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cynicalrainbows · 5 years ago

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The Next Best Thing Chapter 15

Catalina arrives early, when they’re still finishing the last of the birthday pancakes.

Anna is spreading Nutella with a surgeon's precision to ensure it covers her pancake right to the edges; Anne is running her fingers through a maple syrup puddle on the table and licking them. Baby Catherine is chewing on a bit of plain pancake in her highchair and Mary is putting the pan in the dishwasher.

She’s only eating the strawberries but she aims a cuff at Anne when Anne asks if it’s because she’s on another diet and tells her to mind her own business.

Anne subsides with a giggle and steals a spoonful of Nutella straight from the jar, whispering that Mary couldn’t fit into her new jeans when she tried them on last weekend. Mary’s face goes redder than the strawberries and she looks crosser than ever- but they’re interrupted by the doorbell.

Cathy abandons her own pancake-face (with a Father Christmas beard of snowy white whipped cream- it looks excellent even though she’s not really that fond of the taste of whipped cream) when she hears Catalina’s voice in the hall doing the boring grown up Garden’s looking lovely, traffic, parking, price of petrol stuff that all grown ups seem incapable of not saying when they meet each other.

(She’s glad that when she sees Anne and her other friends, they can just jump right into talking about interesting things like books and television and whether rubbing two jelly aliens together and putting them in the freezer makes then make a tiny alien baby, and is it murder if your tamagotchi dies because you weren’t allowed to get down from Sunday Lunch to feed it, and is it true that if you swallow chewing gum, it ties up your stomach and kills you, and how it is that the chocolate in the bottom of a Cornetto manages to taste so much nicer than normal chocolate, and why is it that sharpening your pencil is boringboringboring when you’re in the middle of drawing a picture but really satisfying and fun when it means you get to stop doing handwriting practise to do it, and is it true that there was a boy in Year Four who stuck his whole finger into the teachers special electric pencil sharpener on a dare and had the tip of his finger sharpened away to nothing?)

She doesn’t quite have the courage to interrupt- but when Catalina sees her hovering in the doorway, she interrupts herself and stops agreeing with Anne’s Mum that the price of petrol is extortionate nowadays and gives Cathy such a big hug it lifts her right off her feet.

‘Mija!’

She lets herself cling tight for a moment and then lets go- she isn’t a baby after all, although there’s a little bit of her that wishes she was Kitty’s age so she could be picked up and cuddled properly.

‘How are you?’

She nods. ‘I’m ok.’

Anne’s Mum does a bit lipsticky smile like a lady in an advert and asks if she slept well and she nods again. ‘Yes thank you.’

She hopes Catalina has mostly forgotten last night and doesn’t bring it up to Anne’s Mum.

(She knows grown ups can be so sneaky like that sometimes, sharing your secret things with one another and pretending they’re doing it for your own good.)

She especially hopes that Anna won’t say anything- she hasn't yet but you never know, and even though Cathy doesnt think she’d say anything on purpose, she might just by mistake. She can’t even ask Anna to keep quiet because then Anne will hear and want to know what it is that Anna is meant to keep quiet about.

And Anne is terrible with secrets.

Not with keeping them, she’s actually very very good at withstanding all sorts of secret-spilling torture, even Chinese Burns, but with wanting to know other people’s. Once she knows them, she’s always perfectly happy to not tell anyone else, on pain of death- but Cathy still doesn't want to have to explain everything about last night to Anne. She doesn’t want Anne to think that she didn’t enjoy her birthday after all.

Anne’s Mum says that Catalina would be welcome to stay for a cup of coffee- or a Cappuccino or an Afogato even- but that the Photographer will be arriving soon. She says the word like photographer should have a capital letter.

Anne bobs up out of nowhere, licking Nutella from her fingers and asking what photographer and can’t Cathy and Anna stay to play a bit longer.

Anne’s Mum hisses at her not to be silly, of course they can't stay and of course Anne knows who the photographer is, she’s told her all about it.

‘It’s for the birthday photoshoot.’ She adds to Catalina and Catalina nods politely and says it sounds lovely.

‘But it's not my birthday.’

‘Well, it'll be like a second birthday.’ Anne’s Mum’s smile is still there but it’s looking a bit forced now.

Anne seems to perk up a bit at the idea of a second birthday, and Cathy is just wondering if she’ll be allowed to have two birthdays two if this is now a Thing, when Anne pauses.

