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"So you mean to tell me,"
TJ stands far too ominously in the doorway to his elder sister's bedroom, arms crossed with all the smug aura of someone who knows he has blackmail to abuse. Her walls--decorated with colorful posters and drawings and cut-outs, leaving no negative space--are already closing in on her.
"You're going on a date with that guy?"
Becky glares once at him, but she doesn't let him distract her from brushing her hair. This is probably the fifth time she's brushed it in the last hour out of pure anxiety; the pink bristles comb neatly through her dark curls, not catching once.
"Why is it such a big deal to you? You don't even like him," Becky points at him accusatorially with her brush, searching her disorganized desk for her hair clips.
"I thought you were too good to have a boyfriend." TJ teases, leaning against the open doorway and quirking an eyebrow.
Becky flinches just a tad at hearing her own words echoed back at her. She'd said that a long while ago, a few years after her hurricane of affection for Scoops had passed. She can't believe TJ remembers that.
Her face flushes, and, in either an attempt to deflect or to spare herself the dignity, she makes an aggressive shooing motion at TJ with her free hand--the other slamming her hairbrush against the desk with considerably more force than necessary. She doesn't even check if it dented.
"Just get out of my room, TJ!"
"I'm not in your room." The boy dramatically stares down to his socked feet, where his toes are just outside the threshold of what would be considered her room. Her bedroom carpet, distinguishing that threshold quite obviously from the wooden hallway floors, mocks her.
Becky groans, loud and obnoxious, then finally snatches up the hairclips she was searching for and points a very unintimidating index finger at her brother.
"You know exactly what I mean! If you're going to berate me for changing my mind, at least go bring me my jacket, it's going to be cold out later."
"Fine. But only because you're gonna complain if I don't," TJ adds.
Just as he starts to saunter off down the hallway, however, Bob wanders past him into her room; squeaking something at TJ that makes the boy glare at the monkey. Bob then hops up to sit on the edge of Becky's bed, grabbing a comic from her bedside and starting to flip through it. Becky has literally no idea what depths the sudden beef between Bob and TJ could have possibly emerged from, but it's incredibly funny to her, so she's made no attempt to mend it.
"Also, your shoes are on backwards!" TJ shouts from the stairwell.
Becky pushes out her chair, looking down to her shoes. They are not, in fact, on the wrong feet. She rolls her eyes, unable to believe she'd just fallen for that, then gazes into the mirror again. She looks herself over, eyebrows furrowing in distaste, and she frowns deep.
"Ugh- lexicons above, I look like a mess. I'm disheveled." She slumps against the desk.
"You look great!" The Narrator's voice suddenly booms. Becky startles--she's been forgetting he's still around lately--but she plays it off casually by stretching out her arms.
"Gah-- ...thanks, but I don't. I look like I eat trash. Like a raccoon. I'm like a stupid ugly raccoon."
"Raccoons are actually quite hygienic animals. They wash their food before they eat it."
"They still eat trash."
Bob, sat on one wide of her bed, chirps up, squeaking at her. His furry arms cross over his chest.
("They gotta eat somehow, you know. Trash food is still food.")
"Ugh. Yeah, yeah, whatever, I get it..." Becky waves a hand at her monkey companion to shush him.
Bob squeaks indignantly, but relents; muttering something about "I'm older than you" and "damn kids". Becky pretends not to hear, even though her super hearing picks up every word by default.
"Who is your secret date, anyhow?" Narrator reroutes the river. "Is it someone we know--like, oh, I don't know, someone named Tobey?"
"Eyuck, no," Becky scrunches her nose at the thought of her with Tobey, of all people. "He wishes I'd go out with him. And I thought you knew who, anyway! You're omniscient. Which means all-knowing. You don't just not know things."
"Hahahah, I'm just teasing you, Becky. I know who your mystery person is."
Becky stares daggers into the sky, as if she could drag her ever-present friend down here with sheer force of will. Then she sighs, dragging a hand down her tired face.
"I'm just... I'm worried. Apprehensive? I feel like I'm not pretty enough," she explains, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as if she'll only be able to judge herself by meeting her own gaze. "I'm supposed to look good, aren't I? This is a first date."
