Chapter Text
For the sixth time in the last Iℓℓℓ seconds, Prism held up the little engraved dodecahedron they were carrying, wiggling their carapace to make the hanging beads of their celebratory clothes jingle around and trying very hard not to explode.
“Is that someone who graduated middle school I hear?” Mom Grace said from within their five-armed ball, their own celebratory bracelets and ear-hangers jingling together with Prism’s as they turned towards them. They were still grinning as widely as they had the last six times.
Prism let out a squeal, having gotten past the point of being able to form words to accurately express their emotions, and ran circles around Rocky, Adrian and Mom as they all slowed down to a stop in front of the dome’s main building. As soon as Peanut the security guard came into focus, Prism rushed over to them and pushed their diploma into their personal space.
It was so cool and smooth and the engravings were so pretty and it was theirs and everybody needed to see it!
Peanut clicked a few times to get a good read on the inscription, then let out an impressed whistle.
“Passed everything on your first try?”
“Yes!” Prism exclaimed, twirling around their own axis. “I studied and I passed and look, it says my name!”
With a chuckle, Peanut carefully lifted a finger to trace over where Prism’s name was proudly engraved into the dodecahedron.
“We’re going to celebrate!” Adrian said, wiggling their carapace to move their clothing about. “Prism-”
“Do you want to come?” Prism cut in. “Mom, can Peanut come? Can everyone in the dome team and in security and in the medical-”
“Woah, slow down there, kiddo,” they said, amused, “I don’t think they’re all going to fit inside our living room.”
“But…” Prism said, trailing off pleadingly.
“Tomorrow I can take you on a tour to inform everyone at the dome, how about that?” Rocky suggested.
But they needed to celebrate with them all together! Although, Mom was right, Prism’s side of the living room was not nearly big enough for everyone who worked here. They might be able to squeeze everyone into the entrance hall of the main dome building, but then Mom would have to stay in their ball and at the moment they only had about Vℓℓℓℓ seconds left until the oxygen indicator would say “Low Reserves” and Rocky would insist Mom move back into the dome even though the ball would still have over a cycle of life support left.
Prism was about to continue begging to move the party when Mom let out one of those tiny grunts they always did when they were in pain and trying to hide it. They were still sitting cross-armed in the sphere, one useful-arm on the controls to move the five mechanical arms, but the other useful-arm was subtly rubbing along their lower back.
Guilt washed over them.
Right.
When the school board had called Prism’s name to come up and collect their diploma, all other thoughts had left their mind, including the fact that today Mom had woken up with some pretty bad back pain. They had been keeping it together the entire ceremony for Prism’s sake, hunched in the same position for almost a full cycle when they should’ve been lying down.
I’m having a really bad day, Prism. You should be grateful I even came to this.
“Okay,” Prism quickly pivoted. They were just going to have to do a mini celebration with everybody they showed their diploma to on their tour tomorrow while Mom got their rest.
After promising to stop by the next day, the four of them bid Peanut their goodbyes – Prism didn’t have their goodbye grooves yet and unfortunately wasn’t going to be able to get them for quite a while, but they always did the motion anyway – before they entered the building and headed straight for the airlock.
“You go on ahead, Prism,” Mom said, still clutching their back. “We’ll be up in a few.”
Yep, Mom was going to need help getting out of the ball and up to the house, but they didn’t want it to ruin Prism’s good mood. A little bit too late because Prism did in fact notice these things even if sometimes Mom thought they didn’t, but if Mom made an effort, then so would Prism.
“I’ll go make everything ready!” they exclaimed with a cheerful tone, and Mom smiled.
Dashing off through the tunnel, they found that it wasn’t actually that hard to stay in high spirits. Because they were carrying their diploma.
Every semester they had fallen a little further behind until they’d actually had to repeat one. Before getting into Mom’s class, they’d expected to have to also repeat at least one if not all of their final semesters, and maybe hang around another one or two to wait on getting an internship. And then they’d been sure they were going to need two or three attempts to pass their final exams.
Don’t let them know you can’t hear well, they’ll pick on you. Just keep to the back and study hard. Eventually you’ll pass.
