Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Hazel was a brand. Where could this story start? That was what I was wondering whenever I decided that our beloved Hazel deserved a story of her own - to be the main character and not simply a regular. To be the star.

We could have given more backstory, perhaps? We touched on her sordid history of abandonment and highlighted the lasting trauma associated with it last time.

We could start with her childhood like we did with Grace and Simon (how they met at age 10 and became instant friends) or we could start up exactly where we all left off..

Hazel is 13 and has launched her very own magazine under New Apex Publishing - a company she is heir of, running the magazine with her best friends Lucy and Lindsay.

She's been officially adopted by Simon, who is newly wedded to Grace (Hazel's adopted mom) and the two also have a 6 month old named Ivory and Grace is 5 months pregnant with their second biokid. No. They didn't waste any time. 

The Monroes' family has not been perfect, but after years of counseling, communication and connection, they're functional as they can be considering the foundations they were built on… (But I won't be retelling all that. It's in the first book). 

This is a new story, with not so new characters. This is still No Train, still Yes Trauma… but it is also New Trauma. And the story begins with a bright young heiress, starting a new business venture in the age of internet and social media. She's been a part of it for half of her life at this point, and internet famous since she was 9. 

With her mother's influencer spaces, dancing and music career, and her father's transition from or rather into movies with his writing and engineering skills… She is on her way to being bigger and brighter than either of them ever were, younger than they were when they did. 

And well, that can do a lot to a person.

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Hazel hated whenever somebody showed up in her space to complain about how kids had taken the “Apex culture” and transformed it into this thing that it wasn’t supposed to be. “The Apex was about friendship and loyalty. We were dedicated to ideals that made us stronger together when we were kids without any good adults in our lives. These new “Apex” kids are just rich kids with better than thou attitudes. I’ll bet none of them have even HAD any issues in life…” 

“What issues in life did you have when you were allegedly a member of the Apex?” She typed out as she took off her denim outfit from the premiere of her magazine while she watched the comments under her entrance video.

The entrance video was amazing. She had about 6 outfit reveals built into her denim number and whenever she did the last one, she walked out onto the stage with Lindsay coming from her left and Lucy coming from her right. They had outfits that were reminiscent of old Destiny’s Child trio looks… but modernized for fashion purposes and Hazel’s hair had been styled to make her look more like Beyoncé. Her inspiration of the night was that she wanted to be like Beyoncé if Beyoncé was Grace’s daughter. That… was not easy instructions, so what her stylist did was give her some versions of various Beyoné looks, but in Hazel’s usual style. Hazel loved it. She said it was perfect. 

She knew that she was privileged and she didn’t feel guilty about it anymore. When she was younger and she first was placed in Grace’s care, it felt wrong. There were so many people in the world who needed things and she had been one of them, so she knew that having a lot of money and support was a gift that most could not claim…

But, she also had grown up on the internet. She saw how people treated her mother, who had always had money, but had never had the emotional and mental support that she needed whenever she was young. Whenever Grace and Simon built the first Apex, they were going through some things that a lot of the fringe Apex folks (the ones who didn’t know them personally but related tangentially to their growing online presence) “Apex fans, not friends” Hazel considered them, that most wouldn’t understand or comprehend. 

The Apex was built upon the concept of Us VS Them. There was a split about 7 years ago or so, where it became a Simon VS Grace, and then whenever Simon and Grace patched things up, in Hazel’s mind, all the Apex was, was a warring fandom. A fandom that revolved around her parents. She inherited these people, unfortunately. They culled out as many as they didn’t want her exposed to as she grew up on the internet, but the following was thousands strong. Hundreds of thousands, even. Hazel had these people following her before she had even gotten all of the details of the ups and downs of her parents.

But, she was a kid. She was young. She had her own personality. Her own likes and dislikes and her own interests. She had parents who cultivated all of these things and trusted her to help them raise her in a way that made her feel comfortable and loved. 

So, yes, in a way the New Apex was a very different thing than whatever the mess that Simon and Grace built was and this grown ass man was holding on to with all of his might. 

Whatever issues that he had whenever he adopted Apex as his personality, she was certain that not only did she probably not share in those, but not even the creators of the original Apex still shared those. They had grown up. They had begun raising kids. They had therapy all the time to handle whatever stuff DID linger from those days. And this guy, with the tagline of “The Apex crawled so that kids could stampede over them and steal their culture,” was definitely still just a fan, as he was here, in her space, uninvited and having a tantrum. 

“Whenever I first found the Apex, my parents were getting a divorce and I had to try to choose between them. The only people who understood me were other people in the Apex and now, all it is are dance videos and money making schemes!”

She sighed. This guy was sad, and she knew that before this night was over, her true fans would tear him to shreds in this very comment section. It wasn’t worth it to her to be cruel to him. At least he didn’t call her mother names or even use swear words against her. This was a sad old guy who didn’t have any real friends to keep him from making choices like this in a kid’s space. 

Instead of one of her mean quips, she told him, “I hate that those things happened to you, and I’m glad that once upon a time, there were people your age in the Apex who made those things easier on you when you were younger. The New Apex definitely also has connections like that among the current fan base. Lindsay, Lucy and Myself are actually real life friends who decided to mold a more kid friendly version of the Apex for my fanbase, which was comprised of people from your day who only followed me because they followed my parents and people from my day, who actually feel as connected to me, I think, as you must’ve felt to one or both of my parents. Their only ties to Apex culture are through me now. But, both of them still have a base and perhaps one or both of those may be more your speed. I’ll include links for you…” 

Before she even had the chance to finish, the guy had already encountered both actual friends of Grace’s  and older members of the old Apex, who were coming down on his ass about coming into this child’s comments to try to antagonize her. Once the other kids got a hold of him, she worried that the guy might have a terrible night. 

That was a huge difference in the New Apex culture too. Grace loved whenever her followers would go after people on her behalf when she was young, especially if it was Simon. And Simon loved to do it. Hazel wasn’t a fan of being mean to people, even when they might deserve it. She usually tried to be respectful in her telling them off and sometimes, tried to even be nice. It was mostly whenever someone said something unkind about her family that she bared her teeth. This wasn’t worth it. Besides, that guy was about to have a TERRIBLE night with the New Apex. 

.

A common misconception that people got about Hazel was that she only had everything that she had because she was a rich lady’s daughter…

That was a huge portion of it. But, Hazel went to school with other rich people’s kids. Hazel lived in a neighborhood with other rich people’s kids. Hazel went on family trips where she rubbed elbows with other rich people’s kids… none of those kids were Hazel Doe, much less Hazel Doe Monroe. Even her closest friends had a very different type of background by the time she put them on to New Apex fame. 

Lucy was the most famous of them, for the longest period of time. This was because Lucy’s parents were well established evangelical Christians whose families had built an empire upon the faith of a large percentage of the American people. 

Before Lucy could speak, she already had two famous preacher grandfathers, a politician father, and a mother who was raised to be the perfect conservative wife, and ventured out to be an award winning writer of books on family values, Christian femininity, and motherhood. 

Her father preached at a megachurch from when he was a boy until his twenties, when he branched out from her grandfather’s, to get into politics. Lucy had been in books, magazines, television programs and movie appearances… all the while never even knowing one thing about the faith system that gave them their daily bread. 

When she started school,  there was a huge national debate online about it that she only learned later. Up to that point, kids in her family had been homeschooled and the private school that she would be attending was run by Catholics. 

Which… in her household was apparently something to cause some type of a panic. Her mother had insisted that Lucy needed to attend private school instead of homeschooling for various purposes, including that she had the light of Christ in her and may lead some of those wayward kids to God by her presence. (Later, Lucy could tell you that her mother wanted to enter into a business venture that she wouldn’t be able to do with homeschooling Lucy, and that getting the private instructors at home was more expensive than she felt Lucy’s education needed to be before hormonal changes). 

So, Lucy went to a private school and there, she met Lindsay… the girl that her mother thought may become her first convert. 

Lucy’s mom couldn’t have been more wrong. Lindsay was raised almost in a completely opposite manner of Lucy. Well… that isn’t completely accurate. She was actually raised with a lot of love, care, and protection, but she was raised to be and think far more independently than her religious friend had. 