‘But then Cathy and Anna have to stay or it won't be a proper party!’

Anne’s Mum gives an impatient little sigh. ‘Of course it isn't a proper party! I do wish you'd listen- it's a photoshoot, like I said.’

‘But you just said it was my second birthday!’

‘For goodness sake Anne! I shouldn't have to explain every little thing to you- you’re eight now, you're not a baby!’

Anne scowls.

‘You’re going to say goodbye to Cathy nicely and then go and have a shower so you can be ready…. With any luck, your friend’s parents will be here soon too before the other children get here.’

Cathy wonders if Anne’s Mum has forgotten Anna’s name.

‘But if there are other children anyway, why can't I have Anna and Cathy?’

‘Well it's only fair!’ The smile falters and is hurriedly replaced. ‘They’ve come to the sleepover so we thought it would be nice to spread things around a bit and let your other friends be part of the photoshoot!’

It’s uncomfortable and horrible listening to Anne get scolded: it feels like there is something sad and grey making the air heavier.

Anne’s mum is scowling like she’s really really annoyed and she’s so glad that Catalina is not like Anne’s Mum and doesn't get cross when she asks questions- she knows if she was suddenly told she was having a photoshoot, she’d be asking even more questions than Anne.

Actually, she’s glad Catalina is not like Anne’s Mum, full stop.

‘Which other friends?’

Cathy wonders if maybe Anne has got some other girls from their class coming to play once she and Anna are gone, and it’s not a nice thought, but then Anne’s Mum starts saying names and she doesn’t recognise any of them.

‘-and Ingrid and Patience and Harriet-’

‘But I don't like them!’

‘Of course you do!’

Anne does an experimental single stamp of her foot; it’s like a challenge. ‘I hate them-’

They don’t hear the rest, because at that moment, Anna comes into the hall, looking confused at all the commotion, and Anne’s Mum sighs and seizes Anne by the wrist and tugs her further down the hall.

It’s all a bit awkward. Catalina is asking Anna how she is and if she had a nice time at the sleepover but she can’t listen properly, because really, all she can pay attention to is the cross sound of Anne’s Mum’s voice as she hisses things in Anne’s ear while she Anne squirms and whines and tries to pull away.

When they come back, Anne has stopped arguing.

‘What do we say?’

‘Thank you for coming, Cathy.’

She hates how Anne looks now, all sad and crumpled and flat. It's not at all how you should look on your birthday (or even the day after your birthday) and she has to hang onto Catalina’s hand tightly to stop her stomach from squeezing uncomfortably.

She can only manage a little ‘Thank you for inviting me’ in response, which doesn’t really feel like a good enough response considering it was her first sleepover ever, but Catalina squeezes her hand and then smiles warmly at Anne.

‘I hope you had a lovely birthday, carino. A photoshoot sounds like it will be lots of fun- im sure Cathy will be very excited to hear about it on Monday. I'm certainly interested in hearing about it!’

(She might be annoyed, at any other time, at Catalina calling Anne one of the names that’s really just for her- but she isn’t now. She just wants Anne to go back to looking normal and happy like she usually does.)

Catalina squeezes Cathy's hand again, and bit more firmly this time and she realises she’s meant to add something.

‘It'll be like being a celebrity…’ She’s not sure if she sounds very convincing so she tries harder. ‘You’re so lucky, Anne! Everyone at school will be so jealous!’

Anne’s Mum gives an approving nod and beams at her, and she turns her head so she doesn’t have to see it. Anne gives a very small reluctant smile. She doesn't say anything but she looks a tiny bit more cheerful as she goes up to shower, Anna trailing behind her.

They say another goodbye and thank you to Anne’s Mum and then they’re out onto the pavement.

She’s still holding onto Catalina’s hand but Catalina doesn’t seem to mind, she swings their joined hands between them.

‘So how was the sleepover? Did you have a lovely time mija?’

She nods.

‘What did you do? Did Anne like her present?’

‘She loved it. She said it was her second best favourite present.’

‘What was her first?’

Cathy describes the heelies and Catalina laughs. ‘Thank goodness! I was going to ask if you girls had had a fight, to get those bruises-’

Cathy twists her arm and notices for the first time the purply blue bruises blooming.

‘It’s ok, they don’t hurt. I only fell over a bit. Anne fell over much more but that’s because she was trying to do a jump like the ice skaters on tv.’