Prism shook their carapace and produced a short and sharp hum to get rid of the memory. Shutting the door behind them, they ran to their shelf in the living room and placed their diploma onto the spot they had reserved next to the paper party hat Mom had made for them all those months ago.
Worst case scenario, they would’ve needed another full school year until they could start high school. Now they could go in a few weeks.
Speaking of, Prism pulled the schools pamphlet they had received out of their bag. It said “Follow Your Passion” on the front and, as Prism turned over some of the embossed metal plates, seemed to contain a short description of every single high school in the city.
None of which were attached to the dome.
Which was fine. Prism was totally fine with being further away from Mom, not being able to stop by during lunch to watch them sleep and keep them company, absolutely fine. They were getting older, the point of high school was also to learn some independence along with relying more on your community instead of just your parents.
They stuffed the pamphlet back into their bag and tucked it away underneath their table. No need to think about that right now. Now they had to celebrate!
By the time Mom, Adrian and Rocky arrived, Prism had put up decorations on both sides of the living room, placed a stack of games on Mom’s table and put on the Air-Bender music playlist Mom had made for them.
Despite Mom clearly having trouble staying upright, they perked up when they entered the room. Rocky let out an impressed whistle.
“If you’re not sure about your high school choice yet, may I suggest one offering interior design classes?” Adrian said. Mom hummed in agreement, looking around the room as they were heavily leaning against Adrian. “I know I was the one who bought this sculpture set for you but this goes beyond my imagination of a stylish arrangement for them.”
Prism trilled bashfully, squeaking out a high-pitched series of thanks. They always did that. Whenever Prism did anything with a little more effort than usual, the three of them consistently showered them with praise. They had hyped Prism up the whole way to the school today, had continued on the way back and knew they would keep it up during the party and the following days.
They knew it had to be partially exaggerated but…Prism wasn’t really complaining. It made their hearts swell with pride every single time that they at least noticed their effort and felt the need to express it, if not actually thinking what they had achieved was impressive.
Before Mom and Rocky could add anything to Adrian’s compliment, Prism dragged everyone over to where they’d pushed Mom’s table close to their nest such that Mom could lie down as they partied.
“Thanks, sweetie,” they said warmly as Adrian and Rocky helped them onto the nest. Just like the three of them in their suits, Mom had also removed most of their celebratory clothing since it would’ve been in the way, only keeping their ear-hangers. With a groan, they settled down on their front, one useful-arm hanging off the nest and coming to rest on top of Prism’s suit. As they went through the stack of games they could play, Rocky carefully poked and prodded Mom’s back to release the tension in their muscles.
On any other day, Prism would’ve volunteered to massage Mom since they weren’t as strong as Rocky or Adrian and had to be less cautious about accidentally hurting their squishy body. But Mom wanted them to celebrate, had been insisting that today was all about Prism and that they would be fine, don’t worry about me.
What about me? Did you even consider how I would feel about this?
The fact that this hadn’t been Mom’s first Bad Day, not by a long shot, that Prism’s middle school diploma was outshining every other decoration in the room right now and that Mom had expressly told them that this day was for Prism, they managed to push down the guilt of putting themself first and announced which game they wanted to play.
With Mom and Prism playing as a team and Armando joining in, they had four players for a game of Ludo. These always took ages to finish because as soon as anyone kicked out one of Rocky’s pawns, they went on a warpath to kick out every one of the other’s pawns instead of trying to win, which was hilarious every single time.
Rocky was five paces away from getting their first pawn into their home when Prism moved one of their and Mom’s pieces onto the same spot with a poorly hidden giggle. Rocky shot up, steam exploding from their vents and hitting the inside of their suit.
“If you plan on going to the North Bank Applied Sciences High School, I will write you a bad recommendation letter,” they threatened, huffily putting their pawn back onto their base. Mom made a mock gasping sound from where they were lying above Prism on their nest.
“You would do that to my child?” they wailed. “Betrayer.”
“Don’t worry, Prism,” Adrian said as they rolled a two and advanced one of their pawns to kick out the only other piece that Rocky had in the game, “If you choose to go to my old high school in Crescent City, I will write you a highly commendatory letter.”
Rocky released a string of curses at their mate, and the three of them burst out laughing, Armando even joining in with robotic chitters.
