Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The community was shaken when Grace disappeared. Nobody had seen the fanciful train that appeared outside of the mall, so they hadn’t seen her get onto it. But, considering that she had been in the process of being “in trouble” for shoplifting, it was presumed that she possibly ran away. Sure, 10 was a young age to run away, but facing trouble for the first time in her life probably scared her. After all, her parents were right there! One moment she was sitting there, waiting, following the instructions her dad had given her not to say anything, and after he’d handled it, putting the guard who had the AUDACITY to do her job in her place and getting Grace off the hook, as he would likely have done for anything that would ever arise in her future - she wasn’t there waiting.

The police were immediately contacted and reports were made. The guards reviewed the security cameras on the inside, to see Grace walk outside, but couldn’t catch a single angle of her on the outside cameras. It was presumed that someone must’ve known exactly where the cameras point and avoided being picked up by them (either the child herself, who was known to be very smart for her age, or worse… some insidious predator).

When Grace didn’t return home and wasn’t found by the local authorities in a matter of days, specialists were alerted. Members of the community who had children of their own pitched in to figure out what they could do, frightened at this time that surely, had the girl been having a tantrum, she would have come back by now. Surely, one of the children in their community wouldn’t purposefully stay away from home for this long. Someone must have taken her, and if someone did, they might take someone else’s beloved heir, as well.

Everything changed. The limo rides to school were never solo anymore, and there were SO many bodyguards hired that year that people began trying to get into the industry (mind you, bodyguards were sent from the most reputable of agencies to these upper class clients). Every kid in the city’s life was altered. The ones who weren’t terrified that there was a rich kid snatching boogeyman out there were at the very least annoyed that they had such stifling rules placed upon them now, and nobody was impartial. Everyone wondered what happened to Grace Monroe.

Some figured that she was dead already. That some pervert had their way with her and left her dismantled in a secret location that they probably wouldn’t tell until they were on their deathbed. Others thought that maybe she had been sold into child trafficking. And a few still believed that maybe she had become a stowaway and would either be found a few states away before the year was up, or meet a sad ending in the streets and that the Monroes would get that tragic call one day that she had been found…

Of course, they didn’t share these idea with the children, usually. But, sometimes, they overheard. Shayna certainly overheard her more than fair share of “What Happened to Grace Monroe” theories whenever her mother would have tennis matches and spa days with her friends at the country club. Mrs. Monroe no longer showed up at the country club anymore. She would spend weeks “traveling,” and any time that she returned, a gathering of the women, including Shayna’s mother, would come to check on her, bringing care packages and seeing how she was. Maybe they actually cared, but Shayna had a feeling that most of them were just being nosy.

She hated going over there. She and Grace had never been friends, in fact, they had been mean to each other. Shayna was sure that she had started it, though over time she wasn’t sure if that was an accurate memory, or if the shift in the universe from Grace’s disappearance had made her feel guilty. But, she had been mean, whether or not she started it and the last words that she and Grace had exchanged had been ugly.

But, that wasn’t the only reason that she hated going over there. People compared her and Grace a lot. In fact, whenever she first disappeared, Shayna’s parents were so worried that perhaps the kidnapper “had a type,” that they immediately put her on lockdown, pretending that they were playing a “princess game” where she was in a protected tower. She had all of her guards posted and instructors came to her room, and meals were served there as well. It sucked. 

What sucked more was that even though she and Grace didn’t actually look alike in real life (more so in theory) - that didn’t stop Mrs. Monroe from looking at her and immediately seeming like the saddest woman alive. Then, she would say things like, “You and Grace were friends, right? Was she happy? Didn’t she love us?” Things that Shayna would have to lie and say yes to, because she knew for a fact that Mrs. Monroe knew about as much about her daughter as she did, as her rival… probably less. The lady just needed to hear that it wasn’t her fault. Shayna didn’t like the burden of having to be the one to tell her.

Fortunately, Shayna’s mother would always notice her discomfort, and send her with a guard to go mingle with the other children. 

Things went on like that for a couple of years.

Shayna figured that everyone had moved on and forgot about Grace, though sometimes, her name would casually come up in distasteful mouths. “I was out of there like Grace Monroe,” or some such insensitive joke that they could have easily said the word “vanished” for.

Middle school, the girl went further back into her mind. She would think about her occasionally, and whenever that time of year rolled around, she would see the Monroes’ memorial. They said that it wasn’t a memorial, but a celebration of hope that one day they would find her, but years had passed. Everybody but them knew that there would be no “finding her” and Shayna had a feeling that they knew too. 

But, they would have a gathering, with singers and dancers, and more flowers than a wedding. They would dress up and hold hands and Mrs. Monroe would sit stoic, looking empty and cold, while Mr. Monroe would hold back tears. Every year, his hair got grayer. Shayna figured that she would go someday, but it always felt invasive. 

She was getting ready to leave for college when she finally mustered up the courage to go. Grace and she would have been done with high school and moving on to greener pastures. She would be, and Grace wouldn’t. That was the time to do this, right? 