Lindsay’s father was a rock and roll star. He went on tours a lot and she had siblings in different places, all over the world, from him alone. Her parents didn’t actually live together, although they had a great relationship and lived co-parenting without many disagreements. 

Lucy and Lindsay hit it off right away. It was one of those opposites attract sort of deals. Neither of the girls knew another kid like her new friend. 

Lucy had a nanny, a stylist, a personal shopper, security detail in certain areas, a father who helped make laws, a mother who was often praised for being a mom. Lindsay barely saw her dad, but whenever he was around, he let her do whatever she wanted. Her mom had way more rules, but wasn’t as present because of work (work that Lindsay couldn’t even tell you that she did) and staff? Lindsay was her own staff when the adults weren’t there. She did her hair, got her outfits ready, chose what food to order, etc. That blew Lucy’s mind. To be able to stay at home by herself at 5? Lucy couldn’t even get out of the car and walk to the school by herself. She got an escort to the door by her driver. 

Meeting Hazel had been fun for them because she was like a blend of their worlds in one person. It wasn’t a private school. Lindsay’s mother yanked her out of that system when she was 6 and some of the older kids were making fun of her because her mother was in pornography.  For what she was paying them, they could have at least kept her daughter from having to learn about that field so early. 

She took Lindsay and placed her in an upscale public school, explaining to her why she never told her about work and having to get the other talk out of the way far earlier than she anticipated. Lucy joined her at the school a year later after she was so depressed without her best friend that her parents determined she may be able to flourish better at the school with her. 

When they were 10, they met Hazel.

Hazel was recently adopted by an influencer who lived in New York and had been a public figure since she was a teenager. Lindsay followed Grace, because she was super pretty and did a lot of fun dances. Lucy wasn’t allowed internet access on her own, back then. She could get on to certain sites with her nanny or her parents, but outside of school, she never heard of social media or influencers. She and Hazel connected over their love of a children’s show and Hazel connected with Lindsay over internet culture. 

Lucy and Lindsay had been friends for years before Hazel stepped in, but she almost immediately got in good with them, especially because their parents did NOT like each other. Hazel provided a compromise that made them able to do more together outside of school and get closer. Lucy’s parents loved that Grace was a very involved parent who provided censorship, nurturing and supervision. (It wasn’t that Lindsay’s parents didn’t, so much as that Lucy’s parents didn’t TRUST their censorship and supervision, given what her mom had done for a living and the fact that her father was famous enough that anyone with internet access could see his wild lifestyle). 

Grace’s music wasn’t scandalous enough to reach their conservative ears, and despite some sexy photos on her social media, she was known as an asexual (to them that read as celibate, at least), and she had a peaceful and wholesome reputation for very natural and organic brands. Plus, her father was a pillar of his community and her mother had been famous for her beauty in an acceptable and classy way. Grace was more “one of them,” in their opinion, than the pornstar and the rocker. 

They allowed Lucy to go over to her home, something that in 5 years they never allowed her to do at Lindsay’s. Lindsay was always welcome to come over, but Lucy wasn’t to go to her home unless they were present. (They didn’t make many appearances there). 

With Hazel, both girls ventured into areas of life that they hadn’t really experienced before… and she was doing the same, because she was new to her life, herself! So, she became the leader, whether she meant to or not, and Simon, much in the same way that he had fashioned a following for Grace when they were young, helped to cultivate it for Hazel. 

.

She knocked on the bedroom door, even though it was open and Simon looked up to see her and waved her inside. He reached for his t shirt. She often wondered about all of his tattoos, but didn’t get very many chances to see them. They were written in the Esmoroth script, in a vivid green color and had a story that she knew was about Grace. In fact, his tattoos had been published as a short story, which she read - The Apology and the Confession by Simon Laurent. But, she didn’t get chances to see it on flesh, as he generally wore personalized t shirts and hoodies. “What’s up?” He wondered, pulling it on. 

“There’s somebody wilding in my comments and I’m nervous about going back online to see how it panned out.” Simon frowned and pulled out his phone. “It’s the entrance post with the caption Baby Yonce Vibes…” He found it and after a few moments, blocked the user from her account, and made an announcement in the replies that he had done so and would do so if anyone else tried it. 

“All taken care of,” he told her. She let out a sigh of relief. “Your mom’s in the nursery.”

“I figured,” she said and sat on the foot of the bed, crossing her legs as she did. “Did you read what that guy said?”

He set his phone on the bed and joined her, placing a foot beneath himself. “Mmmhmm. Didn’t matter. It’s difficult to separate ourselves from people that we used to be, even when we hate the things that we used to be or the things we’ve done. So… I get that it’s probably more of a problem to do whenever you like who you were and you loved your life… But other people’s problems can’t be yours and I won’t let them make them to be. I’m glad that the New Apex doesn’t have the same kind of problems that we did. Don’t ever let that make you feel bad. You’ll have your own trauma to sort through, eventually. The longer that can wait, the better.”

“Why do I have to have my own trauma? Can’t people like… live life without it?” Hazel asked, worried.

“Well… I guess some people might, but it isn’t likely. We’re all fallible beings, surrounded by each other and exposed to others. Statistically, most of us will go through some form of trauma at some point in our lives. At least 70% of people in the country last time I looked into it…”

“Okay, so like 30% of us might be good!” She said, hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“I mean, that’s like a lot, considering how many people exist here.”

“Yes.”

She frowned, “You are not hopeful.”

“I’m… reluctant to prepare for the best. You’ve already had years of serious trauma, Hazel. Some of it you’ve worked through and I want nothing more for you to never have to relive… but I also know that I went through things when I was young that… even though I’ve been working through them, they rise to the surface sometimes. I don’t want you living in fear or anything like that, but I don’t want that stuff to catch you off guard too much. Whenever the old trauma comes back to the surface, at least for me… It almost always feels like new trauma.”

Grace came in, with her locs tied up in a headscarf and a nightie that was tight around her new little baby bump. She was only about 4 months pregnant, so it wasn’t super obvious yet, but she wore a lot of form fitting things, so her clothes were sometimes tight there. “Gonna have to pull my maternity fits out of storage soon,” she announced, then paused when she saw the serious looks on Simon and Hazel’s faces. “Do I wanna know?”

“Some Apex alumnus was having a bitch fit on one of Hazel’s posts,” Simon said.

Grace glared, “I hate them…”

“I took care of it,” he quickly added and reached for her. Grace came over and accepted a seat in his lap. He kissed her collarbone and assured her, “You know I’ll always protect this family.” 

“It’s just one of the reasons why I didn’t want Hazel associated with the Apex,” Grace said, then cupped Hazel’s face, “You okay, Haze? Is there anything that I can do?” Hazel shook her head. She never really liked bothering Grace with any of her things, and certainly whenever she was pregnant, it felt wrong to do. But, Simon had been easier to open up to. Hazel could relate a little more to him as a friend than she could Grace. Sure, Grace had been her friend first and was her friend before she became her mom, but Grace had been her mom longer and had treated her more like a kid than a friend for most of the time. Simon… didn’t really do that so much. He had always treated Hazel like a neighbor, then eventually came to treat her like his child. Grace sometimes was jealous of their bond, but she hadn’t spoken to Hazel about it, and didn’t bother Simon about it often. 

“Just, take care of yourself and this thing,” Hazel poked her softly in the belly button. “That’s the kind of stuff that keeps me upright.” Grace gave her a kiss on the forehead and within moments, Hazel was back in her own bedroom. She got back online and went through her comments. It was a safe space again. She smiled and climbed into bed, going through the rest without incident.

Chapter Text

Hazel had the baby today. The baby was in a onesie that looked like a turtle costume, with their hair pulled forward into a puff in the front of their head. This baby had a ton of hair and it was puffy and thick. Grace and Simon had agreed to consensual parenting, so as long as they couldn’t speak for themself, their parents had decided that decisions such as drastic appearance changes, acknowledgment of gender, and any nonmedical procedures would not take place. Grace had gotten her ears pierced as a baby. It didn’t give her any lasting trauma that she knew of, but she didn’t want to make those types of decisions for Ivory. Her mother had chosen to get Montanus circumcised, and also elected to call him a boy… And when Grace asked, “But, what if Montanus gets older and lets you know that they’re not a boy?”

“Then, I guess we’ll know,” her mother had said. 

