Chapter Text
“But Anne, you’re only fourteen once!” Marcy yelled in frustration on the phone. She grabbed her screen repeatedly and shook it harshly. Anne snickered at Marcy, who then flapped her arms around for emphasis.
“You could go skateboarding, hit the arcade— oh, remember when the three of us would spray paint behind the schools?” Marcy pointed out each possible thing to do with a finger, lifting another one up with every idea. “Don’t you want to do something fun?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Anne said, skimming over texts from her mom mindlessly. “But my mom really wants me to be home, Marcy. I just can’t.”
Exasperated, Marcy sighed. Anne shrugged in resignation. Marcy looked to the left on her side of the phone and immediately, her eyes lit up.
Curious, Anne asked what it was, and was shown a lime green truck. A sign above the serving window proudly proclaimed, "The best in town" in bright red letters. The truck's sides featured several playful drawings, including a brown stuffed bear under a palm tree enjoying a vanilla ice cream cone and a bright blue frog savoring a banana split. The vivid and lively colors created the idea that a hippy might be the one behind the wheel.
She turned out to be wrong. The man driving it, however, didn’t look as amiable as the truck’s exterior. Was he smoking?
“At least there’s ice cream!” Marcy’s face came back on the screen. Anne raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to go over to that truck,” she said, “and order ice cream from a man who smokes weed.”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s a neat freak.”
“I saw him plucking flies out of his hair.”
“So? You used to eat them.”
“Hey,” Anne pointed to Marcy in warning, the threat holding no weight. “They tasted good.”
“No excuse,” Marcy mumbled, grinning. She took out a copper coin from somewhere and stuck it in the air to show Anne with a grin. “Anyway, this is for good luck,” she said. “Here's hoping he’ll give me a discount.”
Anne chuckled. “And to hope it doesn't melt by the time you get over here.”
“Frog, I hope not! At least it shouldn't. It just rained, anyway,” Marcy muttered as she left her phone in her room.
Anne shook her head and sighed. She looked around her. Ever since Frogvasion, She, Marcy, and Sasha haven’t talked much, making Anne savor every moment they had. Marcy moved to Hopkinton, and Sasha just…avoided her. Anne found herself spending more time with her parents, she was well known in eighth grade, and the incident had even become a national holiday! Well, not a holiday. Just… national. She began to see more possibilities in the world; buying things that she didn't need, but would make her happy, to going as far as going to an all-you-can-eat buffet, just for the fun of it.
With adult supervision, of course. Hop Pop would never let her hear the end of it. That is, if he were there.
At last, Anne’s eyes fell on a puddle that was too close to her shoe. She stepped back, peering into the puddle, observing how her distorted reflection changed each time. Like the world, she changed too. She found herself drawn to more things that were blue; the sky, bracelets, butterflies, gems, the water. Especially the water. She found that small things were worth the most.
Then there was the gem resting over her upper chest, radiating a subdued light blue hue in her reflection. It was mostly translucent. It was a pale blue color, one that matched the strange streak that began from her roots, with rough edges and a crystalline structure, but circular, nonetheless. Her dad said it was a Celestite.
Sprig once asked about it. She remembered him narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he tapped on the hollow gem repeatedly, earning a subtle sound that could be compared to tapping on glass.
“My mom,” Anne answered nonchalantly.
"Your mom put that in your chest? Did that not hurt?"
"No, she didn't. It's a birthmark. I mean—"
Anne’s mother was not her favorite thought.
Anne felt her brows furrow at the thought. It was safe to say her gem was a birthmark, right? She did have it since birth, and her dad would tell her stories about how her biological mother had the same gem in the exact same spot, and it was a sort of hereditary condition.
Then again, how did her biological mother die? How did she exactly give up her form? What form?
Again: Anne’s mother was not Anne’s favorite thought.