Shayna sinched her waist, dressed up like… well.. She had no other description than like a wealthy widow, attending the reading of her late husband’s will. She even wore a stylish hat and came with a lavish bouquet with flowers that the royals were heavily into gardening that year. She expected to place it down at the statue of Grace, in a ballerina outfit, give her regards to the Monroes and then never see them again ever.

What she didn’t expect was to see a woman, about her age, pretty kempt, but with dreadlocks and some weird outfit wander onto the premises, seemingly out of nowhere and nervously say, “Mom? Dad?” 

Everyone turned to see her. There was a long silence as she just stood there, trembling, and waiting for the Monroes to acknowledge her. She glanced at Shayna. She didn’t seem to recognize her any more than any of the guests or performers, and whenever she stepped forward, towards the Monroes, Shayna saw something that day that she hadn’t seen in years… Mrs. Monroe smiled, right before crying. 

“Grace?” Her father said, reaching for her face and trying to convince himself she was real.

“Of course it’s her. Look at her. She still looks just like me!” Mrs. Monroe said. 

Shayna dropped the bouquet, filled with shock. Because a wave of emotion came over her as well. Grace Monroe was back! That shouldn’t have affected her, but there had been years of talk, of rumors and possibilities. The worse had already been tacked onto her name, but there she stood, crying with her parents, and being gathered into the mansion. Shayna shook her head, collected the bouquet and wrote her phone number and name on the card, with a “Welcome Back.” Then she left. She didn’t know WHAT else to do...

Chapter Text

It took a few very hard months to get off of the train. For years, she’d been scared to do it, worried about going back home and finding that they didn’t even notice that she was gone. That was silly, sure - but it was always there, in the back of her mind, or at least it easily manifested whenever she gave herself a little moment to think about home. And that was just part of it. It was still home… The train hadn’t been, despite the fact that she had a community there, a friend, the following… It had not been home. Some part of her always knew that she wasn’t meant to be there forever. It was just so easy not to think about that fact whenever she had everything that she could ever want, and took everything else that she might need.

The day that her door appeared, she was stunned. She felt like she had so many mind altering revelations up to that point that she almost felt like she would be like Amelia - just there with numbers moving to not make a bit of difference. 

She got super excited whenever she was back down to 148… then it just stayed there for weeks. She watched others go and watched others come, She pushed former Apex kids in the direction of helpful denizens, her own being a flock of paper cranes that never answered her in those moments that she cried and wondered what else she had to do to get out of this place? They couldn’t talk.

She supposed that was penance of some sort, though another denizen told her that the train doesn’t punish people. That wasn’t “its deal.” A pile of ash she once clutched in her hands made her doubt the validity of that, but whether or not she deserved a hard way out of there, that’s what she got. Granted, it didn’t take her more than a year, but it was damn near. 

She didn’t even know how old she was anymore. She hadn’t had any reliable time keeper, and the times whenever she did ask about, she did very rudimentary math to guess about how long she had been on the train. About 8 years whenever she ran into Hazel, and she was there for almost a year more. She was approaching 19 years old and she had to start life all over again.

Starting life over at 9 wasn’t nearly as scary. Sure, the train had its terrifying moments, but if you were smart enough and skilled enough, you not only survived, but you beat the tests. Took her 10 years to realize that beating the tests, lowering her number and leaving the train was the purpose. One of the reasons that she might have been stagnant was that looking at that 148 reminded her of a lot of issues that she wasn’t sure just how to face. It made her wonder what would have happened if she simply survived and minded her business? Would she have figured out how the train worked then? Did finding her first friend and having someone showing her attention and admiration make her into this train terrorist? 

One thing was for sure - the train didn’t do a very good job of answering questions like that. The train behaved in a way that helped her believe that all of those things were there for the good of the humans that the train selected. They fed off of their childhood perceptions and built upon that foundation. Children aren’t meant to build worlds. Children can’t be trusted to format faith systems. When children get out of hand, somebody is supposed to reign them in, guide them, help them. The train… wasn’t great at that, and nobody ever came around to hold them accountable for the denizens. It was like… the train didn’t care whether or not they were destroyed, but still held it against you if you didn’t know what was happening. Sure, Amelia was to blame for that dysfunction. Which led to another thought of Grace’s. 

If Amelia hadn’t taken over the train, would she have been on it for half of her life? Would she have… she shook the thoughts. Dwelling on them was what kept her in there and she promised herself that when she got out, she would leave it behind as well as she could manage.

Whenever the door opened, Grace knew she was home. It looked different enough to tell her that a lot of time had passed, but similar enough for her to know that her door had brought her to the right place. They were having some type of party and her stomach sank. Had she been right all along? Had they just moved on with life, not concerning themselves with a long lost daughter who had brought them shame, anyway?

