groggily, shooting up and rubbing her eyes. “Whaaat? What time is it?’

“Two in the morning.”

“Goddammit, Div! What’s so important?”

“I was in the library doing research—‘

“At two in the morning.”

“Yes. Anyway, I found a secret passageway in the bookcase!”

Lauren blinked. “Okay. Dream Divina is really weird. I’m going back to sleep in case I find Dream Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Come on!”

Divina dragged Lauren out of bed and the two raced down the hallway in their pyjamas, Lauren still half-asleep and Divina practically bouncing. She pulled her across the lawn into the hall that housed the library and deep into the stacks until they reached a back corner. “Local history. No one ever comes here.”

“Why did you?”

“I was looking into the stuff Daniel said and we need to talk about that in the morning. But for now—look!”

She pushed on the edge of one of the bookcases and it slowly began to spin. Lauren watched, open-mouthed, as a doorway was revealed, leading into a passageway.

“Okay. I take back anything I said, this was so worth getting out of bed for.”

“C’mon!” Divina tugged her hand and pushed into the passageway. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Lauren followed. “Is this a smart plan?”

“You totally didn’t say it had to be smart.”

The two headed down the dark stone passageway until the light from the library ran out. “Got your phone?” Lauren asked.

Divina pulled out her iPhone and turned on the flashlight. “There we go.”

They continued on, rounding one corner and another until—

“Holy shit!”

Lauren jumped back, stumbling into the wall as Divina fell over and the flashlight clattered out of her hand.

“S-sorry!” came a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lauren furrowed her brow and peered into the darkness, groping for Divina’s phone. “Come closer.”

They heard quiet footsteps. As Lauren grabbed the phone and turned the flashlight on the unknown figure, it tilted its head and looked at them with wide eyes.

A boy. A boy their age or a little off, with dark skin (as far as they could tell in the dim lighting) and a mess of tangled black-brown curls, one side shaved off.

“Who are you?” Divina asked, over her fear and into curiosity.

“Isaias Merlo,” he said, looking at them with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

“Divina Rodriguez and Lauren Mallard. Do you go to school here?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ehm. Kinda? I…I did for a while.”

“And now you’re…in the walls?’

He nodded. “Again, erm, kinda. It’s complicated.”

“Do you know anyone?” Lauren asked. “Why’d you hide in the walls?”

Isaias bit his lip. “I don’t, mm, do people very well. I got scared. I still listen in on classes and come out to take the tests and things.”

“So what do you do all day?”

He waved a small phone. “I have this. And an electric socket. And I took a bunch of blankets and made a nest, so I stay there.”

“No one’s called your parents to say you’re not in class?” Divina asked. This was starting to seem very weird. Not that it wasn’t already, but, well.

“I don’t have any,” he said quietly.

“Who do you have?”

“Well. I talk to two people here. Little more than talk, actually. Caesar Santiago and Kevin Jathis—“

“Wait,” Lauren interrupted. “You’re Caesar’s other boyfriend? Man, you wouldn’t believe how much gossip goes around about you!”

Isaias blushed. “Please don’t. I don’t like people talking about me.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows Caesar and KJ have another boyfriend but no one knows who it is, so…” Lauren shrugged. “People speculate.”

Isaias hunched his shoulders and shrank back into a corner. “I—if I could ask a favor of you?”

“Shoot,” Divina said, brushing herself off.

“Could you perhaps not tell anyone I’m here? I just…I prefer it. In the walls, that is.”

Divina and Lauren exchanged a glance and shrugged. “Sure, as long as you’re eating. You’re eating, right?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Caesar or Kevin brings me food every day. And I’m alright.”

“Can we come back?” Lauren asked.

“I…” He thought it over. “If you don’t tell anyone else I’m here.”

Lauren grinned. “Great. It’s two am, but I’ll definitely be back.”

“So will I,” Divina said. “We’ll see you then!”

The girls raced off down the dark hallway back to the library. After a moment, Isaias retreated down the passageways to his nest, curling up among the quilts and down comforters and settling to sleep.

Chapter Text

It was believed by some—mainly nervous freshmen and those who actually believed their own lies—that Headmaster Ricardo Vega was an intimidating personality who one would not wish to cross, lest you be assigned detention with his son Sergio.

This was untrue.

It was believed by others—pretty much everyone, and the students who had yet to meet him—that Headmaster Ricardo Vega was a stern yet reasonable authority figure who cared about the well-being of his students.

This was also untrue.

The truth was that Headmaster Ricardo Vega should not have been allowed to become a teacher, much less a headmaster, much less the headmaster of an exclusive private academy which valued academics above, say, skateboarding down the hall without wearing pants.

Christopher Rose knew this better than anyone. He had a list of all the times Headmaster Ricardo Vega had nearly caused his early retirement (he would have already if it weren’t for Ellie).

“We need Miss’s file,” Christopher said as he entered the office one day. “The federals are starting to ask what her real name is. Or you could just tell me.”

Ricardo waved his hand dismissively. He was sitting slouched in his large office armchair, feet up on the desk, wearing a very professional blazer on top and pajama pants with a penguin design in lieu of trousers. “I don’t remember her name, I don’t know who half the people working here are!”

“Then just give me her file,” Christopher said, trying very hard for patience.

Ricardo coughed. “Hm….that may be difficult.”

Christopher blinked, then sighed. “Did you lose it?”

“Not this time!” he announced happily.

“Then where, pray tell, is the file?”

Ricardo pointed towards the window. Christopher went over and looked out.

At least a hundred paper airplanes were spinning lazily on the wind, some already landed in the muddy grass below.

“You turned a teacher’s file into paper airplanes.”

“Yes I did indeed! Wanna know what I did with yours?”

“Not especially,” Christopher muttered.

Ricardo opened his desk drawer and pulled out an enormous string of white paper cranes. “I turned yours and a few others into a string of cranes!” he said. “Make a wish!”

“I wish I was working somewhere else,” Christopher muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Ricardo shrugged. “Alright, then. What’d you say you needed the file for?”

“The federal authorities are looking into us again. They’re trying to find proof that Sergio is torturing the students, along with Miss’s real name.”

“Does it matter? Say her name is Missy Scholar. That’d fit.”

Christopher sighed. “Yes, sir. I’ll go file that away.”

-O-

No one was quite sure who Miss was or where she was from. Absolutely no one knew her real name—she was universally referred to as Miss, Teacher, Missus, or any number of other titles (Kevin Jathis spent the better part of his freshman year calling her Senpai).

She was, however, pretty much loved all around, as the former matron and current creative writing and mythology teacher.

She also played the lyre and all but explicitly stated that she hated the Church of the Smiling God, with lessons including gems like “Remember that in this day and age it is possible to choose your destiny, and that is a wonderful thing” and “Angels, according to the Church, tell only lies and do not exist; but remember, if you will, the stories of angels from the Christian mythology and remember that they are beautiful and only intend to protect you”. This was somewhat similar to going into the Sistine Chapel and announcing your conversion to Wiccan (and exactly as bad an idea), but Miss never seemed to get fired.

(The rumor was that the conversation with the Headmaster went something like this:

RICARDO: I’m afraid we are going to have to fire you, miss.
MISS: Really? I have a platter of cookies here that says otherwise.
RICARDO: On second thought…
MISS: Look, Hershey’s kisses!
RICARDO: Want a raise with that?
MISS: I can bake pie.
RICARDO: How about an all-expenses-paid Caribbean vacation this year?

The actual accuracy of this exchange was up for debate, but it was generally agreed that it was definitely something the two would do.)

On that day, she was teaching creative writing. The curriculum for most teachers was flexible, but for Miss and Sergio especially, it was more “do what you please”. The kids still learned.

She had assigned them journal entries and set them loose as she tuned her lyre. Kevin, Diego, Divina, Lauren, and Daniel immediately raced to the back of the classroom and launched themselves into the beanbags in the reading nook, Kevin curling next to Diego on the same cushy seat, Daniel and Lauren holding hands, and Divina looking as cosy and as pleased with herself as a cat would be.

“So,” Diego said, chewing the edge of his pen. “Remind me—the assignment isssss….”

“I dunno,” Daniel muttered, clicking into a few things on his laptop. “I have work to do.”

“Yeah, classwork. This classwork. What’s the assignment?”

“Not classwork.”

“Five hundred words on the topic you’re most proud of,” Lauren said without looking up from her notebook.

“Thank you, Lauren,” Diego said, beginning to write in a messy scrawl.

“Welcome. What’cha looking at, Danny?” She leaned over to look at the webpage he had open.

“Stuff about the Renaissance Faire,” he said.

“What kind of stuff about the Renaissance Faire?”

Daniel shrugged. “They’re hiring anyone over fourteen in the area willing to work it. They expect a big crowd this year.”

Lauren leaned in closer. “Ooh, sounds like fun! Can we do that?”

“What’d you think I was looking it up for?” He opened a new tab. “Applications. We just print them out, fill them out, and report next week to start.”

“Who runs the faire? Does it say?” Divina asked with sudden interest.

Daniel looked at the screen. “Erm…Miguel M, it says.”

Divina and Diego exchanged a glance and said in synchrony “Oh, no…”

“What?”

“Miguel Mendez,” Diego said.

“Our cousin’s family patriarch.”

“He’s….”

“Well…”

“He gave the Mendezes their bad reputation.”

“For theft and such.”

“Like the tattoo guy. He picks locks.”

“They’re all our cousins, too.”

“And, well.”

“Miguel himself is a cheat!” Divina finally said. “He’s cool and all, but he’s a thief, pure and simple. I would bet this Ren Fest is another con.”

Daniel shrugged. “So? Haven’t you always kind of wanted to be part of that?”

“Not especially,” said Diego with a tone that seemed to imply he was thinking about being a part of that at the moment.

“Yes you have,” Kevin said. “You were saying just the other day that it would be cool to go into your cousin’s family business instead—thieve things instead of legit business practices?”

Diego shrugged. “I said it’d be more interesting, is all.”

“I’ve printed us all applications, in that case,” Daniel said. “I expect we’re not the only ones with this idea, either.”

Miss glided by, her long dark robes brushing against the floor. The tattooed constellations on her skin seemed to move as she bent down. “We’re doing journals, right?”

“Right!” Lauren announced. Diego saluted her with his pen.

She smiled at them in a warning sort of way. “You should probably start, if you haven’t,” she said, tossing her silky dark hair over her shoulder. “It would be…prudent.”

“Got it,” Daniel said sheepishly.

She smiled wider and patted his head, moving on to the next group.

“…well,” Kevin said, sniggering, “Daniel, you might wanna start your journal. She’s gonna call you to read.”

“What? No, she’s not.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“Sure. Let’s bet. Five bucks?”

“You’re on.”

-O-

Kevin ended up buying them all ice cream with his five bucks, smiling broadly and mouthing “I told you so” at Daniel every five minutes as they ate their lunch and filled out the Renaissance Faire applications.

“So what’s Miguel like? Other than being into theft,” Lauren said.

“He’s…” Diego paused. “We didn’t know him well. Mamá preferred us to stay with the Vegas for holidays and family events, which says a bit. But whenever we’d go to our cousin’s house he tended to show up as well, dragging along some members of that side of the family—Silvio, Lovino, Alejandro, Isabelle, Feliciano, or Feliciano’s biological brother, whose name slips my mind at the moment. He liked Mamá a lot, though—kept on saying that he’d adopt her. They were all adopted.” Diego thought for a moment.

“He couldn’t have kids,” Divina picked up. “That’s why there were so many adopted cousins for us. Lots of foster care kids and he adopted any of them that he wanted to keep. It was kind of a family thing.”

“It was kind of crazy,” Diego muttered. “I never understood him.”

“None of us did. He was always working a theft or a con. Either we know him even worse than we thought and he’s gone straight, or he’s trying a new con.” Divina sipped her lemonade and took a bite of her sandwich. “I’d put money on the second.”

“It could still be kind of cool,” Kevin said. “And as long as we’re working it, we won’t lose money.”

“We probably won’t get paid,” Diego warned.

“So?” Kevin paused. “Wait, should we tell everyone else? So we’re the only ones being conned?”

They all exchanged glances, then said in perfect synchrony “Naaah.”

Chapter Text

The Night Vale Renaissance Faire and Carnival was a sight to behold, with dozens of stalls and booths, a jousting ring, an elaborate front, a Museum of Medical Marvels, and a small labyrinth leading to a castle. The five arrived for their first day of work on the second Saturday in October, already dressed in the costumes they had been provided.

“D’you know who else signed up?” Kevin asked as they headed for the gate.

“Pretty much everyone, although I know for a fact Luciano isn’t going to show up. He and I planned revenge for the itching powder Carlos put in his underwear on Parent’s Day and he said he was going to implement it today.” Diego adjusted the lapels of his jacket. “Do I look good?”

“You look great,” Kevin said, planting a kiss on Diego’s cheek. “Love the boots.”

Diego beamed proudly, spinning to show off the more-practical heeled boots he was wearing. “You think?”

“You’re lovely,” Divina said, sounding bored. “How about me?” She spread the black overskirt she was wearing and turned from side to side. “I need my veil, Lauren.”

Lauren passed her the veil, lifting her own skirts. “So Daniel, where are we all?”

“I’m working security,” he said, “you and Kevin are doing introductions for the various shows—I told them you do the school radio program and they were very interested—Diego’s with the acting troupe—“

“Wait, what?”

“Diego’s with the acting troupe, and Divina’s fortune-telling. We all report to the front building first, though.”

They headed up to the front of the faire, where Carlos Mendez was sitting in a ticket booth with a bored expression. “We’re closed,” he said as they approached.

“We’re working here,” Diego said.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Diego, tell me another one."p>

"No, we're really working here," Divina said.

Carlos shook his head and laughed shortly.“Head on in, then. Don’t catch your heels on the grating." Divina laughed and Carlos grinned. "Glad I don't have traitorous siblings, as she seems to be having good amounts of enjoyment at your expense."

Diego blushed furiously. “Shaddap, Carlito.”

“Don’t call me Carlito.” He got up and pushed the gates open. “There you go. Have fun.”

“Er, Eggo, doesn't he have a brother?” Kevin asked. “I seem to remember you said there was a brother.”

“I dunno, but he wasn’t there last time we were over, remember? It was just Carlito, Tiá Aria and Tio Jose,” Divina said. “I assume Carlito's comment was about traitorous, not siblings. Wonder where he went.”

“Who even knows with that family?” Lauren asked. “They’re as bad as the Vegas.”

“Heeey…” Daniel warned, lightly punching her shoulder. “Not nice.”

“You guys are weird, though.”

“Accurate,” Daniel admitted. “But still not nice.”

“The world was never made a better place by someone being nice.”

“What about Ghandi?” Kevin asked.

Lauren wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him away to where they were assigned to set up. “Kevin, my dear, let me tell you a thing…”

-O-

If Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy had had a normal sort of music teacher, who took breaks and ate lunch and slept, for a godo part of the day the chapel would be completely empty and kind of creepy.

Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy did not have a normal sort of music teacher. It had Luciano.

Luciano, when he was composing, didn’t seem to eat or sleep and just barely taught the classes, mostly giving vague instructions before returning his focus to the piano, playing and recording in neat notation.

When Sergio entered the chapel the Sunday morning that everyone had left to go work at the faire, that was what Lulciano was doing, bent over the sleek black-and-gold instrument, fingers dancing across china keys as sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows and illuminated a halo in his dark hair. The melody floated and echoed through the chamber; Luciano’s eyes were closed and his smile was beautifully blissful.

Sergio waited patiently until his cousin finished playing and walked up to the dais, footsteps echoing in the silence. “Luc?”

Luc turned and smiled at him straight-on. It would’ve been charming if not for the Glasgow cuts across his cheeks; as it was, the best you could say was that it was an interesting smile. “Cousin mine! What brings you here?”

“Everyone else left to work the Faire,” Sergio said, stopping just in front of the steps. “Didn’t you sign up too? I gave you the form.”

Luc blinked in surprise. “You did? I did? That was today? Oh, dear. It completely slipped my mind.”

“Yes, I got that,” Sergio said dryly. “Care to come along?”

Luciano looked longingly at his sheet music, then sighed. “I suppose. If I must.”

“You agreed to help. Besides, I think you get to play the piano—for music during the shows and such.”

Luciano brightened at once, hopping up and stepping off the dais to join Sergio. “Ooh, really?”

“It’s what you signed up for, isn’t it? Do you really forget that much, cousin mine?”

Luciano laughed. That didn’t say much; it was a rare conversation when Luciano didn’t laugh, whether in fear or anger or actual amusement. “I suppose so. Only when I’m composing, of course. Mind if I join you for the walk down to town?”

“That was rather my intention in coming here. Let’s go!” Sergio linked his arm with Luciano’s at the elbow.

The two strode out of the chapel and into the sunlight.

Chapter Text

They were a strange and wonderful bunch running the Renaissance Traveling Faire those days. There were six of them;

Isabelle de la Rosa, the youngest, designed costumes and rented dresses out to the visitors. She had brightly dyed hair and spent her days in the back of her wooden caravan, sewing and darning, or out at the Joust acting as the princess.

Her brother Alejandro de la Rosa, the second youngest, was a swordsman. He threw them, swallowed them, made them and sold them, ran the Joust that Isabelle was the princess for; he had very bright eyes and very white hair.

Lovino de la Rosa danced in the square to the tune of whatever musician they could find for the week, trying to get the visitors to dance with him. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn’t, but he was always enjoying himself.

Jonah Feliciano de la Rosa trained the dogs, a pack of wolflike beasts with sleek coats that did whatever he said. Once upon a time he had been a trained acrobat in another circuit; no one knew what the accident was, but after, he was taken in by the faire.

Feliciano’s brother, Julius Feliciano de la Rosa, was the physician for the faire, tending to anyone who was sick or hurt among the main crew or the local workers. He didn’t approve of some of the more…unsavory dealings of the other faire workers, but tolerated them anyway for the sake of his job and his brother.

And Miguel Mendez de la Rosa ran the place with flair and a flamboyant hand, constantly trailed by his so-called sidekick, Mags, a redhead who took issue with everything they did except the thievery. He was fond of a high lifestyle and achieved it in any way possible; for the past few years, that meant travelling a circuit with the others, running the Faire and cheating everyone out of their money.

They would set up in a town, hire the locals to work for the Faire, lure in those from miles around, and set high prices for everything. People paid anyway, as long as they set up in the right place, a place where a faire would be appreciated, where there wasn’t another option.

Aside from the slightly-hostile locals, Night Vale was perfect.

Mags chased after Miguel as he strolled through the grounds, grinning with pride and surveying the setup. “Goddammit, Miguel, slow down!” the short redhead snapped. “I can’t keep up!”

“So go faster, Maggers! We’ve got things to do!” He snapped his fingers. “How many do we have signed up?”

She consulted a notepad. “About forty. All from the local schools.”

“Any of my family members?”

She shot him a look. “You’re related to the Vegas.”

“Point taken. Close relatives?”

“Carlos Mendez is doing ticket taking. And Andres Mendez is cultivating and running the Labyrinth maze. Impressive job with that, by the way. Do I want to know where you got a hundred yards of hedging this time?”

“Nope! Anyone else?”

“Hm…a lot of the Vegas. Carmen’s kids, Diego and Divina—one with the acting troupe, one fortune telling. Oh, and Silvio!”

“Really?” Miguel jumped up and down excitedly in a way more befitting a five-year-old child on their birthday than a fortysomething conman. “Why didn’t you mention him sooner?”

“Because you arranged this alphabetically by first name and he’s all the way down at the bottom.” She held up the handwritten list. “You made me copy it over three times, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!” Within moments he was on to the next thing. “Everything’s ready?”

“The early arrivals are getting ready at Isabelle’s caravan. Some are already at their stations—Carlos arrived six hours early muttering about boyfriends in rehab and things that don’t go as planned. I can emphasize.” She shot Miguel a look, which he happily ignored. “The rest started showing up about an hour ago and the last few still have yet to check in with Carlos at the ticket desk. If they’re not here in thirty minutes I have a mass text ready to send out. We all ready to go at the front?”

“You got it!”

Miguel left Mags at the gate talking to Carlos and moved on to Julius. “Everyone checks out?”

Julius gave him a thumbs up and sent another student on their way. “So far, yes. No debilitating health problems, nothing that could get us sued.”

“Excellent.” Miguel stepped out of the tent and over to the square, where he moved Lovino aside (by picking him up by the waist and carrying him over, much to Lovino’s protestations) and stood on the wooden box. “ATTENTION!” he bellowed.

Everyone in the immediate vicinity quieted down and looked at him.

“We start in forty-five minutes, people!” he yelled. “If you are not preparing for your role, YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG! GET BACK TO WORK!”

As the students scampered away, Lovino looked up at Miguel. “You can be…frightening when you want to be,” he admitted.

Miguel grinned. “I know.”

-O-

It was a popular belief that Luciano Silva loved only music.

This was patently untrue.

Luciano Silva loved many things, music being only one of them. He also happened to enjoy good food and wine, dressing nicely, and work (even if that mostly consisted of music, when he wasn’t composing he liked teaching); he very much loved his family and his best friend Walter.

Well. He said best friend.

Walter might’ve said differently.

It was hardly common knowledge where and who the many music boxes, snowglobes, terrariums, bonsai trees, and other trinkets on Walter’s desk came from. The answers to those question was “all the same place” and “Luciano”.

Walter had been Luciano’s best friend since childhood and knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to Jump into his arms in a matter of seconds or minutes; that wasn’t the way Luciano worked. And he was fine to wait.

He just on occasion wished he could take a chance and do something such as, say, go to the Renaissance Festival to watch Luciano play.

The campus was nearly empty, unusual for a Saturday, but most everyone had gone off to work at or visit the Festival or just to go down to town. Walter, as a consequence, had almost nothing to do besides to occasional patrol around the main buildings—basically the only place where anyone was working—and wait for things to happen.

Nothing did.

He sighed and stepped into the main building. “Rose?”

Christopher looked up from his computer. “Walter. How can I help you?”

“The campus is nearly empty,” he tried.

Christopher raised his eyebrows. “I know.”

“I was curious—that is to say—“

“You want to go to the Festival.”

Walter nodded.

Christopher laughed. “I’ll call Adrian down from the dorms. He can cover your patrol for today. Go on.”

Walter grinned. “You’re a lifesaver, Rose.”

“I’m sure Adrian’ll say so too when he calls in the favor you now owe him. Go.” Christopher pulled out his pager and looked up. “Well?”

Walter headed out the door, looking down at his button-down shirt and black trousers.

There would certainly be something to rent at the Festival.

-O-

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that Luciano and Lovino hit it off seconds after meeting each other and started collaborating their dances. What was a surprise was that when Antonio and Alejandro met, they immediately started comparing notes on things such as “throwing knives”, “tempered steel”, and worryingly enough “best methods to filet a human”, and that Jezebel and Feliciano struck up an excited conversation about dogs, and that Divina and Isabelle disappeared into their caravans together for half-hour sewing and design sessions.

“I think I’m going to like it here,” Miguel announced to anyone in the vicinity. (He may have been attempting to talk to Mags, but the girl was off yelling at Diego for trying to push Carlos in the lake, yelling at Carlos for calling Diego “hella fucking gay emo kid with no life”, and determining who started it).

Lovino, who was trying to get a group of townsfolk to join him in a recreation of the dance scene from a Disney movie, swung around a fountain past Miguel and yelled “Me too!” at the top of his lungs.

“You’re messing me up!” Luciano shrieked from across the plaza, fingers dancing across the keys at top speeds.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Calm down, kids!” Miguel shouted overtop of the music.

Luciano grinned and whirled away into the crowd, not before noticing Walter standing at the edge of the plaza. “Hey there!” he chirped. “Come on!”

He grabbed Walter by the jacket.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea—“ Walter began.

“Shush! Come on!”

He dragged the security guard into the dance.

Chapter Text

Antonio Vega was a chef.

As it turned out, he was also very, very good with knives in general.

Another blade whistled through the air and hit the target dead centre. Alejandro grinned and clapped a hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “I think you lied. You must have done this before.”

“Never,” said Antonio, hefting another before sending it spinning though the air. It slammed into the bulls-eye right next to the last.

“Can’t be. No one is that good without practice,” Alejandro said, grabbing a knife of his own and throwing it. It hit the next target over neatly on the red circle. “Anything with blades? Anything at all?”

“I’m best in the culinary program,” Antonio said, deciding not to mention that culinary program consisted of himself, Lyra Bell, and a few freshmen. “And I butcher meat.”

“That’d help, but—I don’t even. You’re a natural. It’s like you’ve been handling these for years.” Alejandro shook his head in amazement. “You’re practically another me.”

“Maybe in another life,” Antonio said.

His Festival counterpart drew two wooden swords from a barrel. “How good are you with these?”

Antonio grinned ferally. “Gimme.”

Ten minutes later it had transpired that, while better with knives, Antonio was far from a bad swordsman; Alejandro won their mock fight by virtue of his training and Antonio’s lack of it.

The younger man was studying a sword when Alejandro spoke up again. “Think you could learn that fast?”

“I always do,” Antonio said, putting down the blade. “Why?”

“Because we always need more people for the tournament. Would your sister be amenable to acting as a princess?”

Antonio grinned. “Jezzy? She’d love it. What does that entail?”

“Sitting by my sister, who acts as the tournament prize, and looking pretty. Maybe saying a few words to start the tournament.”

“She’ll be thrilled. Shall I tell her?”

Alejandro nodded. “Go ahead. Put on the rest of your costume first.”

Alejandro slid on his vest, slipped two of the knives into his belt, ruffled his hair back, and set out.

-O-

With Walter gone it was just Christopher Rose, the Headmaster, and a few assorted students and security guards left at the Academy. The secretary looked up as Ricardo stormed in. “Sir, the computer’s down—“

“Get a guard down here and call IT. Now.”

Christopher blinked. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not just your computer. Someone ransacked my office and crashed the school servers. Make the call, Rose.”

Christopher made the call. Within a few minutes, Joshua (a cousin of Samuel and Daniel’s and disassociated with Vega family events for the most part) and a blond in a leather jacket were in the lobby.

Ricardo turned to Joshua first, eyes full of fire. “Get up to my office and find something to lead us to whoever did this. Anything. Go.”

Joshua nodded and ran up the steps.

“And you. Tech person—“

“My name’s Alaina!” she protested.

“Whatever. Take Rose’s computer, get us back online, and then go see what’s missing or otherwise odd. Rose will help you if you need it.”

She pushed Christopher out of the way and got to work.

A half hour later, Joshua returned. “Nothing,” he announced. “Whoever did this did it well. But all the money in your jewelry box is gone—“

Christopher looked at Ricardo dubiously, mouthing Really?

“—as are several rare books, a photo of the 2013 Family Reunion, and your contacts book,” Joshua continued.

Alaina looked up from the computer. “Someone did a number on the server. Just give me a minute.”

“So they seem to have known what they wanted,” Christopher mused, “if not how to get it. And they’re good with computers.” He sighed. “Great. Just…just great.”

The four were silent for a few minutes more, then Alaina announced “Got it. Most recently opened files are the student roster, a webpage about the travelling Renaissance faire with a list of employees in each town, and a map of the town with attached school floorplan.”

Christopher looked at Alaina, then at Ricardo, then swore once very quietly in English and once a significant bit louder in what sounded like Cantonese.

“That’s not good,” Joshua said evenly. “Why would someone want or need all of this?”

