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“No, listen, I’m telling you: I’ve been fucking shot and its hurt less then my cramps right now,” Grace hissed, slamming her head into the dashboard of the Trans AM. Party grimaced, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
“I know, Motorbaby. We’ll be home in 10 and Star’ll fix you right up, okay?”
She groaned, although the warm embrace (and hodgepodge medical aide) from Jet sounded better than the stiff leather seat she was curled up on.
It’s not like she’s never gotten her period before. She has.
Once.
She’s slightly better equipped now, but still, it’s kinda fucking shitty and she’s 13 and tired and being raised by people who are more well versed in Ray Guns than tampons and she just wants to go home.
Party noticed the tears beginning to prick at her eyes and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, c’mon girlie. I know it sucks, but you’ve handled worse. It’s just some blood, right?”
She stiffens.
“It’s not just some blood, Party,” she says, shaking his hand off. “I know you’ve been in a billion claps and turned out shiny but it’s different.”
“I’m tryna understand Grace, but c’mon,” he laughs, “M’ a ‘Joy, not a teenage girl.”
“M’ a ‘Joy too,” she whispers, pulling back and glaring at him.
“Grace, you know that’s not what I meant,” he sighs. But before he has the chance to do some major damage control, she’s already running towards the diner.
“Girlie, wait,” he calls, scrambling to park and pop open his own door.
The diner’s door slams in response.
“Shit.”
Party Poison’s not really the comforting type. Sure, he’ll toss you a can of spray paint and take you for a drive, but when it comes to emotions, he’s usually too busy making sure everyone’s alive. Plus, what does he know about raising a teenager? He was great with the Girl when she was younger, always letting her draw on his weathered skin and telling her stories of his epic claps. But now, he felt lost.
Luckily, he had his favorite group of ‘Joys coming over to the Trans AM to help him out. Or beat him up. Whichever came first.
“What the fuck did you do, Party?” Ghoul inquired, giving the redhead a shove.
“Nice to see you too Ghoulie.”
“Dude, she came in crying! What happened? Dracs? Or-”
“Fun Ghoul, lay off,” Jetstar said, separating the two ‘Joys with a stern glance.
“He’s worried about the Girl. We all are. She locked herself in the bathroom, won’t answer us. Kobra’s trying to talk to her now, but she seems really spooked.”
“Shit,” Party repeated. “Look, she’s fine, we both are-”
Fun Ghoul let out a sigh. “Damn, Poison, I thought for sure you got in a clap the way she’s cryin.”
“No, no, the supply run was fine, she just got her period.” Party blushed.
“Again?”
“It’s a monthly event, Ghoul.”
“Oh.”
“And I might have said the wrong thing.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later. Just help me bring in the supplies.”
As Ghoul and Party began to haul the boxes into the diner, a worried Kobra made an appearance.
“Jet, she won’t talk to me -Hey Party- and I don’t know what to do.”
“Why don’t you get the hot water bottle you use when your back hurts and I’ll go talk to her, hmm?”
Kobra nodded, turning swiftly on his heels.
“Ghoul,” Jet addressed, “see if you can find her something to eat that isn’t PowerPup. And Poison? Make yourself useful until you’re ready to apologize.”
It wasn’t like she asked to be female. Jet, Kobra, Party, and Ghoul did a good job of keeping gender roles out of the diner, but some things were simply unavoidable. Like the twisting knot of cramps plaguing her abdomen or Party’s ability to be an insensitive tumbleweed.
“‘M a ‘Joy too.” She whispered in the mirror. As she pawed the tears off her face, she heard a familiar knock.
“Girlie? Party told me what happened. Wanna open the door?”
She fumbled with the makeshift lock, before stumbling into Jet’s open arms.
“Hey, there Motorbaby,” He whispered. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
He stroked her hair gingerly, feeling the shaky movements of her heaving chest.
“I heard you weren’t feeling very well earlier. Is that true?”