The cold always found its way into her nerves; a shiver was always sent down her spine when she thought of how she was born. Not just because she’d never met her, but for the odd looks it got her. If Anne felt too much, the gem would glow a light blue. The other students would stare at her with sneers and giggles or point to her chest. It was one of the sole reasons Maggie would pick on her. Even Sasha and Marcy would point it out with giggles, but she let it slide.
But not the Plantars. She saw how they’d stare at it, but never teased her relentlessly for it. Anne saw how the Plantars were outcasted and prejudiced by other frogs in Wartwood, and honestly? The whispers about them were right. But did they care? No. That’s what amazed Anne the most; she remembered being bewildered at the three frogs in the Shame Cage, and felt pity, so she asked to join in.
But who was Anne’s mother, truly? Why did she leave?
Anne watched her figure in the puddle morph repeatedly; it was swirling with dust and whatever microbes were in there. She betted they had it all figured out. Lucky bastards.
Anne heard a cough that came from her phone, looking down to find Marcy, expressionless.
“I found a cigarette in the ice cream,” she deadpanned. “But you don’t look so well. You okay?”
Anne nodded, mustering the best smile she could. “I’m okay,” she said, staring at the puddle. “Say,” she started, “the arcade is still open, so maybe your coin does have a bit of luck.”
Anne watched Marcy’s smile light up the same way when she’d seen the ice cream truck. “Really? Let’s go, then! I don’t care if I’m not with you; buy me something!”
Anne glanced back at the puddle, sighing.
'And here's hoping I'll get some answers,' she thought.
___
Anne’s birthday party was, in the words of Sasha, boring with a splash of new. Sure, there were the same people, but a different atmosphere in the air, not to mention the decorations and cake flavor. She’d always had strawberry flavored cake, but recently she found blueberry more appetizing. Especially with crickets. Sasha and Marcy never let her live it down; before the trio parted, whenever they passed an insect that even so as looked like a cricket, Sasha would always pass Anne a fork or any utensil while wheezing. It gave them some weird stares, which made Anne flush a deeper shade of red.
Of course, Oum had freaked out and chided Anne for a sharp 5 minutes, but she had gone all out for Anne’s fourteenth birthday. She bought lotus flowers in the deepest cerulean blue; the lightest cobalt and vibrant shades of yellow and purple, hanging them on the white banner with the embroidered text “Yippee! You’re Fourteen!” In cursive with yellow and blue glitter sprinkled over every letter. She invited extended family; Aunts, cousins, Anne’s close friends, and even Domino’s.
Oum watched her stepdaughter trying her best to stop herself from smiling and failing as everyone gathered around to watch Anne blow out the two candles. When she did, the house erupted in clapping and cheers that Anne could’ve swore the house itself shook, and that caused Bee to get an earful by a cop who was called from a noise complaint by a neighbor across their house, and yet another lecture of the day by Oum on how he, in fact, couldn't use the excuse that he once worked alongside the FBI.
That night, Anne lay on her bed staring at the stars plastered on her ceiling. She’d gotten bored of her phone, so set it to rest next to her. She let her thoughts drift to nowhere in particular, until her eyes fell on a certain frame she’d seen in the living room. A frame of her father and a pale blue haired woman smiling. A frame of her dad and mother smiling.
Sometimes, Anne didn’t wish to think her mother was dead. Her dad hadn’t gone into specifics on her whereabouts, only that her mother’s gem was now hers. She heavily groaned and shut her eyes to try and block out the thoughts and just get to sleeping. It worked for several seconds, until her door burst open and Anne jerked upright, startled. It was her mom and dad, grinning mischievously.
“Anne, me and your mom have talked, and,” Bee looked at Anne, noticing her subtle frown. “Hey, what’s wrong? Too many lotus flowers? Oum, I told you they brought back memories of Amphibia—”
“Lotus flowers symbolize rebirth, renewal, resilience, and spiritual connections. Excuse me for seeing my daughter as any of these—”
“Guys,” Anne said, waving her arms around as if to clear the atmosphere. She sat up hunched over her legs, using her arms to balance herself on her bed. “It wasn’t the lotus flowers. They were beautiful. Thanks, mom.”