Well, if that were true, they would have to escort her out, because she didn’t have anywhere else to go and her body felt weak and disorderly. “Mom? Dad?” She thought that was them, but the woman in front of her had lines in her face and the man’s hair was a head full of silver. Her parents weren’t old people, and they had plenty of money and also cared about appearances. So these images of them, far more aged than what she would think 10 years could make… What if this was some sort of reckoning car on the train? What if she hadn’t come home at all?

“Grace?” That was definitely her dad’s voice… or at least it seemed to ring familiar in her ears.

But, when her mother spoke, she almost turned and took off running. That wasn’t like her mother, at all. Could the woman be this nice, furthermore, be happy to see her again, after everything. But then again, she had changed a great deal herself. In ways that she didn’t want them to know. Their daughter, raised with morals and high standards, reduced to killing and thieving, not simply to survive, but as enjoyment.

As they led her back to the mansion, her father told some dude who was standing there looking real tough to like… tell the guests thanks for coming and get them outta there or whatever, Grace was still sort of in awe that her mother was crying and latched on to her.

“Can I have a corndog?” Grace asked. It was a longshot that they would have any. That wasn’t like the food that they kept in their home when she was little and corndogs? On her ballerina’s diet? Ha.. 

However, her mother stopped at another tough looking dude… Man! Who were all these dudes? Mrs. Monroe handed the guy a wad of cash and said, “Bring my daughter corndogs!”

“Yes, Mrs. Monroe.”

“Can I get like… condiments and stuff?” Grace asked, still thinking this was probably a train trick, but why not enjoy it?

“He’ll get some of everything,” her mother said and waved a hand.

“That sounds extreme, but…” She was silenced when her mother cupped her face and stared at her again, this time, inside of their home. She was studying her. The scrutiny made Grace nervous. What if she saw all the weaknesses? All of the loss? “It’s me, Mom. I promise…”

“I’m just… memorizing. We’ve had computer images to try to guess. They’ve formulated so many potential faces over the years. I looked at your face with variations of hair, skin type, expressions… But, I always knew that none of them could ever be accurate. They were digital, so they looked real enough , but there was no life in those eyes. There wasn’t that spark of light when you were eager about something, or even the way it was snuffed out whenever we didn’t make time for…” There it was, too. Grace felt it. That sadness in recalling being rejected by them, or ignored. Her mother’s eyes actually matched it. She broke eye contact and picked up a few of Grace’s locs, changing the tone of the conversation, “They definitely didn’t get your hair correct. If they ever showed us a potential image of these, I don’t recall. Are you… fond of this style?”

“Very,” Grace said, forcing a smile. She couldn’t remember her mother ever looking at her for more than a few minutes when she was little, but now, they’d been standing there for several, and the woman didn’t seem like she would soon let go. 

“Well then, we’ll have to find the best… erm… whoever does these things.” Curiously, she leaned closer to Grace’s head, “They look well maintained enough…”

Grace shrugged it off, “I found a styling book in the mall.”

“What mall? Where were you?” The look in her eyes was desperate. 

Grace could tell that this was hard for her, despite her seeming to hold it together very well. “That’s. That’s hard to explain. I don’t know where I was. I was on a train, That’s really all that I can tell you…”

Her father was back now. He had apparently been giving orders to the tough guys and now he collected Grace into a very strong hug, crying all over her hair. She felt unnerved by it. This was something that she wanted, and probably needed, but in the moment, it was something that her parents needed more and that was still so new and quite frankly even more fantastical in her mind than half of the things that she saw on the train. Her mother was simply rubbing a hand up and down her back. 

.

She had not washed up like this is SO long. It was unreal how much dirt still lingered on her, despite her being a pretty clean kid on the train. But, the spa and detox was heaven sent, and her mother had wasted no time in getting a professional to “do something with her head.” Some things simply weren’t going to change, obviously.  Her mother’s knack for perfection was one of them.

At least the stylist spoke extensively with Grace to figure out exactly what would be done with her hair, She wanted to keep her locs, but admitted that after her spa day, she wasn’t sure if she had gotten them as clean as she possibly could, and definitely wanted to rectify that, also to make them more formed to please her mom, and she got very excited when she saw that she could also adorn them with little trinkets. The entire time that her hair was worked on, she absentmindedly folded paper birds.

The stylist said, “You know, I read somewhere a legend that folding a thousand of those things and you get happiness or a wish or something.”

Grace cried out, “Ha!” She shrugged and added, “I’ve made at least a thousand of these things and all I got was a thousand folded birds.”

“Well, it obviously does something for you, if you keep doing them, right?”

Grace smiled, “Yeah. It makes me think about the companions that we don’t get to keep, and the ones that we make, who can be there for a short time, but literally save your life.”The stylist paused. Grace bit her lip, “Don’t mind me.”

“No, feel free to talk about whatever you want. We’ll be here a while.”

But Grace didn’t feel like talking anymore. She made a mental note to try to find a book on that legend the woman didn’t seem to really know much about. It sounded interesting. 

.

Shayna’s mother had her arms folded and shook her head furiously. “Mom. It’s JUST a year. I’ll be in college next fall. A lot of my peers take a gap year.”