“I dunno, but I’m going to guess no good reason and that whoever’s doing this has something to do with the Faire,” Christopher snapped. “They’re the only outsiders around.”

Ricardo growled. “It’s Miguel de la Rosa or one of his no-good kids, I’m sure of it.” He snapped his fingers. “Alaina! You’re dismissed! Joshua, go put the office back in order. Christopher, put out an announcement. I want that white-collar criminal de la Rosa caught. I’ll provide any sum. Have whoever sends him back name their price and I’ll pull out my checkbook—just bring him to me alive!”

-O-

“Lauren?” Kevin snapped his fingers. “Lauren! Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said dreamily, staring up into the sky.

“Lauren, you aren’t fine. Talk to me.”

She tilted her head. “Sergio and I had a chat before I left. I’m just thinking, Kevin. Leave me alone.”

“Lauren, no. You’ve been acting really weird—“

“I am fine, Kevin!”

Kevin blinked, then swallowed hard. “Right. I’m going to go find Diego and…wish him luck,” he said, backing away.

As soon as he was out of sight he took off running.

The other boy was rehearsing lines backstage when Kevin ran up. “Sunshine!” he said in delight. “Don’t you have to do your job? That isn’t very efficient, now is it—“

“Diego, Lauren just called me Kevin.”

Diego blinked for a second. “And?”

“In a year and a half of knowing her, has she even once called me Kevin?”

Diego opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, and blanched. “Oh. No. No, she hasn’t.”

“She calls me Kev.” Kevin began pacing. “I hate it, but she calls me Kev. She yelled at me, Eggo,” he said desperately. “She never calls me Kev and she’s never yelled at me. Even when we were having that fight. We—we don’t just yell at each other. That’s not what best friends do—is it?”

Diego froze up when tears began rolling down Kevin’s face. “Sunshine? Sunshine, stop—Sunshine, please don’t cry…” He bit his lip. “Sunshine? Kevin?”

“What’s wrong with Lauren?” Kevin whispered, burying his face in his hands and collapsing hard at the end of the stage.

Before Diego could go sit next to him, Daniel slowly crossed the stage to join them, eyes blank. “Anyone know why Lauren just acted like she didn’t know me?” he asked.

“Go sit by Kevin,” Diego said. “And please don’t cry. I’m not good with crying people.”

Daniel went over to sit by Kevin, dangling his legs off the edge of the stage. “I don’t understand,” he muttered.

“Neither do I,” Kevin hiccupped.

Diego stood behind them. “Well, you better figure it out fast. We open in just a few minutes, Lauren or no Lauren.” He turned around and quickly walked away. “And I don’t enjoy seeing you cry.”

Kevin laughed a little, hiccupping again. “I—I’ll head back, then.” He got up slowly, leaving Daniel at the edge of the stage and Diego wriggling into his costume.

“Are you going to be alright?” the latter asked Daniel.

Daniel hesitated, then shook his head. “What’s happening?” he asked. “I…things are going wrong, Diego, you’ve got to see that.”

Diego shrugged, tugging on his longcoat. “I can see that. I choose to ignore it until it becomes an issue.”

Daniel pushed himself up and turned on his friend. “You can’t do that forever.”

Diego scowled. “Yeah. I think I can, thanks.”

“You can’t. It won’t work.”

“I’ll make it.”

“You can’t--“

“I don’t exactly have another choice, if I pay attention to everything going on it’s going to drive me mad!” Diego shrieked.

Daniel blinked, then frowned. “If that’s how you feel, enjoy yourself. Don’t expect me to come to help when Kevin gets hurt.” He turned and jumped off the stage, stalking back to his post.

Diego watched him go, then looked down at his costume and sat down with legs crossed. “He won’t get hurt,” he murmured. “He can’t.”

Chapter Text

For Caesar Santiago, the best time of day was right around five-thirty or six in the morning. It was before anyone had woken up; the air was cool enough for a good run; the aerobics room was just about deserted. By that time he had usually been up for hours, doing schoolwork or reading and, beginning at around four, completing his rigorous morning routine.

“Noah doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he muttered as he ran faster, ratcheting up the treadmill speed. “I’m taking perfectly good care of myself.”

Faster.

“I’m doing just fine.”

Faster.

“I don’t need him.”

Faster. Faster, as fast as possible, waiting for something to rip or to break—

“Caesar!”

Caesar very abruptly realized he was falling and shrieked as he lost his footing, tangling in his headphones and tumbling to the ground.

He was caught by Isaias just before he hit the floor. KJ was along shortly after, running as fast as he was able and shutting off the treadmill. “My emperor, what are you doing?” the older student asked, furious.

“Exercising,” Caesar said defensively as he tried to pull out of Isaias’s grip. “You know I do that.”

“I’ve been watching,” Isaias said in his soft way. “You left for a run at three thirty and didn’t so much as take a break when you got back before you came here. Caesar—“

“My prophet, I’m fine,” Caesar cooed, cutting him off as he reached up to pet Isaias’s long hair. “I can take care of myself.”

“No,” KJ said flatly, leaning on the treadmill and crossing his arms, “you can’t. Your brother’s right, my emperor.” The small owl perched on his shoulder seemed to nod in agreement. “You’re not doing well.”

“I’m fine,” Caesar insisted, yanking away from Isaias only to turn and walk smack into KJ. “…heeey.”

“Hey,” KJ said. “How are things?”

“Things are fine,” Caesar said, trying to edge away.

KJ wrapped his hands around Caesar’s waist before the latter had moved more than an inch or two. “You’re skinny.”

“I know.”

“No, my emperor, you don’t know.” KJ tightened his grip. “You’re wasting away. You need to eat more. You need to start sleeping and stop exercising so much and—and—and—start taking care of yourself.”

“I am!” Caesar insisted, leaning into KJ. “I promise I am, treasure.”

“No,” Isaias said gently, joining the hug. “You’re not, my emperor.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Caesar’s head. “You’re not okay. Please listen to us.”

Caesar struggled a moment more, then sagged into KJ’s arms. “I—I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“No,” Isaias soothed, “don’t apologize, emperor. You just need to talk to us.” He brushed back Caesar’s hair as the three maneuvered to sit down in a strange little position with Caesar sandwiched between the other two boys. “I promise, we’re here to listen. I always am. I’m everywhere.”

“And it’s slightly frightening,” KJ chuckled.

The chapel bells rang out for seven o’clock.

“That time already?” KJ looked up. “We had better get to breakfast. Caesar, you’re coming with us, okay?”

Isaias stood and helped KJ up, steadying the older student on the edge of the treadmill. “Good?”

“Great.” KJ gave a thumbs-up and adjusted one of the screws on his leg braces. “Shall we?”

Isaias turned to Caesar. “Emperor?”

“I’m stuck in my headphones.” He raised his arms. “Be along in a few.”

The two nodded in tandem. “If you’re not there in five minutes, we’re coming looking for you,” Isaias said as he led Kevin into one of his passages and the two slipped along, heading in what Caesar thought was the general direction of the dining hall. (No one but Isaias really knew where all of Isaias’s passages went. Caesar suspected most of them weren’t on the floor plans for that matter, either.)

He sat by the treadmill for a minute, untangling his headphones and trussing up his iPod before stuffing it in his backpack. He took one look at the treadmill and muttered “Later” before getting up and heading out towards the dining hall. It wouldn’t be that hard to stick to his diet if he could keep KJ and Isaias distracted.

-O-

Ra Miles Disciple Sorriso-Strex III “call-me-Smiles Sorriso” was the full name of Samuel’s new boyfriend; he had told him after the first couple of days. “But don’t tell anyone else,” he said. “I’m not the most well-liked guy around here.”

“Have you ever even been here before?” Samuel asked.

Smiles shook his head. “No. But some of my family has.”

He refused to elaborate beyond that, opting instead to ask Sammy out on a date. Smiles had the best date ideas as a general rule; this time, he took Sammy to an art gallery opening. Smiles looked at the art. Sammy looked at Smiles.

It was a very good date.

And now it was mid-October and Sammy reflected that Smiles wasn’t exactly his new boyfriend anymore. New-ish, maybe. And currently doing his absolute best to push Sammy into a lake.”

“Stop that!” Samuel swatted at Smiles’s hands as he reached out again, trying to capsize the boat in general after just pushing his boyfriend hadn’t worked. “I’m thinking.”

Smiles pouted. “Stop thinking. It’s a dangerous pastime.”

“I know. But I’m gonna anyway.”

“Samuel! How could you? I thought we had something, but I can’t be seen around a thinker.” Smiles gave an overdramatic huff. “Imagine what that would do to my reputation.”

“Be quiet, you,” Samuel said halfheartedly, reaching across to give Smiles a little whap on the arm.

The boat tipped.

Shortly, the two wet students were sitting on the banks, making an effort to dry off. Smiles had draped their jackets (Sammy’s school blazer and his plain grey sweatshirt) over the edge of a tree branch and flopped down in the direct sunlight.

“What are you, a cat?” Sammy asked, gingerly sitting beside him as his shoes squelched in the mud.

Smiles meowed.

“Shush,” Sammy said fondly, laying out next to him with arms folded over his stomach, staring up at the sky. “That cloud looks like a flower.”

Smiles grinned, leaned over, and whispered something very rude indeed in Sammy’s ear.

“Smiles!”

“What? It does!”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what?”

Sammy laughed and looked over at him. “Stop acting like my brothers.”

“I’m offended. I would never act like a brother, seeing as I have two.”

Sammy tilted his head. “Wait, really?”

Smiles shifted, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “Well. A brother and a sibling. But yeah.”

“Can I meet them?” he asked, excited.

“…I’d rather you didn’t?”

“Whyever not? I’d let you meet my brothers, and they’re both jerks. Your siblings can’t be much worse.”

“Trust me,” Smiles muttered, “they are.”

Sammy sighed. “If you insist.” He looked over at Smiles. “But why?”

“Just…trust me on this, okay? You don’t want to meet them.” Smiles sighed. “My family isn’t very nice.”

“Neither is mine, usually.” Sammy shrugged. “They’re the Vegas.”

“Mine are worse.”

-O-

The Pinkberry was burning.

Well. Technically speaking, the Pinkberry had been burning. Now, the sprinklers were going off, the fire was mostly out, the manager was shrieking at Headmaster Ricardo (who had shown up about five minutes previously), a dozen students from Desert Bluffs and Night Vale were standing around and watching, and Isadoro Ramon, AP Latin teacher, was standing behind Ricardo with arms crossed and a smug expression.

“What’d I miss?” Noah Santiago asked, stepping up to stand beside Kevin as the other boy watched with interest and the manager continued to yell.

“Ramon tried to burn down the Pinkberry.”

“Hey!” Isadoro cried, apparently just then noticing that they had an audience. “I most certainly did not merely attempt to burn down the Pinkberry. I succeeded in burning the Pinkberry and my endeavor was stopped by the building’s sprinkler system.”

Santiago blinked, sighed, and decided that he might as well. “Why were you trying to burn down the Pinkberry, sir?”

“Because I explained quite clearly to the manager that there were strictly speaking no rules against the addition of large quantities of vodka to one’s own frozen yogurt while outside the shop. There could have been anything in that paper bag and there was no reason to call the authorities about public intoxication.” Isadoro scowled.

Santiago took a deep breath. “What else would you have been spiking froyo with?”

“Soda? For all you know it could easily have been soda.” Isadoro’s frown deepened. “No need to call the authorities.”

“No need to burn down the Pinkberry, either,” Kevin said.

“Especially seeing as now we’re all banned from the Pinkberry until further notice,” Ricardo said as the manager stormed inside. “All of us. Every DBPA student and staff member now must stay twenty yards away from the Pinkberry until such a time as I fire Ramon, which I am not going to do seeing as I don’t know where else I’d find a Latin teacher. Congrats, Ramon. You just got the entire school banned from the froyo place.”

Kevin blinked, then turned to Diego beside him. “Can’t your family buy the Pinkberry?”

“The Vegas are not rich enough to buy a franchise, Kevin, we’ve been over this.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You wanted to buy McDonalds.”

“Oh yeah! Because they wouldn’t let me have my burger without the sauce. Well, we can just buy both.”

Diego sighed. “We’re not buying the Pinkberry, got it?”

Kevin pouted. “Then I’m not talking to you.” He pulled away and wandered closer to Santiago. “I’ll go talk to Santi. Even though he’s a poser idiot.”

“You’re worse,” Diego muttered.

“Am not.” Kevin looked at Santiago. “Am I a worse poser than you? Oh, wait, wrong person to ask. But I’m not. Because you’re you.”

Santiago huffed and adjusted the lapels of his coat. “And what’s wrong with the way I dress, Mister I’m-Going-To-Annoy-The-Shit-Out-Of-Rose-Until-He-Has-Me-Suspended?”

“You don’t know how to come up with nicknames,” Kevin said flatly, “and it’s stuffy and overdone.”

“You’re overdone.” Santiago tossed his head. “I’ll tell Caesar and he’ll say—“ He stopped abruptly.

Kevin snorted. “Right. You’re not speaking with Caesar. Have fun.” He sauntered away.

After a moment, Santiago kicked the curb, then cursed loudly.

Chapter Text

The Academy’s greenhouse was only ever really frequented by a few students, but at any given time that wasn’t classes, meals, or chapel, Andres Ramirez could be found there.

The glass doors opened and in stepped Juliano Cortes, one of Andres’s only friends, sucking on a green lollipop and tugging his hair back into a ponytail. He waved at Andres.

{Hey, Juliano}, Andres signed, putting down his plants. {Don’t come too close. The mushrooms are really potent right now.} He gestured to the face mask he was wearing.

{No problem. Care to come over here?}

Andres patted his mushroom’s cap and followed Juliano outside, tugging off his mask and leaving it beside the door. Juliano stopped underneath an old oak tree. {Can we talk, Andres?}

{Sure. Of course.}

Juliano hesitated. {Have a caramel.} He held out a small, sticky plastic bag full of various sweets.

{O…kay?} Andres took a caramel and popped it into his mouth. {Why?}

{Because my lollipop is green apple.}

{And?}

{I wanted to make caramel apples.}

Without more warning than that, Juliano pushed Andres up against the greenhouse by the chest and kissed him hard, candy still in their mouths, hands running down Andres’s sides. Andres gasped slightly and stiffened for a moment before melting into the kiss.

All too soon, Juliano pulled away, rolling his lollipop to the other side of his mouth. {I was right,} he signed. {Caramel apple.} His brow furrowed. {Um. Sorry. Was that too forward? Did I—I didn’t hurt you, did I? Are you alright?}

{No, no, don’t worry. I’m fine. Maybe it was a bit forward, but I’m fine.} Andres hesitated for only a second before signing {Would you—could you maybe do that again?}

Juliano grinned. {Gladly,} he signed before grabbing Andres’s waist and pushing him back against the wall.

A few minutes later Andres reentered the greenhouse, grinning loopily. He slid his mask back on and flicked on his cell.

Missed Call—Carlos—4

Of course. Andres signed and hit Ignore as the phone began to ring again, dropping it on the bench next to a potted mushroom.

The phone rang again. And again. Finally, Andres hit the call button.

”Where have you been?” Carlos’s tinny, furious voice cried. “I’ve been calling!”

“Carlito, I’m fine,” Andres said, exasperated. “You’ve been calling all day and night.”

“I’ve been worried about you! I haven’t seen you since Parent’s Day, you didn’t show up to the Festival over the weekend—you can see why I was concerned—“

“Send that concern to Cecil.”

Carlos huffed, a rattle over the phone line. “He doesn’t accept it.”

“Maybe you need to find a new boyfriend.”

“Andres. I’m not abandoning Cecil.”

“You used to date my roommate and you abandoned him.”

“…Caesar’s your roommate?”

“…changed my mind, don’t want to have this conversation.”

“No wait, Andres—”

Click. Andres silenced the phone and put it down, looking at his mushrooms. “You’re growing so well…” he cooed, crouching down. “Yes you are….” He petted the cap. “You’ll help me, won’t you? Carlos won’t.”

He retrieved his box of gardening tools and put the mushroom on a shelf. “It’s time,” he sang, beginning to slice off portions of the cap.

-O-

There was a new student.

He was introduced during first period to the rest of the English Lit class. “Everyone, this is Ciro Sorriso,” the teacher said. “Ciro Sorriso, this is everyone.”

Diego raised his hand.

“Yes, Diego?”

“Mr. Blackwood, I don’t think people are supposed to come in in the middle of the year.”

Sereno Blackwood sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. “Diego—“

“It’s actually in the rulebook?”

“…why did you have reason to look that up in the first place?”

“Something someone from the Pinkberry asked, you don’t want to know. I found that rule while looking. New students can’t arrive mid-year.”

“Well, this one did,” Sereno snapped. “Sit down and shut up, Rodriguez.”

Diego sat down and shut up.

“Right. Ciro Sorriso, everyone. Ninth grade—“

Diego raised his hand.

“He’s advanced. Sit down, Rodriguez.”

“I am—“

“If you say I am sitting, soon you will be saying I am getting detention.”

Diego lowered his hand.

“Ninth grade, music program, blah blah yaddah yaddah. Nice to meet you, Ciro, go pick a seat.”

Ciro wandered to the back of the classroom and sat in the farthest desk from the front, slumping over. His yellow hoodie was pulled up over his head, bleach-blond hair falling in his eyes. He looked over at Jezebel next to him. “…Hey.”

“H-hi,” she stammered, looking down at her notebook. “I’m Jezzy.”

“Ciro. Nice to meet you, Jezzy.”

She looked up at him. “…y-you have a guitar.”

“I play guitar.”

“C-can you p-play Wonderwall?”

Ciro started laughing and didn’t stop for several minutes, at which point Blackwood snapped and yelled “Zip it, Sorriso!”

“Mr. B-Blackwood isn’t usually l-like this,” Jezzy muttered. “He’s f-funny. He makes awful jokes.”

“He doesn’t seem too funny right now,” Ciro muttered.

“H-he’s on e-e-edge. Something’s w-wrong around here.” Jezzy shrugged. “M-might be the party?”

Ciro turned and looked at her. “Party? What party?”

“R-right. New kid. Th-they’re planning a big M-Masquerade for Halloween n-night in t-two weeks. With the local p-public high school. W-we’re kind of r-r-rivals with them? A-and everyone’s on e-edge.” She doodled a quick flower in the corner of her notebook. “I-I honestly d-don’t know wh-why I’m t-talking to you. I don’t know you.”

“I’m told I’m charismatic.” Ciro flashed her a grin.

“Y-yeah.” Jezzy looked at the pages. “W-we should get to w-work,” she said quietly.

She didn’t talk to him for the rest of class, and before Ciro could catch her afterward, she was gone.

-O-

“This is a bad plan.”

“I’m aware.”

“This is a terrible plan.”’

“I’m aware!”

Cecil leaned on Dana’s desk. “So why, exactly, are we doing it again?”

She huffed and adjusted her hijab, “Because it is a peace offering and not everyone utterly despises the Academy students as much as you do. Some of us are friends with them.”

“And who are you friends with among those vile Strexes?”

“…no one,” Dana admitted. “But Earl was friends with Antonio.”

“Earl graduated.”

“Earl was friends with Antonio for a while before that.” Dana sighed. “You know what? Just…go.”

“Dana, it’s a Saturday.”

“You followed me here.”

“I was bored.”

Dana sighed and pulled a pad of paper out of her desk. “So go around the building and report on stuff, Mister Announcements Radio Host. Go…count all the doors and windows, and write that down. List everything that’s blue. Just…” She thunked her head on the desk. “Let me work!”

“When are Earl and Carlos showing up?”

“Smiling God, Cecil, I have no clue. Ask Earl and Carlos.”

“I can’t. They don’t have their phones with them and we need them here to start.”

“You need them here. I need to finish my work!” Dana shooed Cecil out of the office. “Go! I need to have this ready for Principal Winchell by Monday!”

Cecil slunk out of the office and wandered the halls, looking up at the flickering lights and sighing overdramatically.

His phone buzzed.

You’re being dramatic, aren’t you?

I’m pretending to be the Phantom of the Opera. It seemed appropriate.

…you are not.

I am so!

Prove it.

Cecil took a deep breath and began to sing “Masquerade” at the top of his lungs. His phone buzzed several times in quick succession.

I take it back!

Shut up and wait for your friends, Erik!

Cecil grinned and pocketed the phone as he heard Carlos calling out. “Cecil? Cecil, are you there?”

He down the staircase and towards the front doors. “Right here, Carlos! Is Earl with you?”

Earl waved. “Hi. I exist and am able to answer questions.”

Cecil sighed. “I know, I just didn’t know if you were gonna show up.”

“’Course I would. I—er—I’m probably gonna get fired if I show up to work so soon after the Incident.”

“…incident?”

Earl grinned sheepishly and rubbed his arm. “Tiramisu Incident. I put in too much nutmeg. N-not a fatal dose! But, well…enough to make someone sick?”

“And you’re not fired yet?” Carlos asked incredulously.

“No…I’m the only sous-chef they’ve got, so they can’t actually fire me. But they’re mad.”

Carlos sighed and leaned on Cecil. “Anyway. We aren’t here to discuss Earl’s imminent unemployment, homelessness, and home in a cardboard box. We’re here to discuss this.” He pulled a cream-coloured envelope out of his pocket. “We all got them, right?”

“I didn’t,” said Earl sulkily.

“You don’t go to school here.” Carlos opened it and read aloud “Students and Faculty of Night Vale Public High, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we offer to you the opportunity to join us on All Hallow’s Eve for a Masquerade Ball as a gesture of goodwill between the schools. Should you care to attend, please contact Luciano Silva, Event Coordinator. Black tie formal only. You must be wearing a mask.”

Cecil looked at Carlos. Carlos looked at Earl. Earl looked at Cecil.

“…this is a really, really bad idea,” Cecil finally said,

“Agreed.”

“Going to the school that despises us is an utterly idiotic move.”

“Of course.”

“I intend to wear a very short dress styled as a peacock. Pick something in a soft grey with a little colour to it.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’ll call the limo company.”

Chapter Text

Divina Rodriguez was not the sort to skip class.

Her brother, perhaps, was. But Divina, while often bratty and usually acting in carefully calculated apathy for everything, would be the least likely person to skip a class. The fact that Diego would and often did skip probably had a lot to do with this fact.

Which was why everyone just assumed she was sick the day she rode her bike into town when she should’ve been in geometry. Because Divina Rodriguez was not the sort to skip class.

When she reached town, she abandoned her bike in the alleyway and headed down back streets to the Vanston manor, letting herself in via the kitchen entrance and heading into the lobby, up the grand staircase to Mark’s bedroom. She knocked on the door. “Mark?”

“Hm?” said a muffled voice from inside.

“It’s me, Divina.” She paused. “So do you wanna build a snowman?”

She heard a hoarse laugh from inside and the door opened. Mark was dressed in at least three layers of sweaters, jeans, what appeared to be thick stockings underneath the jeans, slippers, and two pairs of gloves. “Hey, Divina.”

She stepped inside, carefully avoiding brushing against him, and sat on the end board of the bed, leaning on one of the posts. “How are you? Well, apart from the obvious.”

Mark nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he said, getting back onto the bed and curling up on the pillows. “Father called.”

“He did? That’s good, isn’t it?”

“He’s been calling every day.”

Divina smiled. “See, I told you he wouldn’t just abandon you and Marcus—“

“He never calls Dad.”

“…oh.”

Mark tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling, painted black with a set of constellations spanning the arches. “I’ve got a lot to talk about, if you’re still willing to listen. Or if you even care.”

“Of course I do.” Divina tucked her legs up and looked over at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

Mark sighed and lolled his head to the side. “I…Father adopted me when I was eleven, but I’ve known him since I was eight. I know him better than I knew my mom. And he refuses to talk to Dad. I don’t know if they’re ever going to make up, Div.” He blinked furiously, trying to push the tears back. “I just want them to make up.”

Divina slowly scooted across the bed, ending up as close to him as possible without touching. She gently placed a gloved hand on his knee and he didn’t react. “They will,” she said. “They always do.”

“Father used to call Dad his angel. He said over phone angels don’t exist, and that they’re just…like flies, buzzing around in your head. He—“ Mark took a deep breath. “It’s just a little thing. Why does it matter so much?”

“It’s never just a little thing,” Divina said quietly. “But I’m sure Jake’ll come back. He’s not just going to leave you and Marcus for good.”

“He’s at your school.”

“I saw him walking by the lake the other day, yeah. I think he’s living with Rose. Aren’t they brothers?”

Mark nodded. “Adopted, I think, but yeah. I thought they were arguing, but apparently not.”

“Eh…I wouldn’t go that far. Rose is touchier than usual. I’d bet money it’s Jake setting him off—he gave Kevin three citations last week. Usually he gives up after one.” She shrugged. “But I don’t suppose that’s the issue at hand here. Your father isn’t as happy with Rose as he would be with you guys. I’m sure—I’m certain--he’ll be back eventually. Hopefully soon.”

Mark shook his head and looked at the hand on his knees, hugging his own legs. “I don’t think so, though.”

“Well, if you keep saying it like that—“

“One word about positive thinking and I’m breaking up with you.”

Divina giggled and leaned in, kissing Mark’s cheek. “No, you wouldn’t.”

He sighed and very hesitantly put an arm around her. “No. I don’t think I would.”

“You don’t think, huh?”

“You sounded more confident a minute ago.”

She giggled and took a split second glance at the clock. First period was already over.

Ah, well. If she was going to be late and skip class, she might as well go the extra mile and not show up at all.

-O-

Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy did not, technically speaking, have a football team. They had a few athletics who helped out the nearby Pine Cliffs High in their football games. This didn’t stop them in the slightest from going to every game, especially Homecoming.

Especially against Night Vale Public High. Especially when Luciano and Carlos were going to be there.

Everyone smart already had a contingency plan, with the exception of Sergio. He was helping.

“This should do it,” he said, giving the vial a little shake. The cloudy liquid inside swirled lazily, brushing up against the top. He fitted it into a syringe, put a cap over the needle, and passed it to Luciano. “One dose of that and he’ll be seeing the world your way without a moment of preparation. Much less years to get used to it. And at a football game, well…cousin mine, you are very devious.”

Luciano grinned. “Thank you, Sergio.” He inspected the syringe, watching the small colorful pockets of liquid float inside. “I’m certain that our friend Carlos will think twice before he makes his next move, hm?”

“Indeed,” Sergio chuckled. “So, any other plans upcoming? Care to tell me what you have ready for the Masquerade?”

Luciano smiled dreamily. “Ah, yes. A gesture of goodwill between the schools—“

“You intend to prank Carlos, don’t you.”

“But of course. A gesture of goodwill between most of the people in the schools, intended to heighten our relations with our town brethren during a night of music, dancing, and fun. I think it should work wonderfully.”

“I agree completely, Luci. And might I assume you will be providing the music?”

Luciano extended a hand theatrically, twirling it and ducking his head in a parody of a bow. “But of course. I intend to find some others as well. Show those Night Valeans culture.”

“Show off what we have that they do not.”

“But of course. You read my mind, cousin mine. That must be why we get along so wonderfully.” He tucked the syringe into the leather bag he was carrying and stood. “Hm…do you happen to have anything to drink?”

“In my quarters.” Sergio stood as well and passed Luciano the bag. “Shall we?”

“Why not.”