“Have you thought about which type of school you want to attend?” Adrian followed up as Armando rolled the dice. Rocky eased up on the sulking, leaning in closer. Prism hesitated.
“Not really,” they admitted after a few seconds. Like they said, they hadn’t expected to graduate this soon, and with the whole adoption process and learning to live with Mom Grace, they had simply ignored the fact that life would go on after graduating middle school.
“You still have three weeks until applications close,” Mom assured.
“And if you’re unsure,” Rocky added, a bit calmer now, “you can always still switch after your first semester. But not to my old high school, you little punk.” They gestured to their full base. Prism sniggered.
“We can start going through the pamphlet you got tomorrow,” Mom said.
“After-”
“Yes, after you’ve visited everyone in the dome,” they added with a chuckle, patting their suit.
“There should be a sibling school to my old high school here in the city,” Adrian said. “If you’re interested in world studies, that is. I think something creative might suit you better though.”
“Or a language school,” Rocky added, snatching the dice from Armando before Prism could grab it.
“Cheater!” Prism yelled, jumping forward to pry the small cube from Rocky’s stealing fingers.
“If they offer English classes, that would be a breeze for you,” Mom said as Rocky and Prism wrestled.
They managed to secure the dice and quickly handed it to Mom before running away towards the airlock with a squeal. Rocky went to grab at Mom’s useful-hand clutching the dice, but as they’d pulled it up close to their chest, Rocky hesitated. Mom grinned smugly, knowing Rocky wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt them right now.
Before Rocky could make it to the airlock to unleash their rage on Prism, they had already closed the door and begun to cycle the air.
“Everyone is against me!” they cried, trudging back to their seat.
“Human, Don’t Get Angry,” Adrian quoted, stifling laughter. The first time Rocky had begun to rage during Ludo and Mom had explained the original German title of the game, they had all ended up on the floor laughing so hard Mom had gotten a stomach cramp. Now, every time Rocky’s vengeful spirit took over, they threw the original name back at them.
“Easy for you to say,” they grumbled. “You aren’t been ganged up on.”
The three adults continued to bicker back and forth as Prism went to grab the pamphlet from their bag. Since they were talking about schools anyways, they might as well take a quick look. Then tomorrow they could stick to partying and maybe convince Mom that they’d only properly sit down to start making a decision the day after tomorrow.
After the air had cycled once more and everything cooled down enough for Mom’s environment, they took their spot at the table again. Mom and Rocky went back and forth about the dice being rigged as Adrian began to peruse the pamphlet.
“Ah, here,” they said eventually. “West District World Studies High School. They have an almost identical curriculum to my old school. But like Rocky said, maybe languages? There’s one right next to it, the West District Communication and Language High School.”
Rocky and Mom stopped their little argument and turned their focus to the pamphlet as well. They turned a couple pages in the language section, mulling over each school’s list of classes, the travel distance to the dome and who they might ask for a review of the school, until they got to the first school in the creative section and Prism’s entire body froze.
“Oh, this one already looks promising,” Rocky said. “Southeast District Arts and Design High School.”
Vantablack had gone to that school.
“And look, they have interior design classes,” Adrian pointed out. “I’m serious, you have good taste, Prism.”
You have good taste when it comes to jewellery and decor. When you graduate, we can see about you joining my old high school. You might be able to take over my business one day.
“And I’ve seen your creations from art class, I’m sure you could benefit a lot from advanced sculpting and carving classes.”
And jewellery classes. The school offered classes for jewellery craftsmanship.
“It’s a bit further out,” Mom said, “but we can make that work. We-”
“No!” Prism burst out. “No, uh, crafting is fun but- I don’t- I’m not sure about a creative school.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just-” They scrambled for an excuse. “They’re more like hobbies. I don’t think I want to find a career in them. Let’s go to the next section!”
Prism could tell they were all a bit confused, but then they turned to the page of Rocky’s old school in the science section and soon many stories of all of Rocky’s teenage escapades were being told. They continued browsing a bit until Prism managed to get them to focus back onto their game of Ludo, and soon the pamphlet was thankfully forgotten.
Prism tried their best to keep enjoying their party, but now a constant vicious circle was raging in the back of their mind.
