Dawson has the sense not to do anything to Tina when she arrives back, anything but a strict talking-to. He knows that if he does anything to her physically, his aunt and uncle will notice and become suspicious, with the trip coming up so soon. They weren't especially observant people; if they were, they would have taken Dawson and Tina in a long time ago. After all, they were good people. If they knew just how neglected their niece and nephew were, they wouldn't stand for it.
Tina manages to keep to herself for the rest of the evening, and she and Dawson take the bus to the airport early the next morning. He stinks, as most teenage boys do, so it's unpleasant to be next to him on the plane. Even so, she's able to fall asleep, and when she wakes up, the plane's already in descent in Seattle. She's glad for that. Once they're on the ground, she and Dawson get their baggage, and she's hardly pulled her suitcase off of the carousel when she looks up and sees her cousin rushing towards them, calling out, "Tina! Dawson! How was your flight?"
"Hey Chris!" Tina greets him with a wave and a smile, "It was nice, I got a good catnap in."
 |
| Christopher Gonzalez |
"Well, it sounds like you had a productive time," Chris shrugs, then points out toward the door, "My dad's gonna bring the car around to pick us up, he'll drive us out to Mesteri. It's kind of a long drive, so if you want to get some more sleep, go ahead! You had to wake up pretty early to catch your flight, right?"
"I will attempt to sleep," Dawson groans, dragging his luggage with him as he goes on ahead towards the door.
"I won't," Tina says, falling into step with Chris to follow after her brother, "I'm well-rested, and I want to get caught up! It's been too long since we last hung out."
"Yeah, it has," Chris nods with a slight laugh, "I mean, I could definitely do with seeing less of Dawson, but the two of you are pretty much a package deal, at least for now. Maybe when you're older..." He shrugs.
"Yeah, maybe," Tina agrees, staring at her brother's back, "He doesn't seem to enjoy seeing you very much when you visit us, so I guess he probably would have preferred to stay home than to come visit. You wanted us to meet your friends though, right? Are they nice?"
"My friends are the nicest," Chris smirks as they reach the curb and his father pulls up. Tina might not know a great amount about her parents, but she knows that Chris's dad is her mother's brother, and that was the only way she found out her mother's maiden name, which television seems to make out to be as an important thing for people to know. Chris helps the twins load their bags into the trunk, then offers Dawson the shotgun seat so he and Tina can chat in the backseat, less distracting than one of them twisted around to look behind. Dawson's reluctant for a moment, but decides he would like the front seat.
Once Tina is situated in the passenger-side backseat, with Chris in the other one, cupholder between them with an empty water bottle in it, she speaks again, "So tell me about those nice friends! It'd be impressive to know about them before I meet them, right?"
"Impressive or creepy depending on who you ask, but I think these friends would appreciate knowing that I talked them up ahead of time," Chris notes, shifting in his seat, "So there's Mallory, who draws a lot and has some pet birds. She wants to get a parrot of some sort, but they're a long-term responsibility so she probably has to wait till she's living on her own. Marc's kind of a jock, he plays basketball, but he's the nice type of jock. And John loves gardening, he's always giving away fresh vegetables, which is cool."
"Those are some very concise descriptions," Tina giggles, holding a hand up to her mouth, "I can't wait to meet them."
"I can," Dawson complains, but then asks a question a bit quieter, "Is Mallory cute?"
"I feel like I'm not the right person to ask that," Chris responds, "You'll just have to wait and see for yourself."
"Why are you not the right person to ask? You gay?" Dawson questions, turning to stare into the backseat.
"I couldn't tell you if John or Marc are cute either!" Chris shakes his head in protest, "I don't really get what qualifies as attractive, that's all. I think all my friends look nice, I guess, but I could never hazard a guess if anyone else would want to flirt with them or anything. I don't really understand that stuff."
"So you're a late bloomer," Dawson notes, dismissing him to turn back around and try to go to sleep. Chris frowns, and directs his next protest to Tina instead.
