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Grian was crying in the girls’ bathroom.
Making her way inside the stall, Stress glanced back at Pearl. There was a concerned look splashed across Pearl’s face. It scrunched her nose, drew her mouth into a thin line. Dark brown hair stuck out from beneath her pale purple and pink striped beanie. Still, she made her way over to Grian’s side. Dropped down next to him on one of the only dry spots on the school bathroom’s disgusting pale blue-gray tile. “Grian?” Stress asked softly, walking over and crouching in front of him. “Grian? Are you alright?”
Grian was curled up, knees pulled to his chest and his head resting between his elbows. Pale fingers curled in dark blond hair, grip so tight his knuckles were bloodless. If she didn’t know any better, she would guess he was trying to hide from someone. Maybe he is, she thought to herself. Sure, Grian preferred to use the boys’ bathrooms. That was the right bathroom for him, after all. But if it was shark week (which it wasn’t as far as she knew, unless she was off by a little bit, which she sincerely doubted) or if he was just having a bad day and that was the closest safe space…he might have decided to flee to there. Which meant that this, whatever this was, wasn’t good.
As always, Grian was wearing his red jumper. The sleeves were pulled up to his elbows. Across the pale expanse of his wrist were deep scratch marks, red and raw. Fresh, growing bruises marked his skin, too. Was he hurting himself? She wondered. It wouldn’t be the first time. Personally, she knew Etho and some of the others struggled with this sort of thing. Grian was one of those people, too. Although he hadn’t in a while, TFC had reassured her of that when she had thought he might be. He’d just been unusually quiet lately. Is someone else hurting him?
“Grian? What happened?” She repeated, looking at him. Sniffing, he raised his head. Shoved his glasses out of the way and rubbed the back of a sleeve over reddened blue eyes. He had been crying for a while, from the looks of it. Swallowing, Stress watched him.
“It’s Sam.” Immediately, Pearl pulled him into a side hug. Grian sank into it. Sobbed a little bit louder. Meanwhile, Pearl’s whole expression had hardened.
Stress took a slow breath. She knew Sam. Not well, but…Sam was rather unforgettable. Cruel and rude, especially to Grian. He had followed him across server lines, even found their home once. Dimly, Stress remembered that night. Of trying to ease Grian out of the bathroom, getting him to promise he wouldn’t hurt himself as Sam paced outside the house’s front door, screaming and punching walls and threatening to come in and attack. Somehow, he got out of any sort of severe punishment. Supposedly, this was thanks to his politician dad and PTA-ruler mother. Both of them made him untouchable. Even with all the evidence in the world, they would have to get those two out of the way to even think about pursuing anything.
Sam seemed to know this just as well as Grian did.
“Hey. Grian.” Pearl whispered after a long time. Miserably, Grian raised his head, looked over at her. “Why don’t we head home? I’m sure TFC will talk to the teachers.” Sniffing, Grian nodded. Scrubbed at his face again. Slowly, Pearl helped Grian upright. Stress steadied him when he shook a little bit. “You alright?”
Sniffing again, Grian nodded. Pearl tucked him into her side, and Grian kept his gaze on the ground. Stress followed them from the bathroom, kept her gaze on Grian’s back. He was holding himself oddly, leaning into their sister with tension that she had seen before back in his stance. And we just started getting it to fade, too, she cursed in the back of her mind. In the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Sam watching them, leaning against the wall with some of his cronies. As Grian and Pearl started walking down the stairs, Grian holding the bannister in an ice-pick grip, Stress decided to risk a glance. Sure enough, Sam was there with his cronies.
Eyes narrowing, Stress held his gaze. One of Sam’s friends made a joke, and Sam laughed. Gave her a little arrogant nod. Glancing after her siblings, Stress paused. Looked back at him.
Raising both fists and grinning sweetly, she flipped him off six ways to Sunday and then followed her siblings.
+++
When they got home, Pearl sat Grian down on the couch in the infirmary.
For most people, they might have had a medicine cabinet. Considering that TFC had twenty-five children (at least, they kind of stopped counting after fourteen if Stress was being honest and TFC wouldn’t actually tell them anymore, instead he’d just smile) in his house, mostly high schoolers, well…they needed a bit more. Especially considering Tango, Zedaph, Impulse, and Bdubs’ tendency to, uh…well, suffice to say there was a reason all four of them were banned from setting up any sort of open flame or being in the kitchen without supervision. Or for longer than sixty seconds. Thirty on Sundays. For the most part, they respected the rules. Except Zedaph, every once in a while. Whatever mess they made, though, they had to clean themselves, so, uh…Stress didn’t care as much as she thought honestly.