“We’re not gonna do that,” Grace told Simon. It didn’t matter to him one way or another. Well, that wasn’t completely true. He did have a lot of notions about gender, but he knew that most of them were simply programming, and he agreed with Grace that it would likely be far more easy for Ivory to figure out who they were without societal pressure, and more importantly, without pressure from them, to be a certain someone or something. 

Ivory’s official birth certificate was marked with an X. Legally acceptable in both New York and California - the two places that the family would go to and from the most. Hazel was in awe that this could be a thing and wondered if she would be able to do the same, but when Grace began to ask her if she felt like she was someone other than a girl, she couldn’t fully answer that. She just felt… like Hazel. She couldn’t explain it, and talking about it made her aware of how she couldn’t explain it, so she dropped the subject. “No rush,” Grace told her. “You can be 50 and still not have it figured out, or you can be 60 before you know for sure. Either way, I just want to make sure that you feel comfortable and safe.” She simply nodded. 

Presently, she looked at her sibling. Skin a few shades darker than her own, but not nearly as dark as Grace’s, even though facially, they matched every single feature of Grace’s face, only smaller. A baby photo of Ivory, was a baby photo of Grace, was a baby photo of Mrs. Monroe. Montanus was the same, though he had gotten his first haircut in time for his first birthday. Hazel pushed Ivory in a stroller as she walked through the store, picking up different things that she placed in a basket at the bottom of the stroller. She got a few looks here and there. She could never tell when they thought they were looking at a 13 year old mother, when they recognized her, when they were just interested in her unique beauty… that was what Grace had called it whenever she was younger and someone called her “ugly.” Simon had… gotten so angry that Hazel became preoccupied with calming him down and distracted from her own issues. Then, she’d overheard Grace quietly fussing at Simon that he had taken over a moment that Hazel needed comfort… and she felt even worse. 

She apologized to Simon for upsetting him, but he insisted that he was the one who should apologize. They went back and forth about it for a bit until Grace entered and they both silenced themselves. She stared at them curiously and they both smiled. Nobody in their household wanted to upset the other, but the person that they wanted upset the least was Grace. 

It wasn’t because she treated them badly when she got upset so much as… both of them felt like she had to be protected. Simon, because he had a history of having hurt her and Hazel because she had a history of having seen her hurt. They just liked when she was on the up and up better than when she was affected by emotions. 

Hazel came to the counter and began to place her things on the counter and pulled out the card to pay. “Hi, I need to see your ID please.” She blinked and glanced at the counter, at her wallet and at the clerk. 

“I’m using my dad’s card. There’s a chip thingy in it and I have a pin.”

“So, your name doesn’t match the card.” It was some type of accusation.

“No. But, we have the same last name… I think I’ve got a school ID on me…” She went through her clutch and Ivory became irritable and started to whine. She bit her lip and glanced at them, “Just a moment,” she said, which seemed to irritate them more, because they began crying. “Okay…” she glanced behind her at the growing line and then asked, “Can we call him? He can tell you I’m authorized to use it..” She had never been asked this question before and now, she was gathering Ivory up in her arms to try to keep them from crying, and she was on the verge of doing so herself. 

A lady behind her said, “I can get this for you.” She looked at the woman. She was not in Grace’s pay grade at all and it felt wrong to ask that of her. 

“No, please. I just… have never been asked this before. Usually, I just come in and use the card with the pin and go,” she wanted to squeeze her shirt, but she was holding the baby. 

The woman behind her told the clerk, “I’ve never been carded here either. I didn’t think that anybody did that anymore.” 

“It’s protocol if there’s a child,” the clerk said, gesturing to Hazel, who clearly was a teenager. 

“But, it’s never happened to me before, either. I’ve shopped here before, plenty of times. This is the only place remotely near our house that has my hair stuff.” She sniffled, now starting to cry. 

The clerk scanned her items and said, “You can try the card.” Hazel entered the information and the purchase went through, as she knew it would. What was even the point of all of that? She was frustrated as she gathered everything and thanked the clerk, out of reflex. It felt like she had simply wanted to embarrass her or give her a hard time. Hazel heard her apologetically tell the next customer, “It’s just that you never know. She could be someone who stole the card…” 

“I had the pin!” Hazel grumbled, putting Ivory back into the stroller. They were still crying, but she knew they would be fine after they got in motion again. But Hazel was still crying by the time they were back to the house. Simon was on set, but Grace was home, so Hazel hoped she was preoccupied. That whole “not wanting to upset her” thing was a little more important than the small incident at the store. 

She collected Ivory and put them on the floor on a baby mat. They were babbling, pretty intensely about something, but she wasn’t responding, like she usually did. Grace came into the room as Hazel was putting things away and immediately began talking to her, “I’ve got the scent samples in for the new baby butters, so help me decide…” She froze and Hazel did too, even though she wasn’t looking at her. She knew that Grace knew something had happened. She tried to fix her face before facing her mother, but Grace had a grave look and asked in a hard voice, “What happened?” Hazel chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “Replay the events,” Grace ordered. 

When Hazel did, Grace grabbed her keys. “Mom…” Hazel pleaded. 

“No, no. I’ve made my decision,” Grace said, collecting the items and verifying that she had the receipt. Hazel sighed and collected Ivory. She put them into the car and got in the passenger’s seat. 

“Which one?” She asked when they walked in, but the lady was already looking in their direction. “Got her,” Grace said and stepped in front of the next person, “I’m sorry about this,” she said then handed Hazel a roll of money. 

Hazel rolled a twenty off and told the next person in line, “For the inconvenience,” and proceeded to do this with everyone in the line. They were all interested in what was happening with the woman who was passing twenties out to cut in line.

“So. You know why I’m here,” Grace said. “I’m not going to be paying someone to make my daughter feel bad. We’re returning it all, thanks.” The clerk looked at the items and then at Hazel who simply handed Grace her roll of money back. Grace snapped her fingers in front of the woman’s face. “Your transaction isn’t with her, Sweetie.” She pushed the purchase closer to the clerk and stared her in the eye the whole time. 

“Well, I’ll have to get my manager to approve…”

“I’ll LOVE that,” Grace said and leaned so close to her that her nose almost touched her. 

The clerk only then seemed worried. What was wrong with this woman? She wasn’t sure, but it scared her, all the same. She picked up a phone and paged a manager over. 

“I’ll have to ring up the next person while we wait…”

“No,” Grace said, then to the person behind her, “Terribly sorry,” and she reached for her roll of cash again to make another round. 

When the manager showed up, she smiled, a very different smile than the one she gave the clerk. “Hi. I’m so sorry to hold up the line, but my daughter was in here earlier, making a purchase, like she’s done many times before, and for some reason that neither of us can comprehend right now, this…” Grace wiggled her fingers towards the clerk as she said, “Person, decided that it was time to implement a store policy that I don’t recall ever being practiced here.” 

He nodded and called another cashier up to the front. A few people went to the two opening lines, but a few stayed, to be nosy. Grace went on to say, “The problem isn’t your policy, if that is your policy, but that you haven’t been enforcing it, so my daughter was in a position to be embarrassed when she tried to buy these things and I do not want them, now.” 

“What policy is this about,” the manager asked the clerk.

“She was by herself and she said that she had her dad’s card, and her name wasn’t on it.”

“Well, you asked me for an ID, and that’s when I told you it was my dad’s card,” Hazel corrected. 

“Her dad is on set today, and I am pregnant, so I haven’t been out and about, as much. She comes here because she can walk here and back home without getting too tired or things getting spoiled on the walk. We’ve come here for months.” The manager slid the clerk out of the way, but she stayed nearby as he began the return. “Do you have one of those systems where you can look into the system to see what purchases have been made with the cards?”

“Yes, we can…” 

“Oh, great. I would like to explore that,” Grace said. “I’d like to put a little estimate of how much business in the future you won’t be getting from our family.” The manager looked like he didn’t know what to say to that, while the clerk rolled her eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, but I bet you won’t step outside with that attitude.” The woman gasped and glanced at her manager. “What do you think he’s gonna do about it? Not control what I say. I’m not as easy to intimidate as my child.” 

“Miss Monroe…” The manager said, “I have your return all ready, and we will be dealing with any issues.”

“I mean, for the future guests certainly, but not for me.” 