Within a few minutes, the two were out of the labs and up in Sergio’s rooms, a bottle of 1990 Domaine de Rieston on the table between them and a glass in each of their hands. Luciano raised his. “To us.”

Sergio copied him. “To us.”

They nodded at each other and drank. After a moment, Luciano poured himself a new glass and hummed. “Ah, cousin mine, it’s so nice to spend time with you. We so very rarely get days off together.”

“Indeed. We should have them rearrange the schedule.” Sergio flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’m sure Ricardo would be willing.”

“Your father always was when it came to us,” Luciano said. “Aside from…the incident senior year.”

“I think they still have a rule against that,” Sergio mused.

“Of course they do. It’s worse than burning down a Pinkberry, and there’s a rule against that now.”

“That actually happened then?”

“You would not believe it if I told you. Isadoro Ramon attempted to spike his froyo a few days ago and when the manager informed him this wasn’t allowed, he first attempted to prove him wrong by looking in all the local lawbooks, then set fire to the shop.”

“And Ricardo still refuses to fire him?”

Luciano chuckled. “You know Ricardo. He is…terribly stubborn when he wants to be.”

“Though most times I wonder why he bothers.” Sergio drained his glass and inspected it. “There’s a new student.”

“I noticed. A Ciro Sorriso, if I recall correctly?”

“Correct. While signing him into my roster, I couldn’t help but notice his last name.”

“…Sorriso?”

“Yes. Where have you heard that name before?”

Luciano tapped his chin with the edge of his glass. “Hm…it does sound familiar.”

Sergio produced a small black notebook from the edge of a bookshelf and slid it across to Luciano. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

Luciano opened it to a bookmarked page and read. His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh.” He let out a high-pitched giggle. “This is fascinating, indeed.”

He dropped the notebook on the table and it fell open to a photograph of Ciro Abigaile Sorriso-Strex of Strex Industries, age four.

“One of the Strexes!” he said in delight, clasping his hands. “What a catch, cousin mine!” He looked up, eyes alight. “Whatever shall we do with this information?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Sergio mused. “But I doubt anyone will be pleased to learn a Strex was registered here without our knowledge. It reflects badly upon the school. However, if two teachers were to discover his true identity and perhaps use that against the Strexes…well.” He grinned. “I’d say that would look very nice for the school’s reputation.”

“You’re brilliant,” Luciano said. “Of course, so am I, so it makes sense.”

They filled their glasses a last time and clicked the rims together.

“To us,” Luciano said again.

Sergio nodded. “To us.”

Chapter Text

The Jake situation was going downhill fast.

Christopher Rose had spoken to Cleopatra a dozen times or more over it. Her plan to reunite Jake and Marcus was still…in development, so to speak. That is to say, he had yet to convince her that involving Mark was a bad plan in general, and she refused to listen to his reasons why.

It was Monday again, two and a half weeks after Jake first moved in with Chris and Ellie. She, at least, enjoyed the company of her uncle, and was coloring with him in the kitchenette as Christopher ran around gathering paperwork and listening to Adrian explain that Divina Rodriguez was missing (but why would she be missing, don’t you mean her brother, okay, okay, fine, see you tonight, we’re still on for dinner, good, wear a nice jacket).

The phone rang. Not Chris’s cell (still occupied with ending the call to Adrian)—Jake’s.

Chris peered over and looked at the display, which read in neat white letters MARCUS <3.

“Shouldn’t you…pick up?”

Jake hesitated. “Mm…”

“Jake. Pick up.”

Jake sighed and did so. “Marcus, sir?”

“Don’t call me sir,” came the choked voice on the other end. “Jake, please—“

“Ellie,” Christopher said gently, “go upstairs and get your dress and shoes on, okay?”

Ellie nodded, stuck her thumb in her mouth, hopped off the barstool and padded up the tight spiral staircase to the loft where she and Christopher slept.

“Sir, maybe you shouldn’t call. It isn’t the best time,” Jake was saying tightly.

Chris shook his head and grabbed the phone. “Nope. Nuh-uh. You should call. It’s an excellent time to call, okay, Marcus? It’s always an excellent time to call.”

“Christopher—“ Jake began.

“No, listen, Jake, please, work this out.” He handed the phone back. “I’m going to go help Ellie tie her shoes.”

When he came down again five minutes later, Jake was sitting at the table with a numb expression.

“Did you talk?” Chris asked, already half knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Jake muttered.

“…Did it work?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Christopher sighed. “Ellie, you know where to go.” He kissed the top of her head. “Start walking. I’ll be along.”

Ellie headed out the door and into the hallway of the building.

“Christopher,” Jake said, looking up and back at him, “I know you don’t like having me here—“

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“But I don’t understand why.”

Christopher stared. “Why. Why? How do you not know why?! Not once did you ever try to help after my wife died. Not once did you ever ask if I—if I needed or I wanted anything, when I needed you the most—“

“Because you never would’ve accepted it,” Jake said, barely raising his voice. It wasn’t unusual; he rarely if ever indulged in outbursts. The tear snaking down his cheek said differently.

“I would have if you asked!”

“I didn’t ask because you told me not to.”

“I never said that!”

“You definitely did.”

They stared at each other for a moment more, then Christopher spoke.

“…clearly some mistakes were made,” he said, much more subdued. “We should….we should talk. After work. And after my date. I’ll…I’ll be back.”

He stepped out the door and left Jake in the room.

-O-

The Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy Literature and Language Department consisted of four people (at the moment, technically five)—Miss and her TA Saoirse, who jointly taught Mythology, Creative Writing, and other electives for the various departments; Sereno Blackwood, who taught all the core English and Lit classes and had a penchant for wordplay; Isadoro Ramon, the only AP teacher, who focused on Latin and gave rather odd lectures about the right to protest by fire which stopped being odd when he attempted to burn down the Pinkberry; and Walter Dwyer, who in addition to being the head of campus security taught German, Spanish, and French, fluently insulting anyone who entered the room in whatever language he was teaching at the time.

They also all tended to take meals together, usually in the dining hall after the students had gone or outside on the patio, which was where they were the day Walter Dwyer realized he was in love with Luciano Silva.

“So tell him,” Miss said, voice light and measured as she sipped her tea. (She only ever seemed to eat biscuits and tea. It was a little odd.)

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never been in love,” Sereno said. “Whereas our…Southern…friend here clearly has.” He flashed a grin.

She shot him a glare. “As a matter of fact…”

“Wait, what?” was the immediate and unanimous reaction.

She sniffed and tossed her head. “You shouldn’t assume things.”

“it is indeed a precarious pastime,” Isadoro muttered. “Of course, upon occasion, the object of your assumption ends up exactly as you presumed…”

The other three ignored him. Ignoring Isadoro was practically a competition; Sereno had once suggested keeping score without any of his typical sarcasm.

“I happen to be involved in a loving and healthy long-term relationship,” Miss continued as if Isadoro hadn’t said a word.

“Is that so? Pray tell, amice, whom with?” Isadoro asked.

She sipped her tea again. “Saoirse.”

Sereno choked on his salad. Walter froze with a forkful of ravioli halfway to his mouth. Even Isadoro looked surprised, putting down his bottle of…actually, no one was sure what it was that Isadoro was drinking, other than “probably alcoholic”. “Saoirse?”

“Yes. What of it?”

“Nothin’,” Walter muttered, “’cept that explains why she was so keen on bein’ your TA instead of Sergio’s.”

“Our relationship has nothing to do with that,” Miss said icily.

“You continue on telling yourself that, amice,” Isadoro said, completely deadpan. “We all know the truth—amantes sunt amentes.”

“Which means…” Sereno prompted after a moment.

Isadoro grinned. “Lovers are lunatics. If only Saoirse.”

“Shut up, you,” Sereno groaned.

“You’re certainly one to talk about clever wordplay,” Walter said. “Can we please get back on topic?”

“That of your beloved Phantom? Certainly, amice,” Isadoro said. “My suggestion is to perform a grand, romantic gesture.”

“Like?”

“Hm…purchase him a library. Or immolate one. I find that tends to send a strong message.”

They ignored him again. Isadoro was always saying odd things like that. Well, perhaps not so odd anymore.

“Do you have any ideas?” Walter asked Sereno desperately. “Where’d you last take—is it Jane?”

“Irene now, actually,” Sereno said. “And, well…Luciano’s demisexual, correct? And you’ve been friends since childhood. Any necessary emotional connection’s been made. The best thing you can do is ask him on a date.”

“I did that,” Walter moaned. “I invited him to the opera house for the opening performance tonight. He said he’d love to go as friends. And I’m sure we’ll have a nice time, but…” He sighed. “You don’ think I’m maybe too old for this? I’m almost forty.”

“Is Luc too old for this? No. Neither of you are ridiculously young, but don’t go having a mid-life crisis on us.” Sereno took a bite of salad. “Just go ask. Tell him it’s a date. And if he’s so unaware you might as well be dead, you may need a necro-romancer for help.” He smirked at his own joke; everyone else ignored it. Ignoring Sereno was a popular pastime as well.

“I agree,” Miss said, calm as ever. “It is what I did with Saoirse.”

All three turned to look at Isadoro. “Isa?” Sereno asked.

Isadoro shrugged. “Unless you consider whoring myself out for enough money to pay my expenses a proper tryst, I have not been on a date in several years.”

“Well, all the rest of us think you should be straight up about it, pun intended,” Sereno said. “If you don’t want to be so blunt, try doing subtle…date things. Now, the next order of business…”

All three turned to Isadoro and simultaneously yelled “Why didn’t you tell us you were a hooker!?”

Chapter Text

By the next day Isadoro Ramon was gone and they were allowed back in the Pinkberry.

“I don’t know what happened,” Diego said, nibbling at his frozen yogurt and occasionally dabbing some on Kevin’s nose. “They’re saying that he just left.”

“Wasn’t he living above the strip club?” Kevin asked, reaching up to swipe the chocolate off. “I thought he’d stick around.”

“Yeah, well…check this out.” Diego slid his phone across the lattice metal table.

Kevin glanced down. “…arsonist?”

“Apparently our dear professor didn’t just burn down the Pinkberry.” He flicked through the article. “Cedro Ramon, Latin scholar, burned down the library at Yale University along with the professor’s rooms with his only defense being that the other Latin scholars were all stuffy bores.” He slid it around again and showed Kevin the mug shot of a surly young man with a familiar scar on his cheek and Isadoro’s bright eyes. “Escaped prison, changed his name, went on the run. According to this he’s been going across the country alternating between prostitution and substitute teaching.”

“That’s quite the resume,” Kevin muttered.

“You can say that again. And get this—they found out because he’s got connections to our dear friend Miguel de la Rosa.” Diego clicked off the phone and leaned in conspiratorially. “The police were background checking the workers, found this, and the rest about Cedro came out. Makes you wonder what else they’re hiding, huh?”

“I thought we already knew they were crooks.”

“But on this scale? They won’t say how Isadoro knew them, but arson? Something’s going on here, Sunshine, and I’m gonna find out what it is.” Diego had a remarkably determined expression, eyes set and mouth in a tight line.

“…I have never seen you so set on something,” Kevin said. “Impressive job, Eggo.”

“I want to know what’s going on here,” Diego shot back, “because something is. We never allow new students mid-year, there’s never been a Renaissance Festivale here before, Isadoro was teaching for all of two months and now he’s gone—I’d appreciate knowing what’s going on, thank you very much!”

Kevin shrugged and twirled the spoon in his sour-lemon yogurt, a brilliant yellow with rainbow Skittles against the black and white cup. “Ever consider maybe you’re thinking too much into all this?”

“Not this time, Sunshine. There really is something going on here and I’m going to find out what it is.”

“You have fun with that.” Kevin filled a spoon with the yogurt and Skittles, shoving it into his mouth. “I’ll just be here when you’re done playing super-spy,” he mumbled around the dessert.

Diego grinned and leaned across the table to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead. “You always will,” he said fondly. “And I’ll always wait for you.”

“No matter what happens?”

“Even if you get hit by a car or something. I’ll wait until I’m sure you’re not coming back.”

“If it takes a while?”

“I’ve got time.” He sat back in his seat. “Let’s not think about stuff like that, because for now we’re allowed back in the Pinkberry and life is generally good. Enjoy it, and I will too.”

“Deal.” Kevin swiped his spoon into Diego’s yogurt and popped it into his own mouth.

“Deal.”

-O-

The group was Christopher, Alaina, and Joshua. At one point Ricardo was mad enough that he wanted to help; that lasted all of five seconds.

“Alright,” Joshua said, entering the lobby office where Christopher was working and Alaina was playing with the school servers on a spare laptop. He spread a dozen floorplans out on the largest table available. “Here’s what we’ve got.”

The other two got up and leaned over. “…this definitely isn’t comprehensive,” Christopher said finally. “If you recall, someone is currently living in the walls--we need to do something about that, by the by—which this doesn’t account for.”

Joshua sighed. “It’s general. Besides, these are the ones that our mystery thief has, not necessarily the most accurate ones.” He tapped the edge of the paper. “It’s accurate enough. To someone who knows the real layout it’s useless, but if you only know where the buildings are, this could get you somewhere if you know how to use it. And as we’ve been broken into, I’m guessing someone knows how to pick locks, open windows, et cetera. And with a floorplan, that can be dangerous.” He began to pace. “I’ve told Adrian about this and he said he’d deal with it his next day on guard. I think you’ve got him a little dazed, Chris—that’s weird to think about, he’s my dad, forget I said any of that—and he’s teaching his classes, so he refuses to help.” Joshua looked up at the ceiling, running a hand through dark brown hair. “Our mystery thief has enough information to do a good bit of damage if he knows how to use it.”

“Well, that’s…not good,” Alaina said, studying the floor plans. “Erm—where’s the circuit breaker and does anyone actually guard that?”

“Downstairs, and no, why?”

“Because seems to me like they’ve got all they need from the computers, and so if they want to break in, they’re gonna head for that first. Hard to know where you’re going in the dark unless you’re a thief who works that way.”

All three exchanged a glance, and Christopher began cursing rather creatively in Cantonese.

“I’m not even going to ask where you learned Cantonese,” Joshua said, “and I’ll have Mr. Dwyer rearrange the schedule so someone’s down there whenever they can be.”

“Probably a good plan.” Alaina pointed to a room on one of the plans. “That’s the place?”

“Yup.”

“Any entrances aside from the stairs?”

“None, as far as I know. I was down there last winter when the power went out, it was dark—so no windows. There might be another door.”

“Tell Mr. Dwyer to invest in an alarm, maybe.” Alaina tapped a corner of the room. “Another door here. Right by the circuit breaker. Smartest plan? Probably not, you might wanna do something about that.” She continued to study the floor plans.

Christopher sighed and kneaded his forehead. “I’ll go call Adrian, have him contact Walter, maybe we can get someone on this right away. The more I think about it the more possible it seems, especially if it is the de la Rosas.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that. Did you see the paper this morning?” Joshua asked.

“I did indeed. Need to find a new AP teacher, that’s a pain.” Christopher groaned. “I need coffee. You two have fun with your security and computers and whatever the hell else it is you’re doing. I’m not entirely functional.”

And with that, he stumbled out of the lobby and towards the dining hall. Alaina and Joshua watched him go for a minute, then looked at each other.

“Looks like we’ll be working with each other for a while,” Alaina said grimly. “I doubt Mr. Vega’s going to stop hiring me until he’s found the thief.”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” Joshua extended a hand. “Nice to be working with you, Sparks.”

“That’s not my name.”

“I know. Calling you Sparks anyway.”

Alaina sighed. “It’s going to be a long couple of weeks, isn’t it…”

-O-

Lauren Mallard and Kevin Free Palmer had the kind of relationship that caused everyone around them to ask “do they hate each other?” and then to look from one to the other and go “aw hell, they’re best friends, aren’t they.” And something best friends did for each other was try to break the other out of brainwashing.

That may have been situation-specific.

“Lauren…Lauren!”

“Yeah?”

“You’re acting normal today.”

Lauren blinked. “…any reason why I wouldn’t be?”

Kevin leaned away warily. “When’s the last time you got detention?”

“Mm…last week or so?”

“Wonder what’s got Vega distracted,” Kevin muttered.

“What’d you say, Kev?”

“Nothing. Do you remember the last week?”

Lauren looked up. “Er—Renaissance faire over the weekend, Isadoro Ramon skipped town, anything else?”

“Lauren, what happened when you were in detention?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t remember, I was bored.”

“What happened at the Renaissance Faire? The first weekend of it.”

“…we worked there? Jeez, Kev, what’re you getting at?”

She turned and stormed away, arms crossed. Kevin stood for a second.

“The fact that you’re calling me Kev again,” he muttered to himself. “What’s got Vega so distracted that he’s not keeping up…?”

Chapter Text

Friday afternoon the school was buzzing with activity and everyone was carefully avoiding Luciano. Good cheer was very rarely a sign of anything pleasant when it came to the music teacher, especially when he was seeing Carlos soon.

Diego and Divina weren’t much for school spirit, much less any venue in which they had to wear tennis shoes, but they did enjoy chaos, which was why they, Kevin, Lauren, and Daniel had taken up residence in Lauren’s single to get ready to visit Night Vale.

Diego sighed overdramatically as he tugged off his heels and dropped them one after the other onto the bed. “Sunshine?”

Kevin threw a pair of black sneakers with gold laces at his boyfriend. One slammed into the side of his head, hitting the gold streak like a bulls-eye. “Sorry!”

“S’okay,” Diego winced, pulling on the shoes. He and Divina were more casual than the others had ever seen them during school, in jeans and matching sneakers, black T-shirts, and black-and-gold varsity jackets.

Kevin tossed Daniel his leather duster and wraparound sunglasses in a much more gentle manner, then handed Lauren her earrings and black wool coat. He pulled on his own cropped varsity coat, running his hands through glitter-dusted black hair. “We ready?”

Lauren nodded, screwing the earrings (a birthday gift from Daniel) into place so the small black diamonds in the centre twinkled. “I want to see what Silva’s got planned tonight.”

“I don’t, but I’m going anyways,” Daniel said, helping her up. “At least it’ll be more interesting than studying.”

Diego and Divina linked arms, Diego reaching over to grab Kevin’s hand. With the twins’s hair pulled back into ponytails, identical outfits, makeup, and matching gold and black glasses, the most distinguishing difference was Diego’s gold streak.

“Let’s rock this town,” Divina said.

-O-

The football game was the combined efforts of DBPA and Pine Cliffs Private High against NVPH and was being held at the field for the latter school, the only one out of three with a proper sports complex. The air was crisp and leaves crunched under the bike tires as the small group rode down to town.

The streets were lit by old-fashioned lamps, banners in the NVPH colors (purple and white) strung up along the buildings and between the lampposts. Various Halloween-and-autumn decorations were up, from scarecrows to jack o’lanterns to arrangements of leaves and cornstalks.

They parked their bikes by the usual alley and took to the sidewalks, racing along towards the school. The building was lit from inside, the track behind it visible by benefit of the last few stragglers entering to watch the game.

Luciano Silva was waiting outside the only entrance, watching the fans and onlookers enter, twirling something that glinted. As they drew closer, they could see it was a hypodermic needle loaded with what could only be described as liquid opals.

“Er—what’s that?” Diego asked apprehensively.

Luciano grinned widely, his white scars stretching across his cheeks and reflecting the light. “Our dear cousin Carlos, of course. Don’t worry, completely harmless. At least physically.” He whistled and tapped a finger against the tip of the needle, not enough to break the skin. “I’ve lived with it for years, after all.”

“You’re…” Diego blinked. “I didn’t know that was possible. Mad scientists, the lot of you.” He sighed. “You enjoy that.”

“Oh, I will. Have fun at the game, my dear cousin.”

When they had gone inside, Luciano looked up to see Carlos and ducked behind one of the brick pillars as he walked by, flanking Cecil with Earl on the other side. Behind them, Dana was sandwiched between Maureen and Vithya, all three with linked arms.

“Ah, Carlito,” Luciano hummed to no one in particular. “You harmed my piano and I haven’t forgotten.”

“Who are you talking to?”

He whirled around to see Christopher Rose holding hands with Adrian on one side and Ellie on the other. “No one,” he said happily, smile stretching wider. “Just thinking of how much I am going to—aha--enjoy myself tonight.”

Christopher exchanged a glance with Adrian. “I’m sure you will,” the latter said. “Should I be hoping Night Vale teaches their students self-defense as well?”

“Noo, noo, nothing like that,” Luciano said in a tone that was probably meant to be soothing and was actually rather frightening. “It is entirely a mental affliction I intend.”

“Right.” Chris ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Right. Well, we’re just going to head in there and if anyone asks, we know nothing, got it?” He lifted Ellie with one arm. “Have a nice time.”

“I will,” Luciano hummed, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

-O-

Daniel’s coaching in how to attend a football game had been extraordinarily simple—cheer when your team scores, boo when the other team scores, cheer when the other team fumbles, go “aww” when your team fumbles, the rest of the time just get up whenever people do the wave.

“Do we actually need to know the rules?” was Kevin’s first question upon sitting in the bleachers (on Diego’s lap, actually. Diego was on the bleachers.)

“Nope,” Daniel said, shrugging. “I mean, I do, but that’s because my dad really liked football—sports in general—and he taught me about it.”

An awkward silence fell. They didn’t talk about Daniel and Sammy’s parents. It was generally tactless; besides that, Daniel had stated right off that he didn’t want them asking about it.

“Anyway,” Divina said after a minute, “that seems simple enough.” She looked down at the field. “What’s the ball again?”

“The brown thing,” Daniel said.

“Right. That. Go, team.” She leaned back and waved a little banner.

A few rows down, Ciro Sorriso was sitting with Jezebel and a little yellow triangle flag that read CIRO #1 ASSHOLE. “W-why that flag?” Jezzy asked, amused.

“Because it’s accurate,” he said cheerfully, waving it around. “Go, me!”

“I don’t t-think we’re here to cheer you on.” She tucked her legs up and watched the game for a moment. “Any clue what they’re doing down there?”

“Er…nope. Oh, look, a bunch of the purple guys piled on top of the yellow guys. Go, sports.” Ciro waved his flag again and booed with their section of the crowd. “I certainly hope I’m cheering for the right team, or this’ll be really awkward,” he remarked.

Jezzy giggled and nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re a weirdo. Of course you fit right in here.”

Ciro grinned proudly and adopted a deep voice. “Day seven. They have accepted me among them and still do not know I am secretly a robot.”

“Weirdo,” Jezzy muttered affectionately.

“So you made friends with me in a week why, then? Clearly something about me being a weirdo appeals to you.”

“Coffee also appeals to me.”

“So if I were to take you out to coffee…”

“I’d be very appealed to.”

For a moment both were silent, then Jezzy looked at Ciro and Ciro looked at Jezzy.

“Did you just ask me out?”

“Did you just accept?”

“Depends if you asked me out.”

“Depends if you accepted.”

“So if you asked me out and I accepted…”

“…we’re going for coffee?”

Another pause.

“Sunday?”

“Th-that’d be nice.”

-O-

Carlos almost didn’t notice it at first, a small pinprick in the back of his neck, focused as he was on the game and the roar of the crowd.

And then the roar grew louder. And louder, and soon enough Carlos was surrounded by noise, so much noise, overwhelming him and pushing him down behind his seat, down to his knees between the bleachers.

He gasped and clutched at the side of his neck, ignoring Cecil and Earl’s panicked questions and cries for help, because it was just more noise in a world full of sound and light and color and nothing else, spinning, sinking, falling—

He could, however, make out Luciano Silva’s smug and self-satisfied tone as he muttered “Gotcha back, Carlito.”

“S-screw you,” he spat out in that general direction, the color around him spinning. He had done research. He knew what this was, but the name was slipping out of his mind, being replaced with simple descriptors, with Lucito has it and sound to color and tolerable after having for most of life--synesthesia, synesthesia, Luc was a synesthete, soundiscolorissound and it wasn’t so bad if you had it, Carlos supposed—not that he had much room for any thought other than all that he was feeling—and—and—

He blacked out.

-O-

“What’s going on over there?” Diego asked, craning his neck in an effort to see over the crowd.

“I dunno,” Kevin said, poking through a pair of NVPH juniors to try to see. “I think someone got hurt—hey, is that Cecil and Earl—oh.”

“What?”

“It’s Carlos,” Kevin said, drawing back to the group. “He’s on the ground.”

Divina looked up from her phone in alarm. “Did Luc hurt him? Because I think that’d be taking it too far, and he doesn’t seem like the sort—“

“He doesn’t look hurt,” Kevin said doubtfully, reaching over to tap Dana Cardinal on the shoulder. “Dana! What’s going on?”

She whirled around. “Kevin! Carlos just collapsed, we don’t know what happened—he tried to say something to Silva but we couldn’t hear it—do you know if there’s a doctor here?”

“No need,” Diego said, stepping in smoothly. “A doctor wouldn’t be able to help Carlito right now.”

“Know what’s going on?”

“Yeah. Kinda.” Diego glanced back at the others. “Luciano’s just getting better at pranks, is all.”

Chapter Text

At some point, clearly, mistakes had been made.

Kevin Jathis and Gareth were waiting for Isaias to show up at the library, KJ slouched in an armchair and Gareth sitting cross-legged on a table. “Is he going to show up at all?” Gareth asked, his annoyance only betrayed by the drumming of his fingers on the edge of the table and the way he was tugging down the brim of his pastel-blue pageboy cap.

“He’ll be here,” KJ said. “I know he will.” He reached up to pet down the feathers of the owl on his shoulder and tapped a finger against the metal stays of his leg brace. “He always follows through.”

The bookshelf behind them rattled a bit and swung outward. Isaias Merlo stepped through and stepped over to the armchair, sitting in Kevin’s lap and folding his hands across his knee. “Hey there,” he said softly. “Why’d you want me to come out? Because that’s not Caesar.” He shrugged in Gareth’s general direction.

“I’m Gareth,” he said. “Noah’s boyfriend. We need to talk about the situation.”

Isaias was immediately alert. “Oh,” he said, lilting voice gaining a slight edge. “I see. I assume you’re referring to the fight?”

“Of course.” Gareth clasped his hands and rested his chin on top. “As it stands—Caesar is furious with Noah, Noah is furious with Caesar, neither is willing to make concessions, Noah has yet to come out of his room this weekend and has been reading trashy romance novels, and Caesar…?”

“Is having an episode,” Isaias said. “Refuses to stop exercising, won’t eat, continually brushing his hair and changing his clothes. Appearances are highly important to him at the best of times, and, well, these are far from the best of times.” He placed a hand on KJ’s leg as the latter began to bounce it up and down. “Shh, disciple.”

“Got it,” KJ said. “I don’t want Caesar to get hurt, though.”

“I know,” Isaias soothed. “We’ll get through to him. That’s why we’re meeting, I suppose?” he asked Gareth.

“Right.” The older boy straightened, stepping off the table and pacing the small corner of the library. “We’ve got to find a way to get them to apologize to each other. If we can do that—they’re good at helping each other work through their issues. It should calm down after that.”

“Hopefully,” KJ put in.

“Hopefully,” Gareth agreed, pulling a fidget stone out of his pocket and tossing it over. “Here, this might help.”

KJ caught it and started playing with the small object, casting Gareth a grateful look.

“What to do…” Isaias mused.

“We could lock them in a room together,” KJ suggested. “Or arrange a life-or-death situation.”

Isaias giggled and pressed a kiss to KJ’s temple. “You’ve been watching too many rom-coms, disciple.”