"If he really likes you, he won't care how you look. He'll appreciate you for putting effort into looking your best for him, and for taking time out of your day to be there just for him."
Bob squeaks with a slight growl to his tone, his arms uncrossing just to gesture vaguely in the air.
("I sure don't like him at all. I've made that very clear. But he really likes you, more than the tides love the moon. You could show up in your pajamas with your hair all frizzy and he wouldn't care. Unfortunately.")
Becky rests her cheek in her hand, finally meeting her own eyes. She doesn't quite know why--she's just been incredibly self-loathing of her appearance these last few months. She keeps noticing the smallest of imperfections.
"He likes you because you're Becky! I'd be willing to bet he was ecstatic when you agreed to go out with him in the first place."
"What if something bad happens?" Becky blurts, her brown hair bouncing as she flings her head around. "What if a villain strikes the city and I have to leave in the middle of my date?"
"Relax, Becks! Today is about Becky, not Wordgirl. And Becky deserves to be happy just as much as Wordgirl does. Consider today your off day. Push aside all of Wordgirl's responsibilities, just for today."
Bob squeaks in reluctant agreement, then immediately buries his snout back in his comic.
Becky finally cracks a smile, eyes meeting the floor.
"...Thanks, you two."
"Yo, Becky!"
Becky gets startled by TJ tossing her jacket at her. She yelps in response, the fabric vaguely resembling the shape of a falcon trying to snatch her up, and flings the jacket halfway across the room out of pure defensive instinct. She then stands straight upright to whirl on her brother, her skirt swishing around her legs.
"What was that all about?!" Her shoulders tense on either side of her head as she glowers at him.
"Your boyfriend's here," TJ comments, smirking at her with that stupid face. He pretends to look at his nails, as if he just doesn't care. "You better get down there before mom and dad start asking him questions."
"WHAT? Already?!" Becky practically leaps out of her chair, checking the time on her cellphone. It's exactly 3PM, right when he'd promised to be here--she swore it was only 1 a minute ago! ...At least he's punctual?
Becky nearly trips over the edge of her mulberry skirt as she pushes past her brother, sending her spinning chair sliding across the room. Her jacket that TJ had just fetched, unfortunately, is left behind in her haste.
"Tell him to pick up McDonald's for us on the way home!" The younger boy's voice hollers from behind her. Becky pointedly ignores him.
As soon as she's catapulted herself down the stairs, there he is: Phil looms halfway in the entryway, arms awkwardly clasped together in front of him, smiling awkwardly at her mother by the door. She hardly pays further mind to his appearance, however, her focus rather honing in on the fact he's already been ensnared by her mother's conversational grasp.
"Phillip! It's so lovely to finally get to meet you in person, Becky never stops talking about you!"
"That's... great to hear?" Phil says, raising an uncertain eyebrow. The overhead light reflects a little off his head, which would be far more amusing if the situation wasn't as dire as it is. "And, uh, it's just Phil, please."
"Oh, of course, Phil! You know, Becky has so many nice things to say about you, it's just adorable how much of a chatterbox she becomes about you. It's no wonder she likes you so much, you're such a delight!" She chortles. "Ohhhohohoh, and you look so nice, just for her! You're such a gentleman."
The woman's hands clap together cheerily, her smile lines deeper than the Mariana Trench at this point. Becky flinches like she'd just been struck by a semitruck loaded with embarrassment going 80 on the freeway, already wanting to sink into the floor and vanish because quicksand might just be her only sanctuary. But she shakes herself off, laughing loudly and ducking around her mother, lightly grabbing ahold of Phil's arm.
"Hi, Phil! Good to see you! Let's go, bye!" She attempts to drag Phil out of the house, but her mother stops her; latching onto her daughter like a parasite just to hug and kiss her.
"There's my sweet baby! You grow up so fast, already going out and falling in love," she plants a kiss on Becky's forehead, lovingly brushing her bangs aside. "I still remember when you were young--the smallest little thing, you were! And the toughest, I almost could've never imagined you in love!"