‘Well I'm glad she liked her presents so much. Poor little thing.’

(Cathy isn’t sure why Catalina calls Anne poor- everyone at school, even the teachers, know that Anne’s parents have more money than sense. This means they’re rich.)

‘Anna thought my present was really good too. She said her present was really boring next to mine and she’d have to think up something more interesting next time.’

‘What did she get Anne?’

‘Jewelry making set. You can make earrings that you can wear even if you don’t have pierced ears.’ She hopscotches along the paving stones- it doesn’t really work like proper hopscotch though because they’re too close together. ‘Although Anna has her ears pierced already.’

(She’s a tiny bit jealous of Anna’s tiny gold studs- they look very cool. They’re not enough to make her want holes punched in her ears though, even the thought makes her feel a bit sick. Anne thinks she’s silly- she’d LOVE to have her ears pierced.

She’s not allowed though, because ear piercings are one of the few things Anne’s Mum and Jane agree on, albeit for different reasons: Jane thinks Anne is much too young, Anne’s Mum says it’ll make her look common.

Anne doesn’t think she’s too young, and she says that she doesn’t care about looking common because she wants to look cool...but neither Jane nor her Mum will budge.)

‘Did Anne like it?’

‘I think she did. She said that we could all make jewelry for the Inca Princess next time Anna and I came over to play. And then Anna cheered up a bit. I think she was worried Anne wouldn't like her present.’

Cathy doesn't feel like saying that she was also worried Anne wouldn't like her present. It feels funny also to be talking about Anna and not talking about the night before….but hopefully, it maybe means that Catalina has forgotten all about it.

She doesn’t bring it up on the walk home anyway- Catalina listens with great interest to an edited version of the story of the little attic girl, giving very appreciative gasps in all the right places and not interrupting even once to ask silly questions about whether or not the little girl has a swimming pool.

‘That was an excellent story mija.’

‘Really?’ Catalina looks like she means it.

‘Wonderful- very imaginative. Makes me glad we don’t have an attic!’

Cathy giggles. ‘Anne said the little attic girl would come to my attic tonight and I reminded her that we didn’t have one and she said that next time, she was going to make up a story about a little girl who lived in a flat. Anna said it didn’t sound very scary.’

‘I suppose you’ll have to wait to hear it to know if it is or not.’

‘Anna said I should make up another story for next time.’

‘Well, I hope you’ll tell me if you think any more up, I’d love to hear them.’

‘Ok.’ Perhaps she’ll make up a story specially for Catalina- a special grown up story that has grown up things in it, like when they play Soap Opera in the playground and everyone plays that they’re having cancer and babies and cocktails. ‘It might be scary though.’

‘That's ok, mija. You have to let the muses guide you when you’re creating.’

Cathy knows all about the muses already- they’re spirity things that give you ideas and imagination when you’re doing art or writing, they’re what Catalina blames when she’s having trouble phrasing an idea for work.

(Not only are the muses very friendly to Artists of All Kinds, they are actually rather useful when it comes to the resultant mess of artistic endeavour.

Catalina introduced her to the concept on The Muses on her second week, the first time she’d tried painting in her new bedroom and coincidently the first time she’d made any actual serious mess there.

It hadn’t been her fault that the paint had spilled like it did and it hadn’t spilled much, but it had been enough to make her ponder what it would be like to see her godmother Properly Angry.

She hadn’t, until that moment, considered what a Properly Angry Catalina would look like. As she thought about it- and it wasn’t a terribly nice thought- she also realised that whatever form it took, there was nothing she could do about it. There wasn’t anywhere else for her to go.

She wondered if, seeing the paint, Catalina would think about that too. She wondered if it would make her regret having to be the one to take care of her.

She’d never been scared of her godmother, but she was when Catalina saw the paint.

‘Ay dios mio, what IS that?’

She tucked her chin down into her chest. ‘Paint.’ Her voice is very small.

Catalina fanned her face. ‘I thought it was blood, I thought-’ She shakes her head hard, like she’s shaking thoughts away, then touches it and frowns. ‘It’s dried. Why didn’t you tell me before, it would have been easier to- Oh mija, it’s alright, don’t cry-’

She started looking guilty rather than annoyed.

