Chapter Text
Shauna Shipman had three rules in the morning:
- Don’t talk to her before coffee.
- Don’t move anything on her desk.
- Don’t ask her to sign anything.
Calliope Shipman had broken all three before 8:12 a.m.
“I don’t understand why I need a form,” Callie said, standing in the kitchen holding a pen like it had personally offended her. “It’s soccer camp. I’m not immigrating to Canada.”
“It’s just for liability’s sake,” Shauna said, not looking up from her coffee mug.
“That sounds like nonsense.”
“It is nonsense,” Shauna admitted. “But it’s legally enforced nonsense.”
Callie frowned at the paperwork spread across the table.
There were forms.
There were waivers.
There was an entire page dedicated to emergency contacts.
She was ten years old and somehow already drowning in bureaucracy.
All in the name of soccer.
“Why is Auntie Tai listed as an emergency contact twice?”
“Because she’s a control freak.”
Callie nodded.
Reasonable.
The phone rang.
Neither of them moved.
It rang again.
Then a third time.
Then a fourth.
Callie looked at her mother.
Shauna looked at her coffee.
The phone rang a fifth time.
“That’s Auntie Tai, isn’t it?”
“It’s always Auntie Tai.”
The phone rang again.
With the resignation of someone accepting a prison sentence, Shauna reached for it.
“What.”
A pause.
“Yes, I filled out the forms.”
Pause.
“No, I’m not faxing them to you to double check them.”
Longer pause.
“Because nobody owns a fax machine anymore, Tai.”
Pause.
“We’re not buying a fax machine.”
Callie watched with interest.
The fascinating thing about Auntie Tai was that she could somehow continue an argument even when nobody else was participating.
“Yes, I guess Callie’s excited.”
Pause.
“Well because it’s soccer camp Tai, not Disneyworld.”
Callie grinned at their familiar bantering even if she could only hear one side of it.
Shauna pointed a finger at her without looking.
The grin disappeared immediately.
“No,” Shauna continued. “It would be ridiculous for you to drive down from DC just to drop her off.”
Pause.
“What do you mean you’ve already requested the day off?”
Shauna closed her eyes.
“No.”
Pause.
“No.”
Pause.
“Tai. I don’t care that it’s Van that’s running the thing. You're not gonna use my kid to stalk your ex. It’s creepy.”
Callie straightened. “Van like—”
Shauna lowered the phone, and looks at her. “Yes.”
Callie’s eyes widened.
Van Palmer was practically a myth.
Like Bigfoot.
Or competent politicians.
She existed mostly through stories told by Aunt Tai.
“Is she really gonna be there?”
“Apparently.”
“Cool.”
Shauna listens again. Callie could practically hear her aunt winning through the phone.
Finally Shauna sighed.
“Fine.”
Callie pumped a silent fist.
“But you are not making this into a thing.”
Pause.
“It is not a reunion.”
Pause.
“Because nobody is reuniting with anybody.”
Three hundred miles north, Jackie Taylor was losing a fight with paperwork.
She had a filing system she trusted completely.
It was alphabetical.
It was colour-coded.
It was also wrong.
Again.
“Lia.”
No answer.
“Lia.”
Still nothing.
“Thalia Taylor.”
“What?”
Jackie looked toward the living room.
“You only answer when I use your full name.”
“Because then it sounds serious.”
“It is serious.”
Thalia appeared in the doorway wearing mismatched socks and carrying a book.
Jackie held up two sheets of paper.
“Why is a soccer camp registration stapled to my mortgage statement?”
Thalia blinked.
“That wasn’t me.”
“It was me.”
Lottie Matthews breezed into the apartment carrying iced coffee.
Jackie stared.
Lottie smiled.
Jackie stared harder.
“You stapled my mortgage to a camp registration.”
“I was organizing.”
“That’s not organizing.”
“It was a system.”
“It was a crime.”
Lottie set down her coffee. “I don’t understand why you’re fighting this.”
“I’m not fighting this.”
“You absolutely are.”
Jackie looked at the forms.
Then at her daughter.
Then back at the forms.
“Lia’s ten.”
“Almost eleven.”
“That’s still ten.”
Lottie ignored her. “She’ll have fun.”
“What if she gets homesick?”
“I won’t,” Thalia said.
Jackie raised an eyebrow.
“You cried when you had to stay with your grandparents for two days.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because they suck.”
Lottie laughed into her coffee.
Jackie glared at both of them.
Traitors.
The pair of them had apparently formed an alliance.
“Why won’t you let her go. She needs to get out more.”
Thalia made an offended noise but was ignored entirely.
Lottie tilted her head. “Is it because Nat’s the one that’s running it with Van?”
Jackie groaned. “Oh my god.”
Thalia looked between them.
“Who’s Nat?”
Jackie and Lottie exchanged a glance.
“Natalie’s a friend of ours from school,” Jackie said.
“My ex-girlfriend,” Lottie said. “Total smokeshow. Your mom hates her.”
“Lottie.”
“What? I’m just helping.”
“You never help.”
“That’s not true.”
Jackie looked at the stapled mortgage paperwork.
Lottie considered. “Okay. Fair.”
Thalia’s eyes had grown enormous. “You had a girlfriend?”
Jackie pinched the bridge of her nose.
The first day of camp arrived six weeks later.
The parking lot outside Wiskayok Soccer Camp looked like complete chaos.
Children.
Duffel bags.
Soccer balls.
Van Palmer stood near the registration table holding a megaphone. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE.”
The registration area gradually quieted.
“WE HAVE A ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY FOR BULLYING.”
Several parents nodded approvingly.
“WE ALSO HAVE A ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY FOR PARENTS HIDING IN THE WOODS TO CHECK ON THEIR CHILDREN.”
A surprising number of adults suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Van nodded. “YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.”