“Well then, what's the matter?” Bee sat on the edge of the bed next to Anne.
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Oum sat on the opposite side of Anne.
Anne knew her parents wouldn’t let up until they knew what was wrong. Bee noticed her eyes fall down to the celestite on her chest.
“Oh, honey.” Bee rested his hand on Anne’s shoulder. “I know you miss your biological mom, I do too, but you know what? She let go of her own life so yours could be here.”
That’s the thing: Anne didn’t miss her mother. Heck, she didn’t even know her! She just needed to know who she was.
“But why do I have her gem? It’s not like I’m her, or something. You’ve never told me who she really was—”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Anne sat silent, holding the concerned stare of her father. From her peripheral, she saw Oum avoiding any gazes, looking down at the crimson mittens she still wore. “No,” Anne said, “no, it’s not.”
Bee sighed, pulling his daughter in an embrace. “I can’t tell you anything that can cheer you up, because this is something you’ll have to go through by yourself, Anne. All I’ll tell you is this.” Bee held a blue streak of Anne’s hair. He stared at it longingly. “What you have was given to you by your mother. I can’t tell you how, but I know she’s with you. With us.” Bee extended his other hand to clasp Oum's in his.
Anne held in a sigh. That didn’t answer her question at all.
“But cheer up, honey. What we came to tell you was something much better.” She saw Oum smile in anticipation. The two of her parent’s grins had returned in an instant.
Oum grasped her daughter by the two of her shoulders and pulled her into her own tight hold. “Bee, you’re taking too long,” Oum said, “You and your dad are going on vacation to Delmarva!”
Anne’s face lit up in a grin of her own. She stuttered and stammered for a response that wasn’t “This is amazing!” The family had been wanting to go to Delmarva since Anne was around seven years old.
“That’s great!” Anne exclaimed, whipping her head side to side to look at both of her parents. “Delmarva? We could go to Bayburg, Aqua Town— wait, did you say me and dad? What about you, mom?” Annes grin faltered just a bit, pointing at her mother with a skeptical look.
Unlike Anne’s grin, Oum's facade fell entirely. “Well, your grandmother’s cat died, and you know how much she doted on it,” she said, “Your dad and I have been talking about who would stay, but since I’m her daughter, I agreed to help her through the grief.”
“Oh,” Anne muttered, avoiding both her parents' looks.
“I’m fine with it, really.” Oum kissed Anne’s forehead. “But aside from that, you and your dad will be staying there until summer vacation is over, which would be about two months.”
“And in that time, we’ll be staying at a hotel in Beach City,” Bee butted in, “but we’ll have to leave soon, because the plane departs around,” he squinted, looking at the clock across the three, “9:05. So, hurry and pack.” With that, Oum and Bee got up, leaving Anne’s room.
____
As Anne sat in the back seat, with every red light, she stared out the window, observing life around her; couples arguing, women with a handful of shopping bags in almost every color, people waiting for the bus at the bus stop; at one point, she caught a young woman in particular glancing over every so often nervously to an indifferent young man, who skimmed on his phone.
She waited and waited silently in apprehension, as still as a rock, until the young blonde finally went up and brought up a conversation with the man. He didn’t look as indifferent before, now shocked with a small smile on his face. Anne pounded her fist into the air and lowered it down in triumph.
There were also the mothers. The mothers who held their children in swaddles, the mothers who refused to let go of their children’s hands when crossing the roads, and the mothers who played patty cake with their children. Each child shared a distinct resemblance to each woman, showing they were biologically related.
Anne wasn’t envious of the sightings. She felt lament. Lament over the fact she would never meet her mother. She drifted to sleep with that very thought repeating itself over and over in her head.