“One good thing about that girl disappearing was that you were able to cultivate your own personality. You were modeling a style and attitude to match or defeat hers, and I loved that for you. The moment she returns, you just throw that away, for what? You two weren’t even friends. You complained about her all the time, up until the moment she vanished, then you spent years obsessed with the fact that she did!”

Shayna sighed as she unpacked her second bag, “I wasn’t obsessed. I was concerned. Everybody was. You and dad locked me up in here like Rapunzel. How could I not be affected by it?”

“Affected is one thing, but you’re not going to college..”

“I am going to college. I’m just going to take a break first.”

Shayna’s mother took both of her hands in hers and shook her head, not wanting to hound her too hard, but still looking very displeased, “I don’t want you to get into the habit of chasing a hunt. When you were younger, we marketed it as you being a trendsetter, because calling you a quitter, well that felt wrong. You were skilled enough to do so many things, but the moment that you made it, you lost interest. The number of times you could have been the first Black girl to do something, but you decided that it would be too hard…”

“You are only talking about the ballet troupe that I declined from after being given the starring role.”

“The captain of the cheer squad. The chief of the journalism club. The student body president…”

Shayna sighed and threw her head back, “Those are all terrible examples, because I never actually wanted to do any of that stuff, and I don’t have to. I’m an influencer. I influence people, and after this year, I'll be at college, studying, figuring out what I’m going to do besides that, despite the fact that being a public figure IS an accomplishment. I’m a star, Mom. I was only going to college because I want to see if I can achieve a prestigious degree.” She hugged her mother and kissed her on the sideburn. “One year of rest compared to the 18 of pushing forward should not only be encouraged, but supported at all costs. Don’t I deserve it?”

Her mother leaned back, still in the hug and studied her face, “Promise me that you won’t spend it obsessing over the Monroe girl.”

Shayna let go and went back to unpacking. “I’m going to spend it however I spend it, Mom. I don’t have a plan. That’s the point of a break, to realign, rediscover, etc and so on. I’ll promise you that I won’t make any decision that will hurt me. How about that?”

“Deal. And if I see you even the smallest bit going back on that, I’m going to step in.”

“Of course you are. You’re my mother.” Shayna blew her mom a few kisses, then mused, “I’m surprised that you haven’t been over to try to nose your way around what happened.”

“What makes you think that I haven't?”

Shayna cackled, “I knew it! You’re just as nosy as I am.”

“I mean, well… Your grudge with that girl didn’t begin out of nowhere. Ugh, She thought she was SUCH a big deal. The ego and nerve of that woman. How often do women name their daughters after themselves?”

Shayna laughed, “Okay, but Mrs. Monroe hadn’t gone by her birth name since she became famous though, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s stuck on herself and thought having a baby and just spoiling it silly made her iconic. Anybody with functional parts can have a baby. Case in point.” She waved her hands towards Shayna.

“I’m not gonna comment on the fact that it sounds like you had me just to show Mrs. Monroe up.”

“She would like to think that.” When Shayna’s mother left the room , Shayna checked her phone. All of the missed calls and texts were from familiars. Either Grace had thrown out her number or she didn’t want it. Fortunately, despite the petty rivalry between “Monroe” and her mother, the woman had been nice to her after Grace disappeared. She could probably stop by unannounced and ask about things. Surely, Grace hadn’t told her that they were “enemies” as kids. It would be awkward for her if she had, because she’d allotted Big Grace to think that they had been friends. She allotted her to think that for years. Wait. Did she HAVE Mrs. Monroe’s number?

She scrolled through her contacts and found a number listed Monroe. That’s definitely how she would have stored Mrs. Monroe. Monroe was the name that she used through her modeling career, dropping her first name (Grace), and marrying a man who (according to who you gossiped with either took her name because she was famous, despite him being extremely wealthy himself, or a man who had the same last name). Shayna felt like it was probably the first. Mr. Monroe was the family mouthpiece, but over the years, she always had the idea that Mrs. Monroe was the captain. 

She dialed the number she had stored under “Monroe,” and waited. 

“Yes?” the familiar British voice answered.

“Mrs. Monroe… It’s Shayna…”

“Yes, I’m aware. Do you wish to speak with Grace?”

“Who’s that?” she heard Grace ask in the background.

“Your little friend, from when you used to dance. Shayna.” Shayna couldn’t tell if Grace was saying anything in the background, gesturing obscenely, or coming to the phone. She held her breath, though.

“Hello?” a young woman answered.

“Grace. Hi, you probably don’t remember me…”

“I remember you,” Grace said, in a hard tone that told Shayna that she remembered her, indeed.

Shayna paced around her room and tried to control her breathing. “A lot of time has passed, and I’m sure that you’re a different person, as much as I am, so I was just wondering… I mean… It may be too little too late, considering whatever you’ve been through. I just called to… Do you want to go get ice cream?”