“Maybe, but this is all seeming very…breakup-y. Is that a word? It should be a word.”

“It would be a pretty good word to have right now,” Gareth said. “If we’re talking melodramatic rom-coms, we could always wait for a rainy day and send one of them out without an umbrella. Hope the other catches up and provides.”

“Go for something where they’ve got to work together to solve a problem,” Isaias said, starting to get into it. “Or make it so they’re so focused on whatever they’re doing that they won’t focus on fighting.”

KJ clapped excitedly. “Who’s reading romance novels now?”

“Still you.” Isaias playfully ruffled his boyfriend’s hair. “So. We’re living in one of Santiago’s romance novels and trying to bring together two feuding families.”

“Operation Romeo and Juliet is a go,” Gareth said, opening a notebook. “Now. What were all our ideas again?”

-O-

The candy shop in town was generally regarded as one of the best in the state, which was why Juliano could be found at it so often, collecting sticky plastic bags full of gummies and caramels. Andres stood to a side, intently studying a mint green rack of large lollipops.

The bell above the door chimed and in stepped a girl with cropped dark hair. She looked over at Andres, let out a high-pitched squeal, and ran over, jumping at him hard enough to knock him into the rack. “Andie!”

“Erin!” He hugged her back tightly, half-lifting her off the ground. “How come I haven’t seen you around?”

“I’ve been busy,” she said cheerfully. “Put me down!”

He obliged. “Oh! Erin, this is Juliano Cortez.” He waved Juliano over. “He’s…well, we’re…” He trailed off, then began to sign as he spoke. {Juliano, this is Erin Lariot. We’ve basically been together since kindergarten. Even when she went here and I went to the public schools!} Andres beamed, continuing to sign at a rapid pace. {I really hope you get along. I’m gonna go buy the lollipop, m’kay?} He ran back over to the rack with much more cheer than he had had a minute ago.

Erin looked at Juliano. Juliano looked at Erin.

Erin tapped her chin, then grabbed a pen and a homework assignment out of her bag, flipped it over, and began writing on the back.

So. You’re…

Juliano pulled out a pen of his own. Yes. And you two…

Yeah.

More staring each other down, then Erin bared her teeth and pressed the pen so hard to the paper that it ripped. I don’t like you, she wrote. You’re not going to take the plantboy away from me, got it?

I could say the same about you, Juliano wrote, lifting his chin haughtily as he did so. The effect was severely diminished by the dab of chocolate on his neck.

She hissed, nearly snapping her pen in half. Look here, candy boy, Andie is mine. Got it? We’ve always been together and nothing’s gonna change that.

I’m not about to give up something great because you tell me to, sweetheart, Juliano scrawled, popping a caramel into his mouth with his free hand. I don’t think you understand.

I could say the same about you.

They glared at each other for a moment more only to adopt innocent looks when Andres came back over, Erin shoving the paper into her bag. {Ready to go?} he asked, signing along as he spoke. {I paid for your stuff, by the way.}

“Sure,” Erin said, not taking her eyes off Juliano for a second.

{You’re so good to me,} Juliano signed to Andres, staring at Erin with equal intensity.

As the three exited the shop, Andres looked back at the clerk. She grinned and waved the little vial he had given her, then winked.

Andres swallowed hard and put a hand in his pocket, touching the matching vial. One more. There was really no other way for him to pay for things around here, and, well…

People, at least, knew his name.

It would be enough.

-O-

“I really d-don’t think we’re allowed in here,” Jezebel said hesitantly as she and Ciro entered the King’s Ransom.

“Nah. I asked. Sunday afternoons they’re open to all,” he said. “Kinda like open-mic night except no one’s getting drunk. Because of minors like us.” He wrinkled his nose. “You do what you can. I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh. I-I don’t much like surprises…” Jezebel said hesitantly.

“You’ll like this one. Trust me.” He led her to an empty table. “Wait here,” he said excitedly, backing away before running through a door.

Jezebel drummed her fingers on the tabletop, resisting the urge to pick at her sleeve. She only had so many jackets and it was a pain to order new ones. She could practically feel everyone’s eyes on her, staring, trying to figure out if she was alone or scared or—

Jezzy, they’re not looking at you. Shut down those thoughts right now.

A small light turned on on the stage up front and Jezebel looked up to see Ciro settling on a small wooden stool, guitar balanced in his lap and hair falling in his eyes. “Uh, hey, everyone,” he said into the mic. “I…well, I’m new here in town, go to the boarding school, and I just wanted to do something to thank…the one person who’s been nice to me.”

He began to play.

As the notes floated over Jezzy, she felt her face flush a brilliant red, ducking down to stare at the wood grain and trace it with her fingernails, covering her mouth with one hand. When she looked up Ciro was completely absorbed in the music, smiling to himself and singing in perfect key with the guitar. An artsy boyfriend.

A boyfriend. Jezzy had a boyfriend. Jezzy had a friend, a friend who wasn’t a relative.

She blinked back tears and smiled into her hands as she stared at the patterns carved into the grain, the notes from other patrons—KITTEN LOVES VOICE; COCO & CEDRO, BFFS; DLR ’87. Mementos of a life not her own.

She pulled a pen out of her pocket with her free hand and carefully carved into the wood JEZZY AND SPOT.

The music played on.

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars,
Place your head on my beating heart
I'm thinking out loud
That maybe we found love right where we are…

Chapter Text

There was a fly in the chapel.

Sergio watched it with a mild interest as it tried to bash its brains out against the glass and he waited for Luciano to look up from his piano and notice his presence. After five minutes of this, he gave up and strolled to the front of the chapel, leaning on the piano. “You know,” he said conversationally, “there could have been a psychotic killer back there and you would not have noticed one bit.”

Luciano almost jumped, startled, and then settled with an easy smile and a genuine laugh. “Cousin mine, are you so sure there wasn’t?”

“Touché,” Sergio said. “Although if you want to get into an argument over which of us is the more dangerous, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“No need, we both know it’s you.” Luciano waved him off, set his pen against the nearly-full page of sheet music, and stood smoothly. “So what brings you around to my chapel today?”

“The Masquerade is in two days,” Sergio said, the corners of his mouth turning up in smirk.

“…And?” Luciano prompted after a moment of silence.

“Well? Has a certain southern gentleman asked you to the ball yet?”

It took Luciano a moment to register what Sergio meant and when he did, he blushed a brilliant red and ducked his head. “Walter and I are merely friends, cousin mine.”

Sergio inclined his head. “He might say differently,” he said softly. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Sergio, that—“

“Is an excellent plan. I know. Go ask him, will you?”

Luciano sighed and took his braid in one hand, tugging downward gently on it. “Very well. After I call the caterer.”

“After you call the caterer.”

“And after I finish this piece.”

“After you finish that piece. May I have a listen?”

“Certainly.” Luciano sat again and moved to the side, indicating the seat next to him. Sergio sat down and watched as Luciano began to play, the notes filling the chapel with sound and, to Luciano, the most beautiful colors he could see. It was how he chose notes—not what might sound good, but what looked good; and for the most part it worked fairly well.

“You’re terribly talented, cousin mine,” the science teacher said when the song had ended, the last strains still floating above them.

“Oh.”

They both turned to see Walter Dwyer standing in the doorway, looking slightly faint.

“…has he been there this whole time?” Luciano asked quietly.

“Given that I asked him to come here a few minutes ago, I’d say yes.”

“You what?”

“I asked him if he could come here. To see you. And I do believe he enjoyed your music.” Sergio smiled beatifically at Luciano. “Go on. I’ve told you already, he’ll be thrilled.”

Luciano very hesitantly got up and looked back at Sergio, who gave him an encouraging nod. He made his way down the aisle between the rows of gleaming black pianos to Walter, who was now nonchalantly leaning in the doorframe and attempting to act like he hadn’t been staring openly seconds before. “Walter?”

“Erm. Hey there, Luc,” the security guard said causally. “What’re you doing here?”

Luciano looked around. “…I basically live here.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Well, er…I…I thought your playing was very nice,” Walter said haltingly.

“Thank you.” Luciano looked back at Sergio, who made little “go on” motions with his hands. “Mm. Walter. You are aware that I’ve been arranging an inter-school masquerade ball?”

“I’ve…heard of it, yeah,” Walter said with the tone of someone who had spent entirely too much time thinking about it.

“Right. Ahaha. Excellent.” He laughed nervously. “Mmm. In that case. Sergio has put me up to this—cousins, right?—and of course you needn’t feel obligated, in fact you could just say no right now and spare me the embarrassment of asking—“

“No, I wanna hear what this is about,” Walter said.

“Right. Of course.” He continued to giggle. “Yes, yes, well. Mr. Dwyer, would you—aha—would you perhaps do the great honor—mm—of being my accompaniment for the ball?”

“I would,” Walter blurted out scarcely before Luc could finish what he was saying. “I would very much—er, of course—if you truly want to and aren’t just bein’ put up to it by Sergio?”

“No, no,” Luc said, still giggling but less so. “I…it would be a great honor to attend the ball with you. I was not sure how you would receive it.”

The moment was rather ruined by Sergio tapping Luciano on the shoulder, having snuck up behind him while he was distracted, and saying in a cheerful tone “There, was that so hard?”

“I will murder you,” Luciano warned.

“Who’s the psychotic killer now?”

“Still you.”

-O-

For a Wednesday afternoon, the town of Night Vale was surprisingly full of DBPA students looking to find their various dates for the Masquerade and formally ask them out. Of course, that was why it was so full in the first place.

Divina and Mark were sitting on a park bench by the river, Divina’s legs tucked up as she leaned on Mark. He was wearing about five layers of clothing, but it was starting to become the norm for her to take his hand, lean on him, or lightly touch his shoulder without him noticing, much less flinching away. It was slow. But it was a start, and Divina could wait. (Besides, she had kissed him once. There was certainly something to wait for.)

“So,” Divina said after a moment. “I know you don’t go to my school or the public high, but…we’re allowed to bring dates to the Masquerade, and I’m sure no one would object to a plus-one.” She flashed him a smile. “What d’you say? Wanna dress up all nice for the evening? Think of the layers you could wear…”

“That isn’t nice, Divina,” Mark said with only a hint of actual objection in his voice. “I do like clothes for their own sake.”

“Of course.” She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. “I’ll be wearing a yellow and black dress with a flare skirt. Plan accordingly, m’kay?”

“Okay.” He wrapped an arm around her and laid his head on top of hers as they watched the river.

Behind the bench, Sammy and Smiles were passing by. “So,” Sammy said after a moment of watching the two, “about the dance.”

Smiles stiffened. “About it?”

Sammy gave a shy little smile. “We’re allowed to bring plus-ones from other schools.”

“I see,” Smiles said quietly.

“Would you care to go with me?”

“…I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Sammy stopped short. “What? Why not?”

“It’s…” Smiles sighed in frustration. “I can’t explain it to you, okay? You wouldn’t understand.”

“Really. Try me.”

“I’m a Russian spy.”

“Tell me another one.”

“I’m secretly a robot.”

“You can do better than that.”

“I’m secretly a god.”

Sammy grinned. “Now that I can believe, I have to say. Really, though—I want you to come. I want a date. Why can’t you come?”

Smiles sighed again and ran a hand through his greyish-brown hair. “I just…can’t.”

“Give me a reason. A real reason.”

“…my brother and sibs. They wouldn’t approve.”

“Are they Night Vale?”

“Er, not exactly. Your friends wouldn’t approve either, exactly.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Sammy gave him a dry look. “Indulge me.”

“Fine.” Smiles led Sammy over to a grassy spot on the riverbank, out of earshot of anyone who cared to pass by. “But you’ve got to be able to keep a secret.”

-O-

Kevin sighed in happiness as he surveyed his strawberry froyo. “I do kinda miss that weird Latin teacher, but let me tell you, I’m so glad to be allowed in the Pinkberry again,” he said, popping the spoon in his mouth.

Diego came over with his typical chocolate. “I agree. What’d you order this time, sunshine?”

“Strawberry with peanut butter and pistachios.”

Diego wrinkled his nose. “Sunshine, that’s disgusting. It’s three completely incompatible plants battling it out in your mouth.”

“S’good, though. Want some?” Kevin held out the spoon.

“Ew. No thank you.” He took a bite of his own.

“More for me.”

“Stick to the Skittles.”

“I’ll do what I please,” Kevin said haughtily before dissolving into giggles.

“As long as I’m still making you happy I’m fine with that.” Diego took something out of his pocket and pushed it across the table—a jewelry box, larger than what might hold a ring but not overly so. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Kevin asked in delight, abandoning the frozen yogurt to study the little box. “Can I open it?”

“That’s what it’s meant for.”

Kevin quickly did so and pulled out the little opal necklace that lay inside. “Oh. Eggo, it’s beautiful. What’s the occasion?”

“Two things. One, I would like to formally ask you to be my date to the Masquerade, wearing that to the party.” Diego grinned. “Hm?”

“Of course!” Kevin wound the chain around his hand, unwound it, and put the necklace on, snapping the clasp in the back. “And the other reason?”

“I thought it might make you smile,” Diego said, overly causal but tapping his fingers on the table nervously.

Kevin giggled and leaned in for a kiss. “Success, Eggo, success.”

Diego met him halfway. “Indeed,” he muttered when they broke for air.

Across the shop, Erin, Juliano, and Andres sat around a round table with a notebook in the center for Erin and Juliano to communicate with. “So,” Andres said, signing along as he did so, “about the Masquerade ball…I’ll be going with Juliano, of course?”

Of course, Juliano scrawled into the notebook, giving Andres a bright smile.

Erin grabbed the pencil and wrote along as she spoke. “You’ll save a dance for me, of course, Andy?”

“’Course! I thought that was obvious,” Andres said, making the motions quickly and returning to his froyo.

Erin shot Juliano a smug grin. Juliano wrote But he’s going with me in the corner of the notebook before erasing it quickly and glaring at Erin.

“Anyway,” Andres said, dropping the froyo spoon to continue signing, “I wanted to know what you were going to wear, Jules?”

Fire Juliano wrote in block letters, then underneath A suit in yellows and oranges and reds and a flame mask. What do you think?

“You look great. Should I wear something water-related?”

“I can wear something for air,” Erin cut in, quickly writing as she spoke.

Yes, well, that’s lovely, Erin, but Andres and I are going. Together. With each other.

“And so are Andres and I. Together. With each other, because that’s what we do,” Erin shot back, breaking the pencil tip as she wrote.

“Can we not fight?” Andres asked timidly, signing in small motions.

They both stopped immediately. “’Course,” Erin said affectionately, not bothering to transcribe. “Anything for my best friend.” That she did write, underlining the last two words with a heavy hand.

Juliano grabbed his pen. Anything for you, he wrote, smiling at Andres with the most innocent eyes he could manage.

Andres sighed in relief. “Good. Froyo.” He picked up the spoon and took a big bite, then swiped his finger through the chocolate sauce and wiped it on Juliano’s nose. “There we go,” he said, mouthing the words clearly so Juliano could see what he was saying without the signs.

Erin narrowed her eyes and hissed.

Chapter Text

Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy actually had a ballroom, past the lobby of the main building. It was generally used for official functions, benefactor’s parties, and other such Important Occasions, but on Halloween night it was being used for the students.

Luciano was already playing his piano onstage with a small orchestra when the first guests began showing up, the gowns and suits and masks shining under the lights. The marble floors glittered with the ground glass and gold veins threaded into them; dining tables covered in white silk cloths and chairs surrounded the dance floor and a buffet lined the walls with an open bar for the faculty. The centerpieces had been made by Miss and Saoirse, gold candlesticks with suns engraved around the tops and the school crest pressed into the candle wax and little sprays of marigolds and daisies poking out from where the wax met the metal. The tables had been fully set with brilliant china and silver, the Vega family’s own.

The dance floor itself was a sight to behold. The chandeliers had been lit for the evening with real candles and were being regularly relit by various staff members, wind chimes formed of glass suns hanging below and reflecting the light to the floor below in hypnotizing patterns. The furniture, aside from the white silk tablecloths and chair fabrics, had been reupholstered into mahogany and gold cloth. No expense spared when it came to showing up their neighbors.

Diego stepped into the room and surveyed the scene, adjusting his obsidian-black mask and hissing. “I can’t see a damn thing,” he complained quietly to Kevin. “I haven’t worn my contacts in years.”

“Stop whining,” Kevin said cheerfully, pushing his own dull red mask into the center and leaning on his boyfriend. His free hand toyed with the opal necklace brushing against his skin, the other moving down to lift the skirts of his deep, bloodred dress. “It’s beautiful here. Is that description enough?”

“Tell me more,” Diego said as they made their way to one of the tables and sat down.

Kevin looked around. “Everything’s very shiny! And your cousin is up onstage playing piano. And Mr. Dwyer is getting drunk?”

Diego actually giggled, flipping his long ponytail over his shoulder and moving the gold streak to where it would be most visible. “I’d believe that,” he said, leaning over the table for a kiss.

Their moment was rather ruined by Lauren bouncing over in an off-the-shoulder creamy yellow dress and thin black-and-silver mask, carrying Daniel bridal-style. He was wearing a rather nice suit, but in lieu of the tux he had chosen to wear his leather jacket and a metallic silver mask lit up with some thin blue lights. “He wanted to see if I could do it,” she said as a response to the question the other two didn’t dare to ask. “Because he can’t pick me up. He’s skinny.”

“I’m lightweight,” Daniel replied petulantly. “Put me down.”

She did so and they sat at two more of the seats. “Still waiting on Divina and her date Whatshisface?”

“Mark Vincent,” Kevin said.

“Thanks, Kev.”

“Don’t call me Kev.”

“Please don’t start this tonight,” Diego moaned as Daniel muttered “again, really?”

The two looked at each other, then cracked up. “Fine,” Lauren said. “Not tonight. Kevin.”

“Lauren.”

“Wow, are you really going to stop fighting for a whole night? I don’t think you can do it.”

The four looked up to see Divina, resplendent in a deep blue gown, almost black, and an elaborate silver mask with sapphires (probably real ones, given the Vega family’s status) and Mark Vincent, whose minimalist suit was in the same shade of pastel blue as his typical vest and who wore a mask made of dark red wires twisting around his face, giving the appearance of blood in the light. “I’m impressed,” she continued, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And brother mine? Did you steal one of my dresses?”

Diego grinned. “No,” he said, standing up to show off the neat tailored suit and wool coat he had chosen, kicking a foot up onto the chair to reveal black boots with six-inch red glass heels, and tracing the edge of his mask with a finger. “I decided to go my own way for tonight. Dresses look much nicer on my sunshine, anyway.” He gave Kevin a smitten look, the other boy fully occupied with trying to get a waiter to give him champagne and not noticing Diego at all.

“The side of me that loves romance novels is in awe at how smitten you two are,” said Lauren. “It’s sweet. C’mon, Div and boyfriend of Div, sit down!”

“Don’t call me Div,” Divina warned as she and Mark took the last two chairs. Kevin was already back in his own seat with a disappointed look and no alcohol. “Well, no one’s met Mark but my brother dearest, so I would like to take this opportunity to formally introduce him.” She gestured around the table. “Mark, these are my friends. And my brother. Friends—and Diego—this is Mark Vincent, son of Jake Lin and Marcus Vanston yet has neither of their last names, has issues with people touching him so don’t do that, and is currently wearing—five layers of clothing?”

“Six,” Mark muttered.

“Six layers of clothing, don’t be mean, got it?” She leaned on him slightly, barely a touch against his shoulder. “Welcome to the Masquerade, Mark,” she said happily.

Across the room, Caesar, KJ, and Isaias were sharing a table feet away from Gareth and Santiago. “Ready?” Isaias asked KJ underbreath.

KJ barely nodded.

“Okay.”

He slipped a hand under the table and lit the particularly smoky type of cigarette they had borrowed from Cecil Palmer, holding it at an angle to let the smoke better reach Caesar.

It was only a matter of time now.

They didn’t have to wait long before Caesar began to wheeze, then gasp, leaning over the table and reaching for his bag. KJ pocketed the inhaler that he had slipped out earlier in the night.

“Oh my god,” Isaias muttered, then louder “Oh my god!” He looked at KJ and made a little “don’t panic” motion with a hand, then ran over to Santiago’s table. “Santi? Santi, I think there was something in the air, Caesar can’t breathe!”

He snuffed out the cigarette on the seat as Santiago stood up fast enough to knock the chair over, flipping the table and sending the silverware and china crashing to the ground. “Caesar!”

Everything happened very fast after that—Santi scrambling for the spare inhaler he carried, Caesar holding tightly to his brother’s hand as he took a breath, and another, and another, and finally set the little red device down and held onto Santi tightly as gasps shuddered past, as he was ready to sob.

When everything had calmed down slightly, Santi was muttering quiet reassurances to his younger brother. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “There’s no reason he should’ve had an attack. There’s absolutely nothing—“ He paused and took a deep breath. “Is that…cigarette smoke?” he asked. “Cecil Palmer isn’t here yet, and this is a nonsmoking campus.” His eyes narrowed. “Would anyone care to explain why there is cigarette smoke here?”

KJ looked innocent. Of course, KJ probably hadn’t realized anything was wrong yet. Isaias fidgeted and Gareth looked at the tablecloth on the floor.

“Um,” Isaias said.

Caesar leaned over and snatched at his hand, pulling the inhaler out of them and holding it up. “Care to explain?” he asked, deadly quiet.

“…Well…” Isaias hedged.

Caesar looked at Isaias, then at KJ, then at Gareth. “I guess,” he said quietly, “that this was some kind of misguided attempt to get me and Santi to make up? Because if that was the case, then mission accomplished.” He stood, Santi rising with him. “I do not want to see any of you,” he said, “for the rest of the night. Tomorrow morning, when I’ve gotten over the fact that I might’ve just died because you three wanted a romantic comedy, we’ll talk. But for now I’m indescribably pissed and attempting to keep from throttling you.” He tugged Santiago along. “Santi, come on, let’s go find people to dance with.”

-O-

“Ciro!”

Ciro turned to see Jezzy staring at him, mouth open. “Jezebel!”

“C-Ciro, you look…you look amazing!”

Ciro looked down at their outlandish ensemble—tight red bodysuit-dress combination, one striped stocking, a bright purple mask with lightning bolts in black, hair straightened into a feminine pixie cut. “So do you!” they said, stepping over to Jezebel. “I decided to try something different tonight.”

“I-it really works for you.” She extended a pink-gloved hand. Her own dress was the color of cotton candy, very simple, with a darker sash around the middle and a gathered skirt. The mask was a plain white one that covered the left side of her face in a moon shape. “May I have this dance?”

Ciro grinned and took her hand as they swept out onto the dance floor. Several couples were already whirling to the music, skirts flaring and suit tails trailing behind them. “You’re stunning,” they said fondly. “I wonder if the musicians would let me play a song for you?”

“You should ask,” Jezzy giggled. “A bit os-ostentatious, though, don’t you think?”

“Anything for my best girl,” Ciro said pompously. “Let’s dance.”

“We are dancing.”

“Let’s dance more, then!” They clasped a hand to her waist and another to her shoulder, pulling her flush against them as they picked up the pace to match the music and hummed along. Jezzy giggled, getting into the sway of things and hopping into the air on every high note, swirling around Ciro with a flick of the wrist to spin.

They danced below the twinkling lights and reflective crystals, laughing and talking to each other, listening to the music and the sound of their heartbeats layered overtop.

-O-

It had taken the entire week for Carlos to recover enough to get to the Masquerade. Strictly speaking, he was still tasting purple and seeing all notes above C sharp as neon-bright shades, but despite Cecil and Earl’s protests he insisted on donning his suit and mask and going along.

Cecil, true to his word, had obtained a brilliantly blue and green dress with a long soft train and a mask with large feathers in shades to match. His boots were a silvery blue, his white-and-purple hair feathered back into a short, spiky cut.

Behind him, Carlos was wearing a pearl-grey suit Cecil had found that shimmered with the blue-and-green undersides of the threadwork when the light hit it right and a grey half mask. Earl’s suit was a dark purple, almost black, and his black mask had a Boy Scouts symbol printed on it in white.

“Ready?” Carlos asked Cecil in an underbreath.

“Can’t we have a dance first?”

“I’ll lose my nerve and my hearing before we’d get around to it. Come on, let’s go.” He tugged Cecil along and Earl trailed behind as they made their way through the room, past their classmates and the Academy students, past Luciano playing piano, out the back door.

They followed the paths down to the teacher’s rooms; Earl took a look around and led them up to the third floor, to Luciano’s room in the belfry, his name printed on a plate on the door in neat gold lettering. Inside there were dozens of instruments; two pianos, a cello, three violins of varying sizes, a harp…

“Got it?” Carlos asked the other two. They nodded in tandem. “Then let’s go.”

They set to work.

Smashing the chapel piano, Carlos reflected, had been almost a joke. Luciano was attached to it, sure, but his most important instruments—the ones Diego had mentioned once were used to control his synthesia, the ones he loved and adored—were hidden in the room.

Cecil was slashing strings, Earl pulling up piano keys with plyers; Carlos had a can of hot pink spraypaint that sounded like a high note on a Theremin and was tagging everything with his initials. It wasn’t as if it would be a big mystery who did it.

“That’s enough,” Cecil said after a few minutes. “Let’s go dance. Have a bit of fun before all hell breaks loose.”

“I like this plan,” Earl said, taking Cecil’s hand. Carlos grinned, shook the can, and threw it against the wall; the spraypaint covered the corner entirely, a cacophony of notes in his head as he joined them, running out the door and back to the ballroom.

“So do I,” he said. “Let’s find my little bro, can we?”

“Sure.”

-O-

Andres Ramirez Mendez had a problem. A drug problem. This was not his drug problem; it was everyone else’s, and the fact that he could temporarily solve this problem for them.

Neither Erin nor Juliano knew this.

Erin had started to act more uncomfortable around Juliano after the first few days; Andres had thought everything had been going well, but evidently not.

At the very least, they were cooperating for the Masquerade, although Erin appeared to be attempting to do shots with fruit punch as Andres and Juliano danced.

“You okay?” he asked Erin when they returned to the table.

“Fine,” she muttered.

{If you two would mind not leaving me out of the loop…?} Juliano signed, annoyed.

{Sorry. I was just asking after Erin,} Andres signed back.

He looked at her, then at Juliano, then sighed and turned away, fingering the collar of his suit jacket.

It was expensive. It was far, far more expensive than anything else Andres had ever owned before.

He had bought it himself.

He could never tell them, he decided.

Chapter Text

The fire was roaring quite nicely by six in the evening, dry leaves being tossed on every so often and crackling into flames. Mags Magee was passing out free hot cocoa at a small stand, Miguel was accepting the offerings of leaves from the Festivale workers who would every so often go out to collect, and half the town was standing around the main area, milling about, drinking their cocoa, talking, and enjoying the fire. Luciano was playing a simple, jaunty piano tune, and Lovino was doing a dance straight out of a Disney movie.

“Come on!” the man laughed, spinning over to the Feliciano brothers and grabbing Julius’s hands. “Come along now, let’s dance!”

Julius grinned, waved at Feli devilishly, and let Lovino pull him over to the clearing.

A few feet away, Diego, Divina, Kevin, Lauren, and Daniel were standing in a tight circle and clutching their cocoa (Diego was also clutching Kevin, the other boy pulled tightly to his side). Daniel had given Lauren his coat an hour earlier and Divina had gone off to beg, borrow, or steal something from the shortest person she could find shortly after that, coming back in an oversize flannel sweater that covered her hands.