"I don't think I'm a late bloomer, I'm a year older than you guys. I think I'm just not super into that whole romance thing, period," He leans against the car window, "That's fine, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Tina agrees, "I think it'd be more convenient, to never have to deal with all of that stuff. When I get to high school, I bet everything's going to get even more chaotic as everyone tries to date."
"Hey, Tina," Her uncle calls from the front seat, "You and Dawson, your birthday's this week, right? Do you want us to get you a cake while you're here?"
"I dunno, we don't usually celebrate it. Cake's always a good thing to have, though!" Tina decides, leaning forward, "So I won't say no, if you want to get us one!"
"Since your brother's asleep," He chuckles in response, "You can decide the flavor."
"Chocolate ice cream cake," Tina doesn't even hesitate in her response, which Chris laughs at a bit, then smiles because that's his second favorite type of cake himself, second only to carrot cake with good cream cheese frosting. His father agrees to Tina's decision of flavor, and promises that he'll get it for her closer to her actual birthday, since it's in the middle of the week. With that sorted out, Tina turns back to her cousin, "So what have you been up to anyway? How's eighth grade treating you?"
"It's fine," He shrugs, then raises a finger in the air, "Right, by the way, Mallory and Marc are seventh graders like you. John's a high school freshman now. I should have mentioned that sooner."
"Are you incapable of getting along with people in your own grade?" Tina pokes fun at him.
"Hum, well, it's difficult," Chris shrugs, "People my own age have known me a lot longer, they had to deal with me when I was an extra obnoxious child, before I joined the swim team as a way to get all that energy out. I was really disruptive all through elementary school."
"I remember," Tina nods, "When you visited when we were younger, you'd always chase me and Dawson around with water guns. You would hide all the ones you weren't using, though, because you knew if I got ahold of one I'd shoot you in the face."
"I was doing you a favor, it's so hot where you live! I was just trying to refresh you, in all of my ADHD glory," Chris laughs, shaking his head, "For real, though, swim team really helped me to calm down. I play pickup games with Marc sometimes too, though he always beats me because I suck at basketball. Hey, maybe we can all play one together?"
"We'd have to figure out a fair split, though. Dawson and I don't really play, but I'm athletic and he's tall..." Tina holds a finger to her chin.
"I already know how to split it up. You, me, and Dawson against Marc, Mallory, and John. Those latter two aren't athletic in any way, so they'd make for a good handicap for the guy who's actually on the school's team," Chris offers, bouncing his leg where he sits, "Of course, we can just wander around and hang out, too. There's a lot of abandoned buildings around here. Some of them are transient communities, but a lot are just fun for teens to wander around. I think last time you were visiting, we were still too young to be trusted to wander the town without getting infected with lots of tetanus."
"Yeah, it has been a while. You always come down to Albuquerque," Tina notes.
"That's because Kim and I have full time jobs, so it was tough to have more children to keep an eye on. It was easier to just send Chris down to you as an Unattended Minor," Chris's father, who Tina remembers is named Fernán. She'd forgotten her uncle's name for a bit there, but being reminded that his wife is named Kimberly jogged her memory regarding his. She decides not to mention the fact that her own parents were almost never home while Chris was visiting. He continues, "Now that you're all basically teenagers, though, I think we can trust you to your own devices while we're working."
"Great," Tina agrees with a nod.
"Anyway," Chris takes control of the conversation again, "Have you guys decided if you're going to move up here for high school yet?"
"I don't know," Tina shrugs, "I would like to, but I think Dawson's against it, and I know that Mom and Dad won't let us make the move unless we both agree on it. Still, it'd be nice to live closer to you. I have to feel kind of isolated, there's not a lot of kids in my neighborhood. Just this one friend we have, Arturo. I'm sure if we moved further away, though, I could talk to him on the phone," Dawson doesn't tend to let her make calls, but there's no way Arturo could 'steal' her away if there's miles between them, so hopefully she'd be allowed. That's the one reservation she has about moving, now, since she discovered that Arturo was always more her friend than Dawson's.
