21st Saun 704
7 arc old Fiona O’Connor would never have been able to articulate the things she was about to do.
Looking back as a very irritable, very miserable adult, it could be summed up in two words:
Playground rules.
Books and teachers had their place in shaping the psyche of the child, but it was the playground that built the foundation of every child who would go on to function in society; you learned about the cold reality of cliques in the playground, you first experienced the inane, often cruel touch of peer pressure in the playground, you learned how to negotiate and barter and trade favors and leverage friendships in the playground.
You learned how you react when you were challenged in the playground.
Fight or flight? Push back or run away?
Odd, the closest thing she had to a friend in her few days at the orphanage, had clearly chosen the latter every single time. She couldn’t even blame him too much; the boys -the Bugs as they christened themselves- had arcs of height and weight on him. Beetle, his personal tormentor and the leader of the gang, was probably wider than either of them was tall.
So here they were: A trio of outcasts hiding behind the old shed at behind the main orphanage building.
A self-admitted coward who ran because it was the only thing he could do.
A girl who tried to challenge a 7 foot tall giant and was humiliated for overreaching.
And a baby that had managed to sleep through either ordeal undisturbed.
Fiona was pacing back and forth while Odd sat with his back against the old, knotted wood the shed’s back wall, his almond shaped eyes moving slowly in time with her steps. She didn’t move too quickly - she didn’t want to jostle the baby and have it wake up and do something they’d all regret. But she had to move, to keep moving. It had only been two trials since she’d arrived at the children’s penitentiary, but already she felt as though she were going stir-crazy. Some of the Bugs -Sometimes Mantis but always Beetle- had begun camping outside the pantry at baby’s feeding times, hoping to catch her and make her tell them Odd’s current location. Even feeding the baby had become its own personal trial by fire.
This would not stand.
“Did you find what we’re looking for?” she asked Odd. “Please tell me you found what we’re looking for.”
He shrugged, shifting a little bit to scratch his back against the rough wood behind him. “I found… maybe two? But if you’re gonna be holding baby brother, I’m not sure…” Trailing off, he didn’t need to finish the sentence. They were both aware that the bundle of sleeping, hapless flesh in her arms was a pretty huge handicap.
“I’ll need you to carry him.” she said. It wasn’t ideal. Even the thought of being separated from the tiny, shitting bundle of uselessness was an ugly chill down her spine. She didn’t trust him - but she did distrust him least of all among everyone she had met so far.
7 arc old Fiona O’Connor would never have been able to articulate the things she was about to do.
Looking back as a very irritable, very miserable adult, it could be summed up in two words:
Playground rules.
Books and teachers had their place in shaping the psyche of the child, but it was the playground that built the foundation of every child who would go on to function in society; you learned about the cold reality of cliques in the playground, you first experienced the inane, often cruel touch of peer pressure in the playground, you learned how to negotiate and barter and trade favors and leverage friendships in the playground.
You learned how you react when you were challenged in the playground.
Fight or flight? Push back or run away?
Odd, the closest thing she had to a friend in her few days at the orphanage, had clearly chosen the latter every single time. She couldn’t even blame him too much; the boys -the Bugs as they christened themselves- had arcs of height and weight on him. Beetle, his personal tormentor and the leader of the gang, was probably wider than either of them was tall.
So here they were: A trio of outcasts hiding behind the old shed at behind the main orphanage building.
A self-admitted coward who ran because it was the only thing he could do.
A girl who tried to challenge a 7 foot tall giant and was humiliated for overreaching.
And a baby that had managed to sleep through either ordeal undisturbed.
Fiona was pacing back and forth while Odd sat with his back against the old, knotted wood the shed’s back wall, his almond shaped eyes moving slowly in time with her steps. She didn’t move too quickly - she didn’t want to jostle the baby and have it wake up and do something they’d all regret. But she had to move, to keep moving. It had only been two trials since she’d arrived at the children’s penitentiary, but already she felt as though she were going stir-crazy. Some of the Bugs -Sometimes Mantis but always Beetle- had begun camping outside the pantry at baby’s feeding times, hoping to catch her and make her tell them Odd’s current location. Even feeding the baby had become its own personal trial by fire.
This would not stand.
“Did you find what we’re looking for?” she asked Odd. “Please tell me you found what we’re looking for.”
He shrugged, shifting a little bit to scratch his back against the rough wood behind him. “I found… maybe two? But if you’re gonna be holding baby brother, I’m not sure…” Trailing off, he didn’t need to finish the sentence. They were both aware that the bundle of sleeping, hapless flesh in her arms was a pretty huge handicap.
“I’ll need you to carry him.” she said. It wasn’t ideal. Even the thought of being separated from the tiny, shitting bundle of uselessness was an ugly chill down her spine. She didn’t trust him - but she did distrust him least of all among everyone she had met so far.