“We really would like to keep your business..”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m sure she needs this job more than we need these purchases,” Grace said. “This is what bugs me though. You still haven’t confirmed or denied the policy or explained where the mistake was made - in all the previous purchases we made, or with this person.”

“Well. We usually don’t ask for ID unless there is an issue, like the pin fails or something.” 

“Okay, so why did she ask?” Grace wondered. The manager and Grace both looked at the woman.

“It seemed like a suspicious purchase.” All of them looked at the supplies. It was mostly toiletries, tea, and treats. “She was a kid, by herself, with a baby, and”

“Kids aren’t allowed to bring their siblings in here?” Grace asked.

“She thought Ivory was my baby,” Hazel said.

“And if they were, are teenage mothers not allowed in here?” The clerk was getting flustered. “No, no. I truly want an answer as to why my daughter was doing something completely harmless and had to be made to feel bad, when there was no policy.” The woman folded her arms, but didn’t have a response. “Let me tell you what I think happened. I think that you looked at this brown girl, with a brown baby and you assumed, not only that she didn’t belong here, but that if she did, you needed to knock her down a peg for nothing.”

“This wasn’t about race. She looks pretty much white.”

“You’s a goddamn lie,” Grace said. Everybody who had been in the line, except for the person right behind them, had gone to other checkouts. “IF you thought she was white, you know that she is white plus something, and to you, that meant suspicious. But, you won’t have that problem with us anymore. We won’t be coming in here. Not her, not me, not my husband. Did you pull up the numbers from the past few months?” she asked the manager. He nodded. “Okay.” She put the card into the machine. “Just so we’re clear.” She muttered as she tried the pin. “Lucky I didn't pull my product off these shelves… Haze. What’s Dad’s pin?” Hazel reached in to put in the number, and Grace explained, “I have pregnancy brain, and my own cards.”

“Refund is administered,” the manager said, grabbing the receipt to hand to Grace. 

“Thank you so much,” Grace said and pulled a bill from her roll to hand him.

“Just doing my job,” he said, turning it down. She looked the clerk up and down and put an arm around Hazel to guide her out of the store. They both were staring the clerk down on their way out and flipped their hair back at the same time when they made it to the door. Grace’s locs. Hazel’s floof. She remembered to hold her head up.

Grace had always told her to hold her head up when she walked away from a battle, win or lose, and that was something like a victory. 

Hazel could hear the clerk getting chastised and she felt a little guilty that it pleased her. “Do you know what happened there?” Grace asked.

“You went in there throwing money around to let that lady know you're not the one?” 

Grace smirked, “That’s part of it. I always hated whenever you’d watch a movie or a show and they’d show you some judgy person treating the minority character less than and their response is to show off by making a big purchase, just to prove they can. I will not be doing that. If I’m going to waste my money to prove a point, I’m going to do it with everybody BUT the bitch I’m teaching a lesson. Aside from the manager, everybody got a cut, except for that person, and that felt far more fulfilling to me than proving I have it by buying more. Plus, all the shops have some kind of way to check the sales to a card. They know what they won’t be seeing with my departure. So much better to me, that what my mom used to do, declaring loudly that she’s spent so much money and never will again. That sounds like peacocking. No. Make them look at those numbers before you let them know that they won’t be seeing that kind of money, from you, at least.” 

“You are… beautifully diabolical,” Hazel said, laughing. “I thought Dad was the brains.”

“Oh, he is! But, things like this, it’s better to not tell him. Remember the M slur incident?” 

Hazel laughed, “Um, what do you mean “remember?” He’s STILL big mad whenever he sees that kid.” She remembered well the day that she learned that if somebody called her a “mutt,” they meant for it to insult her. “I wonder what he would have done with an adult, though. Like. For the same thing, not this thing, which was sort of… I don’t know… questionable. She could have just been really tightbutt.”
“Ummm… Well… I forgot my card one time and he was extremely aggressive with the person behind the counter, and the time that he witnessed somebody call me a slur…” Her mind went somewhere else. Hazel stared at her until she came out of that thought and looked at her again, “I’ll… tell him this is handled.”

“Do you think he would have gotten physical with her like that guy that scared us that time?”

Grace opened her mouth and shut it several times. “I think that you’re used to bringing your problems to him, but you really should bring the irl ones to me.”

“I mean… He’s better behaved than he used to be, though, right.”

“Yes, but. Let’s not like… test it.”

“You’re the one who set the precedent for violence though, right?” 

“Yeah, and I almost set another one on that bitch,” Grace said. Hazel shook her head. “Seriously, Haze. Any time that you feel like somebody is doing something to you that feels wrong, but you don’t know exactly what is happening, I am going to trust that it's a microaggression and not your imagination, every time. Just come to me. I know that you and Dad think I shouldn’t be the one to come to, which… is beyond me, because Simon is obviously the one of us that is going to still punch somebody in the mouth today.”

“I just… don’t understand. Why would that woman want to do a microaggression on me? I don’t know her, and I wasn’t rude or anything. I’m like… I don't have a good way to say it… I’m nice to people and I don’t start trouble or anything.”

“That doesn’t matter to people who hate you for no reason, and this world is full of them. I know that you don’t like to do it, but that was one of the reasons that I was raised to say my full name and who my family was when I was little. Your grandparents thought that it might be a little bit bigger of a shield than some of the other few Black kids in our area would have. You are a hundred times more popular than I was at your age. It… just isn’t that much of a shield to know who you came from, or even your behavior. Some people are going to try to hurt you or at least humble you just because they don’t think you have a right to be who you are.”

“Is it goofy that whenever people reject me offhand like that, I think for a moment that it’s something about me? I mean, even my bio parents…” 

“Missed out on you,” Grace said and kissed her on the temple. 

.

Whenever Simon came in, it was pretty late. Grace was laying down, eating dried fruit and working on some music. “Hey, Gray Eyes.” He warmed at the sound of that name and grabbed his night clothes that were already sitting on the foot of his side of the bed to take into the bathroom and get washed up. By the time he came back, she had set her computer aside and was sitting cross legged on the bed, obviously waiting for him. “How was your day?”

“Not as eventful as yours,” he said.

“That can’t be true.” He smirked and sat across from her. “What the heck did Hazel say? I told her I’d talk to you.” 

“She did a story time.”

“Did she make me sound heroic and justified? Because I was.”

He smiled and reached for her hands. “Are you okay?”

“People never think about how their actions can affect others. The chick at the store, with her one tiny little thought had Hazel not only crying from the shame of not knowing what was wrong or why it felt bad, but then it brought her back to feelings about her bio parents and how they didn’t want her.”

His eyes widened, “That’s quite a leap from a lady being a bitch at the store.”

“Well, not for Hazel it isn’t. It was a tiptoe through the tulips and I wanted to drag that woman out of the store by her split ends and throw her on the ground for doing that to my baby.” He pulled her to himself and she rested on his shoulder. “I love that I can tell you when I want to do bodily harm without any type of judgment.”

“I love when you want to do bodily harm,” he replied. It made her laugh. 

After a moment, she said, “I was thinking about the pumpkin patch earlier. I know that Hazel might remember that the guy tried to sue us, but she didn’t know the details and stuff… that woman even brought me back to that night, to that feeling.” Simon tensed in her arms and she rubbed his back. “I just wish people would think things through sometimes.”

“Did she get fired?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. She got fussed at, but I don’t even know if I want her fired. I just wanted to embarrass her because she embarrassed Hazel. I would have handed everybody in that store money if it meant that she would feel as low as she made Haze feel.”

“So thoughtful. I probably would have just gone with the split ends thing.” Grace laughed again, this time lightly and within a few moments, she was asleep on his shoulder and he had to lay her down and unfold her legs. 

He went to check on Hazel, but she was in bed, with her bonnet on, asleep with her phone in her hands and Samantha on her belly. He took her phone and put it on the charger. 

He went to check on Ivory. They were wide awake, babbling. He didn’t know if it was best to leave them to it and let them talk themself to sleep or go say hi. “Dadadadadadadadadadada…” They chanted. He was going to go say hi. Their excitement when he peeked over the side of the crib made him excited to pick them up and bring them with him into the kitchen to eat and then to the couch. 

When he eventually fell asleep, the baby was still awake and babbling to nobody. But, they would be asleep by the time he awoke some time in the middle of the night to put them back into their crib and to climb into his own bed. 