I like creative work, I can’t be like them, I like it but I can’t.
Since Rocky was hellbent on destroying both Adrian and Prism and Mom, and they all had too much fun messing with Rocky in turn, Armando actually ended up winning. Then they played some Uno, had a brief dance competition that somehow Armando also won (Adrian was a close second) and rewatched some of Prism’s favourite Air-Bender episodes before it was finally time for Mom to go to sleep.
Adrian took their leave to take care of some things while Rocky cleaned up the living room and watched Mom. Prism opted to also sleep-watch in the suit, Mom quickly dozing off with a useful-arm wrapped around them. When Mom’s grip on them slackened, Prism carefully pulled their useful-arm closer around them.
I don’t have the energy to stand over you right now. Sleep, I’ll be working over here.
They didn’t have to go to a creative school. Rocky said it, they weren’t too bad at languages. Even though their favourite part about it was creative writing, which would primarily be taught at creative schools. They could go to a science school. They liked science, and even though they weren’t particularly good at it, they would absolutely get all the tutoring they needed from Mom and Rocky and Adrian. But would they be good enough to start a career in a scientific field?
Whatever, problem for later, they had three weeks left. Tomorrow they would continue to party and they would be happy and proud of themself and only after that would they think about high school again.
Tomorrow’s dome tour came and went. They were…not unhappy. Everyone had been so nice, congratulating them and taking a short break to celebrate with them. Every time Prism almost forgot about their imminent future, and then every time they were given a recommendation for everyone’s old high school, which was often immediately followed by them stating that a creative school would suit Prism best.
It didn’t. They were just hobbies, nothing more. They wouldn’t go to that school. It wasn’t for them.
By the time Rocky and Prism returned to the house, Mom had decided that a visit with their physical therapist wouldn’t be a bad idea, and had told Prism to take the time to properly look through the pamphlet and narrow down their list of choices. Prism couldn’t say no to them, not after their back pain not having ebbed away yet being partially their fault, so they sat down in their room with the stupid pamphlet.
Half a cycle.
Prism had been looking through the stupid “Follow Your Passion” pamphlet and thinking very deeply about every possible subject and future career path that wasn’t creative for half a cycle now and-
Nothing. They had no “passion”.
Everyone in their family was so passionate about their job. Mom about molecular biology and astrophysics and just science in general, whose wealth of knowledge never seemed to end despite their bad human memory. Or Adrian, who cared so much about the environment and prey rights and who helped to regulate and had even designed parts of the dome. Or Rocky, who had been taking apart appliances and reverse engineering them since they’d been able to hold tools and had literally been labelled as the best engineer on the planet. Or Mom Moon, who had always put everyone else’s wellbeing in front of their own and had used their intense fascination with the body to become a world famous doctor, going to outer space with Rocky to save their sun.
Even- even Vantablack had taken to crafting jewellery when they’d been a kid, always knowing in which direction their life would head.
Because even if they were to consider a creative direction, Prism still had nothing like that.
They never got into sports because of the high risk of injury, and still wasn’t too keen on getting into it.
Social or political subjects were kind of fun to learn about, but the fun always stopped when the test came around. Continuing on to a world studies or eridian studies high school and then going on to actually study one of those subjects at a university? No thanks.
Languages were okay, but when they imagined being a translator they felt…nothing.
Sciences were cool. They always loved listening to Mom ramble on about this or that fun fact, or getting to watch Adrian or Rocky work on occasion, but…actively studying any of these subjects themself? After thinking about it long and hard, they had to admit to themself that they simply weren’t that good at it. Science just wasn’t Prism’s thing.
Which left creative subjects. They liked drawing and carving, reading and writing and analysing stories was fun too, they were apparently not too bad as design and their singing was decent. The intensity of their interests came and went, often obsessing over something for a few days to weeks, maybe months, before moving on. So even though they wouldn’t call the irregular sparks they felt for these their passion, they were all activities they did actually enjoy doing and wouldn’t mind going deeper into.
Except that the one person in their family who wasn’t in a scientific field, who was more creatively inclined, who Prism had gotten this little spark from, with whom they had spent many many hours sculpting little figurines and carving beads for celebration jewellery and practicing their drawing skills, was them.