Natalie Scatorccio leaned against a fence nearby. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Van grinned.
“Absolutely.”
Nearby, Melissa was checking campers in.
Misty had somehow placed her in charge of registration.
Nobody remembered agreeing to this.
“Name?” Melissa asked.
“Callie Shipman.”
Melissa smiled. “Cabin Three.”
Callie accepted her packet.
Behind her, Tai was already taking photographs.
“Auntie Tai.”
“One more.”
“You’ve taken seventeen.”
“Eighteen.”
Callie groaned.
Melissa watched them leave.
Then turned to the next camper.
“Hi there. Name?”
The girl smiled.
“Thalia Taylor.”
Melissa looked down at her clipboard.
Looked back up.
Then down again.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She looked back at the child.
The child looked exactly like the one who had stood there a few minutes earlier.
Same hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Even the same confused expression.
Melissa blinked.
“Um.”
The girl waited.
Melissa looked around panicking.
“Misty!”
Misty appeared instantly.
Which was somehow worse.
“Yes?”
Melissa pointed. “I think I already checked this child in.”
Misty looked at Thalia. “What’s your name sweetie?”
“Thalia Taylor.”
Misty looked at Thalia.
Then at the clipboard.
Then at Melissa.
Then back at Lia.
“Her packet’s right here Mel.”
“I swear I just checked her in”.
“Mel, that’s a completely different child.”
“Then explain why she has the same face.”
“They don’t have the same face.”
“They do! They’re like twins.”
“Or maybe you have face blindness.”
“What’s that? Oh my god am I going blind?”
“No.” Misty squinted at her. “How long have you been in the sun?”
“What?”
“Confusion is a common symptom of sunstroke.”
“Natalie.”
Nat looked up from a clipboard.
Immediately frowned. “Lottie… what are you doing here.”
Lottie looked around. “Soccer camp?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m dropping Jackie’s kid off. She’s over there getting registered.”
For a brief moment they stood there.
“How’s Jackie?”
“Still convinced she can solve every problem herself.”
“How’s Van?”
“Still convinced every problem can be solved with a megaphone.”
They both glanced toward the parking lot.
“IF YOU BROUGHT MORE THAN THREE BAGS, YOU HAVE MOVED HERE. THAT IS A DIFFERENT PROGRAM.”
Several parents immediately began hiding luggage.
“She’s proving my point.”
“Yeah.”
Jackie crouched in front of Thalia after having set down a duffel bag the size of a small apartment.
“You have sunscreen?”
“Yes.”
“Your inhaler?”
“I don’t have asthma.”
“Good.”
“Mom.”
“Water bottle?”
“Yes.”
“Extra socks?”
“Yes.”
“Emergency numbers?”
“Mom.”
“Okay.”
Jackie stood.
Then immediately crouched again.
“Are you sure you have—”
“Mom.”
Lottie appeared behind her. “Jackie.”
Jackie looked up. “What?”
“You are becoming the parent everyone hates at drop-off.”
“I am not.”
A nearby father nodded emphatically.
Jackie pointed at him. “You stay out of this.”
The father wisely retreated.
Lottie smiled. “She’s going to be fine.”
Jackie looked at Thalia.
Thalia looked back.
For a second both seemed reluctant to say goodbye.
Jackie pulled her into a hug.
“Have fun.”
“I will.”
“Make friends.”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t spend the whole time buried in a book.”
“No promises.”
Jackie sighed.
Across the campgrounds, Callie was having a similar conversation.
Except less emotional.
And more argumentative.
“Auntie Tai.”
“One more picture.”
“You said that three pictures ago.”
“One more good picture.”
Tai snapped another photo.
Callie groaned.
Shauna stood beside them with her arms folded.
Across the parking lot, Van was directing traffic with a megaphone. “FINAL CALL FOR REGISTRATION.”
A pause.
“NO, YOU CANNOT REGISTER THE DOG.”
Tai’s head immediately turned.
Shauna noticed. “Just go say hi. You can’t miss her. She’s the redhead with the megaphone.”
Tai looked offended. “I wasn’t looking at Van.”
“You turned so fast I’m surprised you didn’t get whiplash.”
Tai hesitated.
“I don’t want her to think I’m a stalker.”
Shauna stared at her.
“You drove three hours to a soccer camp for a child that isn’t yours.”
“I was helping.”
“You requested a day off work.”
“I care about Callie.”
“You packed snacks.”
“Everybody likes snacks.”
“You brought binoculars.”
Tai paused. “That’s unrelated.”
“Well if you’re not going to say hi, can you guys leave now?” Callie asks.
Tai looked horrified. “We just got here.”
“We’ve been here for over forty minutes.” Shauna mutters.
“We’ve been here thirty-two.”
“That’s still too many.”
Callie grinned.
The familiar rhythm of them bickering settled some of the nervous fluttering in her stomach.
She’d never been away this long before.
Not that she was worried.
Obviously.
She just maybe felt slightly weird.
A little.
Tiny bit.
Probably.
“Callie.”
She looked up at her mom.
“Call if you need anything.”
Tai immediately interrupted. “Not for minor injuries.”
“Tai.”
“Character building is important.”
“She’s ten.”
“Exactly.”
Shauna rolled her eyes, then turned to give Callie a quick hug. “Have fun.”
“I will.”
“Don’t get arrested.”
“It’s soccer camp.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Tai nodded. “She’s got your genes.”
“Thank you for that helpful contribution.”
“Anytime.”
Callie laughed.
Then grabbed her bag. “Bye!”
Callie turned and jogged toward the cabins.
Behind her, Tai and Shauna watched her go.
“She’ll be fine,” Tai said.
“I know.”
“You’re worried.”
“I’m fine. It’s only for a week, what’s the worst that could happen?”