Once Cathy was settled in her lap, scrubbing her sore eyes with a tissue and only hiccuping a little bit, Catalina had very nicely explained that while it was technically Cathy’s fault for spilling the paint, it was also her own fault for not telling Cathy to put down newspaper before she started painting and that maybe having a cream carpet was just asking for it, whatever that meant.

‘So perhaps it all balances out, querida.’

‘Are you really cross?’

‘Do I look really cross, mija?’

She considered. ‘No.’

‘Good, because I’m not. I know it wasn’t on purpose. Let’s just both try to remember the newspaper next time, ok?’

‘Ok.’

‘And we’ll blame the muses for this one.’

Once Catalina had explained about the muses, she’d said that they should probably get on with cleaning it up ‘before someone else sees it and thinks you’ve got a body hidden under your bed.’

She’d still felt a bit wobbly, when she thought about the stain. Catalina had given her a big cuddle and said that a little paint wasn’t the end of the world and that it would probably come right out. It turned out though that Catalina herself wasn’t really sure how to get paint out of carpet, so she’d gotten out her phone to check- ‘There’s no excuse for not finding things out nowadays, mija’- and she’d even let Cathy type the question into google herself.

The paint had come out on the second attempt, and Catalina had made her promise to always tell her right away if anything like that ever happened again.

So everything had worked out alright after all, even if she still hadn’t seen Catalina really, properly angry yet.)

Going back to the flat feels funny because it feels like coming home but everything also looks a little bit different- Catalina reassures her that it’s just how things feel sometimes after a trip.

‘It’ll go away mija’

Cathay still cant help looking around though. ‘Why are the books different?’

‘What’s that?’

Cathy points at the bookshelf- the spines are different colours.

‘Just felt like it was time for a little shuffle around, it makes me remember which books I haven’t looked at for a while.’

This makes sense.

It’s the middle of the morning: Catalina has a mug of the dark, rich coffee that she buys in little paper sacks from the special food shop in town. Cathy likes the smell but not the taste, although she hopes that will change when she grows up because coffee seems to be all that grownups drink. Coffee and wine, except she isn’t sure if she likes wine yet- Catalina lets her sip at her coffee when she asks but she hasn’t yet given in over Cathy’s requests to be allowed a taste of her merlot.

(‘Maybe when you’re nine or ten, mija. I just don’t dare any earlier, the harpies would tear me to pieces.’

Harpies is what Catalina calls the other mums at school; Cathy isn’t allowed to tell anyone that though, even Anne, on pain of every unpleasant torture, mi vida.

‘A glass?’

‘A sip. A very little sip. And not until you’re older, like I said.’

‘I could just not tell anyone.’

Cathy is quite good at not telling people things, she’s good at keeping secrets- which is why she doesn’t even give Catalina a list of some of her best, most well kept secrets to prove it- like how Anne spilt blue nail polish on the carpet in Mary’s bedroom and blamed it on Kitty even though it wasn’t exactly a lie because Kitty had been playing with it too and it really could just as easily been her and honestly, it would have been fairer, all things considered, for Kitty to be the one to spill it, considering she’s only little.

Catalina is shaking her head.

‘But I’m very good at keeping secrets!’

‘I know, mija-’

‘I didn’t tell my teacher that you did the last sum for me on my homework.’

Catalins gives her a stern look. ‘Good because as I recall, that was a deal we made so that you would go to bed and stop worrying about it.’

‘And I didn’t tell her. So you could let me try and I wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘But wouldn’t it be a bit pointless if you couldn’t tell anyone? Wouldn’t you want to tell Anne?’

This is true- it’s actually a bit pointless if she can’t even tell Anne, although Anne surely doesn’t count as anyone- but she doesn’t want to weaken her position so she shakes her head steadfastly, and Catalina laughs and says she’ll be a wonderful lawyer when she’s older and gives her a kiss on the top of her head rather than a sip of wine.)

They have fancy twisty pastries with apricot jam and Cathy has a mug of warm frothy milk with a tiny bit of coffee in it, a pinch of cinnamon and a sprinkling of brown sugar. It doesn't matter that it’s not real coffee- it's much nicer than coffee anyway.

The coffee milk in the special china cup with her name on it, even though she’s already had one breakfast because Catalina had said she hadn’t eaten yet and did she think she could manage elevenses even if it wasn’t quite eleven?

