Chapter Text
William Morris Barfée usually utilized each and every hour in the day to its full extent. If somebody were to ask him what he was doing at any given point of the day, he'd probably say something exciting, such as "pioneering the early stages of a scientific discovery", or perhaps "tenderly caring for his sea anemone circus in a fatherly manner". But today, if somebody were to ask William Morris Barfée what he was doing at this exact moment, the answer would simply be "waiting".
To be completely honest, Will was appalled at himself. "Waiting"? That's absurd! He should certainly be doing something more exciting with his time, instead of just sitting here, in his room, at his desk (that he'd cleared just for the occasion), waiting. But at the same time, he hadn't been able bring himself to do anything but obsessively stare at the clock on his wall for the past half-hour, his eyes occasionally flitting to the calendar beside it just to make sure he had today's date correct.
Yep. It's definitely a Tuesday. Tuesdays. At 4:15. That's what we agreed on.
Will checked the clock again.
Two minutes.
His eyes drifted down to the desk he was sitting at. He'd moved practically everything off of it, even his microscope that his mother (his REAL mom, Joan. Not Sheila.) had gifted him. The only two things that were left sitting on the clean white surface were a small gray desk lamp near one of the corners, and, meticulously placed directly in the center of the table, a giant blue dictionary. He had made sure that it was in the best shape that it could possibly be. Everything had to be perfect.
He checked the clock again.
One minute.
William quickly scanned his room. He had spent all day cleaning it and putting everything in its proper place. He couldn't stop himself from beaming a little out of pride. Hard work really does pay off. He stood up and straightened one of the posters on his wall that was starting to fall down. Everything had to be perfect. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock.
Ten seconds.
William straightened his posture, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Everything is going to be perfect. And even if it isn't, it's just a study session. Does it really matter that much?
The answer was yes. It really did matter that much. And not because of nationals. Alright, maybe partially because of nationals, but that was an afterthought in this situation. What really mattered was...
Okay it's definitely been more than ten seconds.
Will slowly opened one eye to take a peek at the clock. 30 seconds past 4:15. He felt his pulse start to speed up, and his shoulders tensed.
It's just 30 seconds. You have to account for traffic, William. And all the other external factors. She's going to show up. She wouldn't stand you up at your own house.
...But then again, you don't know her that well. You just met her a few weeks ago. Maybe she mixed up the dates. Or the time. But she's the one who came up with Tuesdays at 4:15. Should you give her a call? No, she might not pick up the phone. Just wait it out, William Barfée. You can wait it out.
William's eyes made their way to the clock one more time, just as the minute hand ticked past the three. 4:16.
And then, as if an angel had descended from the heavens, the doorbell rang. Barfée scrambled to the mirror by his door. He straightened his collar with extreme skill and precision, and fixed his hair with notably less skill and precision. And finally, with a quick look over his shoulder to make sure nobody could see, he snatched the cologne from the top of his dresser and sprayed it a few times into his mouth. He gagged at the taste. How do those guys in movies do that without even flinching?
"Willy! Your friend's here!" An agitating, sing-song voice from beyond the door dragged Will back to reality. Ugh. Sheila. He should have known she'd get to the door before him. He placed the cologne back into its proper place and swung open the door as gently as he could, shutting it behind him as he began to shuffle down the stairs.
"It's Willi-am. And you can call her Olive, y'know." His snide comments to Sheila were quickly followed up with a feeling of relief. The front door was still closed, and a silhouette that could only belong to one person rocked shyly behind the frosted window. Though his step-mother had seen Olive, she hadn't opened the door. Thank god the two of them wouldn't have to deal with her any more than they had to.
The relief was cut short by the sound of the doorbell ringing once more. Crap. Barfée had gotten so caught up in the fact that Sheila had not opened the door that he had forgotten to open it himself. He twisted the doorknob and pulled on it with an unnecessary amount of strength before letting go. The door flew open, and he was staring right into the eyes of a grinning Olive Ostrovsky.
"Barf!" The girl immediately threw herself at William, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly. Will jumped back a little, but let himself relax into his friends embrace, as he ignored his stepmom's snickers at the nickname and gently returned the hug.