Simon smiled and wrapped an arm around Grace, resting his hand on her belly and his face in her hair. 

Chapter Text

Simon had already made the schedule for the next few years of working on his movie. His Esmoroth Trilogy was going to become a movie franchise and since he began working on it, he decided that instead of trying to have a day job and then do this, his attention would be focused on the movies and he would work on set with every department, extremely hands-on with it and also put his MIT degree into use for machinery and sets. 

Esmoroth had not only been a love letter to Grace, but it had been his first baby. She wrote th foreword that was supposed to be in the first book. He hadn’t used it, but he had kept it. It remained in his years of pain storage that he had not yet unpacked fully. She also wrote the foreword in the third book:

"Whenever I first saw Simon, he was the loneliest kid in socks and sandals that you could imagine. He was being bullied, and I looked into his gray eyes and thought to myself, he needs a warrior. He needs rescue. He needs a champion. I became that. 

He became mine. My general, my campaign director, my most valued friend. Much like the royal insurrection of Esmoroth, Simon and I, were not always who each other needed. 

But right now, as he finishes this journey and Esmoroth comes under the rule that will finally, hopefully, bring peace…

Just know that he has my everything. Everything I want. Everything I need. Everything I love. From the shores of Earth, across the galaxies of all imagination, to the very ends of Esmoroth, I trust him with my life. 

I've read a lot of books, but nothing has ever affected me like the Trials of Esmoroth, and thus final installment only makes me wish that the tale could last forever…"

He had gotten her to sign his first copy of it in print when it came in. She signed it with, "As true today, as it is forever. Love you, Gray Eyes. Proudly Your Idol Princess and True Queen, Grace." and she had drawn an infinity sign around her signature to embellish. 

This was something that Simon kept in a safe place at all times, but he had framed copies in his main spaces - his trailer on the set, his workspace at the studio, his home office, and his vehicle. 

It was comforting to have her be a part of his dream this way. There had been a time when he thought that he would never so much as see a smile from her again, and now she was his partner in everything. They were a team again. 

He was scrolling through social media whenever he saw someone use a gif of Grace with the caption "Boy I know the real you." He tensed up. 

It was from a music video that Grace, Shayna, and Hazel had done whenever he and Grace were enemies. Who TF was using that OLD ASS reaction gif? He wondered, then smacked his teeth. It was one of Hazel’s friends. These kids don't even know the origin of gifs and memes they use.

He saw Hazel’s comment appear: Delete this IMMEDIATELY please! My dad will be upset.

The gif went away. Simon felt simultaneously pleased, but also anxious that Hazel felt tge need to try to protect him, especially from something that was his own fault. When Grace made that, he had been awful to her… He clenched his fists, shut his eyes, and envisioned his perfect world.

He was on the shores of Esmoroth, watching the waters rage with a storm, wild enough to wash Esmoroth away, wide enough to destroy everyone in the lands. The Void! He panicked. But from the water rose a behemoth. A queen, as grand as Lady Liberty, with a halo crown and nothing but jewelry adorning her perfect, brown skin. The storm calmed and The Void was swallowed up by the goddess. As it faded, she was there, standing on the water, smiling at him with her arms open. Grace. He rushed across the water into her arms.

Simon opened his eyes and immediately made note of this daydream in his journal under "Meditation Daydreams," in case he needed to talk to his therapist about it later. 

He messaged Hazel to remind her that she didn't have to try to protect him, to which he immediately replied, "Man, shut up." He smiled to himself and put his phone away, kissed two of his fingertips and placed them on a family photo in his workspace before returning to the set for work. 

.

Hazel hadn't even given the name of the store or the cashier's name, but a collective of investigating stans somehow figured out the store and began to FLOOD their social media with complaints. 

"DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO HAZEL DOE IS???" And, "I will NEVER shop at your racist establishment!" Etc. She hadn't even suggested that the clerk WAS racist. She simply told the story about the incident and Grace's reaction.

When she saw the sleuth conversation about how "Haze said that she walked, so we know it's probably within this area, because she's usually in this area when she's at her Cali home…" HOW did they know? She kept the location off at all times. Simon insisted upon it. He was extremely careful and had a lot of rules to prevent people from finding out where they were! 

"Well, in the photo where she's excited that Grace's brand is in their "go to" shop, the tags on the label say it's this store."

"There are 3 in the area.."

"This is the main site, but it is probably the one on this street because that is the one that beauty bloggers have been spotted in and Haze probably lives in an area with big influencers like her mom…" "Etc." "So on…" "So forth…" 

She clutched her shirt in both fists as she watched the melee. "Please don't. Please don't. Please don't…" she whispered to herself, shaking her head. "Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut," she heard herself say. She held her breath as she turned to see this distorted image of herself, some sort of monster, made of Hazel and turtle. She opened her mouth to scream, but it caught in her throat. "Right. You just shut up, before you make things even harder. You'll only upset Grace." Hazel sniffled. Turtle Hazel was right. "Let me come protect you. I can just slide into your body and then you'll have my shell again. I always held you when you weren't enough for the world. Do you really think that you're so brave that you've outgrown me?" 

Hazel stood up and reached for the rose quartz turtle on her hazel tree essential crystals holder. 

"I can be brave. I haven't done anything wrong. I am enough. I am loved. I AM brave…" she said to her reflection. In her peripheral, Turtle Hazel vanished. Hazel kissed her crystal turtle, whispered, "Thank you," and replaced it. Then, she simply logged off and put her devices away. 

When she went into the living room, Grace had all of the makings of a content video set up. "Are you doing a video today?" Hazel asked reflexively reaching for her phone to check the merged schedules, then realizing she didn't have it. 

"I'm going to try giving "Pregnant Pole Dancing Plus One" a try. I was able to pole dance all the way up to Ivory's birth and quickly recovered from it afterwards. But I haven't yet attempted to pole dance with them while I'm pregnant with this one." 

"This seems risky for all three of you," Hazel commented. 

"One thing I definitely have is motherly instincts and warrior-like reflexes. If something goes wrong, I'm sure we'll be okay, and I'm positive Ivory will."

"Okay. Well. Promise or I'm calling Dad." She reached for her absent phone again. Dang it! 

"Your dad doesn't run me," Grace said, continuing her set up. "And there's padding around the pole on the floor. How high up do you think I would go on a test run?" Grace laughed a little. 

Hazel sat on the couch, sans phone and eyed the set up, scrutinizing it to the best of her ability, in case something happened. “I still feel like I should tell him..”

“Well, you can’t. He’s working, and you can’t bother him with his greatest fear in the world.”

“His greatest fear in the world is losing you again, and that’s hardly what this is.” Hazel noted a change in Grace’s demeanor. It was like some type of dread had suddenly come over her. Hazel froze and felt Turtle Hazel hovering behind herself. That NEED to climb into her shell. “Mom?” 

Grace turned her head to look at Hazel and her expression was one of confusion. “You know, Haze… I think I will try it out first with something that’s Ivory’s size and weight, to be certain. No need to risk something happening. Simon couldn’t take that. He would hate me forever.”

Hazel scoffed and watched as Grace gathered up Ivory and sang, “Let’s see how much you weigh, Little Tusk.” She left the room. 

Hazel sat there, puzzled. What? 

One thing about both Simon and Hazel (and definitely a thing that she picked up from Simon), was that they kept written records of things. Or in her case, drawn. They both enjoyed drawing too, but while Simon usually drew and wrote, sometimes, Hazel simply had doodles and they served as notes. She flipped through her journal of Simon reminders until she reached the baby notes. 

More than a few times, Simon had gotten bothered by the idea of leaving Ivory alone with Hazel, and after Grace’s weird reaction and checking the notes, she couldn’t believe that she had forgotten. She had entire pages stitched together concerning this. “The Hope Trigger.” She had put onto a gravestone and collected every note and entry from every other journal that she had prior to that and placed them in this section. She had not ever really looked into this, but she had been told and reminded whenever needed that Simon had this particular trigger. 

Now, she wanted to investigate, because not doing so must have been how this slipped her mind. 