Then, as if to mock her, her father hurries by from the garden; reaching around Phil purely to ruffle his daughter's hair before treading on.
"You've got the charm of a baby capybara, kiddo, first date'll be no sweat for you. Just make sure you're back before dusk, curfew still applies! Love you!"
"Uck- Dad, I just brushed my hair," she complains. "I love you too. Thank you. Bye. Please stop embarrassing me."
When they finally escape the labyrinth that is her family members making an unnecessarily big deal out of this event, she drags herself down the driveway to Phil's car, hand-in-hand with him. Phil's hands are gentle, though the palms are calloused from old burn scars. She knows he's sensitive about them, so she never brings them up, not even to ask where he got them. As for his car, it's nothing really special; just an old, slightly beaten-up orange thing he probably got a good deal on. But it runs just fine, so it's all good with her.
"Sorry," she mumbles, staring at the neatly-trimmed flower bushes framing the driveway rather than the guy she's literally going on a date with. "Family's kind of crazy sometimes. Can't catch a break."
"No, it's okay. That was sweet." Phil reassures her with a kind smile, showing off the gap between his front teeth, walking around the vehicle to get the passenger side door for her. "Your family really loves you."
"A little too much, sometimes," Becky mumbles. She smiles at him in thanks, climbing in and buckling her seatbelt. "But... yeah, they do." »And I love them, too,« she thinks.
Phil huffs a quiet laugh as he gets into the drivers' seat himself, sticking his car keys in the ignition before slowly pulling out of the driveway.
"You're really lucky to have them. I could only dream of my family loving me that much."
Then he pauses, only processing what he said when it was too late to silence himself. "...Sorry, I didn't mean to--say that. Just, uh, ignore me. Ahem," He clears his throat, then goes quiet, visibly embarrassed.
Becky looks at him with a frown. Phil is pretty reserved about his home life, which she doesn't mind, but she does knows his home life is at least... rocky. She can only hope things are okay.
She fully intends to reassure him; »It's okay, really.« »Hey, you can talk to me if you need to.« »It's alright, I know you didn't mean any ill intent.« »It was just a slip-up, I understand,« but she finds herself thinking too hard, and, as such, forgetting to verbalize those reassurances.
The quiet between them becomes unfathomably deafening. Becky considers reaching to turn on the radio after about a minute of silence, but would that just make it more awkward? The music they play on the radio station isn't good anyway, she reasons with herself.
"Ask him where he's taking you!" Narrator suddenly encourages.
Becky almost scolds him, as if he's intruding on their moment--but she stops herself as soon as she opens her mouth, because 1. He kinda can't intrude--again, omniscient--and 2. That's not a bad idea. She can almost feel the smugness radiating from him, watching her bite her own tongue.
"So, uh..." Becky taps her knee in a repetitive stimming motion with her left hand, turning to smile at her date. "Where are we headed?"
"Oh, right," Phil blinks as if he'd just snapped out of some dizzying trance. While driving. "That's what I was gonna ask! There's this new restaurant that opened downtown? I've, uh. I've heard they have good food. Supposedly. But if you'd like to go somewhere more familiar, we could-"
"That sounds great," Becky quickly says. "I love getting to try new food."
"Great! Uh- um. Ahem. Me too," Phil blurts, blatantly lying. She knows for a fact that Phil hates trying new things. "You, uh. You look beautiful, by the way. I don't think I mentioned that yet?"
He is clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but expression betrays deeper feelings of literally nothing but chalantness.
...Chalantness isn't even a word. She never makes up words!
"Thank you." She still smiles at the compliment, her cheeks warming under the affection in his words. She fidgets with the hem of her skirt.
When they park at the aforementioned restaurant--it takes far longer to park than it should've, but at least they found a spot--he climbs out of the car and is opening her door for her before she's even had the chance to do it herself. It feels unusual, to be treated in such a way; delicately, as though she's a princess. Not necessarily a bad feeling, just odd. Strange. Abnormal. Atypical. Irregular--
--She's really got to stop doing that, hasn't she?
Her smile grows as she steps out of the vehicle, following him inside the building with a pep in her step. She observes her surroundings as Phil shows them his phone (a reservation, she guesses?) and a waitress gestures them to follow her.