Stress turned around while Pearl helped change Grian into a sports bra rather than his binder and jumper. Once she got the signal it was okay to turn around, she walked back with the needed materials. Some ice packs, some bruise medication. A couple of heat patches for sore muscles. Still, just having the stuff she needed didn’t mean she was prepared for what she would see.
Grian’s collarbones were a mess of bruises, stretching down to his hips and even disappearing under his belt and jeans. More cut their way across his skin to his elbows, where the ones Stress had previously seen laid. Pearl got Grian to turn, and she sucked in a breath. Walking over, Stress poked her head around and did the same. There were individual bruises over each of the vertebrae in Grian’s spine, like he had been kicked again and again and again in the back. Knowing Sam, Grian probably had been on the ground for a long while.
And no one came to help, she thought sadly. Taking his other side, taking the medkit, she sighed. Met his gaze. “So…what do you think about mashed potatoes for dinner?” She asked. Smiling lightly, Grian looked down and avoided her gaze. She rolled the cream bottle in between her hands, trying to warm it up as best as she could. “Oh, also, I’m going to fight Sam.”
“You don’t need to—“ Grian began. Meeting his gaze, Stress smiled innocently.
“No, but I want to.”
+++
“So…why am I here?”
TFC glanced to the side. In the chair next to him, biting back her usual soft smile, was his daughter Stress. Hands settled in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles, she looked as polite as ever. Pink jacket, white blouse underneath, pale green skirt and pink leggings. Brown slip-ons. A pink and pale green clip in her hair to pin dark brown locks back from her eyes. She blinked innocently at the principal.
“Well, it seems we’ve had a bit of an issue? Regarding Ms. Monster here.” Stress simply smiled a bit lighter. There was a kind of light to her eyes that TFC knew. One the principal likely didn’t. “She, uhm, beat up a classmate.”
“Stress?” TFC asked, looking at the principal. “My Stress. Beat up a classmate?” The principal passed some papers and photos over to him. Sure enough, it was who he expected. Sam. There were dark bruises under both of the boy’s eyes. His nose was basically sideways, bloodied and bruised. Split lip. Bruises on his jaw. Flipping through the other photos, taking in the other marks—bruises along Sam’s spine, broken ribs, among other things (she even dislocated his hip)—TFC passed them back after a moment. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you think this would have been caused by. But I assure you there is no way this was Stress.”
“Well, we have cameras in that corner of the building.”
“So you have security footage?”
Biting his lip, the principal glanced to the side. “Er, no.”
“Why not?”
“The footage has been deleted. Somehow. A glitch in the system, it’s nowhere to be found.” Stress started cracking her knuckles, rolled a shoulder.
“Well, then that decides it. Stress can’t possibly be the perpetrator. I’m afraid this boy,” Looking at the papers again, TFC said, “Sam? I’m afraid he must be lying. My Stress would never touch a fly. She raises butterflies for nature sanctuaries. Butterflies. ” Of course, he decided to leave out the part about Stress bringing home roadkill and the occasional fish she had caught to feed her butterflies. There wasn’t any reason to bring that particular fact up.
After a couple more minutes, the principal let them go. They didn’t speak as they made their way out to their bus. Once they got there, TFC followed Stress up the stairs to inside, where everyone was waiting. Some of them perked up when they saw him. Many pairs of eyes focused on him.
“So.” Clapping his hands together as Stress sat down, TFC leaned against the little pole next to him. Looking around, he smiled at them all, “Tango, Etho, Mumbo, excellent work with the security footage. Please don’t keep doing that, though, you will get in trouble. Stress, brilliant execution. False, Cub, amazing job with the fighting skills I greatly appreciate it. Joe, thank you for the plan you are absolutely terrifying and it will do you very well in the future. And, uhm…” Pausing, he glanced at his list of kids who had...met around his dinner table the other night after chores were done. “Ah, yes. Wels, Beef, Cub, Doc, thank you for keeping guard. Now, who wants ice cream?”
Everyone cheered.