“You look adorable, sister mine,” Diego had said with a grin.

“Bite me.”

“Gladly.”

“No need for that kind of subtext, now,” Lauren said hastily.

Diego looked over at the bonfire and pulled Kevin even closer. “Care to head over?” he asked the group at large. “Should be warmer.”

“Sure, fine,” Daniel said, holding Lauren’s hand. Divina grinned, gripped her hot cocoa in both hands, and nudged her brother’s shoulder with her chin, pushing him gently in the direction of the fire.

They awkwardly shuffled over, still in their tiny circle, and gathered closer to the fire. Lauren, Daniel, and Divina spread out a bit; Diego attempted to only to find Kevin practically superglued to his side. “Sunshine…”

“Yeees?” Kevin asked, nuzzling the top of Diego’s head with his forehead.

“Never mind,” Diego said affectionately. “I need to start wearing heels.”

“Not here you won’t. You’ll get them all dirty.”

“As always you make an excellent point, my sunshine.”

On the other side of the bonfire, Mags was filling up another set of mugs when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans (much to the annoyance of Miguel, she refused to wear costume when the Festivale’s operation hours were over) and opened it, eyes widening as she read the text before breaking into a huge grin.

She excused herself from the stall and ran over to Miguel. “Oy! Boss!” she said, skidding to a stop beside him. “I’ve got some good news!”

“What’s that?” Miguel asked, tossing another armful of sticks onto the fire and watching it blaze high into the starry sky.

Mags showed him her phone. He looked away for a moment, then again, longer than before, smiling widely. “Oh, my. Nice job, Maggers.”

“The name’s not Maggers, Miggy.”

“Whatever. You did good.” He tapped a chin. “It’s a pity to just do one bonfire, isn’t it? Guy Fawkes Night is coming up. If I’m not mistaken.”

“Indeed it is,” Mags said, grinning. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Probably, as we tend to do that.”

She held out a hand and Miguel slapped it. “Let’s do this,” he said. “Go make plans for a Guy Fawkes Night bonfire. We’ve got a rather special need for it.”

-O-

Christopher Rose was having a perfectly ordinary Saturday evening. Most of the students had left to go to the bonfire down at the Festivale; half of the teachers had joined them, and the other half were all in their rooms working on lesson plans or, in Sergio’s case, trying to find someone to share the rest of the Cheval Blanc (Luciano had been one of the ones to leave).

It was quite a surprise when the lights went out.

He blinked, then peered out the window into the night. Six in the evening and it was already dark out. There wasn’t a storm on; not a cloud in the sky, in fact, and the wind didn’t appear to be blowing.

A small light landed on the wall next to him and he turned to see Joshua and Alaina running down the steps, Joshua carrying a flashlight and Alaina with the school’s technical manual tucked under her arm. “Remember what Sparks said about power outages?” Joshua asked. “Yeah. That.”

“You think someone did this on purpose,” Christopher said. It wasn’t a question.

Joshua and Alaina nodded in tandem. “If we can get down to the basement I can turn it back on,” Alaina said.

Christopher closed the laptop still open on his desk. “Then let’s go. If we move fast we might even be able to catch the mystery thief, or at least figure out what he’s stolen this time.”

The trio made their way across the lobby as quickly as possible, Christopher unlocking the door to the basement. Joshua led the way down, Alaina behind him and Christopher bringing up the rear.

“This way,” Christopher said, taking the flashlight from Joshua and shining it onto the box. “It’s…that shouldn’t be open.”

Alaina followed the light, only tripping once, and opened it the rest of the way. “This’s been tampered with,” she said, fingering the switches. “They only go halfway when properly tripped, but these are pushed all the way over. I was right. How about that?” She shot Joshua a victorious look.

“Can you fix it?” Christopher asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard. Just need to rewire some things—“ She pushed her hand in and yanked it out quickly when there was an audible zap and a blue spark made its way up her arm. “Ouch!”

“Nice job, Sparks,” Joshua sniggered.

“Shut up.” She looked at the box for a moment before getting to work.

Christopher watched her a moment, then turned to Joshua. “So. We need to go find the mystery thief. He can’t have gone far, we realized quickly. With any luck he’s still doing whatever he came here for.”

“I’ll check Ricardo’s office,” Joshua said, “and call Adrian—ask him to go around to the dorms. Sparks can get the lobby, and if you could stand guard at the loop?”

“That works,” Christopher said as the lights flickered on, the wiring humming as it returned to life.

Alaina shut the box and turned to them. “Right. Lobby. I got it. Let’s go.”

They ran back upstairs, Joshua pulling out his cell to call Adrian as they went, the flashlight abandoned on the steps.

Ten minutes later they met up plus Adrian on the front steps. “Nothing,” Christopher said. “No one came by.”

“No one was in the dorms who shouldn’t’ve been,” Adrian said. “The system recognized all the passes used for the past month.”

“And there wasn’t anything in the office or the lobby,” Joshua said, “but the computer had been messed with again. Sparks said it had some files removed.”

Alaina blinked, then tapped her chin. “The office is connected to the dorms by a passage, right?”

“Right.”

“It seems odd,” she said slowly, “that someone managed to get past all of us. Unless they didn’t.”

All four exchanged glances and Christopher began cursing in Cantonese again.

“Someone at the school,” Adrian said. “Or who has access to a dormitory pass and knowledge of the passageways.”

“But everyone’s gone for the night,” Christopher said. “We’ll need to check all the recently used passes.” He was already opening the laptop. “Adrian, password?”

Adrian typed in the password and all three stared at the screen.

Chris swore again.

“Well, crap,” Alaina said faintly.

Chapter Text

They had been by the Laundromat, shared a pizza at Big Rico’s for lunch, picked up the clothes, and were now at the supermarket with a small cart that had some cereal, fruits, and sandwich fixings in the bottom basket as Adrian pulled some frozen meals off a shelf to put in the top.

“It’s cold,” Christopher muttered, rubbing his arms.

“Why’d you roll up your sleeves, then?” Adrian asked, not looking up as he studied the back of a box.

“Because it’s actually warm outside for once and unlike you, I don’t come prepared for everything.” Christopher tugged on the collar of Adrian’s battered jacket. “Most things, but not weather.”

“Isn’t that the one thing you should be prepared for?” Adrian asked as he tossed the box into the cart, shut the glass door, and moved to the next case. “I bet you’ll start carrying things around when you get rained on.”

“I’m not going to get rained on.” Christopher rolled his eyes and pushed the cart behind the other man. “You need to eat better.”

“I am eating well,” he defended. “The dining hall’s food is quite good. I just sometimes get hungry.”

“So come on over to my place, you’re there half the time anyway. I actually cook. And if I don’t cook, at least I have sandwiches and not—“ He snatched up one of the boxes and got an odd expression on his face. “Big Rico’s Frozen Pizza? I didn’t know they made that.” He put it back and rested hands on hips. “Aren’t you the athletics coach? Shouldn’t you be eating better than that?”

“Probably,” Adrian admitted. “I’m not, though. You should cook for me.”

“I’m offering to.” Christopher started putting the frozen meals back. “Eat in the dining hall, and if you get hungry for a midnight snack, come on over to my place.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Not in the grocery store it isn’t.”

They were about to move on when Christopher tilted his head and looked down the aisle the way they came. “Is that Marcus Vanston?”

It was. He was clad in a dark red robe and, presumably, nothing underneath, and carried a shopping basket filled with pint containers of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

Christopher abandoned the cart to make his way over to Marcus, Adrian following shortly. “Everything okay there?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“M’fine,” Vanston slurred.

“You’re drunk, is what you are,” Christopher said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little?” He held up his fingers in an attempt to make a “just a little” gesture.

“You’re very drunk.” Christopher took the basket and dumped it all in his and Adrian’s shopping cart, giving his friend a “not-now” look. “Where’s your credit card?”

“…why d’you wanna know?”

“Because first you’re going to pay for our groceries and your ice cream, and then in return we’re going to help you get home, as I presume you left sober.”

“Mmhm. Never too early to get really, really wasted.” He lolled his head and looked at Christopher with hooded eyes. “Your brother’s an arse.”

“Your husband’s an arse.”

“Your husband’s an arse.”

“I don’t have a husband. You have a husband, and he’s an arse who won’t pay attention to facts.”

“Like?” Vanston leaned on Christopher. “I like you. You don’ like your brother either.”

“I don’t usually, but both of you are being idiots here. You slightly less so.” Christopher half-supported him, rifling through his pockets and pulling out the card. “Adrian, what else do we need?”

“Stuff from the deli, I think,” he said, consulting the neatly-printed shopping list.

“Can you go get that?”

Adrian jogged back down the aisle to the deli counter as Christopher looked at Vanston half-sympathetically. “You’re a bastard,” he said, “but I don’t think my brother realizes how much you need him to…well, function.”

“I function fine on m’own,” Vanston said indignantly.

“You’re drunk in a supermarket buying—“ Christopher glanced at the cart. “Twenty-one cartons of Double Fudge Brownie ice cream at ten in the morning on a Monday. I think we can safely say you’re not functioning fine. Come on. Let’s go.” He began pushing the cart and helping Vanston along.

Adrian was back with the deli meats by the time they got to the checkout. “Can you call the school for me?” Christopher asked him. “Tell them to ask Sparks to work a bit longer at my post, I’ve got to deal with a family emergency.”

Adrian nodded and pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialing the school. “She’s working here now?”

“No, she just agreed to watch my post for a bit and mess around with the school servers to confirm our suspicion while I went shopping.”

Adrian listened for a moment, relayed the message, listened again, said a few “uh-huh” and “yeah”s, and hung up. “She says she confirmed the suspicion.”

“Thought so.” Christopher hooked an arm around Vanston. “Mind pushing the cart? We’ve got to take him home.”

“Why, exactly?”

Christopher sighed. “As much as I dislike it, he is family now.” He supported Vanston as the latter’s knees gave out. “And if there’s one thing I learned from working for the Vegas, it’s that you always protect your family, even the ones you dislike.”

Adrian nodded, pushing the cart towards the checkout. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” Christopher muttered.

-O-

“Let it go, let it go!”

Luciano sighed and rested his head against the top of his piano. “Jezebel—“

“Can’t hold it back a-ny-mooore!” She spun around, the hastily plaited side braid spinning out. “Thanks for doing my hair for me, Luci,” she giggled, running over. “You’re the best.”

“I’m not going to do that anymore if you keep singing Frozen,” he sighed. “Not that I don’t enjoy the song, but…”

“Then you shouldn’t mind me singing it.”

“It is everywhere,” Luciano muttered. “And the singer’s voice isn’t even so interesting. A pale green.”

“What color’s my voice?” Jezebel asked, sitting next to him on the piano and tucking her legs up, looking over at her cousin.

“Hm…sing again.”

“Can’t hold it back anymore—“

“Anything but that.”

Jezebel tapped her chin. “…I never see you anymore, come out the door, it’s like you’ve gone away!”

“Clearly I’m not going to win here. Your voice is a pale blue with some silver in it. Quite lovely and unique.” He smiled and tapped a gloved finger to her nose. “As you are precisely. It suits you very well.”

“Thanks,” the young girl giggled. “Can you play something for me?”

Luciano nodded, smiling indulgently, and set his fingers on the keys very carefully, beginning to play.

Jezebel closed her eyes in happiness, swaying a little as the music picked up. The minutes ticked on, the notes echoing through the chapel as they sat together peacefully; halfway through, Jezebel leaned on Luciano’s arm and opened her eyes to watch his hands dance across the ivory.

When the song ended and the last few notes drifted through the air, Jezebel clapped enthusiastically. “Thank you, Luc,” she said, hugging him around the waist.

Luciano smiled down at her, eyes softening as he petted her side braid. “Anytime, Jezzy. Now get to class. I have papers to grade.”

She got up, grabbed her bag, and ran out of the chapel and into the sunlight.

Luciano watched her go for a minute and felt a chill race down his spine. He was inexplicably unsettled, not by her presence, but by the fact that it felt as though she shouldn’t have been there. Should have been…gone?

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, turning back to the piano. “Maybe in another life.”

Chapter Text

The Renaissance Festivale Guy Fawkes Bonfire Night was a sight to behold, twice the size of Sunday’s bonfire and unlike that one, featuring a dozen stalls set up around it, over a hundred people in masks, and a very annoyed British tech support representative complaining to anyone who would listen (no one).

Mags was busily running around with her phone on and a notepad in hand as Miguel shepherded people to the correct locations and kept the other workers on guard duty to make sure nothing would end up burning down. “Ey, Miggy,” the former said as she ran past her boss, “has you-know-who shown up yet?”

“No,” Miguel said, annoyed. “I thought this would work, too.”

Mags hesitated. “Maybe…we were wrong?”

“No, we definitely weren’t.” He took her phone out of her hand and pulled up the text message. “It’s him. I know that it’s him. Who else could it be?”

Miguel exhaled through pursed lips. “Which is a good point. It’s exactly his way. But he would’ve shown up by now.”

“He might be running late.”

“To a holiday about arson? I doubt it.”

Across the fire, Alaina, Joshua, Adrian, and Christopher were alternating between the latter three arguing with Alaina about whether or not they should be celebrating Guy Fawkes Night in Maine and sneaking glances around looking for the target.

“He’ll be here,” Adrian said after the third time Alaina returned with no news. “It’s his way. And if he’s the thief…this can’t be anything but a trap.”

“Or not,” Joshua said, playing with a rubber band he had looped around his wrist. “It works like one for us, yeah, but a holiday celebrating arson—“

“For the last time, it is not celebrating arson—“

“Functionally it is. And for the purposes of someone trying to attract an arsonist it definitely is.” Joshua snapped the rubber band against his skin. “For us it’s a trap. But for the Festivale workers it might just be a bribe.”

“They’re trying to get him back here, you think?”

“Exactly. You know as well as I do that he worked with them. And even if he didn’t, thieves look after their own. There’s a code of honor or somethin’.” He snagged a caramel apple off a passing tray and nibbled it.

Alaina didn’t look convinced. “We’ll wait and see,” she said. “And if not, then I just insulted my country for nothing. So thanks for being such a supportive team, guys.”

“You don’t even work here or at the school,” Christopher said, “so don’t give us that. You can leave at any time.”

Alaina pouted.

-O-

An hour ticked by, and another; it was eight p.m. and pitch black. The stars overhead sparkled in clearly visible constellations and the fire grew higher and higher.

It took a while for anyone to notice that there was far more smoke than there should’ve been.

Julius Feliciano was the first one to do so, tugging his older brother’s arm and pointing past their fire to a building on the other end of the faire—visible from their spot on the hill, but only just. “Did someone leave a lantern over there?” he asked.

“…that’s not a lantern,” Jonah said after a moment. “Too bright for that.”

It took them another moment to realize what they had just said and their eyes simultaneously widened. “Oh, shit,” Julius said.

As Jonah whirled around, they heard a scream from the other side—Alaina had noticed it. “Fire!”

They never did discover who, in their haste to get a look or get out, managed to knock a large log from the bonfire into a nearby building. It was entirely possible that it wasn’t an accident at all; that possibility did not occur to anyone for quite some time, however.

The fire was quite clear within another minute and very few people had left. “Come on,” Mags said, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Everyone, listen! It’s just a small fire. If we could all just leave—“

“You call that small?!" Caesar shrieked from the crowd, pointing behind Mags.

“Yes, I…” Mags trailed off. “Oh, shit.”

They were surrounded on all sides by the blaze, and the Festivale erupted into chaos; Jonah dragging Julius as the latter tried to find his boyfriend; Mags and Miguel running in perfect lockstep, the former with a hand twined in the latter’s jacket so they wouldn’t lose each other, only to fall in the Lover’s Lake and have Miguel haul her out and carry her, bridal-style, to the front gates; Alejandro with Isabelle awkwardly on his back, trying to make his way out; Christopher and Adrian racing for the exit. No one was finding anyone else; the place was filled with screams as the flames spread.

Celeste Santiago muscled her way through the crowd following Ricardo Vega, Christopher, and Adrian. “Come on, boys!” she called as she ran out the exit. “We’ve got to—“ She stopped. “Boys? Caesar? Santiago? Come on, let’s go—“

Ricardo was similarly occupied. “Where’s Diego and Divina?” he demanded, grabbing Chris by the shoulder. “Weren’t they following?!”

“I don’t know!” Chris yelled. “Adrian, where’s Josh? And Alaina?”

“Right here!” yelled the British girl, “but I don’t know where Josh is! I thought he was with you!”

Jonah dragged Julius out, the latter clawing at his brother’s hands, trying to get him to drop his cane or lose his focus. “Jonah, let go of me! Lovi’s in there! Lovi’s in there, you’ve got to let me go back, Jonah, please!”

Mags and Miguel didn’t say a word. They stood and listened to the screams and watched as the Festivale and everything in it—their wares, their clothing, the trailers, every member of the family’s possessions—went up in smoke.

-O-

Deep in the maze of buildings, inside one of the shops—it was impossible to tell which, everything had small flames licking up the sides and trailing across the floor—Diego pulled himself off the ground he had been knocked to in the panic and groaned, rubbing the large bruise on his forehead. “Kevin?” he asked, then more panicked “Kevin!”

The other boy was half-conscious on the floorboards beside him, long hair singed and gold streak obscured by soot. Beside him Divina was collapsed.

“Oh, damn,” Diego muttered, crawling over. The smoke was already starting to get to him. “Kevin? Div? Are either of you awake?” He looked around. “How long have we been in here?”

“Dunno,” Kevin muttered.

“Sunshine, get up. Stop that,” Diego scolded. “We’ve got to go.” He pulled at Kevin’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. We’re gonna get out of here, okay?” He looked around. “Oh, god…”

Divina moaned weakly, shifting slightly. “D-Diego?”

“Sister mine. Come on. We’re leaving.”

“Diego, what’s going…what’s going on?” She took a deep breath. “Smells like something’s burning.”

“That’s because something is.” The smoke was thicker, stronger now, overwhelming.

“Whassat?”

“The Festivale—no, Div, don’t—“

She was already closing her eyes again. Diego let out a high-pitched whine and turned Kevin. “C’mon,” he urged, tugging at his boyfriend halfheartedly. “C’mon, Sunshine, we gotta…we gotta go…” He put a hand to his temple. “Oh, god…”

“I can’t breathe,” Divina whispered, half panicked and half tired. “Diego, I can’t…I can’t breathe…”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the nearest space that wasn’t completely filled with smoke. “We’ve got to get out,” he urged. “Come on, Divina, let’s go, we’ve got to leave…”

Divina coughed once, then again, then bent over and couldn’t stop, choking on the smoke. Diego tugged at her again, trying to haul Kevin up by the waist, but the smoke was coming in thicker.

The door slammed open.

Diego looked up to see a familiar figure standing backlit by the flames.

“I do believe someone stated that you were in need of assistance,” Isadoro Ramon said.

-O-

Five Minutes Earlier

-O-

The emergency services had barely been called when everyone began to feel free to panic.

“My sons are in there, let me in, move the fuck out of the way!” Celeste Santiago was screaming, clawing at Walter Dwyer’s arms as he held her away from the flames. “Let go of me this instant!”

She was the most volatile of the onlookers, but Ricardo Vega was staring into the fairegrounds with a blank look, Julius was letting the tears roll down his cheeks in silence, and Adrian, standing by Christopher, was near tears.

“I called 911,” Mags said, running over from the small huddled group of Festivale workers. “They’re on their way.”

“It won’t be soon enough,” Ricardo muttered. “Emergency services are in Pine Cliffs. Next town over by at least ten minutes. And that fire…”

“This was deliberate,” Mags said flatly. “I’m just gonna say now, this is deliberate. There’s no way a controlled bonfire just happens to get this out of control so fast. Given time, maybe, but this quickly? No way. Someone planned this. Especially seeing as Miguel and I had to take extra precautions simply due to who we invited.” She pocketed her cell phone. “Who’s out?”

“Just about everyone, except…” Ricardo took a deep breath. “Diego. Divina, Kevin. Joshua. Caesar. Noah. And Lovino. They’re all still inside and we don’t…we don’t know where they are, oh god…”

“Mr. Vega, breathe,” Mags said. “Please breathe. Someone of the closest I have to family is in there too. Emergency services is gonna get here in time.”

There was the sound of rocks crunching behind them and all turned to see a small black Jetta rolling up.

The car stopped and Isadoro Ramon stepped out, leather jacket half-buttoned and hair pushed out of his eyes. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, not even bothering with his usual melodrama and pedantry.

Adrian took one look at him and let out an inhuman shriek. “You! We knew it! We knew it, they did this for you and look what’s going on now!” He launched himself at the other man. “My son is in there, my son is dying, it is all your fault--”

“Adrian, stop it!” Christopher yelled, grabbing one of his arms and struggling to pull him back. Alaina quickly grabbed the other, digging her feet into the ground. “This isn’t going to solve anything if you hurt him!”

Isadoro looked at Adrian, completely bemused. “Amice, I assure you I haven’t the faintest what you refer to—“ He glanced upward, then cut himself off, staring up at the smoke as the color drained from his face. “No.”

“Welcome back,” Mags said grimly, stepping forward. “I’m afraid you missed the party we were throwing you on account of someone burning the Festivale. Wasn’t you, was it?”

Isadoro put a hand to his heart. “Amice, I would never,” he said, adopting an affronted tone that didn’t hide his quickened breathing. “I am as attached to this Festivale as yourself. Everyone has left, correct?”

Celeste shook herself out of her dazed look and pulled away from Ricardo before he could react, running over to Isadoro and grabbing his hand. “Cedro, please, you’ve got to help,” she said desperately. “They’re still in there—my sons—the Vega kids—Lovino—they’re all still in there, please, Cedro, my sons! You, you know fire, you can help—right?”

Isadoro looked at her sadly. “Mea cara, imperatrix, would that I could, and you know this well. But I am not the sort to risk my own continued wellbeing to save another.” He looked over at the blaze. “Much is being lost tonight.”

“Cedro, please…” she whispered. “Don’t make us lose more. Don’t make me lose them, Cedro, please, they’re my everything…”

“Anything you want,” Ricardo said suddenly. “Anything I can give you. Name a price and I’ll pull out my checkbook. Just save them.”

Isadoro looked at Celeste, then at Ricardo, and tilted his head at the headmaster in a calculating manner. “Amnesty,” he said sharply. “My position back, and amnesty from the authorities, should they care to come calling here. And enough money that I needn’t seek alternate professions any longer.”

“Done,” Ricardo said immediately. “As long as you’re in Night Vale, you’ll be safe. I’ll call some people, we can make this work. And you’ll have your position back. A raise. Or just money up front. Anything you want. Just go save them.”

Isadoro looked back at Celeste. “The emergency services will not arrive in time. You are certain?”

“There’s no way they could,” Celeste said. “The fire’s been going on long enough that we don’t even know who’s still safe.”

Isadoro sighed. “Someone fetch a wet cloth. If it is possible for me to discover an unobstructed path through the blaze, smoke will become the greatest danger.”

Mags pulled off her cardigan, still sopping from her fall into the lake, and ripped off a sleeve. “Here,” she said, handing it over.

Isadoro wrapped it around his nose and mouth. “If they are able to evacuate unaccompanied, I shall send them out,” he said, muffled by the sweater. “See you soon.”

He ducked around the edge of the entrance and slipped in where there was no fire. Within a moment he was gone.

Joshua was the first out, dazed from smoke inhalation and breathing rapidly but with enough of his own mind to immediately head for Adrian, Christopher, and Ellie. Caesar and Santiago were the next out, shortly following Joshua and clinging to each other before being smothered by Celeste. Lovino was the last to come out of his own accord, hair singed and glasses lost.

“I don’t know where the others are,” he said. “We managed to find each other, but…” He waved a hand, coughing dryly. “I don’t know where they are.”

Ricardo bit his lip and looked at the entrance, which was completely consumed by the flames. “Come on, Ramon,” he muttered. “Don’t let us down.”

-O-

“Ramon?” Diego muttered hoarsely. “…nah. My head hurts.”

Isadoro sighed heavily and yanked Kevin up off the ground, balancing him unsteadily against himself. “We can debate my continued existence once we are out of the inferno.”

“If you could just once in your life talk like a normal person, that’d be great,” Diego said, trying to pull Divina up off the ground.

“I meant, get up and get out, you little wanker,” Isadoro snapped, quickly dropping his impressive vocabulary. “God, Saoirse was right about you, you’re impossible. Now move it!”

That was, apparently, enough surprise to get Diego to pull up Divina and lean her on him. “Come on, sis, let’s go,” he urged, coughing. “We’ve got to get out.”

He dragged her, and Isadoro half-carried Kevin, leading them through the fire towards the little exit he had used to get in.

When they stepped out, Diego was instantly tackled by Ricardo. “Thank the Smiling God,” the headmaster choked out. “God…”

“Nice to see you too,” Diego said before he collapsed in a faint, Divina falling on top of him.

Isadoro looked down at them. “Oh, dear, is he dead?” he asked in a bored tone.

The ambulances and fire trucks were arriving; the rest of the de la Rosas were gathered around Lovino; Celeste was fussing over her sons; Adrian was near tears and had yet to let go of Joshua; Diego and Divina were being overseen by Ricardo as they were loaded into the Saint Josephine Hospital of the Angels and Saints ambulance; and Isadoro looked down at Kevin.

“…doesn’t anyone love you?” he asked no one in particular.

-O-

Isadoro was sitting out by the lake the next afternoon when a student ran up and handed him a slip of paper saying to report to the nurse’s office at once.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, looking down at the little blue slip and the cheerfully freestyle cursive. “I just got out of the hospital, for the Smiling God’s sake—“

Isadoro looked up and the kid was gone. Sighing, he pushed off the ground and headed into the lobby of the main building.

He found the office after a moment and stepped inside. The walls were a cheerful pale yellow, there were white and yellow flowers all over in neat crystal vases, and sitting at the white-wood desk typing on a silver laptop was a man about Isadoro’s age, with messy brown hair, dark eyes, rough stubble across his chin, and a smattering of freckles.

He looked up and smiled at Isadoro brightly. “Hey there!” he said. “I’m Eugene O’Malley. I just got an email from Mr. Vega saying you were going to stop by.”

“Any particular reason why?” Isadoro asked icily.

“Well, we just found out you spent the last few years going around the country in the back of a Jetta, not to mention last night you ran straight into a fire that destroyed the Renaissance Festivale completely. I’m supposed to give you all the immunizations you missed and complete a physical.”

Isadoro tensed. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Relax, it’s not a big deal. There’s gonna be a couple shots and just a basic examination.” Eugene stood and came around the desk. “Mind sitting on the bed over there?”

Isadoro reluctantly did so.

True to his word, Eugene was very polite and not invasive in the slightest, giving Isadoro the vaccinations and checking reflexes and such. After about twenty minutes he stepped back. “Well, you seem to be in the clear,” he said. “Up-to-date on everything. I’m kinda curious how you faked the records when you applied here—“

“No one ever stated a requirement for them.”

“That explains that. I’ll have to have a discussion with Ricardo about his hiring policy. But it’s all good now!” He headed back over to his desk and sat down again, rearranging a couple of daisies in the nearest jar. “You can go.”