Chapter Text

Her father had taken a leave of absence from work. There were many agencies that wanted to speak with Grace about where she had been, and he was trying to provide padding for it. She didn’t seem to mind talking at all, though she sounded completely irrational when she did. “I don’t think that it’s in this world so much as… maybe next to this world?…” The poor girl! She thought that she had been taken someplace on “another plane,”

“You were on a plane AND a train?” a reporter had asked. At that moment, Mr. Monroe cut all contact with the media. He knew how this would play out. She would be branded as delusional and mentally unstable. All chances to return to normalcy would be stolen from her and she didn't deserve that after whatever trauma made her think she'd been transported to another world.

“I don’t know, Dad… I think that maybe people should know about this. It can be helpful, but it could be dangerous too. Like… At the very least, there should be a campaign to keep kids off the train. Ha! That rhymed…” 

She and her father were debating the issue whenever they heard her mother ask, “Do you wish to speak with Grace?”

Mr. Monroe just stood, dumbfounded. Had his wife not heard a single complaint that he had just made? Grace didn’t NEED to speak with anybody else BUT a licensed professional!

“Who’s that?”

... Shayna....

Grace felt suspended in time as Mrs. Monroe put the phone down and her parents began to whisper-argue about whether or not Grace could talk to “an old friend” or anybody else, at this moment, “in her condition. Mom said that maybe it could help her snap out of it. Dad said that until she got her bearing back in the real world, protecting her from everything else was crucial. They had already “let her down” before!

Grace took a deep breath and picked up the phone, “Hello?” 

“Grace. Hi, you probably don’t remember me…” This woman on the phone didn’t sound like the little girl that talked about her behind her back. The one that didn’t mind making her feel bad, and trying to upstage her every moment that they ever got onstage. She sounded… like a nice lady. But, Grace had herself a "nice lady" (fake) voice too. She wasn’t easily swayed. Not by Shayna. Shayna was babbling so much that Grace almost didn’t notice when her parents had ceased arguing and gathered behind her, hovering, quite annoyingly like they could possibly hear what was happening on the other end of the phone.. Grace was just about ready to snap at them when she heard the question.

“Do you want to go get ice cream?”

Grace gasped and held the phone tightly. She shut her eyes and could hear her own voice, speaking to Hazel, “They went to get ice cream. They didn’t invite me…” She saw her younger self, just trying to make the best of it in that parlour, alone… heard the snickers of those girls, recalled her own voice, the clapback that had the girls SHOOK… The satisfaction she had for only a moment before she walked away and realized that she might have inflicted damage… but she still didn’t have any friends.

“Do I want to go get ice cream?” She repeated, suspiciously. It set off another wave of whisper-arguing between her parents. She can’t. She can. She has guards now. She shouldn’t be too far from home. She’s not a prisoner. She’ll run away again if we stifle her…

“Yeah. I want to go get ice cream,” she said, glaring towards her parents to get them to pipe down a little. Her mother hurried to reach the guards and her father folded his arms, no doubt waiting for her to hang up so that he could refuse to allow this. 

Shayna’s heart was beating frantically waiting for Grace’s answer and she thought that maybe it would calm down once she received it. But, it only beat louder and now, she had to sit down and figure out what to say or do next. She expected Grace to tell her to "go to hell" and hang up. This was somehow harder, even though it was what she wanted.

“Is it like… a group of people?” Grace broke into her thoughts.

“No. Just the two of us.”

“Mmm hmm. And… what’s this about?” 

Shayna was silent for a moment. Why was she so insistent to see Grace and talk to her face to face? They were kids when they had their issues. It wasn’t like it was her fault that Grace went shoplifting and then went missing. So, what were her motives today? “I… I just want to have a nice day with you.”

“Nice days are cool. Okay.”

“I left my phone number on a flower card at the celebration, Wasn’t sure if you’d gotten it.”

“Number on a flower card?” Grace repeated, looking at her father to see if that meant anything to him. Instead, one of the housekeepers piped up and nodded, going to a drawer to look for the item. “Uh, yeah. Got it…” Grace read the number back to Shayna to confirm.

“So… I’ll um… Let you decide when and where.”

“I don’t know where anything here is Dude, and I’m literally always free,” Grace said. Or always captive, was more like it.  

Shayna giggled and for a moment, Grace felt a little bit triggered, because her voice had matured, but the giggle sounded relatively the same as it had whenever she was making fun of her. “Ok. Well, I’ll make arrangements. Seems Mrs. Monroe is already connecting with the guards here about security details.”

“Ugh. Did I do this?”

“Yeah…” The air got dense and serious for a moment. Shayna’s voice was hard but thoughtful, like she had been transported to another time. “Things got pretty solemn when they realized that things like this can happen to us.” They held the phone in silence until finally Shayna perked up again, “Well, I absolutely need to find an outfit and figure out which parlour we’ll go to. I’ll send you the details as soon as I’ve gotten it together.”

“Yeah.” 