They couldn’t go to a creative school. They just couldn’t. Writing or singing for example wouldn’t even be close to jewellery making, but they couldn’t help the sick feeling that spread through them at the thought of potentially having to take a carving or sculpting or fashion class at a creative high school, where every subject had that implication of being a potential future career choice. Of potentially becoming a jeweller.
Mom Moon’s and Vantablack’s bracelet mocked Prism from where it was hanging on the wall on the third hook from the left.
They hadn’t been wearing it the past weeks. They could’ve taken out Vantablack’s carapace chips so only Mom Moon’s would be left, but they hadn’t been able to bring themself to go through with it.
Vantablack had cut off pieces of their own carapace at some point before the astrophage mission. Once, as a gift to their mate, out of love.
Had it hurt? Prism wanted it to have hurt.
Every time they thought that, they felt guilty for wishing their parent pain. And then they felt so angry and frustrated and so helpless about the pain they had been taught was normal by that same parent. One they hadn’t chosen to go through like Vantablack had, one chosen out of love. No, Vantablack had decided to chip away and away at their body so they would fit in even though their mate had been a doctor and they had absolutely known how much it would damage their carapace.
Had they known but pushed it away, only thinking about lessening the bullying? Had they simply not cared that it would hurt them? If Prism wanted to know, they would have to visit Vantablack in the offenders’ institution, which first of all wouldn’t be allowed for another year at least, and second of all Prism didn’t even know if they wanted to anymore.
Thinking back to their only meeting with Vantablack after the adoption made them want to scream. Why had they still been so nice to them? Saying they missed them and talking about their schoolwork and pretending this was just Vantablack needing some space to realise they had wronged Prism, which “hadn’t been their fault because they were grieving for Mom Moon”.
They knew why they’d thought that. They still thought that. It crept up on them in the most random moments, this overwhelming shame of how they could have pushed their poor mourning mom away, the urge to march over to the institution and shower them with apologies and reassurances. Despite having worked through so much with Tony, it had only truly clicked after the carapace incident, and they still hadn’t been able to get their brain to fully catch up.
Any and all joy at having graduated middle school had been completely sucked out of them. They actually hadn’t thought about Vantablack much the few days leading up to the ceremony. Once the high had passed however, everything came trickling back in until the gates opened and now it was once again front and center in their mind.
Prism turned to the next page. The example bracelet embossed on South Bank Fashion High School’s metal plate, which they had stared at over five times already in their flipping through the pamphlet, suddenly seemed eerily similar to their parents’ bracelet.
I can’t want a creative school, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
With a scream of utter frustration, they grabbed the bracelet and the pamphlet and hurled them both across the room. They bounced off the wall and onto the floor, the pamphlet landing on top of the bracelet with a loud crunch.
Oh no.
Prism scrambled forward, carefully lifting up the bound stack of metal plates and continuously clicking to get a good image of the bracelet.
One of Mom Moon’s pieces had broken.
Prism had to resist the urge to throw themself at the wall next.
Why couldn’t Vantablack’s pieces have broken?
Why couldn’t they have inherited Mom Moon’s interests? Or had any other interests?
Why did they have to think about Vantablack every single day? Why did they think about them more now that they saw the situation more clearly? Why couldn’t they go a few days without Vantablack ruining something?
Their room’s doorbell rang once. Mom was home, asking them to come out if they felt like it.
They could ring back once, saying “not right now”. They’d probably get away with being left alone for up to Vℓℓℓℓ seconds.
Prism didn’t move. They couldn’t stop clicking at the broken pieces of their Mom’s carapace.
Apology, Mom Moon, apology, apology.
It was Vantablack’s fault. It was theirs, not- it was-
Apology, Mom Vanta, I didn’t mean to break it, apology, I’ll try to fix it, I-
You can’t fix it. It’s broken.
Prism violently flinched at the sudden clear voice of Vantablack echoing through their mind, unable to push the memory out this time.
Those had been the last words they’d said to Prism for a week. They hadn’t sat together to work on any jewellery or other crafting project since then.
You broke it, you always break everything, you break your carapace Vantablack broke it first and your Moms’ important important important keepsakes it was an accident (was it?) and-
Two rings. They hadn’t come out or answered and now Mom was worried.
