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Mari wishes she hadn’t run away. Maybe leaving wasn’t the best idea. She could’ve stuck it out for longer, right? Just three more years, and she would’ve been out of there and off to college.
She’s cold, and tired, and hungry, and she wishes more than anything that her parents were still around. Their house was always warm. There was always food on the table. She got to sleep in a bed, instead of sidewalks and park benches.
There’s a building up ahead, a theater, music and noise and warmth seeming to spill out of the doors and onto the street. Maybe she’ll sleep there tonight. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a place to hide backstage.
She used to love theaters when she was younger. Her parents would take her to dance recitals and plays and ballets.
The woman who owns the theater- Medda- she lights up the room. And, damn, the woman can sing . Mari almost forgets her misery for a second, completely wrapped up in the story unfolding onstage.
And then it’s over, and Mari is sneaking through the crowd of people into the back of the building. She finds an empty dressing room and curls up in a corner, bringing her knees to her chest.
The door opens. Mari looks up.
“Oh!” says Medda, clearly surprised. “Why, hello there. You alright, sugar?”
Mari hesitates before shaking her head.
“You need a place to stay?”
Mari nods.
Medda smiles at her. “Not much of a talker, are you? That’s all right, I think people talk too much these days anyway.”
Against all odds, Mari cracks a small smile.
“Alright, hon, let’s go upstairs and get you washed up.”
Medda lives in an apartment right above the theater. It’s cozy and over-decorated, with mismatched furniture, appliances, and decorations, all in rich, jewel tones. Nothing matches, but everything seems to go together, in an odd way.
Two boys meet Medda and Mari at the door. Mari immediately shrinks behind Medda, nervous. She never used to be so timid, back when her parents were still around. God , she misses them.
“Who’s the girl?” the taller boy asks.
“Is she staying with us?” asks the shorter one.
Medda turns to Mari, smiling softly. “You got a name, sugar?”
Mari opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. The word’s just won’t come.
“All right,” says the shorter boy. “She’s…small. Smaller than me, even. So we’ll call her Smalls.”
The taller boy grins. “Welcome to our home, Smalls! I’m Jack, and this is my brother, Sean. Or Spot. Nobody really calls him Sean, so.”
Mari- Smalls , now, she’s accepted the nickname- Smalls nods.
“Let’s get a shower running for you,” Medda says to her, “We have extra towels in the bathroom. Use any product in there that you want, we’ve got an endless amount of them.”
“I’ll drive over to the Jacobses and ask if Sarah has any old clothes Smalls can borrow,” Jack offers, “We can buy some new ones tomorrow.”
Smalls smiles shyly at him, grateful.
“Thank you, Jack,” Medda says. “Spot, honey, can you go set up the guest room for her?”
Spot gives her a thumbs up, racing off to another room.
Medda leads Smalls to the bathroom, putting a fresh towel on the rack and turning on the water.
“You take as much time as you need, hon. I’ll go get dinner started.” Medda leaves, and Smalls looks around the bathroom.
A shit ton of products are spread over the sink counter, and the cabinet behind the mirror is slightly open, revealing even more products on the inside. Smalls takes off her dirty clothes, stepping under the warm water.
The bodywash smells like apples. It reminds Smalls of her mother.
She feels water running down her face, and realizes that it’s not only the shower, but that she’s crying. She doesn’t try to stop it. She just lets herself sob quietly, a terrible ache in her chest.
Smalls is wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe, brushing her hair in the guest room mirror. She really needs a haircut.
There’s a knock at the door. Smalls opens it slowly.
Jack is standing there, a pile of clothes in his arms. “Hey,” he grins at her, “I don’t know if they’ll fit, but here you go. Ya need anything else?”
Smalls shakes her head, taking the clothes and closing the door quietly. She spreads the clothes out on her bed. They’re nice, nicer than anything she’s owned in a while. She picks out a white sundress, admiring herself in the mirror.
“Smalls!” calls Spot. “Dinner’s ready!”
The table is full of food. Smalls eyes it hungrily as she sits down.
“Take as much as you want,” Medda tells her. “We always have more, if you’re still hungry.”
Smalls pauses before filling her plate up with piles of food. She finishes quickly and then fills her plate up again.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” Medda says, “I don’t want you to choke. You can eat slowly, nobody’s rushing you.”
Jack smiles. “Food’s not gonna go anywhere.”
“Do you have enough blankets in the guest room?” Spot asks. “You don’t think you’re gonna be cold or anything, do you?”
Smalls shakes her head.
She only met these people a few hours ago, and they’re already treating her like family. She thinks she might stick around here for a while.
She wakes up the next morning and heads to the bathroom, almost crashing into Jack on the way.
“Oh, hey, Smalls. We got you some conditioner and shampoo and stuff. And your own toothbrush.”
Smalls finally finds her voice. “Is it…is it okay if I take another shower? I took a long one last night, and I don’t want to waste water or anything.”
Jack smiles kindly. “You were living on the street, right?”
Smalls nods.
“Well, you haven’t had a good shower in a while, so. Take as long as you want.”
Smalls looks down, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Are you sure?”
“I promise,” Jack assures her, “Take as long as you want. Nobody’s going to be upset at you. You’re family now, whether you like it or not, and being a part of this family means you can basically do whatever you want.”
Smalls grins at him.
Family.
“I feel like we don’t know anything about Smalls,” Spot says a few weeks later. He, Jack, and Smalls are sitting in the living room, just hanging out. They’ve grown close in the past few weeks.
“I agree,” Jack says, looking up from his drawing. “Smalls, tell us something about you. Anything.”
“Well,” she says, shrugging. “I’m not that interesting.”
“A fun fact,” Spot insists. “Just one.”
She thinks for a moment. “Uh…my birthday’s coming up?”
Spot and Jack stare at her.
“When?” Spot asks.
“The nineteenth. We don’t have to throw a party or anything, though. I’m not a big fan of birthdays-”
Jack shakes his head. “We’re throwing you a party.”
Smalls blushes. “No, really, it’s fine, I don’t want any trouble-”
“Ma!” Jack calls, and Medda emerges from her room. “Smalls just told us her birthday is this Thursday.”
“Oh, my! How old will you be, sugar?”
“Sixteen. I don’t need a big party or anything-”
“We’re throwing you a party,” Spot insists. “Your sweet sixteen has to be a big deal.”
Jack, Spot, and Medda start discussing what the party should be like, as if planning it is the most important thing in the world. Smalls just smiles, observing them from the couch.
She’s never felt more at home.