Archive of Our Own

Vi falls into the family quite clumsily, but the Wickhams are nothing if not forgiving and patient. As well as a couple of pre-teens and an elementary schooler can be, adults aside.

It's still hard — Vi's first reaction is anger, and then shame, and then frustration or embarrassment. Add pregnancy hormones and the general struggle of being fifteen, and she was in tears more often than not. It's a hard transition for the kids. Jinx's first instinct is to panic, Mylo's is to run off, and Claggor's is to shut down. Vi was the oldest only by a couple years, but she still feels the terrible weight of being the example for all the kids. She was not setting a good precedent, in her own opinion.

Vander is her biggest support, when it comes to her temper. He sits with her as she shakes with rage, screams into a pillow, or paces back and forth muttering to herself. When she's finished or at least not heightened enough to use the violence that was so easily at her fingertips, he speaks to her calmly and talks her through the process of her emotions.

"You're like a shrink," Vi sniffs one afternoon, swiping the back of her hand under her nose. They were out in the backyard, sitting on the steps of the porch leading down into the vast yard beyond.

Vander chuckles softly, sitting back on his hands and tipping his head up toward the sunshine. "Ah, well," he hums. "I was a therapist, in another life. Years ago now."

Vi blinks, then squints, looking up at him. "…You were?"

Vander slides hazel eyes toward her. She'd gotten better about maintaining eye contact; she holds it until he smiles at her. Only then does she pull her eyes away, watching a spider weave a web just a few feet away on the railing of the porch.

"I was a foster kid, too." He says, something gentle in his tone.

Vi blinks, her gaze lifting back to his. "Oh." Is all she can think to say.

Vander doesn't press; he sits up again and reaches over, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You're hard on yourself." He observes.

Vi glowers, shrugging him off. "Stop — psychoanalyzing me. God."

He only laughs, letting his hand fall to his side again. "Are you feeling any better?"

She pauses, stretching her legs out in front of her, the tickle of grass brushing against the bottoms of her bare feet. She takes one breath, letting it out slow. Then another. "I think so," she says finally. "Kinda hungry…"

Her foster dad chuckles, sitting forward and clapping his hands on his knees. "Alright, then. Let's see where Silco is on dinner, shall we?"

Vi watches him stand with a groan and a stretch, staying right where she is. He looks down at her, his gaze curious, then offers her a hand. She looks at it, at the worn callouses on his palms from his days in construction, at the blunt edge of his nails, at the kindness being extended to her. She still thought maybe she didn't deserve it — but she puts her hand in his and lets him pull her to her feet.

Word gets out at school, somehow, that Vi was pregnant. She goes from being the kid nobody talks to, to the one everyone talks about overnight. She's hyper aware, keeping her gaze down as she walks through the halls, books clutched to her chest. She can hear her name, she can hear people fall silent as she passes, she can feel the weight of their eyes on her.

It pisses her off. Anger was easier than anxiety and the loneliness that was carving itself deep in her chest. She slams her locker a little louder than was necessary, shuts up the whispering with nasty looks, snarls back at the kids who jeer. The tension builds over the course of a week, but she doesn't tell anyone.

No; instead she goes home in a foul mood and stays in a foul mood, repeating the cycle over and over. Her weekends are spent trying to reset, exhausted and worn thin from every word or action thrown her way. Vi feels awful for it, too.

Of course she does — she's snappy with Jinx, she's vicious to Mylo when he teases, she ignores Claggor, she talks back to Silco and Vander. There's a knee-jerk panic that comes with it, every time. She's sure, after each retort, that her foster parents would reconsider keeping her, at this rate. Her heart pounds after every argument or confrontation and all she can do is watch, helpless to stop herself and helpless to stop everyone thinking she was anything more than a bitch.

Vi sticks to isolation, after another dismissal of Jinx makes her foster sister cry. Silco gives her an earful for it, sends her to her room to think about her choices and she just… stays. She doesn't come down for dinner that night, instead laying in bed and listening to the easy laughter and conversation that happened with the family downstairs when she wasn't there. She hugs a pillow to her chest to quell the aching of her heart, fighting the sting of tears up until the moment she falls into uneasy sleep.

Muteness is easy, again. She doesn't say anything to anyone if she can help it, and when she does it's a mumble. She makes herself as small as she can be, trying not to disrupt everyone more than she already has.

Vander notices, because he always does. She hates him for it, a little. She felt like she was being put under a microscope. It comes to a head, after three days of silence or subdued responses from Vi. They're at the dinner table, with Silco at the head and Vander straight across from him. Vi's sitting beside Claggor, who was wary but ultimately very sweet. He seems to give too many second chances, Vi always notes to herself. Maybe she should feel lucky, but she just feels resentful.

Jinx is across the table, chatting animatedly about her upcoming diorama project and the zoo animal she might pick for it.

Silco sips his wine, tipping his head. "Should we go to the zoo?" He asks, as more of a general sweeping question than anything. "Family field trip?"

Unease roils in Vi's belly.