"Who knows, maybe he'll come around," Chris offers, then looks out the window again, "Oh, we just turned onto Highway Zero! It's not far now, the highway only starts like... Ten miles from the bridge."
"Y'know, I heard the bridge might get demolished sometime in the next decade," Fernán joins in the conversation again. It seems that he just wants to be the cool uncle, "Now that Mesteri's such a ghost town, the upkeep on such a long bridge is just a big loss of money. It might be more efficient to run a ferry."
"Will it be a car ferry?" Chris asks.
"Do you think the mayor is that kind?" Fernán questions.
"Not in the least," Chris relents.
"Yeah, we'll probably have to keep this car parked on the mainland and just use your mother's to get around on the island," Fernán explains, tapping the steering wheel, "If they decide to do that, anyway. If the population goes back up, keeping the bridge will definitely be worth it, but right now there's just not enough people who need to use it regularly."
"Well, at least there's a good bus line," Chris shrugs it off, "And they're an independent company, right? So town politics can't shut it down."
"Yeah, it shouldn't be a big problem for people with just one car who work on the mainland, I think the gas to cross the bridge probably costs about as much as a bus ride from anywhere in town to the docks so it wouldn't be a serious change," He realizes something, then speaks to Tina, "Ah, sorry! I keep an eye on town politics, since I've received an invitation to be on the planning board! I'm wondering if I should accept or not."
"I think that you should," Tina says, leaning toward him, "You definitely know your stuff about Mesteri..."
"Thanks," Fernán chuckles, staring off across the horizon, "I sure will, if you and your brother end up moving here. Investing in the town for just my own son seems a little selfish, but for my sister's kids too? That'll keep me from seeming like I've got self-centered intentions when budgeting out the high school."
"I'm pretty sure that will still come across as nepotism," Tina teases. This is nice; her extended family is so much better than her immediate. This is the type of life she wishes that she could have, but there's Dawson, always Dawson. He's the problem.
-----------
 |
| Marc Fitson |
"No," Chris rolls his eyes, "They're just some strangers I invited in to watch Frasier."
"Well," Marc swallows his bite of plum, but takes another one right after, seeming to have something against talking without his mouth full, "It's nice to meet you. The name's Marc Fitson. Basketball player. Peach and Plum appreciator. Smartest guy I know."
"I'm Dawson Packard," Dawson answers, looking up at him, "And this is my twin sister Tina. I was born ten minutes sooner so I am the older twin. I'm probably smarter than you. I like swords. I hate all fruit."
"If you hate fruit," Marc raises his eyebrows, finally speaking without a mouthful of plum, "Then you're definitely less smart than me. Fruit is some of the best shit this world has to offer. I mean, meat and veggies are good and all, but fruit, man. Fruit."
"I don't like you," Dawson states, matter-of-fact.
"Please excuse my idiot brother," Tina speaks, looking up at Marc. He's so tall for a thirteen year old. So damn tall, "He doesn't like anybody."
"Damn," Marc chuckles, then looks up and turns around when he hears a knock on the door, "Yo, that'll be Mallory and John, I'll go let them in," He goes to the door and opens it, "You do realize that knocking is one hundred percent unnecessary here?"
 |
| Mallory Shingle |
"Whatever you say, Bluebird. Come inside," Marc teases as he steps back into the house, gesturing for the other two to follow. John isn't quite as tall as Marc, which seems weird given the difference in their ages, but growth spurts are growth spurts. Mallory is kind of tall too, but both she and John are on the heavier side, so it seems more proportional. They're obviously related, with the same nose and hair color.
"Greetings and salutations!" John waves, taking off his shoes before he steps onto the living room carpet, "Chris, it's an honor to meet your family!"
"Stop being weird, John," Mallory chides him as she steps past, walking straight up to Tina and Dawson, "Hi there! Do you like birds?"
"I have no opinion on birds," Tina answers truthfully.
"Birds are the coolest," Dawson answers, lying. Tina gives him an odd look as he continues talking, "Mallory, huh? Can I call you Mal?"