"...I missed you too, Olive." It was far too early in this endeavor to be making such sentimental statements, but the words slipped out of Barfée's mouth anyway, albeit only in a mumble. It might have been the first time he'd ever uttered them in any context, and his inexperience with such statements was evident. Still, the girl heard it, and she looked up at her friend with the biggest smile he had ever seen. It was then the two children realized just how long they had been hugging for, and they made quick work of breaking the embrace. Will could already feel his cheeks heating up a little, and he tried his absolute hardest to stop it from being noticeable. He glanced over at a smirking Sheila, and decided he'd best introduce the two, no matter how agonizing it may be.
"Agh, before i forget..." William grimaced a little as he turned towards his step-mom to begin the introduction. "Olive, this is my stepmother, Sheila. And Sheila, this is my friend Olive Ostrovsky." He could see two expressions out of the corner of his eye - the first one was Sheila's distasteful frown about being introduced solely by her first name, which he did not care for in the slightest. And the second expression was Olive's poorly repressed smile about being introduced as Barfée's friend, which he cared for an ungodly amount.
"Pleased to meet you, Olive. William's told me so much about you." Sheila shook Olive's hand with a smile, and in turn, the girl shoots Barfée a giddy look that says "You talk about me?" The boy returns her look with an embarrassed glance that says "Shut up". Olive restrains a giggle, but Sheila doesn't notice. William does. How could he not?
"Thank you, Ms." Olive purposely refrains from using either a first or last name when addressing Will's step-mom. She looks back at him, seemingly asking for any sort of confirmation that she's doing this right. He provides it to her by nodding briskly, and she continues. "He's told me a lot about you too."
"Is that so?" Sheila looks a little shocked at this revelation, or at least that's what her widened eyes communicated to her stepson. He clenched his teeth and nodded, which immediately put an obnoxious grin on his step-mom's face. "Oh, well that's wonderful! Alright, I've kept you two long enough! You two better start your study session. You've got a lot of work to do if Willy's gonna... win that bee!" The grin became a lot less genuine once the spelling bee was brought up. Sheila didn't understand William's affinity for spelling, and thus would always make a spectacle over pretending to support it in front of others. It was exhausting to deal with, and he was glad she was dismissing them.
"William." The boy begrudgingly corrected his stepmother.
"Ah, yes. William. Sorry." Sheila's eye twitched a little. She wouldn't have corrected herself had it not been for Olive's presence. Barfée was sure of it.
"Thank you, Sheila. Goodbye." Barfée ignored his step-mom's wince after he addressed her by her first name, and instead silently grabbed Olive's hand, beginning to lead her up the stairs. He was very much looking forward to the house switch in a few days. He missed his real mom. But for now, all he could do was walk as quickly as possible to avoid any more of this interaction. Unfortunately, about halfway up the stairs, they were stopped by a sharp cry from the woman below them.
"WAIT!" Sheila grinned as a rattled William stared down at her in dismay, waiting impatiently for what she was about to say. "Olive, sweetie, your dad's picking you up at 5:30, right?" Olive appeared to be a little startled by this, not quite expecting that the question was going to be directed at her. It took her a couple seconds to formulate an answer.
"i think so!" And then her eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait, let me go ask! My parents usually stay for a couple minutes when they drop me off somewhere, just in case I need to ask them anything." Olive let go of Will's hand and rushed back down the stairs, opening the door and peering out, ready to yell out the question to her father. But mere seconds later, she slunk back in, eyes dull. "He's already gone. I'm sorry, Ms." Olive's voice shook a little, but she noticed and pulled herself back together pretty quickly. Barfée pursed his lips a little as he walked back down the stairs to meet Olive at the bottom. It hadn't been that long since she had gotten here. Her dad must have been pretty desperate to leave. I doubt he even said goodbye when she got out of the car. Jerk. Impulsively, he held his hand out for Olive to grab, and she clasped onto it in record time.
"Oh, that's alright, dearie. Don't worry about it." Sheila smiled apologetically. "Alright, run along now! Don't let me slow you two buzzy bookworms down."
"ThankyouSheilagoodbye." William spoke much faster this time, unimpressed with his stepmother's alliterative nickname. He speedwalked up the stairs, Olive following suit. But about three quarters of the way up -
"WAIT!"
Oh my god, not again.
"Keep the door open, will you? Can never be too careful." Sheila shimmied her shoulders a little and winked at the two adolescents, and her stepson's face flushed bright red almost immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, Barfée could see Olive's cheeks redden slightly as well.