Mylo perks right up. "Hell yeah! We can see the penguins!"

"Language," Vander grunts.

Claggor tips his head thoughtfully. "Maybe they'll have a presentation on snakes like they did last time? In that cool ampitheatre?"

Jinx grins a gap-toothed smile; her front tooth was still growing in. She liked to poke her straw in the hole between her teeth. "We can see the tigers!"

"What's your favorite animal?" Vander asks Vi.

Vi's grip on her fork tightens. "I don't know," she says, trying to keep her irritation to a simmer and not a fully cranked flame. She was fighting a losing battle.

Mylo leans forward a little, skeptical. "Have you ever been to the zoo?"

Maybe it isn't an accusation, but Vi feels her face flush from the prospect of an argument. "Yes," she says through grit teeth.

Jinx's eyes dart between Mylo and Vi.

"Well… what would you want to do there?" Claggor asks, ever the peacemaker.

Vi stabs her fork into a roasted carrot, the sound too loud against the ceramic plate. "I don't know." She says peevishly.

Vander raises an eyebrow. Watching her. "Do you prefer aquariums, maybe?"

It's enough to send her over the edge. Vi drops her fork with a clatter, slams her hands down on the table, and snaps, "for fuck's sake, leave me alone!"

Silence falls over the table. The boys stare at Vi in shock; Jinx starts to chew on her braid; Silco and Vander's gazes fall heavily on her; Vi stops breathing.

"Well," Silco says, his voice the shade of calm it usually was when he was displeased, when she'd fucked up. It's icy and cold and sends shivers down her spine, dousing the flame of her anger. "If you're going to behave like this, I suppose we'll just go without you."

It's supposed to just be a threat to make her change her attitude. Vi knows this — she knows this because it had been used on her over and over and over again. She'd been with enough families who were happy to find excuses to leave her out. She'd been locked in a room as punishment. She'd been excluded and displaced and left behind for as long as she can remember. So instead of dread, instead of panic and corrective behavior, she pushes out her chair with the screech of wood on tile.

"Fine," she says, as low and as cold as Silco's voice had been. It startles him; she sees the flicker of surprise in his eyes, and pulls away before he can open his mouth and add that she was grounded, too. Instead she goes upstairs to her room, closing the door as quietly as she can handle and climbing into bed.

She doesn't listen to the sounds of the family downstairs, better off without her. She puts in her headphones and listens to the handful of songs she remembers her mom playing, back when she was alive. She plays the same four on repeat and lets tears slip down her face. She was going to be a terrible mom. She was already a terrible big sister.

Some part of Vi finds horrible comfort in the fact that, at the end of the day, none of these things ever really changed.

They go to the zoo without her, that weekend. Vander stays behind, and Vi knows it's with the intention of figuring out what was wrong. So she avoids him as much as she can; going for a walk, hiding in her room, taking a shower that was too long. He finally catches up to her when she's sitting on the porch swing in the backyard, her knees pulled as close to her chest as the little baby bump will allow, her headphones in her ears, the same four songs on repeat.

Vander opens the door, poking his head out. Vi glances over, watches him light up when he sees her, and looks away so she doesn't ask him point-blank why he was excited to see her at all.

"Hungry?" He asks.

She opens her mouth to deny it, only to have her traitorous stomach growl quite loudly in reply. She closes her mouth with a sigh, setting her chin on her knees.

Vander softens a little, tipping his head to the side. "Cucumber sandwiches and lemonade?" He guesses.

She can't help but smile a little. It's tired; she was so drained. She was so lonely. She pauses her music and tugs her headphones out. Maybe she wouldn't mind having a little company.

"Yeah," Vi says, her voice a little rough from disuse.

He nods, leaving her be with the bang of the screen door. Vi picks at a stray thread on the toe of her sock, resting her cheek on her knee. She puts one headphone in, pressing play on her music again. Stevie Nicks's voice picks back up, cutting through the gentle clang of the wind chime across the porch from her.

It's enough that she doesn't hear Vander come out until the screen door bangs shut again. She jumps, opening her eyes and looking up at him. He winces, setting a tray of sandwiches between them and handing her a cold can of lemonade. She pops the tab and takes a sip, a little dripping on her chin when his weight settling onto the porch swing jostles her.

"Sorry," he grunts, opening his own.

Vi only shrugs, pausing the song again and setting her phone aside. He always wanted to talk — it was no use trying to avoid it.

"Whatcha listening to?" Vander looks down at her.

Vi's cheeks flush. She fidgets with the pop tab on her can, then reaches down and grabs a sandwich half. "My mom's favorite songs," she mumbles, before taking a bite to avoid the conversation that would follow for a few seconds longer.

She never talked about her mom. Vi had lost both of her parents when she was five, but she still remembers her mom viscerally; hair that she dyed purple (while she also dyed her kid's bright pink), a laugh that was loud and filled a room, the same four songs that she'd sing to Vi or dance with her in the kitchen to. It hurts, these days — now that Vi was also fifteen, now that she was also a foster kid, now that she was also pregnant and always one wrong step away from being alone in the world.