Isadoro headed for the door, leather jacket neatly draped over his arm, only to pause and look back at Eugene. “Erm. Do you happen to have any clothing I could borrow?” he asked, rather self-consciously. “I sold most of my possessions when I left a couple of weeks ago, including my outfits.”

“Sure, sure!” Eugene got up again and opened the closet behind the desk, pulling out a small bundle of fabric. “Here. I’ll have some more delivered to your room, okay?” He scrunched up his nose. “And take a shower.”

“Duly noted,” Isadoro said wryly before stepping out of the office and unfolding the outfit. Button-down shirt, neat black jacket, slacks, belt, all in order…and a note.

You seem nice. Call me sometime? –Gene. Followed by a phone number.

Isadoro fought down panic and nausea, then relaxed slightly. It wasn’t the usual sort of proposition. Eugene had been….nice, and if Isadoro wasn’t the trusting sort, that was really not his fault.

He pocketed the scrap of paper. He might not call Eugene, but if he was already going to get new clothes, well.

What was the harm in going back rather than letting Eugene deliver his outfit?

He stepped outside of the lobby and into the early November sunlight, whistling Peacemaker as he broke into a run for the dormitory buildings. Maybe, sometimes, staying somewhere wouldn’t be so bad, and there were worse places to stay, and worse lives to lead.

END QUARTER 1

Chapter Text

One of the effects of there being a room in the bell tower above Luciano’s chapel was that the music teacher very rarely returned to his actual assigned quarters, opting instead to sleep on the bench or in the tower on the small bed he had set up for exactly that purpose. Usually, this didn’t cause much of a problem; the doors to the bedrooms didn’t lock, but he was right next to Stella and Sergio with Adrian Colt two doors down, which did wonders for confidence in the safety of one’s possessions.

This turned out to be a mistake.

For the entirety of the week since the Masquerade, when Luciano wasn’t teaching or over at the Renaissance Festivale with their musician Lovino, he was composing. It was incidentally what he had been doing the night of the fire, and the next night. And on the seventh of November, he entered his room for the first time in a week only to be greeted with a horrible sight.

Stella and Sergio were enjoying a dinner in their rooms when they heard the earsplitting shriek coming from next door. Sergio knocked over his chair and nearly upset the table two seconds afterwards, running out the door quickly followed by the redhead. “Luc? Luc, what’s—oh, my.”

Luc was on his knees in the middle of the room, surrounded by the remains of the instruments he had spent years carefully tuning and modifying to fit the needs of his synesthesia, bright pink paint covering all flat surfaces with large, swooping C Ms. “I,” he hissed, “am going to absolutely murder Carlos Mendez.”

“You can’t know it was him,” Stella tried, stepping inside and looking around with wide eyes.

“He left his initials.”

“Lots of people have CM names?”

“He left a note that says I wrecked your room, love Carlos!” Luciano shrieked, jamming his finger at the note in question.

“,..okay, yes, that’s pretty incriminating.” Stella began trying to pick up the pieces of a broken cello. “We’ll get you new instruments.”

“It won’t be right,” Luciano moaned, burying his face in his hands. “They were my babies.”

“…we’ve got to find him friends other than Walter,” Sergio muttered to Stella, who nodded.

“I need them back,” Luciano was whimpering and giggling. “My babies, my darlings, I need them back, Sergio…”

Sergio sighed and picked up a cut string that at one point probably belonged to the cello. “We will, Luc,” he said. “Of course we will. But going against Carlos is not the answer.”

“Ahaha! Of course it’s the answer. Kindly explain, cousin mine, what else the answer might be.”

“No. Ciro Sorriso is the answer. The solution to all our problems.”

Stella stepped back to stand by the door. “I’m not hearing any of this,” she told them flatly. “Conspire by candlelight all you want, but I’m not going to hear it.”

“Suit yourself.” Sergio knelt beside Luc. “When we work this out, we can do anything you desire. If we can work people into enough of an uproar over one thing, all you need to do is mention Carlos Mendez and your troubles will be over.”

“Oh, yes? And what can they do to a seventeen-year-old?”

“When the person against him is a local hero? It doesn’t matter what you want, they’ll provide.” Sergio gently put a hand against Luciano’s shoulder. “Continue your war with Carlos,” he said. “Gather more reason that they should be against him. And soon we’ll have all that you desire in our hands.”

Luc sniffed, nodded, and stood. “Right,” he said, deadly calm. Sergio very nearly ran right then and there; Luc was at his most dangerous when he didn’t say a word. “Absolutely correct, cousin mine. Soon, we’ll have all we ever wanted.”

He turned to face his trashed bedroom and the corners of his mouth stretched the silver-white scars far into his hairline as he smiled.

“And so much more than that.”

-O-

The Java Vault café was one of the less frequented venues in Night Vale Town Proper, not because it was a bad place but because everyone else was either nocturnal and going to the Moonlite All-Nite or out clubbing. As such, it was nearly empty when Jezebel led Ciro in around midday and sat down in one of the big armchairs by the fireplace.

“I’ll, er, get the coffee?” Ciro asked hesitantly.

“Thanks!” Jezzy smiled up at him. “Iced cappuccino with whole milk, please. And a muffin.”

Ciro nodded and headed up to the counter. “Um, one iced cappuccino with whole milk, two blueberry muffins, and a milk chocolate café mocha—holy shit!”

Across the counter, Risus Sorriso dropped the mug he was holding, shattering it against the wood. “Spot?!”

“I—but you—I—you’re not supposed to be here!”

“Neither are you!” Risus looked positively gleeful. “Who’re you with? Is that a girl? Do you have a girlfriend? Does my kid brother really have a girlfriend?”

“S-shut up, Risus!” Ciro stammered.

Jezebel tapped him on the shoulder and he yelped. “Ciro? What’s going on?”

“Are you Spot’s girlfriend?” Risus asked her without preamble. Jezebel blushed furiously.

“I-I don’t actually k-know?”

“Yeah, she is, now can you get the coffee order?” Ciro muttered to the floor.

“Ciro, who is this?”

Risus flashed her a winning smile, holding a hand across the counter as he gathered the remnants of the mug off what he could reach with the other. “Risus Sawyer Sorriso-Strex. Pleasure to make your acquaintance; you are?”

“J-Jezebel Marie Vega. Pleasure to m-meet you.” She took his hand and shook it gently. “You’re C-Ciro’s…”

“Older brother by—how much is it? Five years.” He collected the rest of the cup, piling the chips of china neatly on the counter and dusting his hands off on his dark green apron. “We just moved in just out of town and my courses are…sporadic, so I’m off a lot.”

“Where do you go to s-school?”

“Jezzy, stop talking to him,” Ciro moaned.

“No, he’s i-interesting. You didn’t t-t-tell me you had brothers.” She shot an accusing glare at him.

“There’s a reason for that.”

“P-probably not a good one. R-Risus seems nice.” She turned back to the older boy, who smiled at her again as he filled a cup with her drink and drew a heart on the whipped cream with chocolate.

“Jezzy, listen—“

“Hey,” Risus interrupted. “I get off in a few minutes. How about we walk around town and Jezzy can show us outsiders what there’s to see here?”

“S-sure.” Jezzy gave a shy smile. Ciro sighed and tugged at his bangs.

“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” he muttered.

-O-

There had been nothing left to salvage by the time emergency services had arrived. Everyone agreed it was a miracle that Isadoro had gotten to the fairegrounds in time and that if he hadn’t there was no way the others would have survived.

This didn’t make losing their livelihood any easier for the Festivale workers.

Miguel had by the weekend found them a place to stay at a boarding house until they could find some way to get new trailers and go back on the road; Mags had started doing calculations to find out what they’d need to go back to how they were and a day later announced to the dismayed group that it would take a good deal of time if they didn’t get any help; Julius, Lovino, Jasmine, and Isabelle hit the streets in search of jobs and found a place that was willing to hire in large groups and let them learn on-the-job.

And that, in a nutshell, was how the former workers of the Renaissance Festivale ended up waiting tables at the strip club that their former coworker’s best friend ran. And if that wasn’t the hook of a wacky sitcom, they didn’t know what was.

It took about six and a half hours for Julius and Isabelle to put their heads together and decide they could make a lot more money a lot faster if someone started stripping, then “selflessly” volunteered themselves as tribute. Miguel and Lovino shared the sneaking suspicion that the two really just wanted an excuse to take their clothes off but if they were willing to do it, then, well, who was to argue? (Aside from Lovino, who had a few choice words for the subject, but didn’t say them, and Alejandro, who would’ve argued if he had thought for a second that Isabelle wasn’t actually just being a selfless angel; he had always been a little blind when it came to his sister.)

Their first Friday on the job, Julius had the first show of the two, practicing with two of the more experienced workers as the others waited tables, Lovino mixed drinks on the bar, and Mags followed Celeste to the back room where a computer was set aside for accounting (it turned out that a large group of the employees had left all at once due to what Celeste referred to as “the kitten incident”. Whether she was referring to an actual kitten or the stripper whose stage name was Strex Kitten was left up in the air and no one dared to ask.)

Around midnight, Julius bounced over to the bar and grinned at Lovino, flipping his hair back and striking a pose. “Best job ever,” he said happily. “And only, like, three people felt me up!”

“That’s three too many,” Lovino muttered, leaning across the bar to kiss Julius’s cheek. “If at any point you get uncomfortable, you’re gonna stop, right?”

“Of course I will.” Julius waved his hand dismissively. “What do you take me for?” He sipped the drink Lovino offered him, then stood suddenly and grinned. “Let’s dance.”

“What?”

“Let’s dance. You like dancing, I wanna dance, let’s go.”

“I’ve got to work—“

“Come on,” Julius wheedled, “it’s just one song and there’s two other bartenders. No one’s ordering anything, anyway.”

Lovino shot a reluctant glance down the bar, then sighed and stepped out from behind the counter. “Fine. Just one song, though.”

Julius’s grin widened and he grabbed Lovino’s hands. “Then let’s go! What are you waiting for?”

“Absolutely nothing at all.”

They whirled out onto the floor, Julius lifting Lovino up to spin him around.

“I don’t think this is that kind of dance—“

“Hush, it’s always that kind of a dance. Stop complaining.”

Lovino stopped complaining, letting the music float over his head and out into the night.

Chapter Text

If you were to measure it, Isaias’s main room was probably about five-by-five feet in an almost-circle. There was a big armchair pushed against the part of the wall farthest from the entrance and dozens of blankets and pillows surrounding everything else, draped across the walls and ceiling, making the whole place a large nest.

KJ was currently curled up in the nest, as he had been for basically the past week, necessitating Isaias to go out of his rooms more often than he usually did—with Caesar mad at them and KJ stimming by pushing himself deeper and deeper into the blankets, he had to leave to get food, books, new lightbulbs, toiletries, tools to fix the little wooden door to the old servant’s bathroom down the passageway—and he wasn’t exactly fond of it. There was a reason for having so many hidden rooms, for having passages that led straight into the kitchens and the dormitory bathrooms and the tool shed and boiler room.

He slipped through one of the trapdoors up into the main passageway around the library and headed back to the nest, where KJ had his hair unbraided and arranged around himself as he cuddled a pillow below a quilt, his owl perched on top of his shoulder and gently nuzzling his neck. Isaias looked at them and smiled slightly, putting the little plate of peanut butter sandwiches beside the entrance and crawling across the blankets to join his boyfriend. “Hey, KJ,” he said softly.

“Did you block the door?” KJ murmured, as he always did when Isaias came back.

“’Course. But don’t you think maybe we should let Cae know we’re okay?” He settled next to KJ, pulling the other close and carding fingers through his hair.

KJ stiffened and tucked himself closer to Isaias. “No.”

“Why not?” Isaias asked gently. “It’s been a week, KJ, I’m sure he’s getting worried.”

“No,” KJ whispered. “No, no, no he’s not, because he hates us.”

“He doesn’t hate us, Disciple,” Isaias said, trying to keep his own voice steady and free of insecurity. “He’s upset with us, and that’s all. He’s allowed to be upset. We messed up.”

“And we can’t fix it,” KJ said, barely audible. “We can’t fix it, Prophet. Can’t we just stay here?”

Isaias sighed and cuddled KJ, rubbing against his neck. “Okay. Okay, we can stay here for a while.”

-O-

Caesar was starting to panic.

In the aftermath of the masquerade he had been too mad to speak to his wayward boyfriends or even find out where they were; by the time he began to get worried, there was a fire and then he was at the hospital and then suddenly not only was he in the hospital after a fire but turned out the Latin teacher saved him, was an escaped convict and his mother’s best friend, and basically things got very complicated very fast.

Now, it seemed, was the time to be worried again. Of course, the only person who might be able to help him was far from willing to do so.

He sighed and leaned across the table, looking straight at the dark-haired boy across. “Zayne…”

“I do not know you,” Zayne said patiently, “and I keep secrets.”

“Zayne, I’m starting to get really worried about them.” He pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, putting his face in his hands. Every moment Zayne kept stalling was a moment they could be doing something stupid because Caesar didn’t care enough to try to find them.

He wasn’t about to take back the fact that he was mad. He had good reason for that. But he could have, should have, looked for them when they went missing.

“You’ve got to tell me,” he pleaded. “Just tell me if they’ve been through here in the past few days. Eidya doesn’t pay attention to anything like that and you’re the only one in here at all hours. I just need to know that they’re safe, Zayne, please.”

Zayne adjusted his glasses, pushing them further up his nose, closed his book (some kind of obscure science reference text), and sighed. “Come on,” he said, beckoning Caesar along.

Caesar got up and followed Zayne into the stacks, past the usual bookshelf Isaias used as an entrance, to the very back of the library. There weren’t even any shelves; just a painted-shut window, a small wooden door, and a stack of dusty old phone books on a rickety side table.

“He came out of that door seven hours and thirteen minutes ago,” Zayne recited quickly. “I was looking for a science text back here and watched him. He looked around, did not notice me, and left. He returned sixteen minutes later with a plate covered in aluminum foil and re-entered through the small door. The other one, with the long hair, has yet to emerge.”

Caesar sighed, half in relief and half in renewed fear. “Thank you, Zayne. That’s…that’s very helpful.” He looked down at the little door.

“In that case, I consider you obligated,” Zayne said flatly, “should I ever necessitate a favor.”

“Right. Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”

Zayne nodded and slipped back into the shelves, heading for his little workspace.

Caesar knelt next to the door. He had never been in this entrance before, hadn’t even known it existed; but that might be the point. Isaias liked to leave options for himself, options no one else knew about.

He pulled the key that opened the rest of the locked doors in Isaias’s passageways off a leather cord around his neck and matched it up to the keyhole, breathing a sigh of relief when it turned correctly and opening the little door, crawling inside. The narrow, low passageway quickly opened up to one of the larger paths—the main one, if Caesar recalled correctly, and he was certain that he did. Go in one direction and you would find the trapdoor down to the underground passages that led across campus, find the middle and you’d find the main library entrance, go the other and you’d find Isaias’s bedroom.

He went down to the bedroom, passing the library door (shut from the inside with a deadbolt; that explained why he hadn’t been able to open it the one time he tried) and reaching the curtain to the nest. A soft glow came from inside, flickering occasionally; Isaias must not have replaced the lightbulb all week.

Caesar pushed the curtain aside to see his boyfriends curled up at the other end of the nest. KJ looked up and flinched violently upon seeing him; Caesar felt sick to his stomach. “Treasure?” he whispered. “Prophet?”

“Emperor,” Isaias said quietly.

Caesar crawled across the blankets to join them. KJ shrank away for a moment only to relax slightly when Caesar placed a hand on his arm gently. “I…I thought you hated us,” he whispered.

“No,” Caesar said, maneuvering his legs underneath of KJ and tucking around him. “I don’t hate you. How could I?” He nuzzled the top of KJ’s head with his chin. “I’m mad at you, to be sure. And we’re going to talk later. But for now…do you have any idea how worried I was?”

KJ looked up, eyes widening in alarm behind his large glasses as he reached up to gently touch the stitches on Caesar’s forehead. “Cae, you’re hurt.”

“Oh, yeah.” He put his fingers on top of KJ’s. “Didn’t you hear? The Ren Fest burned down. I got caught. Don’t worry, someone saved me.”

“Are you gonna fall in love with them?” KJ asked suspiciously.

Caesar laughed. “A teacher saved me. Isadoro Ramon. Of course I’m not going to fall in love with him.” He paused. “Maybe if we were both adults, but no. I’d still love you two.”

He pulled them both close as Isaias tugged a blanket up over top. “We’ll talk later about appropriate and inappropriate ways to get my brother and I to make up, but for now, let’s just rest, shall we?”

“M’kay,” KJ murmured, perfectly still for the first time in a week.

-O-

Juliano Cortez and Calixto Ferran had been roommates since freshman year, when they bonded over an incident involving Sergio Vega and a salmon cannon science experiment. (It was a generally known rule that no one was ever to ask any of them about it. Sergio would give anyone who mentioned it detention for a week with him, Juliano would sign rapid-fire profanity at you before pushing you into the nearest body of water and/or table, and Calixto alternated between making hasty excuses and following you around trying to “explain” and laughing hysterically for several minutes. Any way you chose you weren’t getting an answer.)

They had been best friends since the second semester, also after the Salmon Cannon Incident, with Calixto quickly learning as much sign language as he could, and inseparable for the rest of their time at the school until Juliano began dating Andres. At that point, it became a little more common to see Calixto alone or, on occasion, with the school nurse.

(Eugene spent a little too much time with Calixto, perhaps. They had been visited by the authorities twice. Once to talk about the handing-out-candy thing, once to discuss the spending-so-much-time-with-the-students thing. Christopher Rose had to spend a half hour explaining to Eugene what he did wrong afterwards.)

Juliano bounded into the library and sat down across from Calixto, tapping his hand repeatedly until he finally looked up. {Yes?}

{Help.}

{With what? Because if the answer is math, then I’m pretty sure I can help. But if the answer is more along the lines of break into the Pentagon, I’m gonna pass.}

{Don’t be an ass. Help me. I have a date.}

{With Andres, I guess?}

{Yes. Help.}

{With what? You seem to have this romance thing down pat, I don’t think there’s much I can do.}

{Calix-TO, I’m being serious. Help me out. I don’t know where to take Andres or what to do when we get there or what to wear or if I should bring him something and what if he wants to kiss again? I wasn’t thinking the first time, it just happened. Help.}

Calixto sighed and closed his textbook, pushing his glasses up his nose. {Fine. Eugene has the notebook. }

{Dare I ask what notebook? }

{The one where we write our romance ideas in.}

{Teachers with a love life?} Juliano wrinkled his nose. {That’s weird to think about. Stop that.}

{Let’s go.} Calixto pushed the textbook into his bag and stood, leading the way out of the library and into the main building.

They reached the nurse’s office in a few minutes, only to blink in confusion. {Er...where is he, exactly?} Juliano signed.

{I don’t have a clue.} Calixto looked around, confused. {This isn’t like him.}

{Where else would he be? I need help here.}

Calixto thought it over, then his eyes widened and he sighed. {You know, I think I might have an idea as to where he is, and we should probably just solve this problem on our own.}

{Why do you say that?}

{Because I’d guess that he’s off trying to woo someone for his own.}

-O-

Isadoro’s new room was at the end of the hall and had a sloped ceiling on one side. He stood in the centre, looking around—the bed, desk, dresser, closet, his sparse possessions laid out atop the duvet—

Someone knocked on the door. Isadoro sighed and opened it, leaning on the frame, eyes widening to a comical degree when he saw who it was and what they were holding.

Eugene O’Malley stood in the hallway, smiling, with a spare outfit draped over one arm and a box in the other. A soft purr came from the box, a small paw batting over the edge. “Hey, Isadoro! I brought you some—“

“Aaaawwww!” Isadoro was moderately certain that the noise he had made was only audible to dogs, but he couldn’t help the wide smile that broke over his face anyway, lifting a small yellow cat with a black muzzle out of the box. “Oh, poor little thing, what’re you doing here?” he cooed. “Are you Eugene’s?”

“Not mine,” Eugene said, entering the room and putting the clothes on the bed with Isadoro’s only other outfit. “They show up, a couple a week. Strays, mostly. We take them down to the shelter in town and hope that they get adopted in time.”

Isadoro held the cat protectively to his chest, cradling it in his arms. “In time for what, exactly?”

“In time that they don’t need to be put down. Sad, but—“

“Oh, hell no.”

“…come again?’

Isadoro was cuddling the cat against his shoulder. “We are not letting this charismatic minifauna be killed by heartless veterinarians.”

“Er, Isadoro, I’m pretty sure they aren’t heartless—“

“They are killing innocent creatures!” Isadoro snapped.

“Says the arsonist,” Eugene muttered.

“Do not even go there. This charming being has done no wrong. None of them have.” He thought for a moment. There was probably a rule against it, but…

He nodded. “Mm. From now on, Eugene, please bring all strays to my room.”

Eugene just looked at him. “What?”

“All strays. Bring them to my room. I shall take care of them instead.” He nuzzled the kitten with his cheek. “And this one shall be mine.”

Eugene sighed. “You’ll need to find a litterbox. And dishes. And we’ll need to stop by the vet anyway to get them their shots and be known forever as the Crazy Cat Guys.”

“I cannot find it in myself to care.” Isadoro set the cat down on the bed; she immediately rubbed against the post and Isadoro cooed happily. “We shall care for them and find them homes.”

“Wait, when did this become we?”

Isadoro looked hurt. “You stated it first—we will need to visit the veterinarians to obtain their shots and become forever referred to as the Crazy Cat Guys. We. Besides…” He grinned and held up the cat. “I cannot see how anyone could resist this.”

Eugene blinked. “I think I just got pulled into running a possibly-illegal animal shelter and all I wanted was to drop off the clothes,” he said to no one in particular. “Fine. What’s her name?”

Isadoro hummed. “Juno,” he decided. “She shall be mine. Any others we shall care for and find homes among the students.”

Eugene shrugged. “Shopping trip, I guess.”

“Shopping trip.” Isadoro’s eyes lit up. “I am quite looking forward to this, Eugene.”

“I’m not sure I can say the same. But I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

Days passed, then weeks, and soon it was mid-November and the last of the students caught in the fire had been released from the hospital.

It was November fifteenth at midnight, to be specific, when Jezebel Vega held herself a birthday party.

Divina, Lauren, Antonio, Samuel, and Daniel were following her down to the passages under the school. “Are you sure we won’t bother Isaias?” Samuel asked anxiously, looking around.

“He’s asleep, prob’ly,” Daniel said. “If not, he’s not going to be down here this late at night.” He brushed a hand against the wall and showed Sammy the cobwebs; the younger boy stifled a shriek and jumped back. “I doubt he’s down here at all. Why are we?”

“Because it’s my birthday and the birthday girl decides what we do,” Jezebel said impatiently, clicking on a flashlight as they turned a corner to a darker area. “And I say we go down here and have a little party.”

“You’re being really pushy tonight,” Divina muttered.

“Birthday girl.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Jezebel pushed open an old oak door at the end of the hall and stepped inside. “Come on in,” she said, pulling a lighter out of her pocket and reaching up to flick it on and ignite the wick of a candle.

The fire flicked down a thin wire to another candle, and another, and another, until the entire room was bright with a string of lights, revealing a small table covered in sweets. Sammy’s eyes widened comically. “What’s that?” he asked.

“My birthday dinner!” Jezebel said, diving into the large chair at the head of the table. “Come on, sit down. Let’s eat.”

Sammy was the first to take a seat and grab a sweet, cramming a little brioche bun in his mouth. Daniel followed suit in a more dignified manner with a cookie, only for Lauren to try to rub strawberry compote in his hair as he laughed; Divina and Antonio pulled out their chairs last, reaching at the same time for the lemon meringues.

“I got Stella to bake us a bunch of stuff this afternoon,” Jezebel said proudly. “Brother mine was out shopping so I could keep it a secret. And Isadoro helped me figure out how to do the lights. Innit cool?”

“Why just us?” Divina asked.

She pointed at Divina, Lauren, Samuel, Daniel, and Antonio in turn. “Roommate. Friend. Cousin. Cousin. Big brother. See?”

Divina shrugged and grabbed a caramel bar. “Good enough for me. Why not Ciro?”

Jezebel blushed furiously. “I kinda wanted to keep it just to friends. N-not that he’s not my friend, but, well…” She made a little whining noise. “You know.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Lauren said, looking at Daniel.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Jezebel finally pulling a bottle of champagne out from under the table and offering it around (Samuel wrinkled his nose, Daniel and Antonio shrugged and poured some, Divina and Lauren watched each other for a minute and took their glasses at the same time) before sticking a tiny candle in a cupcake and lighting it.

“Happy birthday to me,” she said, leaning in to blow it out a moment later.

“Did you wish for something?” Antonio asked as she removed the candle and licked the frosting off the end.

“’Course I did. I’m not gonna tell you.” She grinned. “That would spoil it when it comes true.”

“I thought wishes weren’t supposed to come true if you tell them?” Sammy asked, pulling the stem off a chocolate-covered strawberry.

“Nah.” She bit into the cupcake and spoke around a mouthful. “Wishes come true if they’re meant to. I just want mine to be a surprise.”

Antonio grinned. “Fair enough,” he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Happy birthday, sister mine.”

-O-

At around the same time, another bottle of champagne was being opened, this one by Luciano and Sergio two buildings away and several floors up. The teacher’s hall had a small tower to one side; the top room was entirely enclosed by glass.

Luciano stood at the window and looked out into the night sky, head titled curiously. “We are so very small,” he said conversationally after a moment, “in such a large universe.”

“Of course. It’s a fact of life. Stop pondering it, I got the bottle open.” Sergio held it up before pouring two glasses and sliding one across the little mahogany table, leaning back in the chair. “Sit, sit. We need to discuss the Sorriso situation.”

Luciano obliged, sipping at his champagne. “What of it? I thought that we needn’t move along for a time.”

“Yes, but,” Sergio said, leaning in, “Jezebel has struck up a friendship with the young Sorriso. Which causes a bit of a problem.”

Luciano blinked. “You aren’t the sort to stop a plan for the sake of a single friendship and Jezzy, dear to my heart though she is, has other friends.”

“It’s not that.” Sergio’s face was inscrutable. “They are dating. And he is coming to the Manor for Christmas. You see where I am going with this?”

Luciano took a moment, then began to laugh, first giggling and then increasing in volume and enthusiasm until he was wiping tears from his eyes. “Of course, of course. You’re brilliant, cousin mine! Truly a mind for the ages. If the time should arrive that he is in our home, as it seems to be…”

“We can carry out our plan then,” Sergio finished with a satisfied smile, leaning back again. “With less muss and fuss, further support of the family, and a heavier outcome. We need only finish planting the pieces early and we’ll have everything ready in time for dear young Master Sorriso’s visit.”

Luciano continued to chuckle. “Brilliant. Inspired. This will be so much better than the original plan, will it not?”

“Indeed. Why I suggested it.” Sergio held out his glass. “Once again—to us!”

“To us!” Luciano agreed, touching his glass to Sergio’s and draining it.

-O-

Andres Ramirez Mendez was pretty sure the universe was conspiring against him.

His first planned date with Juliano had been canceled on account of boyfriend-and-roommate off trying to find where the school nurse went (answer: he was visiting the Latin teacher, who had a cat, and who was cooing and swaying slightly as he cuddled said cat. Andres didn’t ask). His second planned date was postponed indefinitely when they showed up to the Pinkberry only to be hit with a broom until they left the establishment because apparently with said Latin teacher back in town, they were back to being banned from having froyo. And the third planned date was ruined by a fire. Set by the Latin teacher.