"Um," She fidgets where she stands, glancing away, "I don't know, uh, my grandma's the only person who calls me that, so it would be kind of weird..."
"Cool beans," Dawson has never in his life said cool beans before, and he seems to be totally ignoring the guys to focus on Mallory. Tina is suspicious of this behavior, "So what do you like to do?"
 |
| John Shingle |
"Oh yeah!" A wide smile splits over John's face, "Just yesterday, we watched this really weird movie called Devilman: The Birth. It's very quotable. I wouldn't mind watching it again with everybody if you'd think it'd be a fun thing to do!"
"I don't give a shit," Dawson dismisses John, then turns back to Mallory, "You draw, huh? Do you think you could draw me?"
"How mean..." John mumbles.
"I don't know," Mallory shakes her head, "I don't do portraits, the closest I get to drawing people is using them as reference for gesture drawings, so I don't think I could really draw you well."
"Isn't it really important for artists to study anatomy? I could help you with that," Dawson offers.
"No thank you!" Mallory squeaks, then starts walking back to the kitchen, "I'm going to go over here now!"
"Hey Bluebird," Marc chases after her and opens the fridge, "There's plums in here. Want a plum?"
"Ah," She gives Marc a sweet smile and nods, "I'd love one!"
"Now that's passive aggressive if I ever saw it," Dawson mumbles, resting his chin his palms, "Am I actually that repulsive?" Chris and Tina refrain from answering.
John stares out into the kitchen for a while, then turns to Dawson and shrugs, "Usually, Mallory isn't shy at all. She wasn't when she greeted you either, right? I'm guessing that you freaked her out with that nickname."
Dawson screws up his face in confusion, then scoffs, "Seriously? Mal seems like a normal nickname to me. More normal than Bluebird, for sure."
"You!" Marc calls from the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, pointing at Dawson, "Are you ragging on my nicknaming skills? I'll have you know that Bluebird is a great one."
"Great's a bit of an overstatement," Mallory chimes in as she walks past Marc, now with a plum of her own, and sits down on the far end of the couch. John reads her movement and sits next to her before Dawson has a chance to move over there, "It's dumb, but I guess I like it a little."
Dawson frowns, then stands up and walks over to stand in front of John and Mallory, "Hey, sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot there. I didn't mean to freak you ou-"
"The Mal thing? That's nothing," Mallory shakes her head, "Sorry John, you were wrong. I don't care about that. I awkwardly evacuated the room, Dawson, because you smell like ass. When's the last time you took a shower?"
"Two weeks ago," Dawson answers without a pause, as if this is a normal thing.
"You're turning thirteen this week, right?" John questions, leaning back on the couch with an amused smirk, "Probably should have started when you were eleven. Teenagers smell bad, it's the natural state. Make an effort, okay? Take me, for example. I smell like flowers. That's because I take a shower every day, and use good shampoo, and use bodywash. Soap works too."
"Do not rely on body spray," Chris adds in, standing up to pace around the room as he speaks, "Marc tried that."
"Did not work, and body spray doesn't even smell that great," Marc explains himself.
"God, I get it," Dawson rolls his eyes, "I'll go take a shower right. Now," With that, he stomps off toward the bathroom. The others feel a little bit bad for spotlighting his lack of hygiene in such a way, but only a little, because he really did smell awful. Sometimes humiliation is the best motivator. With that sorted out, Mallory shifts in her seat and addresses Tina.
"Is your brother always like that?" She questions, adjusting her glasses again with narrowed eyes.
"Like what? Smelling bad, or insufferable?" Tina asks, "Because the answer is both. He always smells bad and is always just that insufferable."
Mallory gives a slow nod, then reaches into the messenger bag she brought with her and pulls out a sketchbook. John leans over and sees that she's drawing Chris's living room, and frowns, "Don't you ever get tired of drawing the same thing over and over again?"
"Well, I'm bored, and there's nothing better to draw than this living room," Mallory answers, then glances around the other people in the room, "No offense to all of you, but I am bored, and I will do anything I can to remedy boredom as soon as I encounter it. Why should I spend any time doing nothing and disliking it?"