Vander watches her chew, something unreadable in his gaze. Vi knew the look, though. It was the one grown-ups used when they were trying to figure her out, or trying to walk on eggshells so they didn't piss her off. Vi was too tired and too sad to get pissed off today. The rest of the family she was supposed to belong to was out, together, and she was left behind. Tears prick her eyes at the thought, so she takes another bite of her sandwich and doesn't make eye contact with Vander.

He waits until she's finished with a whole sandwich, instead just eating alongside her. His foot was rooted to the ground, pushing them back and forth gently on the swing. It soothes her a little more; she watches a fraying tan gingham seam cling to the cushion it was attached to as her weight shifts back and forth.

"I'm sorry," Vi says finally, her voice soft, when she can finally speak.

"What for?"

They rock back and forth. Vi feels Vander's gaze on her and fiddles with her empty can.

"I'm an asshole," she frowns. "I'm… mean, and rude, and… I just fuck everything up. I dunno, I — I don't want to be. I don't mean to."

"So why do you?"

It's a simple question, but it knocks the breath out of Vi. Tears spring to her eyes. I don't know is the first thing that sits on the tip of her tongue, but she… she knows.

She sniffs, scrubbing a hand over her eyes. "It's easier when nobody likes me," her voice shakes. "Means — Means they won't leave. Or something. I dunno. It's stupid."

Vander shifts to face her a little more. The porch swing groans its disapproval, the rocking disrupted, before he settles and starts the gentle back and forth again.

"It's not stupid," he says, kindly, and Vi scoffs.

"It is. I just — I can't stop. I don't… I wanted to go to the zoo," her voice cracks. A tear slips down her cheek and she scrubs it away harshly. "I didn't — my favorite animal is a flamingo," she hiccups. "I haven't, my mom used to—"

She cuts herself off with a sob, and once it starts, it doesn't stop. She presses her fists to her eyes, her shoulders shaking, as the weight of grief she'd been keeping at bay for ten years settles heavily on her shoulders again.

Vander sets the tray aside. He scoots closer, reaching forward and enveloping her in a hug. She cries even harder, instead fisting her hands in his shirt, letting him press her close against him.

Her foster dad takes a shaky breath, his nose buried in her hair. He just holds her for awhile, still gently rocking them. Back and forth, back and forth.

"I'm sorry," she weeps, and he shakes his head, nose brushing against her scalp.

"No," he hugs her a little closer. "I'm sorry. We haven't… we didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. We didn't think beyond our own frustration."

"It's okay," Vi cries. "It's okay, I was mean, I don't deserve—"

Vander cuts her off, his tone firm. "You do deserve the benefit of the doubt. You're fifteen, Violet." He takes a slow, shaky breath. "Fifteen, and pregnant, and… I should have known something was wrong. I'm sorry, lovebug."

She doesn't say it's okay, because it didn't feel okay. So instead, she holds onto her foster dad and cries and lets him rock them back and forth. She lets him run a hand through her hair, she lets him model deep breathing, she lets him soothe her into sniffling silence.

"What kind of music did your mom like?" He asks when she finally pulls away, rubbing tired eyes.

Vi has a fleeting moment of apprehension, a sudden desire to keep everything tucked close to her heart and not let anyone see. But she looks up into hazel eyes, soft and warm and curious, and she opens the playlist and shows him the four songs she listened to on repeat lately.

Vander reads the titles, a smile working its way into his face. "Ah," he chuckles. "She had good taste."

Vi smiles, too. "Yeah," she agrees. "She did."

It's late, when Silco and the other kids finally get home that night. Something about a car accident on the highway, something about stopping for dinner, something about the zoo being over an hour away. Point was; Vi and Vander were eating ice cream for dinner, sitting on the couch and watching cartoons, when the rest of the Wickham gang flood in through the front door.

"No fair!" Jinx whines, when she sees Vi in her mountain of pillows and blankets, eating rocky road out of the carton with a spoon. "Why am I not allowed to eat as much as I want!"

"It's because you're too little," Mylo chimes in, ruffling her hair with his knuckles as he passes and narrowly avoiding a kick in retaliation.

"Kids," Silco sighs, slipping off his shoes by the door. "Behave, please. Showers, then bedtime. It's late."

Mylo and Claggor race each other up the stairs, their footsteps thundering and their bickering loud even as they reach the landing. Vi watches them go, her spoon poking her lower lip.

Jinx lingers, though. She looks at Vi, her expression curious, then tiptoes over to Silco and tugs on his shirt. He blinks, looking down, then leans to hear her when she lifts up on her tiptoes and cups a hand by her mouth to whisper to him.

He blinks, then chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yes. Go ahead."

Jinx lights up, then starts digging around in the large paper bag with the zoo logo on it that Silco had brought in and set down by the door. She grabs something, then whips around, staring at Vi.

"Close your eyes!" She demands.

"Wuh," Vi blinks, then pulls the spoon from her lips. "Why?"