They pass by rows of booths during their winding through the restaurant, only a handful of proper tables dotting certain areas but nevertheless well decorated. The walls, painted a relaxing azure, don large windows that allow natural light in; but they're also curtained in thin baby-blue cloth which makes that sunlight considerably less blinding (a blessing, to her; her eyes can't handle even slightly intense sunlight) as well as making it look somehow even more blue inside. On either side of each window sits tapestry banners with mythical sea monsters, like the Kraken and Loch Ness Monster, expertly woven into the seams.
Paintings line the blank spaces between windows, depicting various ocean animals and coral reefs. Some walls are decorated with dangling jellyfish lanterns, as well as recycled scraps clearly intended to look like ocean waves, coral, fish, and other things.
She takes a wild shot in the dark that they might possibly serve seafood here.
They sit across from each other at their provided table, where the waitress then asks about their drinks. Phil plucks the menu from its holder more hastily than necessary and seems to pick the first non-alcoholic drink item he sees.
"Uh- strawberry lemonade? I guess?" His thumb runs absently over the laminated page. As he tilts his head downwards to examine the menu, the overhead light shines on his head--Becky has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Becky, to distract herself, nods approvingly at his choice, chiming in,
"Yup! Me too!"
When the waitress leaves, she notices Phil avoiding her gaze, his eyes locked on the table. It's not uncommon of him, and it doesn't bother her at all; she knows he just gets shy about eye contact. It's one of many endearing quirks of his. But, she must admit, she also finds it quite funny. And it's a great opportunity.
"Am I that revolting?" She quips. "You won't even look at me."
"Wha- NO! No, no, god no! Not at all!"
Phil's eyes dart up to her face with all the haste of a rabbit late to work. He reaches across the polished wood to grab her hand, his expression positively mortified.
"You look amazing! Beautiful even! Revolting is- that's an antonym! An antonym for what you are right now! For what you are all the time! I would never use a word like that to describe someone as stunning as you! I'm just--"
"Relax, I'm teasing you!"
Becky giggles into her free hand, her delicately brushed curls bouncing a little in time with the movement, but doesn't pull her other away from him. He's always been gentle with her, so she enjoys holding his hand.
"I know you don't mean anything by it. You look handsome yourself, Phil."
She realizes she hadn't properly taken in his outfit until just now. It's fairly basic, much like her own; a pale green long-sleeved shirt, a black vest, an oversized green bow tie (stupid cute on him) and black pants. She fights the urge to ask if he polished his head this morning.
"O-oh, good. Thank you." Relief washes over Phil's face like tide over rocks, but he still tries to keep his eyes on her. "I mean, I'll never look as good as you, but the compliment is appreciated. You're very kind. So, um, how's... life?"
"Great start," Narrator pokes fun at Phil.
"Oh, you hush!" Becky whispers, scowling at the ceiling, but her attention diverts immediately to Phil's suddenly worried tone.
"What? What did I say? Are you mad?" He shrinks in on himself a tad.
"Wait, no, not you- ...it's nothing. Life's great! I'm great. You?"
Phil tilts his head at her, expression pinched with uncertainty, but he moves on nonetheless.
"...My life's been alright, too. You do anything fun this week? Like, I don't know... fight crime?" Phil questions, giving her A Look.
Becky chokes on her own spit, but plays it off as a normal cough.
"What?"
"What?"
"What?"
They can't do much but stare at each other for a good moment. Where did that come from?!
"...No?" Her own tone comes across slowly. Because, like, yeah, she did do that. She does that every week. But why would he know that? Seriously, where did that come from? "Why?"
"Kay. Just, uh, curious, sorry." Phil glances down again, pressing his index finger and his ring finger outward against the table while leaving his middle and pinky finger curled in; a stretch of sorts that she's come to notice he does when he's thinking. Gosh, so many little mannerisms he's got, it's hard not to notice them all. "Uh. Sorry. I'm panicking. You... you read any good books lately?" He quickly attempts.