First, she went to find news articles, but the news used to be kinda cool in that they didn’t do things like tell you a kid’s name if the kid accidentally killed their sibling. You had to deep dive to find that, if it was possible. She found a few things that spoke about Hope Laurent’s death, but none about Simon. She was sure that Grace had mentioned that she looked this up before, but she didn’t want to ask her what she looked up to find it, in case it caused problems that she was looking into things. But. Then, she remembered that Mr. Laurent was very much still into memorializing his daughter. (She didn’t call him her grandfather. It just would feel weird, even though he was Simon’s dad.) On his page, she found out a lot. 

He had a shrine in his workroom. It reminded Hazel of Simon’s workspaces, but his were adorned with the living - artwork, models, photos, and renderings of Grace, Hazel, and Ivory, sometimes gifts from them or awards. Nothing with the dead. She wasn’t sure if Simon had a photo of Hope anywhere. Meanwhile, Mr. Laurent had photos of the girl from infancy until, presumably, her death. He made models and dedicated them to her - ships and planes donning her name in his showroom, and angelic figurines in his garden that could pass for the likeness of her. This fascinated Hazel. She didn’t wonder often, but she couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if there was someone in this world who missed her like that.

Did her parents mourn losing her? Did they give her up on purpose? Maybe, she wasn’t abandoned and they planned to come back but lost track of time… she wondered sometimes, even if it made her feel stupid. 

Hazel abandoned her computer to find an empty journal. She had plenty - even more than the various ones that she had in use. She decided on one with a plain cover and skipped the first few pages for tentative artwork, a title page, and maybe an intro. There was no telling if this would become something to build upon. On the first page, she wrote at the top: A Daddy and His Daughter…  she tapped her pen against the pad as she continued to browse Mr. Laurent’s dedication to Hope, then added: Notes. 

She began to draw the angels in Mr. Laurent’s garden as she listened to a dedication that he had made for Hope’s last birthday. He had one for every birthday, it seemed. She wasn’t sure if she would look into that, but one unconscious thing happened when she made the decision to study about Simon’s Hope Trigger… she was not dueling with the return of her turtle. She wasn’t even thinking about it.

By the time she got up to check on what everybody else was doing, she found Grace in the kitchen, getting out Simon’s meal preps, made specifically to spare them all her cooking. Ivory was seated with a breast-shaped bottle made to match Grace’s skin tone… one of Hazel’s least favorite of the baby products in Ivory’s First Co, but one that she guessed she could see the usage for. Samantha was at the door, looking up at it, waiting for her daddy to get home. “Do you need any help?” Hazel asked. Grace was focusing very intently on the instructions card and didn’t seem to hear her. “I’ve got it,” Hazel offered, and took the card to start getting dinner ready.

“Oh! Good. Simon must have been in a rush when he wrote that. I know that I can regularly read his writing. He writes very neatly.” Grace moved to her favorite portion of dinner - making drinks. That, she was good at. If it were a natural beauty product, a smoothie, or a drink - she belonged in the kitchen. “I’ve found a pumpkin cocktail in Grammy’s book. I’m gonna work on that. I think it would be good for this meal. And if not, I have sangria sodas and tangerine juice in the fridge.”

“Is it non-alcoholic?”

“Now. Why would I serve alcohol when none of us drink?”

“You wouldn’t. But, you aren’t good at switching an alcoholic beverage to a good tasting non-alcoholic beverage.”

Grace stared at her, “This is straight up slander.”

“Are you forgetting egg nog gate?”

“Egg nog is just nasty, period!” Grace fussed.

“Simon doesn’t think so, and he hated yours.”

“Hated?”

“He didn’t use the word, but he used the face. You know he’s not gonna just say it!”

“That was so different! It was Dad’s recipe! Dad has like… magical herbs and stuff and, man, shut up. You don’t have to drink it like I said!” Hazel laughed but studied Grace’s frustrated profile. Was she actually upset with her, or was she just concentrating? If sh asked, and Grace wasn’t upset, she would look silly and insecure. There was something about being in California that made Hazel a lot more aware of the concept of looking silly. Grace blew some air through her lips - a habit she had all her life, and then admitted, “Maybe I should give it a rest. Like I said, we do have drinks in the fridge..”

Hazel quickly interjected, “No, I’m sure the pumpkin thing will be delish!”

Grace gave her a resigned smile, but she was already putting things away. “Haze, you don’t need to backtrack. You were right. We’ll probably find something else to do with these ingredients.”

This was the second time today that Hazel had made Grace rethink her decision. It was bothering Hazel. Was she worried that something was going wrong with them? Could she sense the turtle lurking around Hazel? Was she appeasing her like she used to (and still did sometimes) appease Simon? Had Hazel made her feel like she had to?

“When you’re pregnant, everything can be a reason not to do anything,” Grace said with a giggle. Maybe it was just that? There was a low laughter in the distance. Hazel turned around to try to figure out where it was coming from. It seemed to be from beneath the couch. She saw two green eyes staring from under there and she reflexively grabbed Grace, who yelped at the action. “Haze?” She noted that Hazel looked shaken. 

“I… thought I saw something under the couch,” Hazel sort of confessed. Grace clenched Hazel, put her behind herself and reached for a kitchen knife. “Mom..”

“Shh shh shh…” Grace said and held her back with one hand. She went to the couch and in Hazel’s mind, she imagined Grace being accosted by a turtle girl. She pushed that thought away. She was the only person who could see that thing, she was sure of that. It didn’t ease her anxiety as Grace reached the couch, and kicked it hard with one of her legs. “SHIT!” Grace hissed and swung the knife.

“MOM?” Hazel called rushing in behind her, hearing more hissing and seeing blood. A snake. There had been a snake in the house. 

Grace took a breath and checked her arms. “HA! You didn’t get me!” she cheered and stomped on it. Hazel cringed. Grace was winded as she told Hazel, “We’ll lt dad clean this up, but don’t tell him it was me. I’ll take care of that, okay?” 

“Okay.” Hazel looked at the bloodied stump of a creature, sadly. There was something so sobering about seeing a dad animal, and even though she thought it was her mind attacking her, she couldn’t help but feel bad for noticing it and siccing her mom on the little guy. 

“I know that I try to be very nonviolent, but I just… reflexively needed to handle it by the time I uncovered it. If it were something that I could safely pick up and throw outside, I would have. Too much can go wrong if a snake bites a pregnant woman and I had already startled him when I moved the couch. I’m sorry that you had to see that.”

Hazel nodded her head, tears falling down her face. 

Simon walked in at the perfect time. Grace hugging Hazel, a knife in hand, a bloody, butchered snake on the floor, Ivory feeding themself, unphased in the last bit. 

“What the hell did I walk in on?” 

“Possibly the chance at figuring out if we have any good recipes to try out snake meat?” Grace joked and put the knife away. She and Hazel realized at the same time that he was assessing the scene and figuring out what happened. 

“Grace, you killed this snake?”

“It scared Hazel and then I accidentally scared it. There weren’t many options-” He was checking her arms. “I’m fine. It didn’t bite me.”

“It didn’t knick you or maybe even scratch you are anything?”

“No!”

“Well, what if it had something on it? I just. I will feel better if we take you to get checked.”

“Dinner’s not read..”

“Hazel can handle that, right Hazel?”

“Yes.” Simon collected the baby and pulled Grace towards the door. 

“I have to go in my snake blood outfit???”

“Grace… what if there’s something IN the blood that can make you or the baby ill? We don’t have time for this!” He fussed. She sighed, annoyed, but understanding that they would only argue if she tried anything. “Hazel, eat without us. We don’t know how long it’ll take.” 

“Okay.”

Grace gave Hazel a sad look as the door shut and Hazel could hear them bickering about him overreacting. One thing nobody mentioned - the fact that they hadn’t left Ivory alone with her, but they had left her alone. 

She heard the low laughter again and noticed the turtle Hazel hovering above the snake. “Wonder if we could find any good recipes to try out snake meat…” Hazel grabbed the knife swung it around towards the turtle to make it dissipate, then grabbed the snake from the floor to put it away and clean up. If she kept busy and tried not to worry, she wouldn’t see that monster. So, that’s what she tasked herself with doing until her family got back. 