"THANKYOUSHEILAGOODBYE." William spoke quickly and loudly, leading Olive up the remaining stairs as fast as he could, and making a point to ignore any responses he heard from the adult woman below them. He scuffled towards the door to his room, opened it with one hand, pulled Olive inside, and twisted the knob from the inside, closing the door as slowly and quietly as possible.
"I thought your stepmom said-" Olive began to object, but Barfée quickly cut her off, although not with any ill intent.
"Do you want her peeking in to check on us every five minutes? Because I can open the door if you want her to check on us every five minutes." Despite the wording, his tone was genuine. This question was not a rhetorical one, and Olive picked up on that, thinking for a moment before answering.
"Oh. I guess not." There was silence for a few moments, and the two kids gazed into each other's eyes, unsure of what to say. William felt heat rushing into his cheeks for what seemed to be the millionth time today, and silently cursed the fact that his face reddened so obviously, and cursed even more the fact that Olive made the worry of getting too flustered much more prominent. Act normal, William. You're just studying for nationals with your new friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
Finally, Olive broke the silence. "You've got a really nice room, Will."
Barfée was taken aback. "Really? You like it?" Olive nodded profusely, and the boy's heart swelled with pride. He put his hands on his hips and grinned boastfully. "Thanks. Decorated it myself."
Olive looked around. "I can tell. It's very... you. Like, if you walked in the door, it would pretty much scream 'THIS IS WILLIAM BARFÉE'S ROOM!'... without you even having to tell anybody it was yours." The girl's hands made fantastical gestures as she spoke, as if she were putting on some sort of grand magic show. It was incredibly captivating. She finished her little spiel with a signature Olive Ostrovsky smile.
"I'm... glad you think that, Olive." A genuine smile crept across Barfée's face, which was a pretty rare phenomenon (at least, it was before he met Olive). It took a minute for him to notice the tenderness in his expression, and once he did, he immediately turned away and reverted to a much more serious demeanor, with a very evident tinge of sheepishness. Olive seemed to notice a similar thing about her own expression, and shrunk slightly into herself out of embarrassment.
"We should get started." Barfée rushed his words as he speedily sat down at the desk, tapping the chair next to him twice as if to both summon Olive, and to avoid any further interactions that may make him look like he had a really bad sunburn on his cheeks. He wasn't used to having friends, and he certainly wasn't going to screw this up. At least, not at the first study session.
"Yeah, yeah! Let's start spelling." Olive stumbled into the chair next to William, her eyes focusing in on the large, pristine dictionary in the middle of the table. "Woah..."
"I thought you had one of your own." Will reacted to her awe with confusion. A dictionary shouldn't be a new concept for the runner-up of the county's spelling bee. Especially one who referred to her own copy of the book as her “best and most reliable friend”.
I could probably take that title. What? Who thought that. I would never think that. …Who am I kidding, this is my brain. I would totally think that.
"I do, but the pages are, like, super worn and old. This is like, brand new!" Olive opened the dictionary and carefully flipped through the pages, mouth agape.
"Oh, okay." Barfée didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just rocked a little in his chair and waited patiently for Olive to find a word to quiz him on. But instead, there was quiet for a few more moments before the girl spoke up, asking her friend a question.
"Are you gonna use the foot at nationals?" Olive continued to leaf through the dictionary, attempting to pick it up and consequentially placing it back on the table after realizing it was a bit too heavy to hold in her hands for an hour straight. William thought deeply about her question for a second. He hadn't considered that prospect. He knew he could spell without the foot - that's how he won the county bee. But then again, he'd been using the foot to spell ever since he started competing. Would it bring him luck at nationals, or would it doom him? He wasn't sure what to do in this situation, so he decided he would just save that decision for later. It was only the first study session, after all.
"I'm... not really sure yet." William shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll... figure that out eventually." He couldn't help but notice that his tone became a lot softer and almost more casual when he was speaking to Olive. After so many years of putting his guard up, it was kind of nice to let it down and not be picked on for it. He'd never had a friend like Olive before. In fact, he'd never really had a friend at all. It was a strange experience, he was slowly discovering. But then again, William Barfée was a very strange individual, so he didn't question it very much.