After Shayna hung up, Grace handed the phone to her father and sputtered air through her lips. “I’ve just been invited out for the first time…” She frowned at her hands, traced her fingers up her bare forearm, looking at the numberless brown skin as a distraction. “I want some new gloves…” she mentioned.

Her father stared at her, confused as she traced her arms for a while longer, her mind drifted off somewhere, as she tended to do since she'd been back. "Certainly," he said. 

She blinked and looked at him, like she only just realized that he was still there. She smiled, dismissed herself and hot started on finding an outfit of her own from the brand new wardrobe she had ordered upon settling in. "A nice day…" she repeated Shayna's words, then wondered, "What the heck do you wear for "a nice day" with a complete stranger?" 

Chapter Text

Grace looked at herself in the mirror, practicing her pop culture trivia. A few times, she had to refer to her notes kept in a light green spiral journal with a cartoon llama on front and the phrase "I Llove You." She found that funny. Green ink pen in hand, she had made bullet points for several things and even a few little diagrams. 

It was just easier for her to learn information if she read things, though she also could learn stuff from experience and catch on pretty quickly. She'd always went with the flow, picking up whatever she could, and filling in her own twist to things that she didn't fully pick up.

Thing was… she missed like a decade of learning about society from experience and there had been no real world updates on the train. Not to mention, apparently technology went from changing ever few years to like… every year, to like, ever few months. Social media was the real world's way of showing numbers and people were as needy for them as she had been when she looked up to the false conductor…

She blinked the memories away. 

Though, life out here was seemingly just as bizarre. For instance… she learned that there was an entire era where people took photos of their food, then dozens of people would like those photos. Speaking of food, people also would watch entire channels of videos where someone else was eating. And her personal favorite of the "food genre" as she titled these social conventions in her notes: There were entire series where people would cook horribly and others would insult them for it. That should be fun to talk about! 

"Food genre," she wrote in green in on her forearm.

She'd studied Shayna's social media pages to figure out some conversation points and checked to see if she had many "likes" and "followers…" She had several thousands. It was fascinating, to be honest. 

One of her videos was simply Shayna in various high fashion outfits, edited to make it look like she magically changed them, with a song named Touch It playing in the background. It had hundreds of likes and shares. She… was just walking while being rich and pretty and people loved her for that! Grace couldn't help the competitive reflex in her to disregard Shayna's following. She WAS very pretty and super stylish and that seemed to be something that made her worth this attention. Plus… she knew how to make these videos. Grace couldn't really figure it out and it seemed like every app had a different way. She'd have to spend more time figuring out and that felt like more work than she wanted to do, even for likes. 

Besides, she had a love/hate relationship with the concept of increasing numbers. She'd spent her life chasing that, then found out that it wasn't important, only to come home and find that most people would say that they actually do matter. That numbers are good here and it was acceptable to strive to obtain more of them. But, most would also agree that whenever numbers went to people's heads, they could change for the worse.

She didn't want to perform various online challenges for numbers that might overtake her again. She wanted to participate, but she absolutely didn't want to get caught up in spending all of her time chasing clout. She wrote "challenges" on her arm to remind her to ask Shayna what her favorite challenges were and which ones had the highest numbers for her… or whatever, she mentally added, trying not to be a hater. 

Personally, Grace's favorite in Shayna's posts was a video of her from when she was younger and recreated a video called "Chandelier," with nothing but a flesh toned leotard and a bob wig. It was posted with the caption "#FBF to that time I wanted Sia to choose ME. 🙄 Always remember the Haus of Shayn was up on Chandelier before it was a challenge. 😌"

Then there were numerous comments making fun of her for having liked Sia, who is apparently somebody called something called ableist (a word Grace put in her "Vocabulary Research" list) and Shayna replied to them by posting a gif of a lady with the caption, "You know what that is? Growth."

Grace knew that she was missing a ton of information to make these comments make sense. She hadn't gotten accustomed enough to social media to ever understand what the heck was happening in the comments sections, nor to investigate fully. 

The one time she had asked someone if somebody could explain the conversation to her, a person she didn't know had told her that she had Google if she had this app and many people laughed at her expense. She was very pissed off and reflexively insulted the woman's looks before logging off and mentally vowing to never ask for an explanation of anything on the internet again. So, she spent her time scrolling, taking notes for research and liking posts. 

Shayna worked on her hair buns listening to the notifications with a soft smile and a warm face. Whenever she saw how many posts Grace had liked, she'd initially stared at the phone with furrowed eyebrows. If it had been someone else, she'd fear that she was in a scenario like that movie Friend Request, but Grace most likely hadn't been told that you shouldn't spend hours liking all of someone's posts. Also, she had only recently signed up for social media accounts.

In the few times that they'd spoken on the phone, Grace mentioned that she had not even had the internet when she was gone, much less social media or various apps. Shayna told her that she could help her curate her spaces since she was an influencer. 

"What's that? Like you have some control over the social media?"

Shayna laughed lightly, which Grace frowned about, because she didn't understand why that was a laughable question, but Shayna explained, "I help people know what's cool and help uncool things to become cool whenever I pay attention to them. I have a huge following. They're called the Haus of Shayn."