Prism couldn’t let them see the bracelet. They just- not right now. But they couldn’t move it because they might break it even more or lose some pieces. And they had to have a shortlist of high schools so they could sit together and discuss, but they hated all of them because all their interests had been poisoned by Vantablack and-
I hate you, I hate you, I don’t want to hate you, I just want my mom back, was there ever even a version of you to want back? I-
Two rings, more insistent.
Prism forced their frozen body to move, pulling open the door with shaking hands.
“Everything okay?” came Mom’s voice immediately, “You- hey, hey.” With Rocky’s help, they lowered themself down to the ground between the wall and the airlock, hand on the barrier. “What’s going on?”
Letting out a long whine because why, why, why, why did everything have to be so messed up, why do I always mess everything up more, why can’t I just enjoy myself for once and not break down over and over again, and stumbled towards their suit. They didn’t want to have to think or speak about Vantablack ever again, but they also knew that Mom Grace’s assuring words while they had their soft arms wrapped around them was the only way they’d be able to get out of their spiralling.
Soon, they were in their practiced position, Mom sitting against the wall with their walking-arms crossed, Prism in their lap and clinging to their useful-arms circling their suit, trying to focus on Mom’s quiet humming instead of the storm in their mind. Rocky was there too, sitting close and humming in sync with Mom. This time it took them about Vℓℓℓ seconds to come down from the worst of it, quite a bit longer than their average. All their recent breakdowns had been longer than their previous average.
You can’t keep doing this to Mom, you need to get a better grip, they’ll get tired of always babying you, they-
“Are you back with us, sweetie?” Mom asked softly. Prism wanted to say yes, wait for Mom to ask followup questions and then evade those questions.
“I broke my bracelet,” they blurted out instead. Mom and Rocky both made a sympathetic noise, Mom running their hand over their suit.
“How did it happen?”
There came the shame again.
You broke it, you always break it, it’s your fault. Why were you even mad? Just be glad you graduated and get to go to high school. You’re so ungrateful.
They squirmed in Mom’s hold, fighting the need to run away.
I deserve love even if I break something.
“I threw it at the wall,” they admitted, automatically preparing themself for a scolding they knew Mom would never give them for something like this.
“Why did you do that?” they asked, as patient and judgement-free as always.
I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to say their name, I don’t want to think about them.
Keeping things inside only means they will explode out very painfully later, Tony’s words rang in their mind.
“How’s your back?” Prism asked quietly.
Apology, I can’t, I just can’t-
“A bit better,” Mom whispered back. “Rocky, you want to go take a look at the bracelet? See if you could maybe fix it?”
“It sounds like a clean break from here, but I’ll go have a closer look,” they trilled softly, giving Prism a brief pat and heading for the airlock. Prism wanted to protest, but they weren’t sure why.
“Do you want to tell me what triggered you?” Mom asked when the familiar hissing sound of the airlock cycling rang through the room.
No, I want these stupid triggers gone, I want to be normal and just live with my mom and not have to constantly think about them.
“I don’t want to be a jeweller,” they managed to force out.
After a beat of silence, Rocky and Mom chimed and hummed in understanding.
“I’m sorry we were pushy with the schools,” Mom said, holding them closer. “We-”
“No, I’m being stupid, apology that you have to sit-”
“You’re not,” Mom cut in. “This is a really big decision, and it’s only understandable that you’re having a hard time choosing given the situation. Also, don’t you dare apologise for my chronic pain again. It’s chronic because of gravity, not something acute you caused. Get mad at the planet if you like, not yourself.”
Prism let out a small giggle. “Stupid planet.”
“Stupid fucking planet,” Rocky mumbled before stepping out of the airlock and into Prism’s room. Mom snorted.
“That’s more like it,” they smiled, petting their suit. They sighed. “Is this why you said you didn’t want to go to a creative school?”
Prism chimed in admission.
“I don’t want anything to do with them,” they whined, pressing closer against their Mom.
They shushed Prism, saying, “It’s okay, I understand. I get it, but…you do want to go to a creative school, don’t you?“
“Not anymore,” they whimpered.
“Try not to think about Vantablack, just think about what you like,” Mom encouraged softly. “Would you want to go?”