Chapter Text

My dad is what he and I have lovingly labeled a "critical overthinker." If it sounds redundant, trust me it isn't. It's a mashup. He thinks he is a critical thinker. I think he is an overthinker. Mom says, "Both of you are right!" (Mainly to get two Earth signs to shut up, as no Earth sign ever thinks they're wrong.) So. Critical Overthinker. If you pay as much attention to anybody as I do my parents, you see all there is to see. Simon will be silent, observing everything around him, assessing, and analyzing. Yes, people too. Reading them to see what may happen next.

There are literally two people alive he doesn't do this to. One is the love of his life. He's been through so much with her, when he looks at her, all he has is admiration. He knows her. He doesn't need to study and analyze her to know what may happen next. They are one.

The second is my baby sibling. They're a baby. They have no motives. They have no intricate things to do or say. He gets to just admire them too. Grace and the baby, his sure things. But me? I have to tell him how I'm feeling. Even if he has a pretty good idea (and he's usually accurate), he still has to... assess something when he looks at me. He still has to weigh out what to do next when we interact. He thinks he loves all of us the same. But... I think... the way that he looks at them and the way he looks at me is noticeably different. And I'm always noticing everything they all do…

Hazel researched “How to prepare a snake to eat…” first out of curiosity, but then she felt like she was learning a new skill and giving herself a new challenge, so she decided to do it. It wasn’t a huge snake, but it was something that she saw her mother hunt, and it felt wrong just to toss it out. Its life could at least mean something more than slithering into the wrong woman’s house and meeting its demise. 

Simon generally prepped meats and sides, but usually not specific meals. Just… things that could complement each other if mixed and matched. Everything was separate, and usually lasted about a week or so, if not used up. Everything that wasn’t used would be composted for landscaping and gardening. 

What sides go with snake meat? It didn’t surprise her that snake meat didn’t seem to be very popular, and suggestions were to let it soak in buttermilk overnight to tenderize it, after skinning and cleaning. “I can do that…” They had buttermilk. Grace generally had the stuff in droves when she was breastfeeding and pregnant. After labeling the snake and cleaning her hands, she made herself a meal from the prepared foods and group chatted with her friends while she ate. Time passed. Nobody updated her. After a while, she had an incoming call from “Momager.” 

“This is Hazel!” She cheered. 

“Hey. We’re on our way home. You ate already, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m STARVING, and we’re gonna call in steaks to pick up. You want anything? Dessert? Or something for tomorrow, or a late night snack?” Overcompensating . It obviously only just occurred to her how long they had left Hazel in the dark.

“Yeah. Desert sounds good. We can at least have one course together.” There was a pause.

Grace’s voice returned smaller, “I’ll love that. Thank you, Hazel.” She felt bad. She hadn’t used any particularly mean tone, but she knew that Grace would gather the subtext of her words. They didn’t have dinner with her. She ate alone while they were somewhere else, as a family. Without her. Hazel hung up and got up to try to make sure that nothing was out of place when her family returned.

.

“Well, she’s pissed,” Grace said after the call disconnected. “I’m just making everybody I love happy tonight.” Simon raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, but didn’t reply. “We should have brought her with us.”

“She’s a teenage girl. She doesn’t want to be stuck for possibly hours in a hospital, waiting on news that we have the technology to text her about immediately,” he said, as though it were obvious. 

“Yeah, but she wanted to be included.”

“She said that?”

“She didn’t have to!” Grace snapped. Simon’s fists tightened on the steering wheel and Grace sighed. “Sorry.” He shrugged, but she saw the tension leave his features once he heard her apology. “I feel like for a moment, I thought I was magical. I felt powerful, like I used to. I thought that I could be the hero to Hazel that I was to you when we were her age. I made you think I was a queen. All I did was traumatize her and then leave her in the house with the corpse of my silly little battle. You used to swoon when I was brave for you. Hazel cried, and even you weren’t impressed..” He pulled the car over and took a deep breath. “Is it bad that for a moment I wanted to be that version of myself again? That I instinctually responded to danger and I loved the rush of both the violence and the victory? I haven't hopped to action like that in a long time and it just came back to me. Just to be met with disappointment, all around." 

She dared a look at Simon, who’d been staring at her since he pulled over. Her eyes were damp and her bottom lip fought off a quiver. 

“Hazel is not the same kind of kid as me, or you were at that age.Thanks, mostly to you, and some to me, she doesn’t have to be. It’s good that she feels more compassion than either of us did. That’s a sign that she’s been given more.” He reached for Grace’s hand, “There’s nothing wrong with you wanting to be who you were, or with you behaving a certain way to protect our family. And I would be a hypocrite if I said that just because we’re no longer exactly the same that we have to be completely different. Do you know how much I think about some of the things that I’ve done for you? And compared to now, sometimes, I feel like I’m failing. The way that you looked at me that night in the pumpkin patch? It’s burned into my memory. Any time you look at me remotely like that, I fantasize about that night. I always want to be who I was for you at that time.”

She sniffled and squeezed his hand. “That Simon worshipped my power. He would have thought it was so cool that I slayed a snake.” 

“This Simon does too! Just the thought of you lunging at a potential threat and neutralizing it is so very hot!”

“You started fussing at me the moment you put together what I had done!”

“Panicking, Grace. I started panicking in that moment, and I explained why. You moved a couch and interacted with a potentially dangerous creature, while pregnant! Now that we’ve gotten past it and I know you’re okay, I absolutely am stanning my wife, the snake slayer." She was on the verge of a smile. He cradled her hand to himself and elaborated, "You use your power in other ways. You don't have to attack our problems anymore, but if you do.. of course I'll still enjoy it. If it seems like I look at you any differently than I used to, it’s because back then, I wanted you, and right now, I have you.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “It was cool to have a beast of a best friend that made me feel safe every moment we were together and go home and dream about all the ways that I wanted you. But, to clear up any confusion, when I leave the house, I leave it knowing that I get to come home to you. When I come home to you, I get to come home to a home that I built with the only woman I have ever loved. I still worship your power, but now I don't have to dream that you're mine. I don’t have to write fantasy, because if nothing else in this world is real, I know that having you definitely is. If you think that for one moment I take that for granted, maybe I should amp up my appreciation again. The only reason I've tampered with it is because you trained me to.”

She whimpered and shook her head. Maybe Hazel wasn’t fond of her passionate protectiveness, but Simon, at least, still was. “We are the poison,” Grace said, remembering something that Simon told her when he wanted her back.

He nodded in agreement and added, “We’re also the antidote.” 

.

  They bonded closer. Hazel noted, watching her parents during dessert. I should confront them. I deserve comfort… But, she didn’t say anything. 

When they came in, Grace cheered, “Hazel! Dessert has arrived!” Simon was right behind her, holding Ivory. 

Hazel was on the couch, with one of her journals on her lap and her phone next to her on the coffee table. It was a ruse. She hadn't written a single thing in her journal since earlier when she marked the date and made drawings of the snake, and she'd checked her phone so many times, she might as well had it in her lap. But she wanted to create the illusion of being okay. 

She had fought for the right for Grace to allow her room to breathe. "So," Hazel said, locking her journal, "Only a snake was harmed in the making of tonight?" 

"Baby and Mommy are fine, as I presumed," Grace said. 

"And Ivory's fine too. Looks like everybody's all fine," Hazel said. Grace and Simon exchanged looks, but said nothing. Hazel thought about giving them a piece of her mind there. Why hadn't they left Ivory with her? Did he really think at her age she could accidentally harm the baby? Did he think she could get frustrated and purposely do something to them?

She could take care of them. Simon’s instinct had been to take the baby along, but not her. Did he not need his entire family in times of distress or was that a subconscious sign that he was seeing her less as family now that he had biological children to think about? Maybe he never wanted her. Maybe he just was doing a long con to win Grace back and start a real family with her.. "Are you good, Haze?" Grace asked, bracing herself on Simon’s elbow for whatever Hazel would say. They watched as Hazel’s eyes traced Grace’s body language and Simon's unreadable face. She didn't want to pick a fight. The night had been stressful enough, and like always - unlike all of her parents before them - Grace and Simon at least came back for her. 

"I'm fine," she said. They're home. We're together. "I'm good," she corrected. It was just a misstep or a misunderstanding. Nobody is perfect. "Everything's good." They still want you. They still love you. "I'm glad everything's good." They still *left* you , the turtle girl said to her, somewhere in the back of her mind.