"I reread Warrior Cats?" She offers with a shrug. She hasn't had as much time to read new books lately--miserable, I know!--so she's only been able to read what she already has on her shelf.
"Really? I never read that book. Books. Those books." Phil gestures in front of him to what could be the concept of a pile of books in his imagination. "But I know a lot of people who have. I always let them infodump to me, so there's a chance I could possibly piece together the plot if you gave me, like... flash cards?"
"I was super into it when I was younger. Wouldn't stop begging for a cat for months, even though we already had Hug--Bob to take care of."
Phil leans in a little, which is generally his tell that he's getting invested. He cracks a smile, one of those especially cute ones that she's always pleased to see on him.
"Oh, were you one of those edgy kids? Was your Warrior Cats OC Queenstar with infinite lives because she's the best clan leader of all time and has the power of StarClan on her side?"
Becky snort-laughs in a particularly undignified manner, but she doesn't even care. He's funny! What's she supposed to do, not laugh?
"I wasn't that bad!"
Phil laughs as well, though whether in response to her amusing laugh or to her comment is uncertain. Then he rests a hand on his cheek, leaning against the table with such a gentle gaze that sends a jolt of stupid affection through her.
"What's your favorite book?" He asks. "Erm--not just from that series, from anywhere. Any book. Ever. That you've read."
He suddenly rights his posture as soon as the question finishes escaping his lips, as if he'd just now realized he was hunched over from his investment in the conversation. She hadn't even noticed, honestly.
"I'm not sure. You know I just love literature--it's really hard to pick a favorite! There are hundreds of thousands of amazing books out there." Becky sighs thoughtfully. "I can only hope to read a fraction of them in my lifetime."
"Original, old-timey dictionary?" Phil grins playfully.
"Oooh, you know me so well. And now you know what to get me for my birthday," she jokes, brushing a curl behind her ear.
The boy across from her laughs; a pleasant sound.
...Okay, he sounds like a dolphin. But it's adorable.
"Noted. Uhh, how about a better question. What's your favorite genre to read? And may I respectfully guess that it's educational books?"
Becky finds herself leaning in as well, already comfortable with the vibes between them.
"Fantasy, actually! But good guess, it's up there." One hand absentmindedly begins to twirl through her brown curls, gazing almost lovingly across the table at him. "I do like educational, but fantasy is more fun. Top three are probably fantasy, sci-if and educational."
"Oh, wow. That's actually really cool. Of you. Would you, uh... recommend any? Specific books. To someone who never reads ever."
"You don't read? I can't believe I agreed to go on a date with you."
"I- I want to read! More! Sometimes! For you! Because of you? Because I used to think it was boring but you make it sound fun!" Phil blurts, then cringes at himself. "Um. And stuff. Books. Y'know."
Becky averts her eyes--she never smiles this much. He just... has a way of making her happy, I guess. Her cheeks warm a little.
"I'm kidding, it's okay. Really. I guess if I were to make a few recommendations..."
The pair get so lost in their discussion that they hardly notice the waitress returning with their drinks, only when she sets the glasses down in front of them and asks if they're ready to order. After they place their orders, Becky leans back in her seat, watching her walk away.
"You know, I thought for a while that maybe dating wasn't for me," Becky comments. "Or romance in general. But you're, like, suspiciously good at changing a girl's mind."
Phil tilts his head. "Really? I didn't even do anything. Did I? I mean, I- I just find you pretty. And cool. You're really cool. Wait, are you aromantic? If you're just here out of pity for me we can break this off right now, I don't want you to feel like you--"
"Phil, relax. I don't know what that is, so I'm going to assume it's a no. You have a lot of attractive qualities."
"Oh."
Phil's own cheeks flush embarrassingly bright pink, and, after doing so very well at looking vaguely in her general direction for the last few minutes, his gaze falls right back down to the table. His head tucks between his shoulders to hide, like a turtle retreating to its shell, and she pretends not to notice his giddy smile.
"...Like what?" Phil's voice comes out like he's making a request. He wants to know what she sees in him.
...
Dinner goes fantastic. Although she was never much of a seafood person herself--she doesn't dislike it, it's just not her favorite--the food was still pretty good. The conversation was the best part.
