Chapter Text
Irma’s bracelet was caught on the hem of her sweater. It was nothing fancy, a simple gold chain she’d bought on a whim a few days ago as a pick-me-up, but it had been a little out of her price range. One of the links was warped and the darn thing kept catching on everything! She should probably take it back to the jeweler to get it fixed. Irma picked at the threads, gently untangling them from the tiny gold links. After a bit of fumbling, it finally released her sweater. She’d been so preoccupied with trying to free the bracelet that she hadn’t realized Vernon was talking to her.
“Hm, what?”
“I said, go find someplace to plug this in!” He shoved a heavy extension cord in her hands and walked off.
“Why sure, thanks for asking so nicely,” she muttered to herself. Channel 6 was filming a special series on the Nordic History and Art exhibit opening at the History Museum at the end of the month. Since both April and Vernon were going to be on camera at the same time, Irma had been pressed into service to help with set-up and anything else needed behind the scenes. The hall housing the exhibit took up most of the east wing on the museum’s first floor. Artifacts ranging from jewelry and carvings to weapons and armor were displayed in glass cases throughout the space, some free-standing and others lined up against the wall. Pottery in a variety of shapes and sizes sat on top of a row of pedestals to her right. Unlike the other items in the exhibit, none of them were encased in glass.
There was an outlet on the wall near the pedestal at the end of the row. Irma knelt to plug in the cord. When she stood up and turned around, her bracelet caught on the curtain backdrop blocking off the doorway to the empty adjacent exhibit hall. “Oh come on!” she groaned and attempted to disentangle herself from the curtain. When it refused to let her go, she gave it a sharp frustrated yank, bumping her elbow against the squat brown jar on top of the pedestal next to her. She reached out in a panic to catch it before it could fall, pulling on the curtain still caught on her bracelet hard enough that the frame tipped over on top of her. Both Irma and the curtain fell to the ground with a crash. She held her breath as the jar slipped from her fingers, but amazingly it didn’t break when it hit the floor. The exhibit hall went completely silent. Irma pushed herself up onto her hands and twisted to look over her shoulder. Everyone on the room was staring at her.
“Irma, you klutz,” Vernon groaned a stormed over to her. April got there first and released Irma from the curtain, who then scrambled up to retrieve the fallen jar. “I swear, if it’s broken it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
"It’s not!” Irma insisted, though it was more anxious wish than confirmation. She spun it around in her hands and exhaled in relief at seeing no signs of damage. None of them noticed the tiny chip that flaked off one of one of the gold lines on the side of the jar, or the tendril of green smoke that seeped out and wrapped around her bracelet.
“Good. Now get this cleaned up.” He turned and started to walk away.
“Gee Vernon, it’d be great if you would help us with that,” April said acidly. He ignored her and kept walking back to where the cameramen had set up their equipment.
“You don’t have to help, April,” Irma said quietly, placing the jar back on the pedestal. “They’re waiting on you to film the next segment.”
April looked over at Vernon gesturing at them impatiently. “It’s fine. They can wait.”
A stuffy-looking man with a shock of thick grey hair wearing a sharp charcoal suit wandered over to them as they were righting the curtain stand. Irma recognized him as the museum curator who had met them at the door when they arrived that morning. “I’m sure you understand, these artifacts are exceptionally rare and aren’t suited to such rough handling.”
“I-it was an accident,” Irma stammered.
“Well, you should be more careful. That piece in particular, there’s nothing like it anywhere.” He pointed to the strange pattern of gold lines encircling the jar. “This isn’t paint, it’s real gold that’s been embedded in the surface. The whole jar was molded around these gold pieces. No other examples of this technique have ever been found anywhere else. And no one in living memory has ever been able to replicate it.”
“If it’s that valuable, maybe you should have it under glass,” April said coolly.
“Most of our visitors understand the items in the exhibits are not to be touched.” Irma was mortified by the way he was talking about her, like she was some misbehaving child. “Let’s see to it there are no more accidents, shall we?” He spun on his heel and left the two women speechless in shock. The remainder of the shoot proceeded without any further incidents, but Irma noticed the curator hovering around her the entire time. She caught him staring at her whenever she got anywhere near any of the displays, like he thought she’d be compelled to knock it over. It made her so paranoid that she would knock something else over she was almost afraid to move at all. She was greatly relieved when they finally wrapped up filming and packed up the news vans.
“Irma, it’s really not that big a deal,” April said as she fastened her seatbelt.
“Easy for you to say! You didn’t almost break a priceless object!” Irma said from the passenger seat. She pressed her hands to her face under her glasses. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“It was an accident, like you said. And you know Vernon couldn’t really make you pay for it if it broke, right?” The gate to the parking lot opened and April pulled out onto the street.
“The way everyone was staring at me. And that curator guy hounding me afterward, like he was just daring me to make another mistake. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
“That guy was a jerk. And, I’m a TV personality. People are always watching and waiting for me to make a mistake."
Irma dropped her hands into her lap. “Okay yeah, but at the end of the day everyone loves you. Not really the same thing.”
“Do you want to read my hate mail? People will find the strangest things to complain about.”
Irma slumped in her seat and stared sullenly out the window at the buildings they passed on their way back to Channel 6. “The way you wouldn’t let Vernon or anyone else intimidate you, it was so inspiring.”
“I barely did anything. And I’ve seen you stand up to Vernon before. I think you were just . . . rattled is all.” Her friend was mollified a bit at that, but it didn’t last. Irma started up again later that night as she was setting out silverware on April’s dining room table.
“What about all the exciting adventures you get to go on saving the world with the turtles?”
April placed the bowl she’d brought out from the kitchen in the center of the table and began dishing spaghetti out onto her plate. “You mean how I get taken captive by Shredder and his goons, then sit around waiting for the turtles to ride in and save the world?”
"Yeah. So exciting,” Irma sighed wistfully, dropping into her seat. She pulled the bowl of pasta closer and scooped some out for herself.
“At . . . times,” April agreed reluctantly as she slid onto her own chair. “But the majority of the time it’s boring and uncomfortable.”
“At least you’re there in the middle of it! Front row seat.” Irma propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand while she twirled spaghetti around her fork. “I just get to hear about it after the fact.”
“Hey, you want to listen to Shredder’s gloating be my guest. Though I warn you, that self-indulgent laugh of his doesn’t get any better the more you hear it.”
Irma wasn’t going to be deterred. “Popular, fearless, adventurous. I’d give anything to be you for a day.”
“Irma, you don’t mean that.”
“I’m serious April!” She sat up straight and looked her friend squarely in the eye. “I wish I had your life.”