Chapter Text
“So this is our home,” Steven said, walking farther into the apartment.
Ramona followed, but more slowly.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to walk at the same easy pace as Steven, as if moving too quickly might somehow make this all real before she was ready for it. Her eyes wandered over the apartment instead.
Everything was white.
A bright, immaculate white. White walls. Pale furniture. Clean surfaces. Everything carefully chosen and perfectly in place. It had that particular rich New York look, the kind that somehow managed to make even an apartment feel like a hotel.
Ramona kept her hands close to her sides.
She had the sudden, ridiculous feeling that she might leave fingerprints on something just by looking at it.
“Annie’s room is in here. It’s yours now. Uh… obviously, it’s still full of her stuff, but we’ll figure out what to do with that,” Steven said.
He pointed toward a doorway farther down the hall.
Ramona followed him and stepped into the room.
She stopped.
It was big.
Really big.
For a second, she simply stood there, taking it in. There was a bed large enough to feel slightly absurd, a dresser, a desk, and more floor space than she knew what to do with. Afternoon light spilled through the windows, catching on the pale surfaces and making the whole room seem even larger.
This was supposed to be hers.
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
She lowered the worn green duffel bag she had been carrying and let it fall onto the bed. It landed with a soft thud, looking almost painfully out of place against the clean, expensive-looking bedding.
The room might actually have been bigger than Oona’s boat.
The thought came uninvited.
Oona.
Ramona’s chest tightened.
For one brief second, she could almost feel the familiar movement beneath her feet, the gentle rocking of the boat.
Then the ache hit.
She swallowed and looked away, forcing her attention back to the room.
“Uh, I can help you unpack, or we can…” said Steven.
“Actually, I want to show my new lesbian little sister New York!” Connor said.
He appeared in the doorway with the kind of energy that made it seem as though he had been waiting for an excuse to interrupt.
Ramona looked at him, then at Steven.
If Steven hadn’t known that Ramona was a lesbian, he was hiding it remarkably well.
“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course,” Steven said, and there was the faintest hint of amusement in his expression as he stepped aside to let them leave.
Ramona glanced once more at the room behind her.
Her room.
The words still felt strange.
Then she followed Connor out.
“So what exactly did you want to show me?” Ramona asked as they walked down the street.
Connor threw his arms out dramatically, gesturing in every direction as though he had personally arranged New York around them.
“This,” he said, sweeping one hand toward the street.
Ramona looked around.
There were people everywhere. Cars rolled past them, taxis slipping between traffic, and the sidewalks were crowded with people who seemed to know exactly where they were going. Buildings rose around them, tall and imposing, their windows catching the afternoon light. Somewhere nearby, music drifted out from an open storefront, mixing with the constant hum of the city.
Connor seemed delighted by all of it.
“Right…” Ramona said, looking back at him. “So what are we doing now?”
“We could go shopping.”
“What?”
Connor gave her a look.
“Unless you want to look like a queer Canadian hillbilly around here.”
“Hey! I like my clothes!” Ramona protested, looking down at herself as if suddenly expecting to find something horribly embarrassing about her outfit.
Connor shrugged.
“So do I. But you’re going to stick out here.”
Ramona frowned.
Connor glanced over her again, not quite critically, but enough to make her self-conscious anyway.
“Maybe we should just look around. You know, so you have options.”
Ramona hesitated.
She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to say to that. She looked through the window of the shop they were approaching, where clothes hung beneath bright lights and mannequins stood dressed in outfits that looked considerably more expensive than anything she owned.
Connor must have noticed her hesitation because his expression softened.
“Don’t worry. You can still look like a lesbian. I’m not going to take that away from you.”
Before Ramona could decide whether to be offended or laugh, Connor slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward the entrance.
The bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside.
Connor and Ramona returned to the apartment a few hours later, carrying more shopping bags than Ramona could comfortably keep track of.
They were hanging from their hands, looped over their arms as they made their way inside. Ramona had stopped trying to remember what was in half of them. She was pretty sure Connor had bought something simply because he had liked the color.
“Hey, did you guys have fun?” Steven called from the kitchen.