"Vi!" Jinx whines. "Just do it!"

Vi considers for a second. But then Jinx pulls out the pout, lower lip stuck out and all, and she does as she's told. There's some rustling, the shifting of the couch as Jinx climbs into her lap, and then something soft being set in the crook of her arm.

"Okay," her foster sister says, "now you can open."

Vi hesitates for only a second before she opens her eyes. She looks at Jinx, who was watching her with shining blue eyes and a gap toothed grin, then drops her gaze and — oh.

Oh.

"Mama said maybe we should get you something, and I think — do you like it? I picked it out, it matches your hair, see?" Jinx babbles.

Vi runs shaky fingers over the plush beak of a flamingo stuffed animal, her eyes welling with tears again. "I love it," she says, her voice cracking.

"Oh," Jinx blinks. "So why are you crying?"

Vi sniffs, lifting a hand to scrub her eyes. "Flamingos are my favorite," she says, instead of explaining.

Her foster sister lights up. "Really?!" She gasps. "No way! I didn't even know that!"

Vi laughs, then sets her ice cream and the plushie aside to pull Jinx into a hug. Jinx freezes, startled, but burrows into it in no less than a few seconds, shoving her face into the crook of Vi's neck. Vi wraps her arms around her small frame and tries not to hold on as tight as she wants to, lest she crush her.

"Thank you," Vi whispers.

"You're welcome," Jinx whispers back, and then, "can I have a bite of your ice cream?"

Vi laughs again. She pulls back, then presses a finger to her lips (despite their parents being a few feet away) and gives her a spoonful of it. A little smears on the corner of Jinx's mouth, but she beams, flushed with happiness.

"Okay, girls, bedtime," Silco says, going to sit on the couch beside Vander. His husband loops an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Jinx looks as though she wants to argue, but Vi puts the lid on the carton and pushes the blankets off her lap. "C'mon," she says to her little sister, "I'll read you a story if you get your pj's on before me."

Blue eyes widen, and then the littlest of the household is off like a shot. Vi watches her go, a hand pressed to her lower back, and wonders if she'd ever run like that again.

"Have you had anything other than ice cream for dinner, Vi?" Silco murmurs. His eyes were closed, his cheek pressed against Vander's chest.

Vi pauses for a moment, running a hand through her hair. "…If I lie, will that make you feel better?"

Silco gives a long-suffering sigh, eyes opening so he can look at her. "Yes." He decides at length.

She grins. "Then yes."

"I'm going to let your father take the blame for this one," Silco decides, closing his eyes again.

Father. Vi's stomach squeezes, before a rush of warm relief floods her. She lets out a breath, nodding.

Vander chuckles, rubbing a stubbly jaw on Silco's hair, the motion rasping softly. "Put the carton up and go to bed, bug. We'll see you in the morning."

"Night," Vi says, because it's all she can manage.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Silco opens his eyes to look at her again, giving her a tired smile. Vander gives her a wink, then a playful shooing motion with his hand.

Vi gathers her favorite blanket, the flamingo stuffie, and the ice cream and spoon before she pads out of the room. She sets the spoon in the sink quietly, puts the ice cream in the packed freezer, and runs her fingers over a few fridge magnets before she pulls away to go upstairs.

"Viiii-olet!" Jinx hollers from her bedroom as Vi starts her trek upstairs.

"I'm coming," she calls back, reaching the landing.

Jinx's bedroom door was open at the end of the hall, warm light spilling across the old carpet. There's some rustling, before blue eyes and freckles peek out of the room. "I picked three," her little sister says.

Vi raises an eyebrow. "You gonna stay awake for all three?"

Jinx puffs her cheeks out. "Yes. Come in, already."

Vi smiles. She wraps the blanket in her arms around her shoulders and crosses the landing, the hall, the threshold.

Jinx falls asleep midway through book two.

Home gets better by the end of the weekend, but Vi returns to school and falls right back into the staring, the whispering, the jeering, the snickering. She sits through her classes and watches friends interact. She gets assigned a group project and is excluded from it.

"You'll just be gone when it's due, anyway," the girl leading it says. Vi's jaw works; she was due in six months, not six weeks. But she doesn't say anything.

The last part of the day is the worst, and knocks the breath right out of her. She approaches her locker, after spending a good amount of time stalling in her final classroom, only to find WHORE written across her locker in sharpie. Vi stops a few feet away, staring at the word, and feels that weight fall squarely back on her shoulders.

She doesn't even want to get her backpack out of it. She doesn't want to touch it. But her phone was in there — a phone Vander and Silco paid for, not to mention her homework and her books — so she couldn't just leave it.

The door to the hall opens, laughter and friendly teasing spilling into the hallway, bouncing off the walls. Vi scrambles to try and put herself closer to the lockers, to hide her shame, her heart racing. Even though her hands were shaking and she felt like vomiting at the idea of cleaning this off her locker — she licks her thumb and tries to rub some of the permanent marker off her locker. It occurs to her, suddenly, that if she couldn't fix it then Vander and Silco would have to pay for property damage. And that would involve telling them why.