Of course they would. That was the whole point. But they couldn’t not think about Vantablack. They didn’t know how not to.
“Yeah,” they mumbled.
“Then,” Mom carried on, “if you don’t go, you’re only letting Vantablack continue to hurt you. I know it sucks and I’m so sorry, but if this is something you like doing, don’t let them take it away from you. Choose your school for you, not against Vantablack.”
Prism let that sink in.
Mom was right. Of course they were, Mom was always right about these things. It just-
They imagined going to a creative school. A creative school, not theirs. It felt cozy and comfortable, like sitting at their living room table and working on their art class project while Mom told silly stories about Earth, but still wrong, because then Mom Grace morphed into Mom Vanta, sitting together at the same table, laughing as they worked together and it hurt. Because those moments used to be so precious to them, and now they were all rotten.
But even if they did what Mom asked, even if they pushed Vantablack as far back into the corners of their mind as they could, it still wasn’t like they were absolutely set on a specific career path.
“Okay,” they said slowly. “But I’m- what if I pick the wrong school? Because I like creative stuff more than other topics but…I’m not sure what I actually want to do later.”
Mom let out a short laugh. “Pris, that’s normal.”
“But you guys are all so passionate about your jobs, you all knew what you wanted to do!”
“Oh-ho-ho, no we didn’t,” Mom said. “Look, in elementary school I wanted to become a ˈherˌdres.ɚ because my mom was one. In middle school I wanted to become a mathematician. In high school I wanted to become a chemist, then halfway through I decided that physics was more my thing. Then I started to study physics for a semester, broke it off and switched to molecular biology. Then I messed up my career as a researcher and became a teacher. And then I became a researcher again for Earth’s astrophage mission and then I involuntarily became an astronaut. Now I’m back to teaching and part time research.“
“And that’s all in the same general field,” Rocky piped up just as they walked back into the ammonia side of the living room, now out of their suit and carrying it over a shoulder. “Adrian wanted to be a dancer their entire childhood, but their parents didn’t want them to pursue that career so they pushed them to go with their second option for high school: world studies. They ran off to become a dancer afterwards, but then they saw the horrible living conditions of the prey animals being kept at the theatre they worked at, started a protest group, abandoned dancing as a career and went to study material sciences and zoology to be more informed about prey habitats. And now they’re also adjusting the water temperature and fog levels for this picky alien.”
“Hey!” Mom said, playfully flicking the xenonite barrier where Rocky was standing.
That was…relieving. Because Prism didn’t particularly want to be a singer or a writer or a carver, but Mom and Adrian also hadn’t wanted to be what their careers, which they now loved, ended up being. They could just go to school and have fun in class and see what happened. Okay.
Okay.
“Don’t stress too much about your school choice, kid,” Rocky said, tapping the barrier twice. After a pause, they added, “Your bracelet will be fine. I’ll go fetch my tools.”
“Thank,” Prism said quietly, putting their hand up against the divider. As Rocky left, Prism sank back down into Mom’s lap. An apology for being so dramatic was on the edge of their voice boxes, but they pushed it down.
“Thank, Mom,” they said instead.
“Of course, sweetie,” they replied, fingers tracing the ridges of their suit.
“For advice and for sitting through the ceremony and for-”
“Kid, what did I say?”
“I can still thank!” Prism protested. Mom shook their head, chuckling.
“Alright, alright,” they conceded. “You’re very welcome.”
Didn’t you forget something?
Thank, Mom Vanta, thank!
“Do you want to lie down again?” Prism asked, fumbling with the fabric of Mom’s sleeve.
“Yeah, maybe,” Mom said, twisting their back with a groan. Then they straightened up. “Oh, wait, I almost forgot! I’d go get it myself, but I’m not trusting my legs right now. Would you be a dear and open the top left drawer of the low cupboard?”
Prism chirped yes and trotted over to the cupboard Mom was pointing at. They had to step onto a chair to be able to reach inside and-
Prism stilled.
It was another party hat. This one had soft protrusions to form English letters they could read, as well as several decorations like the human shapes for stars and hearts and little frills hanging from each end of the triangular hat. The text across the front said “I graduated middle school!”.