She thought she probably could, having not finished her pancake and she was right. The apricot pastries are delicious; she thinks it’s what sunshine would taste like sunshine was spreadable. Catalina says that’s the best description of apricot jam she has ever heard.

She’s reading one of her library books- the last time Catalina had visited her, back when her parents were alive, she’d brought one of the series with her and read it aloud while they were waiting for lunch to be ready and she’d quite liked it, but now reading it for herself, she doesn’t recognise all the characters.

Catalina had read her a story about Juliana and Diane and George (who was really Georgina) and Anne and Timmy the Cat, who were cousins and had adventures on an island- but when she tries to read it for herself, the names are different and the children are different and it’s a dog not a cat, who keeps on licking everything and barking and it’s just not as good as before.

(She has no idea why the children decided to swap lovely clever Timmy the Cat for a horrible barky, licky, bitey dog. She thinks it was a bad decision.)

She wonders if maybe she picked out something different.

Catalina has a big thick book that looks dusty.

‘What are you reading?’

‘Mmm?’ Catalina looks up and then nods as if she’s had to replay it in her head. ‘Oh!’ She says something in Spanish and then adds ‘But it’s called something else in English, of course.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘A little boy called Pip and all his adventures.’

‘What sort of adventures?’ She’s wondering if it will turn out that they’re the sort of adventures the children are having in her book and Catalina smiles.

‘No island, mija, you’d be disappointed. He meets an escaped prisoner out late one night and he helps him to cut off his chains and run away. And later he goes to a big old beautiful house, which has a room all ready for a wedding that never happened.’

‘That’s strange. If it never happened, then it’s not anything, so how can she have a room for it?’

‘They had everything ready but the groom didn’t turn up so the lady sits in her wedding dress next to her old cobwebby wedding cake all covered in dust and thinks about how sad she is.’

‘Oh.’ That sounds spooky but also interesting- she thinks maybe there’ll be an old cobwebby cake in her next scary story because for some reason, the idea of something that’s meant to be so happy being all forgotten and abandoned makes her feel shivery and she’s sure Anne and Anna will feel just the same way. Then she thinks of something else.

‘Why was he out at night at all? Not the prisoner but the little boy.’

Catalina looks uncomfortable for some reason. ‘I think he was just playing.’

‘But weren’t his parents worried about him?’

There’s a little pause and then Catalina says ‘He didn’t have any parents, querida.’

‘Oh. How old was he?’ Maybe the boy is nearly grown up, like in Secondary School.

‘Seven.’

She isn’t quite sure how she feels about that but she doesn’t feel like asking any more questions so there’s a little silence before Catalina says that she’s just finished the chapter.

‘I think I need a little break from reading.’ She puts her book down on the floor, face down. ‘Want to come and keep me company, mija?’

Cathy nods slowly and puts down her own book, except she uses a bookmark because she knows that’s the proper way to treat a book.

(Catalina is hopeless with bookmarks and always refuses Cathy’s offers to lend her one.

‘I’d lose it in a moment mija, and then I would have so much guilt! But thank you, all the same.’

Cathy has big plans for when her class starts their textiles projects, in which Catalina’s poorly treated books AND her sad, bookmarkless state, feature quite heavily. But she’s keeping this a surprise.)

She hasn’t finished her own chapter but she doesn’t like the way that these strange new characters keep telling George she isn’t allowed to do things because she’s a girl. She supposes it’s nice that Anne is allowed to cook- cooking on a real fire outside sounds very exciting- but she wonders if she ever gets tired of it.

‘It’s not the same as when you read it. They’re really horrible to George. And they don’t even have a cat anymore.’

She climbs up onto Catalina’s lap and Catalina wraps her arms around her.

‘I might have….changed some bits when I was reading it to you. I thought it would make the story better.’

‘It DID make the story better. Now it’s boring.’

Catalina considers. ‘I could try reading it to you my way if you like, querida.’

‘That’s ok. I think I’m going to take a break from reading too.’

‘Ok.’

Catalina cuddles her closer and for a while they just sit like that. She thinks about the little boy meeting the prisoner out at night, with no one to worry about him, but it’s not too bad to think about when she’s got Catalina’s cardigan tickling her cheek and Catalina’s chin resting on the top of her head.

Maybe she’ll include a prisoner in her next story too. Maybe he could even team up with the little attic girl and they could go around scaring people and sewing up mouths together.

‘Did he have a godmother?’

‘Who?’