"That's a good philosophy to have," Chris notes, then turns to his television, "I guess sitcoms aren't the most enthralling thing ever. Do you want to do something else? I don't have any video game consoles, but we could change the channel, or play a board game. I guess it'd be rude to go outside before Dawson joins us again."
"Who cares if it's rude? If we go outside, maybe there will be a pigeon I can draw," Mallory shrugs as she shades in the coffee table on her drawing. She's drawn this same room so many times now, and from so many different angles, because she is very often bored while at Chris's house, "All of your board games are awful."
"They're not awful!" Chris protests, and Marc puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Chris," Marc sighs, shaking his head, "We've been meaning to tell you this for a long time now, but... Five different licensed versions of Monopoly is not a board game collection. It is, in fact, the worst. Every time we play, one of us starts cheating just to make it end sooner. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way."
"You must have a few other games. Scrabble?" Tina asks, stifling a laugh at the idea of everyone cheating at Monopoly out of boredom.
"No, Tina," John shakes his head with a heavy groan, "I guess this is something you didn't know about your cousin. Chris here... Only owns different versions of Monopoly."
"Mom and Dad prefer reading to playing games, so our entire game collection is just the ones I want! And what I want is Monopoly!" Chris protests, holding his fists in close to himself in earnest, "Property management is the greatest form of entertainment provided to us mere mortals!"
"You need a new hobby," Mallory groans, standing up, "Start writing or something. Mere mortals? Talking like that, you could write fantasy or something... Become more interesting."
"I don't want to become more interesting," Chris sighs, but it sounds defeated, as if he actually is going to take his friend's advice. She glances toward the bathroom door, then rolls her shoulders in a shrug and opens the door to the backyard, stepping outside and approaching a bird that's sitting in the grass. It's a dreary day, but most days in Mesteri are. Even days with blue sky don't feel clear. It may be an island in the Pacific, but it's still part of Washington state. It's the opposite of tropical. Marc follows Mallory, only to see that she's crouched down a few feet from the bird and is now drawing it. He notes that it's a ratty pigeon. A rock dove, to be specific. He hates that he knows that, and blames Mallory for giving him the useless information. After waiting for Dawson a little while longer, Tina, John, and Chris also step outside, but keep their distance to avoid frightening the bird away, sitting down on a garden wall near the door. The garden itself has nothing growing in it, though.
"Once Dawson rejoins us," John starts, scratching the back of his neck, "You guys wanna go wander on the beach?"
"There's a beach?" Tina asks, "I thought the whole place was just steep drops."
"Mostly is, but there is some beach a little further out. There aren't any roads by it, though, and it's not like we ever get any weather to qualify as a beach day. It's more pebbles than sand, too," Chris explains, kicking his legs, "But the water's nice there, and the pebbles are smooth! It's good for swimming!"
"Swimming, huh?" John asks, then turns to look at Mallory and sees that she's done with the pigeon, closing up her sketchbook again, and thus calls out to her, "Mallory! Did you happen to bring our swimsuits?"
She looks over at John with a bit of surprise, then up at the sky. None of those clouds are dark enough to rain, she notes. He would ask her that even if a thunderstorm was rolling in. With the lack of impending downpours determined, she nods in his direction, then approaches to speak at a normal volume, "They're in my bag, back in the house. Are we going down to Myna Beach?"
"Chris wants to go swimming, so we might," John nods, then looks over to Marc, "Fitson! You up for a swim?"
"Up for it? Sure," Marc shrugs as he walks over as well, hands on his hips, "Jeans are awful when wet, though. I'll have to stop at home for some trunks. Don't think yours will fit me, Chris," He chuckles, looking over his much shorter friend, "If it's Myna Beach, though, we'll pass my house anyway."
Mallory grimaces at that statement and raises her eyebrows, "Your dad off work right now?"