"Alright!" Olive beamed. Barfée's shoulders tensed a little, and he tried to avert his eyes from the grin that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, as to not have his cheeks flush again. Instead, his gaze drifted towards her hair, which seemed to be masterfully pulled into a half-up-half-down ponytail. He knew that she probably did it herself, because she'd told him over the phone that her mom always did her hair when she was home, because her dad gave up trying, since his hands shook too much and he'd sometimes pull her hair too hard by accident. It looked really nice. Her hair always looked really nice, of course, but it looked especially put together today. Will wondered if she spent as much time getting ready for this as he did, or if her appearance was just effortless. And then he wondered why he was having these thoughts. And then he wondered why his cheeks were getting all hot, even though he knew the answer to that question. And finally, he wondered why he was just sitting here awkwardly instead of responding. Of course, all these thoughts happened in a matter of about 5 seconds before William stood up abruptly and began to stretch his foot on the chair.
"We can just alternate between techniques until I've decided." Barfée's proposition was met with a nod from Olive, who peered down at the open dictionary, scanning thoroughly before settling on a word.
"Let's start easy with... chauffeur!" It seemed that Olive had barely stopped grinning since she'd gotten here. I wonder if her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. ...Agh, what a childish thought.
Barfée hardly had to move for that word. He just continued to stretch his foot as he confirmed the meaning. "Ah, yes, chauffeur. Of course. Meaning a person employed to drive a rented or personal automobile?" William sniffled a little. He'd gotten so caught up in the moment before that he had somehow forgotten how inconvenient it is to only be able to breathe through one nostril. He tried his best to ignore it as he finished stretching and. Olive nodded in confirmation, and Barfée decided he was confident enough to spell the word without the foot.
"C-H-A-U-F-F-E-U-R. Chauffeur." The foot stayed firmly planted on the ground. Olive gave yet another affirmative nod.
"That is correct."
"I know." A reflexive response, although said with a kinder tone than usual. Being nice feels weird. Olive quickly flipped through the dictionary some more before landing on a new word.
"Xenotransplantation."
Barfée raised his eyebrow. "Meaning the process of transplanting an organ from one species into another species?" He sounded a little less sure of this definition, but his nerves were calmed with a simple "Yup!" from Olive. He'd use the foot for this one, he decided. He took a deep breath and began to masterfully slide his foot across his bedroom floor.
"X... E...N...O. Xeno." He lifted his foot for a moment after completing the first section of the word, and then placed it back down, spelling a little faster. "T-R-A-N-S-P-L-A-N-T. Transplant." Another quick break, and then back to spelling. "A-T-I-O-N. Xenotransplantation."
"Correct!" Barfée pumped his fist silently in the air at the confirmation, and Olive giggled a little. The boy let a smile slip, which seemed to delight his friend, but she didn't say anything about it.
And so they continued to spell. Though it was nothing more than simple studying, it still managed to be... pretty fun. Olive's smile sparkled every time she verified his spelling, and Will seemed to be excelling both with and without the foot. However, after many consecutive corrects, William attempted to go the footless route on 'bathypitotmeter' but substituted the 'y' for an 'i'. He collapsed dramatically on the ground after Olive sadly mimic'ed the ringing of the bell, which caused her to burst into a fit of giggles.
"Come on, Barf! It was a hard word. I would have flubbed on it too!" Olive looked down at Barfée, stifling her laughter over his evidently staged fall in order to provide adequate comfort. He groaned in response.
"I knew I should have used the foot. That word could have lost me the beeeeeee..." He spoke with his hand draped theatrically over his eye, still on the floor.
"We can just keep practicing then! This is the point of drilling, Barf! To catch any mistakes before it's too late!" Olive sprung off her chair, joining Barfée on the ground- albeit sitting criss-cross-applesauce. He moved his hand away from his face so he could look Olive in the eyes.
"...Yeah, I guess so." Will was unable to think of a smart retort, so he just agreed. This made his friend's face light up with joy, and he was so focused on her grin that it took him a couple seconds to notice she had suddenly stood up, grasped his wrist and was attempting to drag him back up off the floor, stifling her laughter. He jolted a little and began to squirm, which just made Olive tighten her grip and let out a loud chuckle.
"Come onnnnn! We've gotta get back to practicinggggg!" Olive elongated her consonants as she spoke, failing to keep in her giggles. Barfée decided to make the most of it, and flopped dramatically into her grasp.