Still leery, Grace asked, "A following? You mean, like a cult?"

To her disappointment, Shayna laughed again and said, "Pretty much, to be honest…" and Grace couldn't tell if she meant that, but soon after, Shayna had to get off of the phone.

Presently, Grace practices in the mirror, with her cult like charisma, "Seriously..  is it a cult? Because I'm gonna be honest with you, my mental is now a No Cult Zone…" *Clears throat, "So… about this" *does finger quotations* "Haus of Shayn…" iiiiiiiit's..  not seriously a cult, yeah? Lol. Cults might SOUND like fun, especially cult leader, but turns out it's super scary…" *Takes a deep breath and chuckles.* "Cults. Am I right…" *Forces back tears and blows air out of herself through her lips, Ppppbbbbrrrrrrr…* "Ugh." *Leans on the vanity table and looks her reflection in the eye, having flashbacks of being in her tape* "I unintentionally started a cult. I'd like to distance myself from anything that might bring me back to who I was at that time and social media feels weirdly triggering…" *Shakes her head and writes* "Do NOT bring up the cult!!!" 

Her cell phone sounded and she jumped, startled and grabbed it. The face flashed the note for an alarm "Time to Go" and she disabled it like she'd been shown, pulled on her brand new gloves, covering her cheat sheet notes on her arms and grabbed the fashionable fanny pack that she recently purchased. 

Her outfit was simple and comfortable. A pastel pink and purple pallet of a halter top and some ombre workout pants with her freshest new pair of sneaks. She even watched a makeup tutorial to pretty her face. She'd gotten a little used to the guards and her parents had promised her that once they saw doubtless proof that she wouldn't wander away again, they would dampen security.

So, she was escorted to the ice cream parlor and whenever she met face to face with Shayna, she suddenly felt intense apprehension. The girl wore a smirk, and that was typically a sign that she was going to insult her in some way, so Grace was prepared to search for something to counter insult her with, but she had nothing. Shayna had become virtually flawless. Her beauty and style were too tier and she had a big following. Shayna was the top girl in this world... "Well well well, look at you bringing fanny packs back in the best way..." Shayna said and then moved in for a hug. Grace exhaled, relieved that no insult came, but immediately felt a catch in her throat when she realized that for some reason, they were greeting with a hug. 

Shayna let go, awkwardly, and apologetically said, "I wasn't sure if a handshake was the right move for us," and laughed a little at herself, a little at Grace's sideeye. "I will not be doing that again, unless we confirm consent." She laughed and poked fun at herself, "Shayna's gay ass always hugging pretty girls!" She'd said it in a voice that made Grace think it was an imitation of something, but Grace didn't know the reference. "My viral video for Pride? You liked it on all of my pages?"

"I don't remember them all, sorry."

Shayna smiled, understandingly, then rocked on the balls of her feet, taking Grace in, "Well. Do you wanna go inside?"

"Yes," Grace allowed Shayna to open the door, looking at her a little suspiciously when she did, but said nothing about it.

Shayna followed, explaining, "So, you might remember Chloe, my homegirl from class. We were looking at this really pretty lady and she started recording me, because it was funny to her. But, she caught me asking this woman if I could hug her because she was very pretty and when she said I could, Chloe screamed that out and that's the clip that I used for my official coming out on my page."

"Coming out?" 

"As... A lesbian?" Shayna said, wondering if Grace had never heard of it before or something. Sure, she was super sheltered before she vanished, but she was definitely old enough to learn about that!" 

"Oh! I didn't know. That's pretty cool." Shayna wouldn't point out that Grace had liked a hoard of posts that were super lesbian of Shayna, because maybe she was just going through liking whatever. Maybe she was playing it cool. Maybe wherever she was, it wasn't a big deal or worth a whole thing where they should discuss it. "I don't think I have ever really thought about it before, but I haven't really been around many people my age in a while, so who knows? Maybe I'm a lesbian too." She smiled.

Shayna's face warmed, but she laughed it off and started talking about the menu. Ultimately, they both decided on milkshakes, but Shayna was way more interested in talking about Grace's life than she was her shake, while Grace seemed to pay super attention to the creamy dessert while casually sneaking looks under her gloves to talk about things. 

At first, Shayna thought she was having some type of nervous energy. Grace Monroe had not been great at people skills when they were young, and whenever she did start talking to others, it was usually pretty mean and/or manipulative, at least to Shayna. She had wondered in the time that Grace was gone if she hadn't just imagined shade because she had frustrations with Grace, or if the girl really had "asked for" her to be such a bully when they were kids. Grace had more money and higher standing, but Shayna had had friends, and having a clique gave her the advantage. Grace began to form a little alliance of her own whenever she'd disappeared. 

The rumor was that her little band of rich misfits went on a little shoplifting journey, one which Shayna TOTALLY would have roasted her for, had she not disappeared right afterwards. Shayna absorbed that group too, in those months that everyone was wondering where she'd been. "So... Wanna talk about what happened to you?" Shayna wondered, cutting off something that Grace was saying about watching people make super ugly cakes.