The group — the girls rugby team, she realizes belatedly — continues down the hall toward her. They smelled of grass and sweat and exertion. The noise bounces around the hall and now Vi's temples, as panic surges through her. Someone was going to see. Someone was going to see.

She glances up to see how far they were from her, how much longer she had (although she was succeeding in nothing but smearing the ink around with her thumb) to fix this before anyone saw. She looks up, and she makes eye contact with the captain, of all people.

Everyone knew Sevika Kumari. Either by her academic prowess, her sportsmanship, or her devastatingly good looks. Vi had never met her, but she'd seen her — Sevika was a beast on the field, and Vi was properly a dyke, so she'd definitely noticed Sevika. But Sevika had never noticed her.

Well, until now. Until Sevika catches Vi's gaze, probably by accident, and pauses.

"I'll catch up later, guys," she tells the group, slowing to a stop. Her eyes never leave Vi, taking in the entirety of the situation. Vi's heart rises to her throat, threatening to choke her. She can't look away, though. There's something about Sevika's gaze that won't let her.

The rugby team calls their goodbyes, leaving Sevika and Vi alone in the hall. The double doors at the end of the hall shut with a loud clack, leaving the two in eery silence.

Vi breaks their eye contact, finally, shame flushing her cheeks. Her thumb slips from its place pressed against a line of ink, stained. She glances back at the locker, at the word, and wonders if Sevika was going to echo it back at her.

"Hold on," Sevika says, before jogging back down the hall and ducking into a classroom. Vi considers bolting, but she doesn't commit before Sevika is already on her way back, a box of tissues and some hand sanitizer in hand.

"This should get it off." She says, stepping closer to Vi and offering her a tissue. Vi hesitates, then takes one and lets Sevika dribble some sanitizer on it. Vi expects her to leave, to set everything down and catch up with her friends — but instead the rugby captain wets her own tissue and steps up beside Vi to start scrubbing the very top of the locker, where Vi can't reach.

Vi watches her a moment, confused and bewildered, before she turns to start working from the bottom up. It works; they blow through tissues, but ten minutes later, it's like nothing had ever been written there in the first place.

Sevika gathers up the tissues in hands bigger than Vi's, crumpling them and collecting Vi's, too.

"Thanks," Vi says softly. She glances up at Sevika, but when those brown eyes meet hers, she has to look away.

"Sure," Sevika says. She takes a step toward the trash can, then pauses. "Hey, um… any idea who did this?"

Vi's hands curl into fists. She shakes her head, then shakes out her hands to unlock her locker and grab her things. "Nah," she says quietly. "Doesn't matter."

She can feel those brown eyes on her. She looks up at Sevika again, closing her locker door with a snap of metal on metal.

Sevika cocks her head to the side, watching Vi. Like she was trying to decipher a puzzle. Vi wants to squirm under her gaze, but foster care had made her mean — so instead she lifts her chin and narrows her eyes and glares.

It doesn't seem to do much other than pull the quirk of a smile from Sevika's lips. "We eat lunch in the courtyard," she offers. "By the big tree. You're welcome to join us."

"Why?" It's out of her mouth before Vi even has the chance to stop it.

The rugby captain blinks, equally surprised. But she shrugs, bending to grab the hand sanitizer. "Just seems like maybe you could use a friend."

It's meant to be kind. It's meant to be — Vi tries not to let her hackles raise. But she still feels that knee jerk desire to shove this kindness away, she still feels the fear of loss creeping up her spine. She swallows hard around a knot in her throat and looks away.

"I don't know," she says, "maybe."

Sevika smiles again. It's still small, but it's — it's genuine. "Jessie's mom makes brownies on Wednesdays," she says, like maybe it would entice Vi — and to her horror, it does.

"Tomorrow's Wednesday," are the only words Vi can manage.

Sevika winks, her smile widening. "Yep. Courtyard by the big tree. Can't miss us; we usually get noise complaints."

Mercifully, she leaves it at that — Sevika gives her a little wave with the two fingers that weren't holding something, and turns to go put everything away.

Vi leaves school that day feeling a little lighter. She tries to stay in the feeling, but still the creeping claws of dread cling to her belly. Or maybe it was just acid reflux.

"So are you really pregnant?"

Vi pauses. It was Friday, day three of eating lunch with the rugby team. Day three of sitting beside Sevika, who was steady and calm and kept a handle on the group.

"Abigail," Sevika grabs that handle.

But Vi looks up at the blonde, who was sitting back with her palms and eyebrows raised. Backing off. Vi is grateful, so she — she answers.

"Yeah," she says, glancing down at her juice box, stabbing the straw through the little hole. It was Jinx's favorite flavor, she notes, taking a sip. "Due in July."

The group all pauses, chewing on this information. Sevika looks down at Vi, unreadable, but checking. Taking a pulse. Letting Vi take the lead.