"Nooooo... You must let me wallow in my sorrow for all eternity, Olive... it's the only way..." He paired this statement with several over-exaggerated arm movements, making a point to weigh Olive down.
"Nuh-uh! We're running out of time! We gotta practice more!" Olive gripped even harder, evidently struggling, but still evidently having the time of her life. Barfée sighed dramatically.
"Well then, there's only one thing I can do." And with that, Barfée used all his body weight to fall right back on the floor, dragging a yelping Olive down with him. As her knees buckled and she collapsed next to William. It didn't take her long to start cackling, which in turn made her friend begin to laugh as well.
"Hey, that's not fair!" She snuck in words between spits of laughter, staring up at the ceiling. Barfée smirked, still chuckling.
"It's either be fair or be square, and I am notoriously a square." He put on a purposefully braniac-esque voice for this statement, pushing his glasses upward to add to the effect. This made Olive laugh even louder, and she punched him gently in the shoulder.
"That wasn't even funny!" Olive stuck her tongue out teasingly.
"Your laughter says otherwise." Barfée turned toward his friend and returned the gesture. The two made eye contact for a moment before cracking up even more. They were so busy practically rolling around on the floor that they hardly noticed the door to William’s room creak open.
”What did I tell you two kids about the door?” Sheila’s voice startled both adolescents so much that they completely froze (but not before turning away from each other as quick as they possibly could). “You guys are too young to risk any funny business!”
”Sheila!” Barfée hissed through his teeth as he sat up. Olive remained frozen and a little confused on the ground. “Get out! Can’t you see we’re busy!?” Heat rushed to his cheeks. That was not helping his case about the door.
”Busy doing what?” Sheila, whose head was poking through the halfway-open door, raised an eyebrow. She appeared to be holding a basket of laundry. I wonder, just how long has she been putting this load off? William groaned at the thought of explaining, but Olive quickly jolted upright to save the day.
”Just taking a quick break from practicing, ma’am! Will flubbed a word, and then he got all unmotivated and dramatic, and it was really funny, so we were laughing. But we’ll get right back to spelling, miss! I promise!” Olive blabbered in a way that was both barely comprehensible and incredibly memorable. William really wished that she had made up an excuse rather than telling the truth, but he supposed it wasn’t too embarrassing. Still, either way, it would have earned the same smirking expression Sheila was giving them now. One that Barfée knew meant ‘Spelling is stupid and so is my stepson.’
“Well then, that’s wonderful, sweetie. Unfortunately, I don’t know if you’ve checked the time, but it’s 5:15. Your dad’s here to pick you up.” Sheila nudged the door open a little more, giving Olive a sympathetic smile. William tried not to gag at her fraught attempt to care. Only a few more days until the house switch.
Olive’s face fell immediately. “Already? But it feels like we just started!” Barfée checked the clock. Damnit, she’s right. 5:15. He tried not to look too disappointed, but the look on his step-mom’s face told him that he was failing miserably. What could he say? He liked being around Olive. Eugh. It’s weird to say that about somebody, even in my head.
“Sorry, honey. Now, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to wait too long. Come along now!” Sheila motioned for Olive to follow as she started down the stairs. Dejected, William pushed himself up off the floor with a grunt, and extended his hand to Olive to assist her with standing. She gladly accepted, and the two trudged after Sheila hand in hand. Barfée’s stomach did a little cartwheel. It was very, very embarrassing to admit.
Their hands broke apart once they stepped off the bottom step, and Olive immediately wrapped her arms around her friend, although the hug was much looser this time. Will slowly returned it with the same amount of effort, pretending his stepmom couldn’t see.
”Thanks for having me over, Barf.” Olive spoke in a quiet tone. Not to hide anything from Sheila, Barfée guessed, but simply because she wanted to speak quietly.
“See you next week.” The boy stated simply, but just those four words brought some of the light back to Olive’s eyes, as she nodded and opened the door.
”Yeah! See you next week!” And with that, Olive stepped outside, closed the door behind her, and walked down the porch towards her father’s car. William could swear he saw a little skip in her step through the foggy window. He felt a smile creep across his face, and decided there was no use in trying to stop it.
“Nice girl.” Sheila spoke matter-of-factly into the air as she rested the still unfinished laundry basket on the ground.
”No shit, Sheila.” And William bolted back up the stairs to his room before he could be reprimanded for the language used in his genius retort.