Grace froze, stared at Shayna with narrowed eyes, then sipped her milkshake slowly. It could have been a truly gifable moment. Afterwards, age smacked her lips together, satisfactory, and asked Shayna, "Us that why you're being nice to me? To find out the mystery of what happened to me?"

Shayna quickly shook her head and waved her arms, "No, no!" Grace wasn't convinced. "I don't know if your mom has told you, but after you left, she talked to me sometimes." Grace raised an eyebrow. Her mom had not told her that. "She thought we had been friends..." Grace scoffed. "She was really sad. I didn't have the heart to tell her..."

"That you went out of your way to make me feel even more lonely that I already was?" Grace hadn't planned to use that tone with her and as soon as she snapped, she quickly flipped a switch and smiled as genuinely as if they were friends, "Well, guess it's good that those days are over!"

Shayna looked miserable and Grace felt bad for having gone off on her, but she said, softly, because she felt like honesty from the start was better than letting something potentially fester. If the train taught her anything, it was that it was better to be honest and lonely than surrounded by others based on lies, "You had everything. Your mom is your biggest fan. Your dad shows up whenever you do well, not just when you've caused trouble. You were always allowed to express yourself in your art and clothes and everything else, and you had friends... But, you still... Liked to take things from me. All I had was dance, and you made me leave." 

Grace didn't know that she still felt this bad about their childhood. This "nice day" was turning out to be anything but and as soon as she finished this milkshake - and make no mistake, she was gonna finish it. It was good as hell - she intended to go home.

"I was insecure," Shayna said. Grace's eyes looked up, though her head was still pointed towards her glass. "I thought that you were supposed to antagonize girls that you liked. To test them and press them, to prep them for you. To at least get their attention on you... Looking back, there was a lotta problematic romances in mainstream media, so I didn't really know better way back when. My dad noticed me acting that way with another girl later and sat me down for a little talk when I was 12. "Do you like it when people do that to you?" He asked. I'm sitting there looking stupid, because of course I didn't like it, so yeah, long story short, why would I treat somebody else in a way that I don't like to be treated with the goal of showing them that I like them?"

Grace slurped the end of her milkshake and folded her arms, *You... Liked me? Like... Lesbian liked me?"

Shayna laughed, but didn't break eye contact, "I mean, yeah. You were the daughter of ICONIQUE Monroe. Your parents weren't overprotective. They didn't monitor you so much. You were just... So independent! And you'd always adapt to stuff really well. You'd do that really goofy little (imitates) mouth sound, which was really cute, but also like funny, and you didn't care what people thought about you..."

"Only I did care." Grace leaned on the table with her elbows and nodded her head, "I cared, because even though my parents neglected me, I was still trained to be mindful of our image. What ambassadors thought, and business owners, politicians and entrepreneurs. I cared what EVERYBODY thought. I  came to get ice cream hoping that maybe I could make friends with you, but instead you laughed at me and talked about me. It hurt." Grace fumed, toon a breath, made "that sound," and then decided, "But, you're not responsible for how I respond to hurt. We're all responsible for ourselves. We were kids, and now we aren't. We know better than we did back then. There's no reason for us to not be able to just... Have a nice day together, as was promised to me."

Shayna smiled, a glimmer in her eyes, "Grace Monroe... You may be the most mature girl I know for that." 

Grace smiled, and held one of her arms with the other, "I don't know about that. Just that.. I hurt the people closest to me before, and I'll always know what it feels like for someone to bit forgive you, whether for stuff that they shouldn't forgive you for, or things that feel like they should. Whether they leave you in peace and just... Can't rectify what happened, or they leave you with irrevocable hatred... I don't like how it feels to not be forgiven, so, that makes it a little easier to forgive. Just like your dad said."

"I mean... He didn't create that concept. It's just the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." 

Grace winced, "I beat the hell out of myself, so I'll just go with more of a... We should be nice to each other and we should be nice to ourselves."

Shayna smiled and reached for Grace's hand, but paused when she caught herself before grabbing it. Grace lifted her fingers to clasp them with hers. "No sweat. I'm totally an affectionate friend."

She wasn't lying. Shayna didn't get any sign that Grace was wanting this to be more than them hanging out, now that they got their past issues out of the way, or at least revisited them, but Grace absolutely got comfortable enough to regularly and casually enter her personal space. Everything from wrapping an arm around her, to holding her hand, to bopping her nose. 

It was just... A nonchalant method of communication for Grace to touch on her. She couldn't tell if Grace ever noticed how she felt whenever it happened. Even IF Grace liked her back (and if Shayna thought she'd gotten over the childhood crush, that went out the window the moment Grace said something smart and confident), Grace was clearly not ready for anything else. She was still learning how the world went and avoiding speaking about her time away. 

But, they were at least actually friends now, and for now, Shayna loved that for them.