"He is," Marc shrugs, shifting his weight between his feet, "I mean, come on. He's not that bad. You can tolerate being within the same thirty yards as him for a few minutes, can't you?"
"Of course I can," Mallory rolls her eyes, "But can you?"
Marc pauses at that question, then shrugs and gives a nod, "Yeah, it should be fine just to stop and grab my swimsuit. He can't possibly give me a hard time for that."
Tina looks between the two of them, and furrows her brow, "What's the problem?"
"Huh?" Marc turns to her, then gives her a smile which seems a little bit fake, "Oh, it's nothing. My dad's kind of overcritical at times, that's all."
"He's always been that way," Chris notes, standing back up again. He'd only sat down for a few moments, "Kind of one of those guys who thinks any kid of his has gotta extoll every single virtue he's got. 'No son of mine is going to quit basketball', that sort of thing."
Tina nods, pressing her hands together, "Oh, I see. That's pretty rude to do, though. Hobbies are one of the few things that children are able to choose."
Marc shrugs, walking towards the door back into the house, "I mean, I'm lucky that I like basketball. What's really annoying about it is that my dad thinks I'm going to go pro with it, or something. Just because I'm tall, doesn't mean I'm good enough for that. And I'm definitely not too cool with the idea that I'm having my future career decided when I'm not even in high school yet."
"Well, at least you've got us," John pipes in, clapping a hand against Marc's back, "We won't ever let you sell out! See, I told you there was a benefit to having weird friends."
Marc chuckles, a bit awkward as he opens the door back into the house, "You're not that weird. Anyway, I wouldn't trade you for the world. Is that strange to say, when we haven't known each other that long?" Marc and Chris have been friends for years, as have Chris and Mallory, but the actual combination of those friendships into one group was only about half a year ago.
Mallory steps up next to Marc, ducking into the house behind him as she speaks, "A little bit strange, absolutely. Lucky for you, I feel the same way. Chris has good taste in friends, or at least decent taste. You're cool, I guess."
"Is there such a thing as a direct compliment from Mallory Shingle?" Chris questions with a laugh, also stepping inside and gesturing for Tina to follow as well, which she does. John walks in last, latching the door behind himself.
"A direct compliment? From my mouth? It's less likely than you think," Mallory jokes, crossing her arms over her chest, "You probably think I'd do it at some point, but no. Never. I will never be genuine and open about my emotions with anybody!" She gives her best rendition of an evil laugh, "I'll be the next big supervillain! Emotionally-Reserved-Man!"
"Wouldn't that be Emotionally-Reserved-Girl?" Dawson questions, having finished his shower and returned to the living room. Rather than getting dressed, he's just got a towel wrapped around his waist. He seems to be trying to show off his muscles, but they aren't great muscles at all. Especially if he gets compared to his sister's washboard abs.
Mallory turns around and pouts as she pushes her glasses up her nose, "It's my joke, I can name my supervillain idea anything I want to."
"Yeah, but you're saying the supervillain is you, so," Dawson brings his arms up to his sides in an exaggerated shrug, "I'm just saying, it doesn't make a lot of sense."
She puts her hands on her hips and groans, but before she can get into a fistfight that she would surely lose, Tina steps forward, speaking in a loud voice, "Dawson, you should put your swimtrunks on. We're all going down to Myna Beach. We're all getting changed into swimsuits here, except we have to stop at Marc's house since he didn't bring trunks and he's wearing jeans."
"The beach, huh? I kind of thought beach days were usually sunny," Dawson notes, peering out the window, "But I guess as long as it's warm enough..."
"The temperature's nice today," Chris confirms, "And the water's not usually too cold, either. It'll be a great day to go for a quick swim," He laughs as he says this, and stretches his arms out over his head, "So, once we get there, who wants to race me?"
"Absolutely nobody," Marc answers, crossing his arms, then points toward the door, "Anyway, I guess I'll go stop by my house while you all get changed, meet me in my driveway?"
"Will do," Mallory nods, snatching her swimwear from the bag and running to the bathroom Dawson just vacated to get changed. Everyone else agrees as well.
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