Andres was also pretty sure Isadoro was doing this on purpose, because there was no way someone managed to ruin three dates in a row.

They finally managed to get somewhere with all plans still intact—specifically, a picnic in the park. Andres was fond of picnics, even if they tended to be messy and given over to the ants after a while. They gave him a nice excuse to look at the flowers in the Night Vale Town Park while having egg salad sandwiches.

Juliano was leaning against a tree with a cherry lollipop in his mouth, humming out of tune and swaying back and forth, arms behind his head. Andres was laying back on the blanket, staring at an ant crawling up the stem of a flower and not cleaning up the sandwiches.

He sighed and sat up, tapping Juliano on the shoulder. {I think that there’s really something you should know about me before this gets any more serious.}

Juliano tilted his head and blinked a couple times, staring straight at Andres. {You’re dying? You’re already dead? You’re a vampire and I’m the protagonist of a wacky supernatural rom-com? You want to go traveling around the country in a Mystery Machine with Erin and a dog until someone dies? You’re straight? You’re secretly a robot like Daniel Vega? You’re—}

Andres, laughing, grabbed Juliano’s wrist to stop him from signing any further and shook his head, releasing him after a second. {Nothing like that.}

{That’s a shame, I was holding out for the Mystery Mobile.}

Andres giggled again, then sighed and looked down at his lap. {I didn’t speak until I was eight years old.}

{And I’ve never spoken. We make a good couple.}

{That….that’s the thing, really.} Andres rubbed his arm and sighed again before continuing. {You’re deaf, I’m selective mute, and I think my family hates me.}

{Andres, that’s ridiculous. I’ve met your family. They adore you.}

{Okay, maybe hate is the wrong word? Their lives would be easier without me.}

{Again, they adore you. They were so glad to see that you had a boyfriend. It was really cute.}

{That isn’t the point.} Andres looked up at the sky and bit his lip. {I’m not…not normal.}

{Who is?}

{Would you stop making light of this?} Andres kicked the dirt in frustration. {I’m being serious.}

{So am I.} Juliano leaned over. {Andres, I don’t really know why you’re so upset about this. I love you. That’s not going to stop because of something you decide to tell me—unless it’s that you murdered someone or something. That we might have to discuss.}

Andres cracked a smile.

{We’ll talk about this later. When you’re less emotional, okay? Just know what you’re going to say.} Juliano spun around completely, laying his head in Andres’s lap and holding his arms straight up to sign. {Play with my hair.}

Andres laughed and began carding his hand through the curls. “I love you,” he whispered as Juliano closed his eyes, safe in the silence.

Chapter Text

There was a small team of teachers doubling as security guards at Desert Bluffs Preparatory academy. Walter Dwyer (German, French, and Spanish) ran the team and worked weekends; Adrian Colt (athletics coach and self-defense instructor) was on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; Joshua Vega, who didn’t teach anything, worked the night shift.

There were a few other guards who cycled in and out for any empty shifts, but no one aside from Walter ever really bothered to learn their names, and Walter mixed them up.

Walter was teaching a German class when Luciano knocked on the door. “Come in!” he called; as Luciano stepped inside, he looked first at his smiley-face musical note tie and then at the class and said in German “Let’s make fun of his tie.”

“It is a rather amusing tie, Luciano countered in perfect German.

Walter flushed. “Er, I didn’ know ya learned German.”

“I’ve been studying.” Luciano looked at the clock. “How long is this class?”

“Five minutes.”

“I can wait.” The music teacher sat cross-legged on top of an empty desk and closed his eyes, humming happily as Walter assigned the homework, insulted Luciano’s fashion sense (with a few halting phrases in Latin, taught to him by Isadoro, that the languages-heavy students giggled at), and dismissed the class.

“I understood that,” Luciano said dryly, hopping off and standing in front of Walter’s desk with arms behind his back. “I do know Latin.”

“I know,” Walter said with a wide grin. “S’why I said it.” He picked up a file folder and began rifling through, pulling out some quizzes.

Luciano sighed. “Allow me to come to the reason why I am here. I have obtained a spare ticket to a symphony orchestra South Portland, one night only, and I would be honored if you were to accompany me.”

Walter just stared at him. “Y’all sure you aren’t gonna take Mr. Vega? Sergio, I mean?”

Luciano’s expression became vaguely annoyed and he gave Walter a guarded look. “If I wished to take my cousin, I would have asked my cousin. I wished to take you. If you are open to it, of course.”

“…Ah. I see.” Walter looked at the tickets in Luciano’s hand for a moment. “When’s the show?”

“Tonight at eight. Well?”

“Sure. ‘Course. I’d love to.”

“Wonderful!” Luciano flashed a wide smile, scars stretching out to his ears. He flipped his thick braid over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at seven, then. Wear something nice.”

Very quickly, before Walter could react, Luciano kissed his cheek, smiled again, and danced out, shutting the door behind him.

Walter looked at the folder in his hands, reached up to brush his fingers against the spot of the kiss, and raised his eyebrows. “Huh.”

-O-

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Isadoro Ramon!”

Isadoro looked up as Isabelle and Alejandro de la Rosa slid into the bar on either side of him. “Oh. You two.”

“You two,” Alejandro mimicked. “C’mon, you know you’re glad to see us.”

Isadoro sighed and gave them an exasperated smile. “Okay. Perhaps, in some strange reality wherein you two have not been actively and gladly annoying the everloving shit out of me, I would be glad to see you.”

“Welcome to reality!” the siblings chorused.

Isabelle waved over a bartender (not Lovino) and ordered drinks. “Two raspberry vodkas, please. Wait, how much have you had?” she asked Isadoro.

“Not enough to vomit.”

“Make that three,” she said, noticing the way Isadoro lit up. The bartender nodded and got to work. “We haven’t seen you since the night of the fire, andthat was hardly the time to catch up. How’ve you been? What’ve you been doing with yourself? Still a hooker?”

“Not anymore,” Isadoro said, sounding rather pleased. “I got a permanent position and protection from the Vegas. I don’t have to anymore.” His former coworkers couldn’t not notice the relief in his voice.

“Good for you!” Alejandro slid him his drink. “And yet we have found the exact opposite, huh? We lost everything.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from his tone.

“I’m aware,” Isadoro said. “I shan’t apologize. I did no wrong and I saved your brother’s life.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“To apologize or to save your brother?”

“The first. The second. Both. Neither. I’m not asking you for anything.”

“And I extend the same courtesy to you.” Isadoro inclined his head. “We ask each other for nothing but company and, perhaps, raspberry vodka.”

As if on cue, the bartender slid over their drinks. Isadoro took his glass and half drained it in a sip. “So!” he said. “You are indeed correct, it has been some time since we have caught up. Aside from your every possession and very way of life being consumed by flames in a horrific accident—“

Isabelle whacked him on the shoulder.

“How have you been faring?” He finished the raspberry vodka and gave Isabelle a pleading look until she signaled for another.

“Well enough,” Alejandro said. “We just finished renovating all the trailers, of course. Mags finished another class—“

“That girl is never going to get her degree.”

“Agreed. Miguel’s grandkids came around to work the Festivale, along with all the Vegas, but you probably knew that. Julius finished medical school two years ago, so now he’s Dr. Feliciano or Dr. Rosa, like Feli. Silvio and Stephanie left a few years back when the triplets hit ten, started the tattoo parlor in town—Inked Botany, go check it out, they’re doing pretty well for themselves.”

“How old are the girls now?”

“Turned thirteen last week. They start high school next year.”

“Will I be instructing them, then?”

“Nah.” Alejandro grinned. “Silvs doesn’t want them to get…what did he say? Stuck up.”

“I—“ Isadoro paused. “Silvio makes an excellent point.”

“Silvio has the sanest mind of all of us,” Isabelle said, passing him the raspberry vodka. “I’ve gotta go, I’m up next.”

“I see.” Isadoro’s lip curled in distaste.

“Hey, just because you’re an eight on the Kinsey scale, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have fun.” She hopped off the stool and sauntered off.

Isadoro raised an eyebrow at Alejandro. “You approve of this behavior?”

“Not in the least.”

“I see.” He drained the vodka and set down the shotglass. “She will do as she wishes, I suppose.”

Alejandro grimaced.

Chapter Text

(The voice is as peppy as it ever was; the speaker’s companion, on the other hand, sounds much more world-weary, in a way that would make anyone think a dozen things, none of them good.)

Good morning, Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy! It’s Tuesday, November eighteenth, and as always, I’m Kevin Free, and this is Lauren!

Good morning, Desert Bluffs, indeed.

(Papers are being shuffled on the other end; after a moment, the first voice speaks again.)

Alright then! Release forms to return home for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays can be found in the office. It is the green form, and if you don’t turn one in before each break, well, sorry, you won’t be allowed to leave! The Thanksgiving form is to be filled out and turned in by this Friday. If you intend to take a bus back home, an additional form is required, along with a parent or guardian’s phone number.

The drama club will be holding auditions after the Thanksgiving break for the holiday play. Auditions will be on Monday the first of December, and the first practice will be Friday the fifth. Practices will be held until holiday break and resume afterwards. Kevin?

Um…can you read this one?

(The second voice sniggers.) Sure thing. Christopher Rose would like to put out a schoolwide announcement, definitely not specifically directed to anyone, especially not someone with the initials KF—

Get on with it.

I’m just reading what the paper says. Especially not someone with the initials KF, that uniform is to be followed at all times, and everyone is to refrain from the raising of hemlines, lowering of necklines, raising of heels, and addition of sparkles, chains, and…flames and/or icicles? Kevin, the hell did you do?

Nothing. That’s a schoolwide announcement not directed at anyone. Especially not me. I had nothing to do with it. This has been a public service announcement, you will now be returned to your regularly scheduled programming. Next!

Alright. You read it, it’s your turn.

Not gonna argue you for this, Lauren. Ahem. The art club will not be meeting this week as the art teacher has come down with a bad case of…throat spiders?

A sore throat, Kev. Don’t fearmonger.

A severe case of strep throat. Don’t call me Kev.

I’ll call you Kev if I want to call you Kev, thank you very much. Kev.

…anyway. The library will be closed for renovations this afternoon and funds for the new athletics field are being, once again, diverted. A reminder that if you happen to teach science class through pyrotechnics—and this public service announcement, too, is not directed specifically at any teachers, certainly not science teachers with dark hair, certainly not science teachers with glasses, and certainly not Sergio Vega—kindly keep it out of the library.

After all, remember: it’s too late for Sereno Blackwood!

This concludes the announcements for the day. So long, Desert Bluffs, so long!

(The system clicks off.)

-O-

“We never talked.”

Jake Lin looked up from his eggs and toast. “Come again?”

Christopher sat down across from him, folding his hands. “We never talked. We fought, there was shouting involved, and now it’s been a month and we never actually discussed anything. I think that, perhaps, we should do that.”

Jake looked back down at the eggs. “I…” He sighed. “I don’t think so.”

“No. We’re talking about this.” Christopher paused. “I’m using the tactics that my parenting book said to,” he said, with the vaguely awkward air of someone trying to be helpful.

“Nice to know I’m on the same level as your preschooler,” Jake muttered, poking at the eggs with his fork. “Do you have any salt?”

Christopher slid over the little shaker. “Don’t change the subject. We fought. A month ago. And since then we’ve just been tiptoeing around each other. I go to work, Smiling God knows what you do.”

“I look for new employment.”

“Good, that’s great. You can put that on hold for the day.” The radio on the counter crackled to life as Kevin and Lauren began the announcements; Christopher switched it off. “I can listen to that later.”

Jake sighed. ‘So what are we going to talk about then, Chris?”

Christopher shrugged. “To start, there was pretty clearly some miscommunication last near when Euphemia died. It thought you weren’t going to help me and you thought—what did you think?”

“I thought you wouldn’t accept,” Jake said, poking at the eggs again.

“Stop mutilating your breakfast,” Christopher said. “So. We each thought something incorrect—you would’ve given help, I would’ve accepted. Did we just…not discuss it?”

Jake turned over the eggs with his fork. “S’pose so.”

Christopher took the eggs away and put the plate by the sink. “If you’re not going to eat, good, we can focus on the conversation.”

“Did you read that in your parenting book, too?”

“You’re getting good at this talking thing. Yes, yes I did. It works very well with Ellie.”

Jake considered sulking, but decided against it. It certainly wouldn’t help the treated-like-the-four-year-old situation. “Alright then, you wanted help and I would’ve done so, but you didn’t ask and neither did I. What, exactly, do you plan to do about this situation?”

Christopher smiled thinly. “Take a wild guess as to what drunk guy Adrian and I met at the supermarket the other day. Go ahead. Guess.”

“I guess Marcus.”

“You guessed right.” Christopher looked over his glasses at Jake. “He misses you,” the secretary said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “He does. And you can’t hide here forever.”

Jake looked at the table, the cloth smudged with crayon wax from Ellie’s coloring sessions; up to the loft where Chris and Ellie slept, the former in a twin bed pushed against the wall, the latter in a trundle in a nook by the stairs; to the couch where he had been sleeping for almost two months.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I can’t. But I don’t know where else I’m going to go.”

“I’ll help you find out.” Christopher stood. “I have to get to work. But, well, I’m glad we had this discussion.” He smiled at his brother. “We’ll continue it later.”

He grabbed his coat and stepped out the door. Jake looked after him for a moment, then sighed and grabbed the plate of eggs off the counter.

Continue it later, indeed.

-O-

There were probably way too many secretaries and personal assistants working for the extended Vega family, but there was one who did basically everything, and that was Zacharie duBois, who helped Stella run everything domestic at the manor and the school.

And it was Zacharie who was the second one to figure out who Ciro Sorriso was.

“Someone fetch Monsieur Rose!” he called, running down the steps and skidding his hand along the railing. “I must speak with him immediately!”

Stella looked up in alarm. “Zacharie, dear? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, ma’am,” he said sweetly. “I’ve just got to see some of the school records! I came across something…very interesting while in the library earlier today.” His hand closed around the little leather notebook in his pocket. “I thought perhaps our dear Christopher could assist me, hm?”

“Of course!” Stella smiled widely at him. “I’ll go get him, shall I?”

“Please do.” He sat down on the steps, hands between his knees, and touched up his lip gloss as Stella ran down to the office, heels clacking against the tiles.

After a minute she returned, carrying a file folder. “He gave this to me,” she said. “Codes to the online records.”

“Ah, merci, madame,” he said, standing in a smooth movement and taking the folder from Stella. “I’ll go check on this.”

“Alright, and could you arrange my calendar while you’re at it? You’re a dear.” She blew him a kiss and smiled. “Thanks!”

Zacharie waited until she was out of sight, then bolted up to his bedroom and turned on the laptop, quickly finding and inputting the password he needed and waiting impatiently, tapping fingers on the desk and glaring at the screen. “Come on, now,” he murmured.

After a moment the page came up. Ciro Abigaile Sorriso-Strex, age fourteen, sibling to the heir of Strex Industries.

Zacharie stared at the screen for a moment, at the sulky face in the picture half-hidden behind shaggy blond hair, at the wide eyes, and swallowed hard. “Oh, dear,” he said to no one. “This is quite the trouble.”

And then he closed the laptop, ignored the file folder, and left his room to find Sergio and Luciano. They needed to have a talk.

Chapter Text

“Think fast.”

Sammy looked up only to be hit on the head by a bag of chocolates. “Ouch! What was that for?”

Smiles sauntered over and sat next to him on the bench, draping an arm around the back and lounging lazily. “I picked them up from the penny candy shop. Thought you’d like something sweet—although I can always just eat them myself…”

“No!” Sammy yelped, hugging the bag to himself.

Smiles grinned. “Then stop complaining, yeah?”

Sammy pouted and pulled out a chocolate anyway. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, it’s a bit of a surprise.”

“A nice surprise?”

“Yeah, of course. I was—“

They never did find out just what Sammy was, as he was interrupted by a loud “Holy mother!” from the general direction of the Snake and Bentley Bookshop across the street and a college student bearing a strong resemblance to Smiles running over at top speed. “Holy mother, Ra!” he repeated in a pitchy shriek. “Talk about Romeo and Juliet—“

“What?” Sammy interrupted, stunned.

“—and you’re off locking lips with an Academy kid yourself!” He was talking with his hands, getting faster and higher as he went on. “Cripes, why wouldn’t you tell us? Or at least Savio or Spot or someone--“

“Smiles, what’s he going on about?” Sammy demanded, getting agitated. “Who’s this?”

Smiles sighed and grimaced. “Sammy, this is my big brother Risus. Risus, this is Sammy.”

“And who, exactly, is Sammy?” Risus demanded as the topic of discussion shrank back. “Friend? Enemy? Datemate? Enemy you have weird sexual tension with? Partner in crime? Does he have a last name or is he a robot? Give me something to go on, here!”

“I’m Samuel Bastain Vega,” Sammy said, standing up and holding out a hand before Risus could say another word. “And I’m his…datemate? That’s…I like that. I’m Smiles’s datemate.”

Risus shrieked loudly. “Vega? Vega?! Ra Miles Disciple Sorriso-Strex the Third, explain yourself this instant!”

“What’s the big d-deal?” Sammy stammered in alarm. “I know all about Smiles’s family and mine already—“

In a second’s time, Risus went from jumping up and down to standing with one hand on his hip and the other smoothing his hair back, head cocked and a suave smile on his face. “You already know, do you, Samuel Vega?” he asked, eyes glinting dangerously but tone pleasant, before he swept into an elaborate bow. “The name is Risus Solenium Monroe Sorriso-Strex, secondary heir to Smiles Industries and older brother of Ra here.” He patted Smiles’s shoulder with a pleasant grin. “So tell me, Samuel Vega. What exactly did my dear brother have to say for himself, regarding our respective families?”

“Er…” Samuel fidgeted. “That ten years ago your family business tried to orchestrate a corporate takedown. And it…didn’t work?” He looked at Risus, who nodded encouragingly, and went on with more confidence. “And…and the Vega family tried to help yours. But since the takedown didn’t work, my family got in a lot of trouble with the town, and you guys left. And that’s why we have the nickname Strexes—because it means we allied with you guys instead of with the town.”

Risus applauded and Sammy blushed. “Oh, well done, well done! Smiles was pretty comprehensive.” He flashed his killer smile at the boy in question. “Yes, it was Night Vale Town against Smiles Industries and the Vega family business. I’m still nto sure why, myself—my father left nothing on the topic when he died, and Savio, who inherited the company, has no interest in looking. But you’re perfectly correct. “H took Sammy’s hand and in a smooth movement, got to one knee and pressed his lips to his knuckles. “It has been a true pleasure meeting with you, Samuel Vega, and I hope to do so again in the future. Perhaps Smiles will deign to bring you along for Thanksgiving—our Nonni makes absolutely divine meals, and I’m certain Savio and Ciro would love to meet you.”

“Wait—Ciro?” Sammy asked, head spinning.

“Yes, our youngest sibling. We refer to them as Spot ordinarily.” His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, you would know them, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, he…he goes to my school.” Sammy shrugged. “I don’t…can we maybe talk a bit?”

“Of course!” Risus sat on the bench and motioned for Sammy to do so as well. “Let’s talk!”

Sammy took a deep breath. “I think Ciro might be in trouble.”

-O-

Eugene O’Malley was beginning to regret the day he met Isadoro Ramon.

For a start, the man was completely insane. There was no way he wasn’t. You’d have to be a little unhinged to take even one cat in when policy clearly stated no pets were allowed, and to start a shelter out of the bedroom? When you lived in the smallest room and couldn’t even stand up on one end?

Of course, Eugene was probably not at his sanest either, given that he was helping the madman.

“I brought cat food,” he said as he entered the room, carrying a box full of cans with an opener laying on top. “How many do we have now?”

“Seven,” Isadoro said happily. “Seven charismatic minifauna.” He pointed to Juno on his shoulder. “Seven friends for my goddess.”

“Did you name them?”

Isadoro pointed to each of the kittens in turn. “Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Neptune, Ceres, Proserpina, and Diana.” He scooped up Ceres and cuddled her gently. “Here,” he said, passing the tabby off to Eugene. “You hold her. You do not love them enough.”

“I love them plenty!” Eugene protested. “I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

Isadoro glared. “They are charismatic little creatures and yet you insist I send them off at once!”

“Because we cannot keep infinite cats in your bedroom!”

“Says who?” Isadoro asked, picking up Diana and Venus. “We most certainly can.”

“No,” Eugene said, frustrated, “no, we cannot.” He sighed. “I hate fighting.”

“We’re not fighting. We’re discussing the situation. I shan’t get rid of the cats.”

“I’m not asking you to get rid of them. I’m saying that we can give them out to the students. Or the other teachers. They’ll take good care of them.”

Isadoro glared for a moment, then sighed and looked down at the kittens in his arms. “I suppose you’re correct,” he said grudgingly.

“Great. Great. I’ll run off some copies of a flier and pin them up—the chapel, the main building, my office, your classroom. We’ll find them homes, okay?”

“I suppose,” Isadoro repeated moodily.

“Stop that,” Eugene said halfheartedly. “You get to keep Juno.”

Isadoro brightened and he cooed at the cat on his shoulder. “Yes, I certainly do!”

The nurse sighed, set down the box, and left for the copy room. It was going to be a long couple of weeks before his life was back to normal, assuming that it ever had been.

Which honestly? He couldn’t say at this point.

Chapter Text

“Ciro! How have you been?” Savio asked when they picked up the phone.

“Er. Fine, I guess.” They shifted uncomfortably. “Hey. Um, I was wondering if it might be okay if I were to spend Thanksgiving with a…a friend of mine.”

“Your girlfriend?” Ciro could imagine Savio’s eyebrow raising in that way they had. “Risus told me all about her.”

“Wh—Jezzy and I aren’t dating!” Ciro spluttered.

“Like I said.” The amusement was heavy in their voice. “Risus told me. And as to spending Thanksgiving with Jezebel and her family, I think that sounds perfectly reasonable. I assume that there’s a form?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ciro looked at the green paper in their hand. “I can bring it by today.”

“Excellent! Do so. And Ciro?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll send Nonni your love.”

The line went dead. Ciro stared at the receiver for a moment, then shrugged and hung up, turning around only to run smack into Stella Vega.

She beamed at them. “Ciro Sorriso! Where are you off to so quickly?”

“Nowhere,” they said guardedly. “My family lives next town over. I needed to get a permission form to them.”

Her smile widened. “Right! You’re spending Thanksgiving with us, aren’t you?” Before they could respond, she patted their head and nodded. “Go on, get your form signed. I so look forward to having you over. My desserts are legendary.”

“Er. Right.” They backed away, then turned and ran for the bike rack outside.

Stella watched tehm go for a moment, a faint smile on her lips, before turning to Zacharie standing behind her. “Zach, darling?”

“Yes, madame?”

“Kindly inform my husband and cousin-in-law that everything goes according to plan.”

Zacharie grinned devilishly and tipped his hat. “Of course, madame. Anything else?”

“Mm, yes.” She passed him a light yellow notebook. “Be a dear and arrange my schedule for the next week. I’ll need plenty of time for cooking and housework, at least two hours with the kids every day, time for shopping on Friday, all of Thursday evening free, and a return trip Sunday night—the rest is up to you. Any outings planned are to be arranged for as well.”

“Of course.” He pocketed the notebook. “We leave tomorrow?”

“Indeed. At five.” She smiled beatifically. “We’ll be home by ten.”

“I’ll have your schedule ready this evening, then.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Zach.”

“Of course, Stella.”

-O-

“I know a song that gets on people’s nerves, gets on people’s nerves, gets on people’s nerves…”

“Diego, shut up.”

“I know a song that gets on people’s nerves and this is how it goes!”

-O-

“Where’s my makeup?”

“…I don’t have it.”

“Diego. Give. Me. My. Lipstick.”

“NO!”

-O-

“Surface conditions outside are not optimal for driving.”

“Diego, shut up, Mamá doesn’t wanna hear it.”

“Diego, shut up, your mother does not want to hear this.”

“Diego, shut up, I don’t want to hear this, your sister and father are right.”

“…Interior conditions are not optimal for jokes.”

-O-

“Come on, get out, I’ll drive.”

“Thank you, Chris.”

-O-

“Make a left.”

“Diego, you’re pointing to the right.”

“Oh. Make a right.”

“Now you’re pointing left.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I can make you go to the backseat with your sister.”

“No, this is the fun car!”

-O-

“Where’s the car with Mamá and Papá?”

“They’re ahead of us.”

“Why?”

“Because you keep grabbing the door handles and yelling ‘WOAH’ when I slow down, and that’s not safe, so I have to stop.”

“This isn’t the fun car anymore.”

“Wanna walk?”

-O-

“THIS IS OUR LIVES ON HOLIDAY!”

“Ouch! Diego, you elbowed me!”

“I’m playing air guitar, it’s not my fault if you can’t handle it.”

-O-

“Stop touching me, Diego.”

“I’m not touching you.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you—“

“Diego, stop antagonizing your sister. Come sit up front again.”

-O-

“Ow! I just hit my…Die-go, I was asleep!”

“So? I wanted a pillow.”

“Which means you took mine?”

-O-

“Nine.”

“No, it’s eight.”

“…seven.”

“That’s a three.”

“Fourteen.”

“You are the worst suduko player.”

-O-

“Okay, we’re almost there. Which way to your house?”

“Turn left.”

“…we just passed the intersection.”

“Then turn around and turn right.”

“Dammit, Diego.”

-O-

“I got a text from Mamá, they wanna know where we are.”

“We’re about fifteen minutes away.”

“’It’s almost midnight, you should be home now’.”

“Tell her your brother was being an asshole.”

“Tell her Christopher is driving like a moron.”

-O-

“We’re home.”

“Thank God.”

Chapter Text

The Vega family manor was a grand, old house, with columns on the wraparound porch and steep steps in the living room and an enormous dining room, the design lost somewhere between Victorian and stone mansion, a mass of added wings and attic rooms and secret passages that led out of the house and sprawled like a rabbit warren underneath the multiacre estate.

And to the Vega kids, it was, quite simply, home.

Divina and Diego were yawning loudly as they carried their backpacks up the stairs to the porch, Christopher close behind with an odd fond look on his face. Divina pushed the French doors open and they stumbled into the foyer.

Carmen Rodriguez was waiting, half-ready to chew Diego out, but her expression softened when she saw them. “Go to bed,” she said. “Your clothes are laid out. And welcome home.”

Divina smiled sleepily as Diego yawned again. “See y’tomorrow,” she murmured, pulling her brother up the grand wood staircase to their bedroom.

It was exactly as they remembered—small and comfortable, with multi-color patchwork quilts on the beds, white lampshades, Divina’s vanity, the dresser, and pale yellow walls. Outside they could see the estate—or, they would have been able to, if it wasn’t so dark.

Divina quickly tugged her nightgown over her head as Diego just collapsed on his quilt, still in his clothes and heels. “Night,” she murmured, getting under the covers.

“Night. See you in the morning.”

-O-

Mornings, especially Monday mornings, with the Vega household at full capacity were absolute chaos.