"That's crazy," Abigail sets her elbows on the table, leaning in a little, her eyes wide. "You're — what, sixteen?"

Vi shrugs her shoulders, unwrapping her sandwich. "Fifteen. Sixteen in December."

It was late October. She watches the girls do some mental math, but doesn't care to explain. Instead she takes a bite of her sandwich.

"Huh," Abigail settles on, then reaches across the table to steal another one of the girls's apple slices, earning a squawk of indignation.

Huh, indeed. Vi shrugs again, then glances up at Sevika.

Sevika looks down at her, too, raising a single eyebrow in a silent question. You okay?

Vi gives a nod, then turns back to her sandwich, settling in to listen to the group and figure out her place in the comfortable chaos. Sevika's arm brushes against hers, sometimes.

"Can I have some friends over this weekend?" Vi asks at the dinner table one night when conversation lulls.

Vander pauses, looking at Silco and raising his eyebrows. Silco considers, curious, looking at Vi. She hadn't mentioned any friends at all, she was realizing — it had been two weeks and she hadn't really said anything, keeping it to herself. It was… she didn't want to get her hopes up.

(They were up, anyway.)

"Who are these friends?" Silco asks, curiosity in his tone.

Vi blushes faintly, glancing down at the table. "The, uh… the rugby team."

Vander's eyes widen. "You haven't been playing, have you? That could be very dangerous for you and the baby—"

"No, dad," Vi huffs.

The table falls silent, five pairs of eyes landing on her. She blinks, then realizes after a beat that it was the first time she'd called Vander dad. Silco looks startled; Mylo looks smug; Claggor was smiling; Jinx was beaming; Vander's eyes were misty.

Vi ducks her head, skittish, and Silco wisely picks the conversation back up. "How many are we talking about? Two? Three?"

Vi's face heats. "Um. Twenty three…?"

The table falls silent again, but this time for a different reason. Vander and Silco make eye contact, and seem to be having some sort of… silent conversation. It involves a lot of eyebrow movement. Finally, they look at Vi.

"What would you like to do?" Silco asks.

Vi fidgets. "Uh," she says, "I didn't… think that far."

Vander sits back in his seat. "Hm… well it's too many for a sleepover. But I could whip out the grill one last time, we could do a bonfire and some s'mores…"

"We'd need the contact information of all the parents," Silco's eyes stay on his husband. "And a list of any allergies."

Vi's eyes widen. This was — it wasn't a no. "So…" She trails off, uncertain of what else she'd say.

Her foster parents make intense eye contact for a few more seconds, before Vander looks at Vi and nods. "Alright," he says. "But on Saturday, so that it isn't a school night. And absolutely no alcohol or weed or anything else."

"Okay," Vi was breathless, her eyes wide. "Yeah — Yes."

Dinner conversation resumes, but Vi can't eat; she's got butterflies in her stomach, excitement thrumming through her veins.

Jinx climbs into bed with Vi that night, when she's half asleep. She wastes no time, shoving the covers aside and wriggling her way in. Cold toes poke Vi's shins, and she sucks in a breath, rising from her drowsing.

"Hi, bug," she mumbles, lifting a hand to rub her eyes. She wraps it around Jinx when she's done, tugging her closer.

"Am I invited?" Jinx asks. There's anxiety in her blue eyes, illuminated by the moonbeams casting a pale glow over the room.

Vi blinks, slow and sleepy. "Invited?" She repeats. "To what?"

Her foster sister squirms, huffing softly. "You know," she mumbles. "To your party. With all the… rug girls."

She has to stifle a laugh. "Rugby," she corrects.

"Whatever," Jinx grumbles.

Vi chuckles, leaning down and kissing the top of Jinx's head. "Course you're invited." She hums. "It's your house, you know."

Jinx relaxes. She smiles up at Vi. "Yours, too." She says earnestly.

Something in Vi melts. She tucks the blankets up around them both. Her stuffed flamingo was pressed between them. "Yeah," she agrees. "Mine too."

"Can I sleepover?" Jinx asks, already getting cozy.

"Always, bug. Always."

Vi learns, over the course of the rest of the week, that the Wickhams knew how to throw one hell of a kickback.

Vander gets enough sodas to flood a small valley, enough hot dogs and hamburgers to feed an army, and Silco makes enough sides that Vi swears they're going to be eating potato salad for the rest of the year. All the kids are set to clean a part of the house — Vi is not allowed near cleaning products, so she vacuums and goes behind everyone to straighten things out and tidy.

By the time Saturday rolls around, Vi is a mess of nerves and excitement. The baby decides, helpfully, to contribute — it starts with her pants not fitting, and then with a bout of puking for a good half hour. By the time people are meant to start showing up, she's wearing a borrowed shirt from Vander to hide the fact that her jeans are held together by a hair tie and is still a little green around the gills.

"Go sit," Silco says firmly, even as the doorbell rings. Jinx rushes to answer. Vi is left to stare helplessly at the line of Silco's finger. She can't even argue, so she goes to sit outside on the porch swing, hoping the gentle sway of it will calm her, somehow.