Grace came over and collected her in a hug. "Hazel, I am so sorry about how I reacted to that snake in front of you. I know that was scary and I hope you know that I just wanted to protect you." 

Hazel nodded her head. "You don't have to keep apologizing, Mom. It was just a scary event. I'm not upset with you." Grace looked at the living room and noted that Hazel had already cleaned up. Before she had a chance to address it, Hazel had collected the bags and began setting the table for dessert.

And now, her parents were lovingly talking, trying to include her here and there. But something had happened while they were gone. They seemed like they had come through something together, and she'd missed it. All because Simon had left her behind. 

She glared at him, until she realized that he was giving her a puzzled look and she became aware of her face. She forced a smile and pushed her plate forward. "I'm full. Going to get ready for bed and stuff." Grace and Simon exchanged looks yet again. It was almost the last straw. Stop using telepathy in front of me! She kissed the baby on top of the head, Grace on the cheek, and forced a smile at Simon. "Goodnight." 

As she left she heard him say to Grace, "I guess I get to be a villain in my own home again." He was quiet enough that she knew he wasn't trying to be heard, but she didn't feel like looking to see if he seemed the least bit hurt. He sure didn't sound like it. But, after a moment, she got an "I love you" text from him. She left it on read and climbed into bed. 

.

A baby was crying. Where am I? Where is that baby? She felt her body moving towards the cries, but she didn’t feel like she was walking. More like she was floating.. No. That didn’t seem right either. It was like she was watching a recording, but the camera was moving towards the crying baby. She felt panic the closer they got to it. No, she tried to say, but she realized that she had no control over her own body. It was going towards the wooded area, because that was where the baby was crying. Please, no. She couldn’t beg. There was someone there. She could see their back as they traveled, but they were in a hooded robe and they had the crying baby in their arms. They kneeled at a bush. 

Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare! She tried to warn. She tried to rush towards them, but she couldn’t move. This is a dream. Wake up! She couldn’t. The person put the baby down and stood up, staring down at it as it cried. Then, they turned to leave. They had on a gold mask over their face, and rushed away, ignoring the haunting cries of the baby. As the scene drifted closer and Hazel saw a baby, swaddled and screaming, leaves falling from the bush onto her, she tried with all of her power to scream, to move, to SOMETHING! 

She was in her bed, unable to move. No.. NO. I am awake! She thought, but she couldn’t move at all, and this overbearing dread approached. Please, please, please… she tried to whisper. She tried to move. She tried to do SOMETHING! She could see a figure approaching. It looked like her, but she couldn’t see its face. When it reached her, it leapt onto her chest and stared right at her. But it's face was nothing but static. 

Her scream cut through the night, and she came to, just as two pairs of footsteps ran in her direction. 

“Hazel?” Grace called, rushing to the bed, while Simon surveyed the bedroom. She was naked and wrapped in their bedsheet, while Simon had on a pair of boxers, searching all places for potential dangers. He was glistening, like he’d been sweating. Definitely didn’t happen from the run to this room… “Haze? Are you with me, Baby?” Grace asked, searching Hazel’s face, fearing the worse. It had been years since the turtle thing last happened. But, Hazel was watching Simon realize that there was no threat in the room, and she was realizing that he generally put his hair up before bed. She looked at Grace, sitting beside her, on her bed, in nothing but a bedsheet and actually sweating herself.

“Oh God,” Hazel said out loud, looking forward. 

“What is it?” Grace and Simon looked in the direction of where she was staring off into space. 

“I.. had a weird dream, or.. Sort of dream. I felt like I was awake, but I couldn’t move. There was… “ she shook her head and Grace reached for her, but she resisted. “You two were in there doing it, weren’t you?” Simon fought off a smile. This was no time to be entertained. Hazel had screamed like she was in a horror film. 

“We were awake,” Simon said. 

“Please get off of my bed,” Hazel told Grace. 

Grace huffed, but did so. 

“This happens to people, sometimes,” Simon told her. “It has a name and everything.”

Grace added, “When you were young, you had sleep terrors. Is this like that?”

Hazel just shook her head.

“It’s called sleep paralysis,” Simon added.

“I just… I didn’t mean to interrupt your… quality time. I just want to go back to sleep.” She was lying. She actually wanted to pretend to be small again and climb into Grace’s bed. But knowing that they had been doing what she knew that they had been doing, the thought of that turned her stomach. 

“I am going to get you some tea to help you go back to sleep,” Grace said, adjusting the bedsheet so that she could move in it. 

“Wash your hands!” Hazel called out. Grace didn’t respond. They both knew that she was going to wash her hands. Simon stayed behind, watching Hazel in that way that he watched people. He was trying to figure out if she was actually okay, or if she was lying. She hated that look and she reached for her journal to draw the horrors she’d seen in her dream journal. “You don’t have to stay here,” she told him.

“I’m going to. For a little while, at least. Unless you’re asking me to leave?”

“Do whatever you think is best,” she told him. He sighed, silently and Hazel looked up at him. “Did I just say something wrong?”

“No. But, you’re not saying something. I wish I knew what it was. I’d do my best to try to help. You’ve been off since we got home. Grace thinks that it’s because we didn’t take you with us. I just didn’t think that was something you wanted to do. If something else happens, you can come with us, if you want. Just let us know at the time.”

She doodled angrily, “I don’t care that you left me here. I’m fine here. I love here!”

“Well, what did I do?” 

“You took Ivory!” She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “You had to go get Mom checked out. I get that, You trust me to stay by myself. I get that. I even trust that you thought I wouldn’t want to be sitting there. But, you don’t trust me with Ivory. And I don’t get that. Because I would never do anything to hurt them! I’m older and more responsible than you were with Hope!” She saw a flicker of hurt and anger in his expression and her tears began falling. 

“Hazel… That’s not what was going on.” He spoke gently, but she could tell that he was trying very hard to do so. “The reason that I didn’t leave the baby with you was because they aren’t your responsibility. You won’t be a third parent or a free babysitter on my watch, unless you simply want to take care of them. But, that too, you can tell us at the time.” Hazel didn’t have a response for that. She had been so upset with him all night that she never even rationalized that it may have simply been Ivory not being her responsibility. 

Grace came back into the room with a tea tray: One of her hot tea blends (from the smell, it seemed like magnolia, passionflower, and chamomile), in a decorative teapot that Glamother had provided, Hazel’s favorite mug (an oversized mug with a design of a bug in a cowboy hat), and some snacks to help the sleep come (a bowl of crushed banana, adorned with pistachios, cherries, and kiwi, with a stack of whole grain crackers and lean cheese spread).

She had abandoned the bedsheet in favor of her bathrobe. When she came in, she immediately felt the tension. She looked between the both of them. Simon standing there, looking like he had just been hit in the gut, and Hazel was no longer crying but avoiding eye contact with them. Grace set the tray on the nightstand and cupped Hazel’s face with one hand to look at her. Bloodshot eyes. “What happened?” She asked, softly.

Hazel shook her head and turned her attention back to her journal. Grace turned to Simon and announced, “Your turn.”

Simon looked at Hazel, about to cry again. His shoulders dropped. “You thought that you were the one disappointing everybody tonight, but I think it was actually me.” Hazel sniffled. “Hazel, the next time I do something like that, I will ask you. Is that okay?” She nodded her head, and Simon finally left the room. No doubt to have a little cry of his own. 

“Hands are washed, bathrobe is clean… Do you need me?” Grace wondered as she sat next to Hazel on the bed again. 

Hazel shut her dream journal so that Grace wouldn’t see the sketches. “I know you want to go check on him!” Hazel muttered.

“I will check on him once you don’t need me here.” 

Hazel shrugged her shoulders and clenched the comforter in both fists. Grace held out her hands to offer them to hold, but Hazel didn’t want to. She didn’t want her to feel how hard she was clenching her fists to collect herself. “Okay,” Grace said. “I can see that you’d rather be alone.” She kissed her on the cheek and wiped the current tears before heading back to her own room. 

Finally, Hazel unclenched her fists and let herself breathe. She felt so stupid, now. She was angry at herself for attacking Simon and for withdrawing from Grace. She got up, stepped outside, and made a beeline to one of the bushes. She grabbed the biggest leaf that she could see in the dark and put it into her hair. Walking back in, she took a look at her shadow. In that moment, it was shaped like the turtle.