Stella presided over the kitchen, snagging passign cousins to help her make enough pancakes, eggs, and sausages to feed an army as Ricardo, Keith, and Carmen flew around swapping paper and briefcases and Carmen’s hat (which somehow never made it back to Carmen), trying to get ready for work and eat their breakfast at the same time. They could hear Luc playing a furious and quickly-paced piano tune in the sunroom, Sergio tending to a set of houseplants two feet away as someone popped in every couple of minutes to yell at Luc for his “mood music”; the various cousins and guests ran around and hosted tours.

Diego bumped into Kevin in the ktichen. “Sunshine! I thought you weren’t coming until Tuesday!”

“Lauren and I took the bus!” he said, excited enough to be jumping up and down. “She’s upstairs with Daniel.”

Divina headed across the kitchen to join them only to be grabbed by Stella, who assigned her to slicing strawberries. “Aunt Stella—”

“Chop, girlie.”

Zacharie kicked open the back door with Walter and Joshua on his heels, each carrying a pair of brown shopping bags. “I’m back!” he called.

In the resulting confusion Divina slipped away to join her twin. “I forgot how hectic it gets here,” she muttered. Diego just grinned.

“Carmen! Your hat—”

“Luciano, if you play ‘Ode to Chaos’ one more time, I swear to the Smiling God—”

“Have you no shame, Ricardo?”

“Diego, put some goddamn pants on!”

-O-

Ciro Sorriso had spent the night in the attic guest room, joined at three in the morning by Kevin and Lauren. They stumbled downstairs in the morning expecting to find, maybe, something similar to the Sorriso house—calm, collected, one person making breakfast as everyone got ready.

This was not the Sorriso house, and they were hit in the face with a strawberry the second they entered the kitchen through the back stairs.

“Sorry!” Stella called. “Go to the living room, it’s through the dining hall and to the left, the others are watching cartoons!”

Ciro stared for a moment, then followed her instructions and entered the living room. Diego, Kevin, Lauren, Daniel, Divina, and Sammy had commandeered the couch; Antonio took an armchair; Jezzy sat in a nest of blankets on the floor and motioned for Ciro to join her.

They did so, settling in as the opening theme of The Fairly OddParents played. “It’s, uh, it’s a little crazy here,” they tried after a moment.

Diego shrugged. “It’s Monday and we’re all home again. To be expected.” He tucked his legs up against Kevin, resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “Welcome to the family, by the way.”

“…Thanks.” They turned back to look at the television as Carmen ran out the door, shortly followed by Keith and Ricardo, papers flying and the door slamming in their wake.

“There’s a Board of Directors meeting today,” Divina said when she saw how puzzled Ciro looked. “Papa and Mama work for the same company and they don’t get time off ‘til Wednesday.”

“Breakfast!” Stella called.

There was a mad scramble to get to the enormous dining room (no one actually bothered turning the television off), where Sergio and Luciano were playing cards, Adrian was holding Christopher’s hand as they tapped on their respective phones with Ellie on the PA’s other side (Christopher’s mussed hair and the piece of paper stuck to Adrian’s cheek told everyone exactly where the former had spent the night), and Walter was helping Stella plate up and carry out plates of pancakes with maple syrup and butter, sausages, eggs, and hash browns. A jug of orange juice sat on the table with fifteen glasses next to it neatly lined up.

“It’s like a picture book,” Ciro muttered uneasily. “Kind of…almost fake.”

“We get that a lot,” Stella said from behind, making them jump. She smiled and handed them a plate before dancing back to the kitchen, expertly balanced on light pink high heels.

Ciro looked down at their plate, then up at the others at the table, sighed, and ate his pancakes.

-O-

The week passed by in a blur of activity, the various inhabitants of the house finding their own ways to have fun.

On Sunday, while most of the adults were out, everyone spent the day showing the guests around the house (including Lauren, who had been there before, and Kevin, who had briefly visited). At first glance it was huge; exploration revealed it to be even larger, with a full cellar, the spooky attic where the guests were staying, and a half dozen hidden closets and secret passages. No one bothered trying to stop them; Sergio and Luciano holed up in the sunroom conservatory, Stella spent the day baking and writing entries for her popular lifestyle blog, Chris and Adrian went out with Ellie, and none of the adults actually working returned until dinner.

On Monday, Ricardo stayed home and took advantage of the sixty-five degree day to lead an exploration of the woods on the grounds. Ellie tagged along, with Diego carrying her when she got too tired.

They found a tortoise by a pond, and a stick that Diego thought was a snake (to a highly amusing reaction) and a toad that Ellie wanted to pick up and Ciro poked with the snake-stick. Kevin climbed a tree and Lauren and Daniel had a swordfight with some branches while everyone else ate the lunch Stella packed.

On Tuesday, Christopher and Adrian loaded the nine students plus Ellie into two cars and took them to the town nearby. Diego, Kevin, Divina, Lauren, and Daniel went to see Mockingjay at the local theater; Jezebel and Ciro went to a diner and pushed a notebook back and forth to do their homework for Blackwood’s class; Antonio dragged Sammy around town to find all the gargoyle statues hidden in the buildings.

On Wednesday the Rodriguez’s left for Carmen’s doctor’s appointment and ultrasound. Kevin and Lauren borrowed coats and went back down to the pond in the woods; Sammy helped Stella and Zacharie start the cooking for Thanksgiving dinner; Jezebel, Antonio, and Ciro formed a team and went upstairs with the intent of cataloguing everything in the attic; and Daniel took advantage of a driver’s license he never got to use at school to run errands in town for Stella.

And then it was Thursday.

Chapter Text

“Balder! Thor! Loki! Come down and help your mother!”

The triplets had made themselves scarce all week but now scampered down the steps to their father in identical little suits with neat haircuts, grinning widely. Balder had paint on his cheek; Loki was dragging a stuffed snake. “Hey, Dad!” Thor chirped.

Sergio patted each of their heads fondly. “Your mother needs some help in the kitchen.”

Loki pouted and hugged his snake. “Do we halfta?”

“Yes. And go put your snake away, we have guests.” The boys were almost ten, Sergio reflected; it was about time Loki stopped carrying his toys around.

Loki shook his head vigorously. “It’s why I’ve got him, Dad. It’s what he’s for.”

“…alright. But go on. Help your mother.” He ushered them through the dining room, where Daniel and Sammy were setting the table, to the kitchen.

There was a knock at the front door and Joshua and Zacharie burst in, arms full of groceries. “Aunt Stella!” Joshua called. “We’re back!”

“Bring it over here!” Stella stepped out of the kitchen, her hair perfectly curled and a lacy white apron neatly tied over a pale pink dress. “Thank you, boys.”

Upstairs in the twin’s bedroom, Divina was brushing and curling her hair in front of the vanity mirror, seated on a little stool, as Diego attempted to adjust his jacket, tie his tie, and slip on his high heels all at once.

Jezebel popped her head in, ponytail swinging around as she rounded the doorway. “Guys, hurry up, it’s almost one.”

“Why is dinner so stupidly early on Thanksgiving, anyway?” Diego grumbled.

“Because reasons,” Jezebel said breezily, heading over and expertly knotting Diego’s tie in a couple of loops. “Sergio’s looking for Luciano, do you know where he is?”

“Not a clue. Sunroom?”

“Not there.”

“I’ve got nothing, then.” Diego tugged at the end of his tie and admired himself in Divina’s vanity mirror, tilting to one side to see himself before buttoning his jacket. “Go check outside, maybe?”

-O-

Ciro and Jezebel slipped outside only to stop and hide around the corner when they heard a hushed argument from the front porch.

“You don’t understand—” Luciano’s voice, half-laughing and frustrated.

“…understand…not the time…corporate revolution…” Ricardo, measured and calm and even quieter than the other.

“…proof that the Sorrisos are spying on us—“

“…proof of nothing…”

“…sibling…”

“…enrolled at the Academy…evidence of malicious intent…”

Ciro stiffened next to Jezebel, gripping their hand.

“…what they’re like…”

“…longstanding history…”

“…fights and trickery--!”

And then Ricardo was very clear. “We aren’t discussing this any further.”

Jezebel looked at Ciro, wide-eyed, as the adults came around the corner towards them and stopped still.

“…Jezzy?” Luciano asked. “What are you and young Master Sorriso doing out here so close to suppertime?”

“Going for a quick walk,” Jezzy said with a cheerful grin as she dragged Ciro across the porch and down the steps. “Don’t mind us, we’ll be back soon!”

As they ran down the sidewalk, they heard Luciano, loud and clear—“Cousin! A change of plans!”

-O-

The dining table was set with what families call “the good china”, and is mostly used for guests and holidays. Thanksgiving at the Vega house was both.

Balder, Thor, and Loki, perhaps surprisingly, were the calmest of the under-eighteens. Diego, Divina, and Kevin were the worst, running around the kitchen and dining hall and trying to knock hats off of people’s heads.

Carmen grabbed at her hat, then pointed at the chairs around the table. “Sit down, now!”

Diego and Divina sat down, grumbling and crossing arms, and the former dragged Kevin into his seat. “Killjoy.”

“It’s almost dinner. Control yourself.”

“We can control ourselves just fine—“

“Clearly not. Sit. And stay.”

“Not dogs!”

“Then show me that!”

Jezebel and Ciro had returned from their walk to instantly notice the tension between Sergio, Luciano, and Ricardo. The former two were as far away from the latter as possible, still glaring at each other from across the table in a not-exactly-subtle way.

Stella smiled at everyone and placed the turkey on the table, between sweet potatoes with marshmallows and a gravy boat.

“Creepy,” Ciro muttered, uncomfortable.

“Don’t complain,” Jezebel giggled, elbowing them. “We’re letting you stay here, ‘member?”

“That really does not make your aunt any less creepy.”

“She’s not creepy.”

“She’s a constantly smiling Stepford wife. She’s creepy.”

“You’re a constantly smiling musician and I don’t call you creepy.”

“Maybe creepy’s your thing.”

“Shut up, Ciro.”

Diego threw some mashed potatoes across the table.

“Diego Rodriguez! Sit down!”

-O-

Dinner was chaotic, followed by an equally-so dessert (different kinds of pie—Divina accused Stella of pulling a “The Help” reference with the chocolate pie, and promptly had to explain herself to various cousins) and everyone running to the living room to watch, rather than football, more cartoons (courtesy of Diego and Kevin, who placed themselves directly in front of the television and commandeered the remote).

Sergio, Luciano, and Ricardo retired to the latter’s room and study for unknown purposes (unknown, at least, to most; Jezebel and Ciro exchanged worried glances, and she grabbed their hand, squeezing tightly); Stella and the boys went on a walk in the dying evening light; and Carmen and Keith went to bed, exhausted from the twin’s antics.

That night, Kevin, Lauren, Daniel, Divina, and Diego crowded into the twins’s room.

“We go back Sunday afternoon,” Diego said, hands in his lap and cross-legged on the bed. “Until then, we’re sort of left to our own devices.”

“So what now?” Divina asked.

They all exchanged a look.

Kevin was the first to smile.

-O-

On Friday, everyone loaded into various cars and drove to the city for Black Friday shopping in New York. (Ellie and the triplets remained at home with Lauren and Daniel, who couldn’t care less and sent their lists off with Kevin and Sammy respectively.)

Diego was nearly trampled in the Apple store.

Divina somehow managed to get everything on sale at Macy’s.

Ciro tried on all the jewelry and was nearly arrested by security at Tiffany’s.

-O-

On Saturday, everyone recovered from various injuries sustained on Black Friday on the couch with various ice packs and, in Ciro’s case, lotion for where the handcuffs rubbed into skin.

“I can’t believe you actually got arrested,” Jezebel muttered, leaning back and putting a towel on her forehead.

“I didn’t. Just almost.”

“Did. They had you in the car and everything before you convinced them.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Shut uuuup,” Diego moaned, flailing around for Kevin’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

-O-

“Diego, if you try the same shit as you did on the ride down on the way back up, I swear to the Smiling God I willl rip your intestines and use them as jump rope.”

“Wooah, Chrissy’s got a spine!”

“My name is not Chrissy.”

-O-

“Mmph. Where are we?”

“We’re home.”

Chapter Text

A layer of snow coated the grounds of Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy by mid-December.

“Desert Bluffs, my ass,” Santiago muttered, pulling his coat tighter around him and moving closer to Caesar. “What the hell were they thinking, naming it that in the middle of Maine?”

“You’re being…volatile,” Caesar observed.

“I don’t like the cold. At all.”

“I’m aware of this fact.” Caesar looked up at the sky and blew out a puff of air, which condensed in front of him. “I suppose it is a bit nippy out, yes.”

“You don’t have to broadcast your immunity to the cold,” Santiago muttered unhappily, muffled by the collar of his coat.

“I’m not immune to it, I just like it.” Caesar stooped down, scooped up a handful of white powder, and packed it into a little ball. “Hey, Santi, think fast.”

Santiago whipped up his cane and used it like a baseball bat, smashing the snowball before falling over backwards. “Hey!” he scowled, getting up and dusting off. “Now I’m wet.”

“That was rather the idea.” Caesar bumped against him, hands in his pockets, and the two continued their walk along the shore of the lake. “Think we can go ice skating?”

“Doubt it. You wanna go skating, go down to town to the roller café.”

“It’s not the same.” Caesar considered. “We should ask the teachers. I’ll ask Ramon, he likes me.”

“That guy’s obsession with you is starting to get creepy,” Santiago deadpanned.

“Is not. He just likes me because I’m good at Latin. And you’re not.”

“I do fine in Latin. You memorized the opening of the Aeneid for fun.”

“You study cells for fun.”

“So do you!”

Caesar laughed and looked up at the sky, pulling his scarf up further and letting the snowflakes dot his glasses. “Have you talked to Gareth yet?”

Santiago stilled. “No,” he said stiffly.

“…it’s been what, two months?”

“A month and a half. I doubt we’re going to make up.”

Caesar stopped in his tracks. “Santi, what are you talking about? You’ve been together for years. You’re gonna get married.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“He was trying to get us to make up.”

“The ends don’t justify the means.”

“He had good intentions!”

“Don’t you know what the road to Hell is paved with?”

Caesar sighed. “I made up with my boyfriends.”

“Your boyfriends have anxiety problems, you’ve got to make up quickly. And no one tried to kill your little brother.”

“No, but I was the one having the asthma attack.” He blew out another puff of air and jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. “What is it with older siblings not letting things go?”

“Call it a character flaw. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not that much younger than you, I can take care of myself!” Caesar protested.

Santiago turned to look at him. “And next year? When I’m gone? What will you do then?”

“The same thing I’ve always done.”

“Who will stop you when you’re eating too little and exercising too much?”

“Isaias and KJ, of course. Same as always.”

“And who’s going to tell Mother?”

“No one. It’ll be a nice change.” Caesar bumped him again, this time with his shoulder. “Come on, Santi, you need to make up with Gareth. You should have sex and get married and become best friends, it’ll be great, just like always. You two are the perfect couple.”

“Not anymore.” Santiago sighed and looked up. “Let’s head back.”

Caesar didn’t say a word, just turned and started walking towards the main hall.

-O-

“This,” Juliano announced, “is an emergency.”

He was in the library with Gareth and about twenty other people—Lauren, Sammy, Kevin Palmer, KJ, Isaias, and James Mills, among others. KJ was making them a banner that said TEAM LOVE in big red letters.

“Tell me about it,” Gareth muttered. “He won’t even talk to me.” He looked up from where he was sprawled facedown on one of the armchairs. “Thanks for helping me out, all of you.”

“It’s nothing,” said a sophomore, waving a hand. Sammy grinned and made a gesture that somehow conveyed the same sentiment.

“We’re Team Love,” Isaias said. “And we’re going to get you and Santiago back together.”

Caesar hurried in the door, hanging his coat over the back of a chair as he joined them, sitting next to KJ on the floor and uncapping a marker, helping him fill in the A. “No luck,” he announced. “And he’s got people on his side, too.”

“Who?”

“Most of the Vegas, for one. Ciro Sorriso. Andres. Juliano’s roommate, the math guy.”

“Calixto.”

“Yeah, him.” Caesar sighed and put a red dot on KJ’s nose. “Among others. About as many as we’ve got here.”

Everyone looked at each other. Lauren was the first to laugh. “Guys, you know what this means, right?”

“Er, no,” Isaias said apprehensively.

“We’re going to war.” She grabbed a blue marker and started drawing flowers in the border of the banner. “Love versus hate. Winner takes all. We need a list of terms or something. Fight with snowballs. And maybe in the midst of it all you two can get back together!” She directed the last at Gareth, who immediately brightened.

“Lauren might be on to something,” Kevin said. “We’re all split up anyway as to whether you two should get back together, why not make it official?” He pulled a spiral notebook from his bag, uncapped a pen, and began scrawling on an empty page. “Fight with snowballs, love versus hate, I like it, we can have fun with this. It’ll be fun, won’t it?”

“I guess…” Gareth muttered. “Still not sure.”

“No, really!” Kevin turned around the notebook and showed him the heading: A PROPOSAL FOR WAR written in all caps with a purple gel pen. “If we can get everyone having fun with this, maybe Santiago will forget why you’re mad at each other?”

“Not sure if this’ll work, though,” Caesar said. He had abandoned the banner in favor of rebraiding KJ’s hair; the latter continued to diligently color, now on the M. “I mean, he’s pretty mad?”

“But he can’t stay like that forever,” Sammy said. “And people having fun? That’s a good way to get everyone bonded, even if we’re apart for a while. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Right,” Kevin said, standing on the table and holding up the notebook. “What shall our terms be?”

A PROPOSAL FOR WAR

The terms and conditions for ending the war between the armies of Gareth Tsuji and Noah Santiago, as outlined by Team Love (Gareth’s team, fyi):

Santiago and Gareth will make up, have sex, and someday get married maybe

All the people who were on Santiago’s side will apologize to friends and loved ones on Gareth’s side

Y’all fuckers will admit you were wrong and we were right.

(Written below, in blue marker)

Kev, are you sure that last one is a good call?

It’s a great call, don’t call me Kev. I’m the List Keeper.

Signed,

Team Love Army General Kevin Free

(Also in blue marker)

When was this decided?!?

You were in the bathroom.

Chapter Text

The Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy faculty lounge was located on the second floor of the main building, with blue velvet carpets and gold accents. At one time, when the main building was a mansion for the mayor of what would someday become Night Vale Town, it had been the master bedroom, and it showed.

The English department sat by the bay window on overstuffed blue couches. Isadoro was drinking something probably-stronger-than-wine from a crystal decanter meant for Communion; Sereno was marking quizzes with a blue gel pen; Walter was attempting to sketch Saoirse, who was moving around as much as possible; and Miss was drawing smiley faces on the frosty window.

Christopher Rose was the only other one in the room, sitting on one of the tables with a laptop balanced on his crossed legs and biting his lip. He flipped through a file folder quickly and sighed. “Adrian?”

The man in question poked his head through the door. “Yes?”

“Come here a sec.”

“Christopher and Adrian, sitting in a tree—“ Sereno began.

“Shut up, Blackwood. What are you, five?”

“Six, actually.” Sereno licked his pen and scrawled a B- on Diego Rodriguez’s test. “Miss, pass me another pen? This one’s out of ink.”

Miss grabbed one out of the cup next to the windowsill and tossed it to him before putting a flourish on the petal of one of her flowers.

“Thanks.” He moved on to the next quiz. “So what’s up, Rose?”

“Nothing much,” Christopher muttered, “except that we’re being investigated by the CIA.”

The entire department stopped what they were doing all at once and looked over at him. “Say what now?” Walter asked in disbelief.

“We’re. Being. Investigated. By. The. CIA. I’m not Ramon, it’s not as if this is hard to understand.”

“I resemble that remark,” Isadoro called out with put-on insult, taking another long drink from his decanter.

“Let me see that.” Walter took the place on Chris’s other side and leaned over his shoulder with Adrian. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Afraid not.” Christopher looked up and read aloud. “It has come to our attention that your establishment the Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy has missed several inspections from the health department, investigations committee, and school board. We will be sending a pair of agents to your school to complete the necessary investigations. Please have all paperwork filed and ready for inspection. Yours sincerely, M. Guy Winthrop and M. Katie Bright.”

“Who the fuck are M. Winthrop and Bright?” Isadoro asked loudly, taking another swig.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“…It was merely a question.”

“Anyway,” Christopher said hastily, looking back at the laptop, “we may have a slight issue. Or several. Starting with the fact that someone has no name and the music teacher is harassing a minor and ending with the fact that we’re harboring a known arsonist-murderer.”

“…yeah, that could become a problem,” Walter said measuredly after a moment.

“That could become a problem, he says,” Christopher muttered. “That could become a problem—it already is a rather enormous problem, thankyouverymuch!”

“Calm down, Chris,” Adrian said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “When are they arriving?”

“Now,” said Saiorse.

“How do you know that?” Chris demanded, jumping up.

“Because I’m looking at their car, dumbass.” She pointed out the window to where a sleek black car had just pulled up.

“Well,” Sereno said heavily, getting up and shuffling his papers to the side, “let’s go meet the firing squad, shall we?”

-O-

Katie Bright was a nondescript young woman. If pressed to describe her afterwards, the staff who went out to greet her would have said she was dark-haired; they may have mentioned that she had dark eyes, as well, and dark skin. But as to the shade of her skin, the color of her hair and eyes, she blended into the background, and she wore a neatly tailored black suit, her hair pulled back, carrying a phone in a sparkly green case.

Guy Winthrop was equally nondescript, although a bit more memorable. He brushed back his cropped blond as he stepped forward to greet the staff, stowing his own phone (with a green case to match Katie’s) in the pocket of his own suit. “Good day,” he said, voice gentle and soft, holding out a hand. “I am Guy Winthrop, agent for the Central Intelligence Agency. This is my partner, Katie Bright.”

Katie flicked open her phone and tapped rapidly at the screen. A moment later a metallic voice said “Good day, my name is Katie Bright. My partner and I are here to investigate your school.”

Sereno took Winthrop’s proffered hand, looking more nervous than any of the others had seen him. “Agents Winthrop and Bright. Welcome to the Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy—“

“Where the sun is bright, the moon is irrelevant, and we are light and light and light,” Isadoro and Saoirse chorused in unison. Christopher elbowed the former, who scowled. “Yes?”

“As I have said, many times, just because someone told Kevin Free that something was the school motto doesn’t mean it is.”

“What is the motto?” Miss wondered aloud.

“I’ve got no fuckin’ clue,” Walter muttered.

“Do we even have a motto?”

“Hell-o! Crisis situation!” Christopher hissed, and they all turned back to Sereno, who was still chatting amicably with Winthrop.

“So Christopher can take you to the records,” he was saying, “and help you with anything you need. I’m afraid I can’t provide, being just an English teacher.”

“And being positively infatuated with wordplay,” Isadoro muttered. “How is it that you are missing the many, many obvious puns for the monikers Guy and Bright?”

All at once, every other member of the English department looked closely at Sereno and said with matching tones of wonder “Ohhh.”

As the agents headed into the main building lobby with Christopher, Saoirse was the first to grin maniacally at Sereno, followed by the rest of the department and Adrian catching on.

“What?” Sereno asked, slightly irritated.

“So, which one is it?” Walter asked.

“…which what?”

“Those agents.” Isadoro waved. “You clearly were infatuated with one of the two, so which one was it?”

Sereno paled.

“…it was both,” Miss said after a moment, perfectly calm as always.

“Both?” Saoirse, Walter, and Isadoro cried in unison.

“Yes, fine. Perhaps we can stop focusing on my infatuation with the extremely attractive people in suits and move on to the fact that three of the four of you are about a day away from getting arrested for falsifying government records, illegal immigration, and arson?”

Miss, Saoirse, and Isadoro all looked at each other, then bolted into the building. Adrian ran in after Chris with a worried expression on his face, Walter following close behind.

Sereno watched them go, chuckled, and strolled away to the dormitories.

Chapter Text

The tumblr blogs these originated from. I finally learned how to link, so go check them out! They're occasionally NSFW (this little story is a lot more subdued than what usually happens with the Family) with the exception of Stella's, which is a feel-good blog as if to counteract the awfulness.

Ricardo belongs to eruditexperimenter.

Stella belongs to strexycorpertm.

Luciano belongs to smilingindoctrinator.

Diego belongs to videntefernandez; his ask/gif blog was scienceandstrex, but that one seems to be going down, and there's another--themoreyoustrex--that is becoming more and more connected to the Family that I mention because the mun convinced me to write this.

Divina belongs to mistress-strex.

Santiago belongs to strexecutioner

Antonio belongs to coffee-chanel-and-satan and can be found at antonio-ofstrex.

Jezebel belongs to strexcorpslittlemouse, and is unfortunately rather dead.

Samuel and Joshua belong to silentsecurity

Glamtrash!Cecil belongs to punkrockgaia

Punkrock!Earl and grunge!Carlos belong to videntefernandez

Christopher Rose belongs to rosylocks. His ask/RP blog is christopherrose-pa. Ellie Rose was created by the mun of the ask/RP blog and can now be found at ellieroseofstrex, which just so happens to be run by yours truly.

Mark Vincent belongs to videntefernandez.

Andres belongs to sciencandbotany. This blog went down and the character can be found here

Caesar belongs to lucentsynthesist.

Kevin Jathis aka KJ is jathis’sinterpretation of canon!Kevin.

Isaias Merlo belongs to whisperinthewalls.

The concept of the Strex Family Doubles (Silvio, Stephanie, and the Festivale workers) belongs to howlingandholloweyes.

Miss and Saoirse belong to the Poetry Anon.

Walter belongs to strexcorptopsecurity.

Zacharie DuBoise belongs to strawberriesandstrex.

Mags actually belongs to me and is roleplayed at magsmageefreelance.

Alaina belongs to sparkandsmile.

Isadoro Ramon belongs to isadororamon.

Adrian belongs to strexcorp-secret-service.

This interpretation of Jake can be found at mrvanstensbitch and belongs to Zenami.

Ra/Smiles belongs to itsasmiles.

Savio belongs to yourgreatwarmth.

Risus belongs to askthelittledeity.

Ciro/Spot belongs to swagdeity.

Sereno belongs to tranquilebony.

Erin belongs to ectobruisebosom.

Eugene belongs to rpingatthedogpark.

Calixto belongs to strexbythenumbers.

Zayne belongs to mobius-paradox.

I cannot thank any of the wonderful creators of these wonderful characters enough for letting me borrow them.

Bonuses

These are character facts and things that won’t be explicitly stated in the narrative but were at some point or another put on my tumblr. To be added to as time goes on and I post more facts.

-I can’t figure out why this would be stated in the narrative (other than comments on the symptoms), but Diego and Divina’s enlarged pupils (resulting in eyes that at first glance appear totally black) are caused by mydriasis. Ordinarily that’s defined as the dilation of the eye due to things like drugs, sudden light changes, et cetera, but it is a bit more uncommonly a permanent condition that causes vision impairment and frequent headaches (hence their glasses). And yes. I went and found a condition that caused it to look like they had black eyes for the sake of justifying a single comment from These Moments.

-The masterpost of clothing headcanons, created by myself and several of the muns over the course of an afternoon. There was a lot of excited shouting. Still in progress.

-A set of drabble-y confessions in-character, written for a meme. There's like twenty and they show a bit more of the story and perspective, so I advise reading them if you want to see more of a particular character (most are represented, some many times).

-A set of Christmas themed drabbles about various members of the family and school, also written for a meme. There are less of these and they're more fluff and cuteness, as the Christmas season in-story will take place at school and focus on other things, so if you like Christmas cute go there.