She listens to her friends filter in, laughing and talking, and smiles to herself.

The screen door opens, and out steps Sevika. Vi glances up, her smile widening. She was wearing a cutoff grey tank top and basketball shorts, a baseball cap pushing her hair from her eyes.

"Hey," she greets, taking Vi in, too. "Feeling okay? Your dad said you had a rough morning."

Vi groans, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Yeah — god, I can't believe he told you that… just, like, morning sickness. And also my pants don't fit, so."

Sevika steps outside fully, letting the screen door slip shut before she goes to sit beside Vi. She faces toward her; one knee bent toward the backboard cushioning, the other stretched out in front of her, foot resting on the deck. Vi starts to shift to face her, too, but Sevika makes a noise of objection.

"Stay," she says firmly, and Vi huffs but settles where she is.

"Bossy," she mutters.

Sevika chuckles softly, starting to rock them gently. Vi sinks into the cushions a bit more, some of the tension bleeding from her body. She closes her eyes, sighing softly.

"You okay?" Sevika asks.

"Yeah," she answers immediately, then shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah. It's just… a lot, being pregnant. I'm really tired."

The rugby captain makes a sympathetic noise. "I bet. Sounds like a lot of work."

"I mean, it's not so bad." Vi tugs up her shirt, uncaring if Sevika saw her peek of boxers and the hair tie clinging to the button of her jeans for dear life. She pokes a gentle finger against the curve of her belly and smiles. "Pretty cool, too."

Sevika watches, tipping her head to the side. Her brown eyes were disarmed, warm. "I mean, it's pretty badass. You're creating a whole person."

"Want to feel?" Vi looks up at Sevika. "I mean, they don't move yet, but…"

Vi watches Sevika blush, for the first time. She looks at Vi, something shy in her expression, and nods.

"Give me your hand?"

Sevika's palms are cool but rough in Vi's own hands. She holds Sevika's hand for just a couple seconds too long, then presses the flat of her hand against the curve of her belly. For a little while, they just sit there, breathing together.

The smack of the screen door on the wall of the house startles them both; they jump, and Sevika pulls her hand away as Vi tugs down her shirt. Both of them are blushing.

"There you are!" Jinx huffs, stomping over. She stops in front of Vi and Sevika, squinting at the rugby captain. Sevika squints back.

"Hi." Jinx says, suspicious.

"Hello," Sevika offers, significantly less so.

"Who are you?"

"Sevika. And you are?"

Jinx lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. "Oh! Vi talks about you all the time!"

If Vi was blushing before — it had nothing on the flames taking up her face now. "Jinx," she hisses.

Sevika was grinning. She glances at Vi, something playful in her gaze. "Oh really?" She asks.

"Oh yeah," Jinx nods, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks Sevika up and down, then scoffs. "But I don't think you're as pretty as she says you are."

"O-kay!" Vi shoots out of her seat, taking her sister by the shoulders, steering her toward the house again. "I think I heard mom calling you."

"What?" Jinx asks, confused. "I didn't hear anything?"

"I definitely did, you should go check just to make sure," Vi opens the screen door.

Jinx digs her heels in, glowering up at Vi. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I, Vi deadpans. "Would never do such a thing."

Jinx's eyes narrow. She huffs at her, then pushes the screen door open a little wider. "If you're lying, I'll know!" She calls over her shoulder.

Vi winces. It would be worth the argument, she decides, as the screen door smacks itself against the frame.

"You think I'm pretty?" Sevika asks, something smug and warm in her tone. Vi looks over; it's in her eyes, too.

"Shut the fuck up," she huffs, shoving a hand through her hair. Sevika's answering laugh pulls a smile from her.

In December, six days before Vi's birthday, the rug is once again swept from beneath her.

Life had been going really well; home was comfortable, the baby was growing nicely, Vi had a whole group of friends, she wasn't being bullied anymore, and she and Sevika were… dancing around one another. It was sweet, Vi thinks. It was nothing like anything Vi had experienced before.

But, of course, because life had a way of biting specifically Vi in the ass — they get a knock on the door while the family is cleaning up dinner one night. Vander goes to check it, and Vi doesn't think much of it until she hears a voice that freezes her blood and makes her go completely still.

"Sorry to bother," a man's voice says. "I'm looking for Violet, I was told she lives here?"

Vander shifts, crossing his arms and looking the guy up and down. Vi can't see him past Vander's broad frame, but — he was there. He was here, he knew where she lived, she wasn't safe anymore—

"Who's asking?" Vander's voice is a little gruffer than usual.

"Oh, right," Vi's old math teacher says. "Sorry. Adam Parker. I'm the father of Vi's baby."

Many things happen in quick succession; Vander punches Mr. Parker in the face, Jinx screams, Silco drops a pan in the sink with a horribly loud clatter, and Vi passes out.

When she comes to, she's in bed, an ice pack on a throbbing part of her head. She blinks groggily, only to see a couple of paramedics over her in her bedroom. They pause when she blinks sluggishly up at them, and the woman gives her a smile.