“Yeah. We went shopping,” Connor said, dropping his bags wherever he could before throwing himself into one of the chairs around the dining table.
Ramona remained standing for a moment.
She looked around the kitchen.
It still felt strange being here. She wasn't used to the idea that she was allowed to walk through the front door and simply… be here. That this was where she was supposed to return to.
She slowly moved closer to the table.
“Come in. Sit down. It’s your home too,” Steven said.
Ramona looked at him.
There was no hesitation in his voice. He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Was shopping fun?” Steven asked her.
“Yeah…” Ramona said. She glanced at Connor, then back at Steven. “Yeah. Fun-ish.”
Steven nodded, accepting the answer without pressing her.
“I called the school,” he said, changing the subject. “The enrollment deadline had obviously passed, but they made an exception for us, so you can start tomorrow.”
Ramona blinked.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Cool. Cool.” She nodded slowly, absorbing that information. School. Tomorrow. It suddenly seemed very unreal. “Yeah, I’m tired and I think I’m just going to rest for a bit. It’s been a long day.”
She pushed her chair back and stood.
Connor was already beginning to rummage through one of the shopping bags, apparently far more interested in whatever they had bought.
Ramona made her way into her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her.
She was already done with the day.
All she wanted was to find a book, disappear into it, and spend the next several hours somewhere that wasn't here. Somewhere that didn't involve new apartments, new people, and new schools.
She took a few steps toward the bed. Then stopped.
Her worn green duffel bag was still lying where she'd dropped it earlier, but something else had appeared beside it.
Clothes.
Ramona stared.
A white button-up shirt lay neatly folded beside a dark navy blazer. A matching skirt, a tie, and a pair of long socks laid beside that. Everything was arranged with almost insulting neatness.
She walked closer.
Picked up the blazer.
Looked at it.
Put it back down.
Her eyes moved over the rest of the outfit again.
“What the fuck?”
Ramona turned around and marched straight back into the hallway, leaving the uniform exactly where it was.
“Hey, Steven.”
Steven looked up from whatever he was doing in the kitchen.
“There’s some weird clothes on my bed.”
“Yeah, that’s the school uniform. It’s Annie’s old one. I didn’t have time to buy you a new one, so I’m hoping you’re about the same size.”
Ramona stared at him.
The fact that he was saying this so casually somehow made it worse.
“I’m never wearing that.”
Steven's expression shifted slightly, somewhere between amusement and sympathy.
“It… it’s a school uniform. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to.”
Ramona stared at him.
He stared back.
She waited for him to laugh.
He didn't.
She looked at him for another long second, then turned around without saying a word.
She walked back into the bedroom.
The uniform was still sitting on the bed.
Of course it was.
Ramona stood in the doorway and glared at it as though sheer hostility might make it disappear.
It didn't.
The dark navy fabric looked almost absurdly pristine next to her old green duffel bag. It was another reminder that she was somewhere completely different now. That there were rules here. Expectations. Things she was apparently supposed to wear and do and know.
She looked away.
No.
She wasn't dealing with that right now.
Ramona reached for her book instead.
The old paperback was soft at the corners from years of being carried around. The cover was worn, the spine slightly bent, and a few of the pages had the faint, familiar curl that came from being opened too many times. It wasn't much.
But it was hers.
She held it against her chest for a moment before deciding where to sit.
She certainly wasn't going to sit on the bed with the uniform staring at her from a few feet away.
Her eyes wandered around the room.
Then she noticed the window.
The windowsill was wide enough to sit on.
That would do.
Ramona crossed the room and carefully climbed onto it, settling herself against the side of the frame. She drew one leg up and rested the book against her knee.
The glass was cool beside her shoulder.
Outside, New York stretched out beneath and around her.
She had seen pictures of the skyline before. Everyone had. But pictures didn't capture the scale of it.
Ramona opened her book.
She read the first line.
Then looked up again.
New York.
She still couldn't quite believe she was here.
Yesterday, she had been somewhere else entirely. Now she was sitting in a bedroom that was apparently hers, in an apartment she was supposed to call home, looking out over one of the biggest cities in the world.
And tomorrow, she was starting at a new school.
Ramona looked down at the book in her hands.
She hoped she made the right decision coming here.