“Do you like it?” Mom asked, sounding a bit insecure. “I wanted to get you something bigger, but I was going to wait until we decided on your school, then I could get you a nicer set of curriculum specific materials.”
With a loud whine, Prism threw themself off the chair, barely catching themself, and jumped back into Mom’s arms, careful of the delicate hat.
“Thank thank thank, I love love love!” they sang. Mom laughed, scooping them up and giving them a tight hug.
“I wanted to give it to you right after the ceremony, but I hadn’t finished it yet and then my back-”
“Don’t care, I love love love it,” Prism assured, shifting to gingerly place the hat on top of their suit. Mom leaned back a bit, beholding them with a grin.
“Don’t you look fabulous,” they cooed, straightening the hat. Prism waved their open hands, mindful of the hat not moving too much, and released one happy chirp after the other. Mom was laughing again, and Prism felt something unfurl inside them.
“I really am very proud of you, Prism,” Mom said, sobering up a bit. “I know how hard it was for you to keep up sitting in the back, and I’m so proud you managed to ask for accommodations. I know gathering the courage for that was difficult. You worked so hard to catch up on everything so you could graduate this semester, and I will always be incredibly proud of you for that.”
Mom, I- I didn’t pass. I’ll need to repeat.
…Okay. Just study harder next semester.
“You could’ve moved to an easier school or taken years more to graduate, and I would still be so proud. You could choose no matter which high school or career and I will still be so proud of you, because I know you always keep fighting.”
Mom, I’m not smart enough for this, maybe- maybe I need to go to a different school-
No, you’re graduating. You have to complete regular middle school. You can’t go to- you have to. Just keep studying. You’ll get there.
“Even if you decided to become a jeweller,” Mom whispered, holding them close, “I know you could find a way to make peace with it.” Prism’s hands began to shake, and they were back to grabbing fistfuls of Mom’s clothing and pressing themself up against them. “Because you are so strong, and when you feel like you can’t be, your family will always be with you to help.”
“Thank, Mom,” they choked out, voice tiny, “thank thank thank thank, apology, I just want to- I- Vantabl- I’m-”
“Shh, I know,” they said. “I know. It’s only been a few weeks since we found out about your carapace, you have every right to still feel horrible about that – about everything. It would be strange if you weren’t affected. But I’m here, Rocky and Adrian are here, we can help you make difficult decisions like these.”
Prism gave an acknowledging whine, letting their hearts settle down for a few moments before they spoke up again.
“About that, can we look at the pamphlet again? For- for creative schools?”
Mom gave a wobbly smile. “Of course, sweetheart. But first I should really move back to the bed, I’m cramping up sitting like this.”
“Yes yes yes!” Prism hurried off their lap, holding their hat in place with one hand and extending another to help balance their mom as they pushed themself up.
Just as Mom sunk onto their nest with a heavy sigh, the sound of the front door opening rang through the house and a moment later, Rocky walked back into the living room wearing their tool belt. Prism ran over to the barrier before they could speak.
We can help you make difficult decisions like these.
They couldn’t do it themself, but they could ask Rocky.
“Rocky, when you fix, could you- could you remove Vantablack’s pieces?” Prism rushed out before they could change their mind. “But don’t throw them away. For now. Please.”
Rocky put a hand up against the xenonite and trilled softly.
“Sure, kid,” they said. “I’ll try my best.”
With a jittery but thankful chirp, Prism went to grab the pamphlet and crawled onto Mom’s nest as Rocky disappeared into their room. Grabbing Teddy, the soft toy from one of Mom’s crew mates, they settled in next to Mom, who pulled them close.
“But not one that’s too far away from the dome,” Prism mumbled sheepishly as they flipped to the creative section. Mom chuckled.
“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want to keep you close,” they said, taking Prism’s small hand into theirs. “But that criterion comes after your interests.”
Prism made a small huffy sound and nestled in closer. Mom smiled.
“Choose for you,” they said softly. “Not for me, or for them, or anyone else.”
Prism quickly flipped past Vantablack’s old school, and then they felt themself truly melt against their Mom, a calmness coming over them. Apart from that school, they were ready to pick now.
“Thank. Love you, Mom.”
They leaned their head forward to press a kiss to their suit.
“I love you too, Pris.”