“Mhm,”
“Alright Girlie. Why don’t you go lie down for a bit and I’ll see if I can find something to help.”
Grace nodded, allowing Jet to lead her into her room. She settled under the quilt, curling up as another cramp hit.
Two strong hands pulled the blanket up to her chin, but were grabbed as he turned to leave.
“Grace?”
“Can you stay?” she asked, her voice small.
“Of course Motorbaby.” The ‘Joy kicked off his boots and climbed into the small bed, careful not to rustle the Girl. Immediately, she crawled into his arms, and he chuckled. Just like old times. As the Girl slowly began to relax, two figures appeared in the doorway.
“Girlie?” Ghoul called. “I, uh, well Party said you were, well you know. So I got you some crackers!”
The Girl turned to face him, a small smile flickering across her face. “Batt food?”
Ghoul laughed, tossing her the package. “Yeah, dude, Batt food. I picked them up on a run a few weeks back and thought you might want some.”
“You’re my favorite,” Grace said, ripping through the plastic.
“I know, I know,” Ghoul replied. “But Kobes has got something that might help more.”
Silently, Kobra handed over the hot water bottle, which she gratefully placed on her abdomen. “You’re a lifesaver Kobes.”
“It’s nothing, Grace. As long as it helps.”
“Oh!” Ghoul interjected. “Tea! Jet always makes me this tea when I get bad Zone Flu or fuck up my wrist, so I made some for you! It’s brewing right now and I definitely forgot a step but I’ll bring it to you when it’s done!”
“‘Ank you Gfhoulie,” she smiled, cheeks stuffed with crackers.
“Anyways, we’ll leave you be for now, but holler if you need anything.”
“Feel better!” Kobra called as Fun Ghoul dragged him back to the kitchen.
Grace turned back to Jet, her smile threatening to fall.
“You guys don’t need to be that nice to me, you know.”
“What are you talking about Girlie? Of course we do.”
“It’s just… I’m gonna have to deal with it every month, I don’t wanna waste supplies on something this stupid.”
“Grace, it’s not stupid. You’re in pain over something you can’t control; it happens to all of us. And sure, maybe it’ll suck for a week, but we’re always gonna be here for you, okay Motorbaby?”
“Okay Star.”
“Now get some sleep before you have to pretend to like Ghoul’s tea.”
As if on cue, a steaming mug entered the room… followed by a bashful Party Poison.
“Hey Girlie.”
“Fuck off.”
“Swear Jar.”
“Mhmmpf.”
“I’ll let you guys talk,” Jet said, untangling himself from the Girl. He planted one last kiss on her forehead. “Supplies are in the cabinet if you need any. Poison, be nice.”
“Hi Grace.”
“I told you to fuck off.”
“So does everyone, doesn’t mean I do it. Also, you’re in a crazy amount swear-jar-debt, so I’d watch it, kiddo.”
Grace flipped over to glare at him, blowing a rebellious piece of hair out of her face.
“Look,” he began. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You said I wasn’t a real killjoy just because I’m young and my uterus is slowly self destructing.”
“Girlie, you’re more a ‘joy than any of us.”
“Sure.”
“You’re tough as nails, and wicked with a grenade, and your hacking skills almost rival Kobes.”
“Then why did you say that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Because I was nervous Grace.”
“Fuck off,” she repeated.
“’M serious! It’s scary to see you in pain and I dunno shit ‘bout this kinda stuff and you know I’m not good with my words when ‘m spooked.”
Party’s startled face evoked a smirk.
“You’re telling me the infamous Party Poison is afraid of a lil blood?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say afraid,” he mumbled, going from blushing to firetruck red.
“Not to alarm you Party, but your face matches your hair.”
“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” he shoots.
“No thanks to you,” she retorts back.
His face falls.
“I really am sorry, Grace.”
“I know, I know. Now how many crackers do you think I can fit in my mouth?”
“Psh, at least 15.”
“You know it.”
“Love you Girlie.”
“Pass the tea.”