"Hi, sweetie," she says. "We're just checking on baby. How are you feeling?"

Vi lays there for a minute. She wiggles her fingers. She wiggles her toes. She closes her eyes again, tries to remember what happened…

With a gasp and a sudden loud beeping of a heart monitor she hadn't even noticed was there, Vi sits up. The terror seizes her again; she looks toward the door, expecting to see him, and instead finds Silco. He steps over as the paramedics try and get her to lay down.

She doesn't until he takes her hand, squeezing gently, and says, "I'm here."

The beeping of the monitor slows as she lays back down, clinging to his hand as tight as she can. She answers the paramedic's questions as best she can, but as soon as they mention the police, she's thrown into another panic attack. Silco holds her through it, rocking her and murmuring softly to her. So the attention turns back to her and the baby — once they're given the all clear, the paramedics file out and leave Silco and Vi alone.

Vi doesn't have anything to say but I'm sorry, and she can't even muster the energy to do so. So she just lays there in Silco's arms, trembling, while he pets her hair and murmurs gently to her. She can't even hear the words. It doesn't take much, but soon she's slipping back into unconsciousness, her body giving in to the exhaustion she'd put herself through.

The next day at breakfast, Vander's knuckles are wrapped on his right hand. He looks like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep — they all do. Vi sits at her place at the table and stares into her bowl of oatmeal, unable to eat anything. She'd most definitely throw it up immediately.

Mylo is silent. Claggor, too — and Jinx is absent, Silco along with her. The boys clear the table too soon, desperate to get out of the choking, thick atmosphere and get ready for school. It leaves Vi and Vander alone, and Vi makes eye contact with her foster dad and realizes she wasn't going to escape this conversation.

Vander sits back in his seat, tapping his fingertips on the table. His gaze was open; reading her. Watching her. Taking her in. Vi squirms in her seat.

She breaks the silence first, her voice thin and thready. She felt like she had the first few days she'd been here; on thin enough ice that she could be tossed out at a moment's notice. "I'm sorry."

Vander sucks in a breath like she'd hit him, shaking his head immediately. He sits forward, elbows in the table, and looks at her. His gaze bores into her.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. Is it— Did he—" he chokes on the words.

Vi looks away, her eyes filling with tears. She fidgets. "I dunno," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "I—I didn't… ask for it. I didn't…" She wipes her hand over her eyes, fingers shaking. "Yeah." She lands on, finally.

Vander closes his eyes again, taking a slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He opens them again and there's insurmountable rage there — but not to her. He looks down at his bandaged hand, fingers flexing.

"He won't ever touch you again." He says, low and dark and angry. "I promise you that. Not you, not your baby — nothing."

Vi nods. She nods, because it's the only thing she can do, and then hiccups. "Do I have to talk to the police?"

Vander looks up at her again. He softens. "Yes," he says, gentle and kind. "We can do it today, and then go out and do something fun. Get you some new clothes. Okay?"

Three months ago, Vi would've been out that door. She would've laughed in his face, called him insane — she would've told him where to shove it, she would've said anything to make him throw her out and get away from this situation entirely.

But now, she… she nods. She rubs her eyes and she nods and she takes a deep, slow breath. "Okay," she says shakily.

Vander reaches over, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently. The bandages rasp softly against her skin. "We've got you," he says, "okay?"

She looks up at him and believes it.

"Okay," she says.

"You okay?" Sevika asks after school the following Monday, worry creasing her brow. She reaches out and takes Vi's backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and falling into step beside her. They walked home together, now; Sevika lived just a few blocks over.

Vi looks up at her. It had been a really hard weekend. A lot of tears, a lot of nightmares, just… a lot. She was feeling better, though. So she smiles, nodding.

"Yeah," she says. "Thanks. Sorry for not texting back."

Sevika visibly relaxes. "I thought I did something to upset you," she admits, sheepish.

Vi melts a little. She grins up at Sevika. "Aw. That's cute."

The rugby captain blushes, huffing and looking away. "Vi…"

Violet laughs. She nudges against Sevika gently, looking up at her, catching her grin, too.

"Hey, Sevika?" She says, because if this weekend had taught her anything, it was that maybe she should trust the people around her not to abandon her.

"Hm?" Brown eyes catch grey.

Vi grabs her wrist, slowing to a stop. Sevika pauses, looking down at her. Her hair falls into her eyes, shadowing her cheekbones. Vi makes a mental note to trace them, one day. To feel what they were like beneath her fingertips.

"Can I kiss you?" Vi asks, breathless.

Sevika's eyes widen. She slips both backpacks off her shoulders, careful not to hit Vi. "I'm gonna be so honest," she says, as she cups Vi's face in her hands. "I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the hall that first day."

Vi's laugh is swallowed up by the sweet press of Sevika's lips on her own. Her fingers curl around strong wrists, her eyes slip shut, and for just a moment — she lets herself sink into the feeling of belonging.