‘Pip. Oh- no, he didn’t. He had an older sister, he lived with her instead.’

‘Like Anne and Mary.’

‘Anne still has her parents, mija, you know that.’ But Catalina doesn’t sound so very certain when she says it.

There’s a little pause, and then Catalina quietly asks if she’d like to talk.

‘About what?’

‘About last night mija.’

‘What about last night?’

She's being deliberately annoying but she can't help it because maybe if she carries on, Catalina will change her mind and they won’t have to talk about anything.

She wouldn't even mind Catalina getting really cross (she doesn’t think), whatever really cross is for Catalina (because she still isn’t sure), but she doesn’t, just puts her book down and takes another sip of naslty bitter black coffee.

‘About the phone call we had.’ She pauses. ‘There's no need to look so worried querida- I promise you're not in trouble, I'm not going to tell you off- and we don't have to talk now if you really would rather not. It’s just that last night, we talked a bit about some of the things you were worried about. And about your mum and dad. I think it would be a good idea to talk about some of those things properly- not because i think it will fix them but….maybe it will make them a bit more ordinary to talk about them. And perhaps less scary. I don't know.’

She actually sounds a bit anxious, much less self assured than usual. Usually, Catalina talks like she knows exactly what she’s saying and why. Now she keeps stopping and starting, like she’s worried she’ll say something wrong.

‘I want you to feel like you can tell me anything- that there isn't anything you have to keep secret unless you want to. And you can always always talk to me. About anything you want. Ok?’

She nods. She wonders if Catalina really means anything- anything.

‘Good, bad, sad, happy, whatever. And you can ask me anything, I don't want you to ever feel like you can't ask a question.’

Cathy thinks. ‘What if you can't tell me? What if it’s secret?’

Catalina smiles. ‘Then I will explain to you why I can’t tell you. But I won't be cross with you for asking, that’s the important thing. And I will always try to answer, if I can, alright?’

She nods again. ‘Will you tell the truth?’

‘Yes. It doesn't seem fair to ask you to be honest if I won’t be honest myself. And we do need to be honest with each other, mija. It's the only way.’

‘The only way for what?’

‘The only way to….keep our family going. Going smoothly, I mean. We’ll be a family whatever happens, of course, smooth or not.’

‘Are we a family?’ It’s a surprise to her- she’d sort of assumed that wasn't a word that applied to her any more, like Mother and Father and Parents.

‘Yes i think so.’ Catalina looks serious. ‘You and your Mum and Dad are still a family, of course. But you and I are a family too. At least I like to think we are. If that's ok with you of course.’

Cathy thinks about it. ‘If we’re a family, does that mean I have to call you Mum?’

Catalina looks shocked. ;Oh no! No, definitely not querida, I promise I'd never want to try and take your Mum’s name or place. I never at all meant that. I'm still your godmother- your Mum will always be your Mum. Not all families have a Mum and a Dad.’

‘Like in the story about Tango the Penguin.’ It’s a book she had when she was very little, but she can still remember the story.

‘Exactly.’ Actually, she thinks maybe Catalina sent her the book in the first place.

She could ask more questions about it- some that she’s mildly curious about, and some that she could probably make up if she felt like making this bit of the conversation stretch out longer...but she decides not too because Catalina is looking all anxious now and it's making her feel a bit guilty.

It’s alright- the thought of her and Catalina being a family is ok. She’d rather have Catalina for her family than anyone else, if she can't have mum and dad and she knows that she can't.

She wriggles into a more comfortable position in Catalina’s lap.

‘Ok. We can be a family.’

‘Good.’ Catalina smiles like she’s really relieved. ‘Good.’

After a while, she says, ‘There’s something I thought you might like to look at mija. I’ve been meaning to for a while and then last night, I thought of it.’

She stiffens slightly. She isn’t sure how she feels thinking about last night- one minute, the scary feeling seems very far away and all she can think about is stupid things like how babyish she must have sounded crying into the phone, and then the next, she can remember it very very well and it makes her feel shaky and sick, like she’s standing somewhere high and looking down.

She buries her face into Catalina’s cardigan and then has to come back out because the fluff is making her sneeze and Catalina laughs and slides her gently off her lap and says she’ll be back in a moment.

She wraps both arms around her tummy, hugging herself and wondering what The Thing will be.

When Catalina comes back in, she’s holding an old shoebox.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fic

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