She is fully prepared to pay halfsies by the date's end; that's only fair for a first date, right? But Phil, for some incomprehensible reason, is quite insistent on paying in full, even when she bickers loudly with him over it. He does at least let her tip the waitress, but she doesn't quite know why he was so insistent.
When they step outside, Becky shudders at the sudden gust of frosty air blazing through her. Phil immediately wraps his arms around her, briefly locking her in place.
Although he doesn't have a jacket to offer her in the cold (he deeply regrets not bringing one, because this would have been the perfect opportunity to be super romantic and gentlemanly and win over her heart), he's warm enough to the touch that she relaxes in his embrace.
"Maybe don't wear a dress without a jacket during fall," Phil comments; a lighthearted, harmless criticism. His chin comes to rest on her shoulder, his own broader ones making a comfortable shield from the chilled air. "Not that you, like, don't look beautiful in that outfit or anything...I don't know where that came from, sorry. You look great. I'm just worried about you catching a cold."
Becky smiles up at him. It's a bit odd, having to crane her neck to look at Phil of all people; she used to be taller than him just a few months ago, but all of a sudden he's had a huge growth spurt, so now he's much bigger and stronger-looking (only appearances. He's pitifully weak, even for human standards) than her. She'd liked being superior in height, but she also quite likes that now he's able to just hold her all warm and cozy in his big arms.
Phil leads her out to his car, once again getting the door for her. Okay, she definitely likes being given princess treatment. She'd never liked people acting like she was made of glass, nor did she enjoy being treated like she was fully independent and never needed help; but Phil somehow manages to treat her in a way that she really likes. She doesn't even know what he does differently.
Her thought process cuts off when Phil suddenly reaches over her to stick his key in the ignition, rather than doing so when he's in his seat. The action makes her giggle, maybe just a little teeny bit because of the proximity, then he walks around to hop in the drivers' seat.
He lets the car sit for a moment, waiting for the heater to warm the interior up before he backs out of the parking lot.
"I, uh. I really enjoyed that," Phil says as he's driving. His eyes stay locked on the road, but she sees his gaze soften. "The date, I mean. I hope you did, too."
"I did! It was amazing, Phil. Thanks for having me." Becky, perhaps an attempt at comforting his nerves, reaches out a hand to rest atop his own gripping the steering wheel. She brushes his knuckles lightly, and blushes a tad when he peels a hand away just to hold onto hers. His hands are sweaty this time. She chooses to spare him, not mentioning it.
"...Amazing enough to... do this again sometime?" He asks meekly, offering her a tentative but hopeful glance once he's come to rest at a stoplight.
"Definitely! I'd love to!" It comes out more eager than she intended, but it would be a lie to say she isn't utterly delighted that Phil liked it just as much as she did.
Phil's face lights up as soon as the words escape her lips--her superhearing picks up the faintest murmured "Yesss," under his breath.
He's just precious.
"I was, uh. Thinking maybe a picnic, next time? Or the library? Or even both? I-I could do both. I'm free."
"Either of those sounds fun! What time?" She brushes a stray curl behind her ear, unsuccessfully pretending to be less giddy than she is.
"Same time... ssssSaturday?" He offers. "Next Saturday. Not tomorrow Saturday. Unless you want to do it again tomorrow. I wouldn't be against that. Except I might not get much sleep tonight because I'll be processing today and thinking about you all night. I mean- I didn't say anything." Phil pulls into her driveway, putting the car in park and burying his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.
She sits put for a moment, considering. Then, perhaps a stroke of recklessness, she unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning in to peck Phil's cheek.
"Saturday sounds great. See you tomorrow."
She glances over her shoulder only once as she exits the vehicle, just in time to catch him staring in shock at the steering wheel as though it had just revealed the universe's deepest and darkest secrets to him. He does soon regain his composure, however, waving her a sheepish goodbye before backing out. She waves back, heading up to her front porch just as the sun starts to dip between the clouds.
She's not sure why she did that. But maybe she doesn't have to have a reason.
"...Sounds like your first date was a success, Becky."
"Shut up."