#i probably could have genderbent ron too but i just loved the idea of speirs with a small child

[himbowelsh]

Re: Harriet Welsh WHAT ABOUT lesbians Harriet completely in LOVE with Kitty??? 🌸

!!! AM I ALLOWED TO DO A THING

Going for a run today was probably a bad idea – a really bad idea, considering it’s ninety degrees without a cloud in the sky. Harry is soaked through. She feels like she’s just fallen into her neighbor’s swimming pool. Her curls are frizzing, her forehead is dripping, and she’s pretty sure she can feel her eyes melting.

So, she thinks as she collapses against a curve. This is how I die.

She doesn’t even like running. The only reason she went out in the first place was to get away from her pest of a younger brother, who’s been hounding her to teach him how to drive all summer. She was so eager to escape that she didn’t think to grab anything except her phone and earbuds. No water, not even sneakers. She’s been running the past mile in flip-flops. If she dies now, she thinks she deserves it.

She flops forward, head between her knees, and tries to remember how to breathe. Her chest is burning. Oh, the sunburn she’ll get later isn’t even going to be funny.

She’s so busy fighting off a heart attack that she barely even notices the car that rolls up in front of her. All she sees are large wheels and the bottom of a silver Ford Flex. That’s all she really wants to see, besides the gravel road beneath her, and maybe the undersides of her eyelids. If she ignores the car, maybe it will go away.

Of course, she has no such luck.

“You okay?” 

Harry looks up, as much as raising her head seems like an undue amount of effort. The car leaves her expecting a suburban soccer mom – in this neighborhood they’re as common as gnats – but as she raises her eyes to the driver she finds herself taken aback. The girl is a teenager, Harry’s age, with a heart-shaped face and creamy skin dusted with light freckles. Blonde curls are pulled into a loose ponytail at the back of her head, and round green eyes peer at Harry with something not far from concern. 

The car’s window rolls down a little further, and the girl leans out. “Do you need a ride or something?”

It takes a second for her brain to comprehend the offer. She’s not sure how her luck did such a sudden about-face, and she’s a little afraid to embrace it. Sure, this girl’s gigantic, air-conditioned Mom Van looks a lot more welcoming than the sweltering street, but Harry is very aware that she doesn’t know this girl. Also, she’s soaked through with sweat and probably smells gross.

Sensing her hesitation, the girl’s tongue flickers out to brush over pink lips before she says, “Please? I’d feel bad just leaving you out here. You look a little bit…”

“Like I got run over by the sun?” With no small amount of effort, Harry pulls herself to her feet. She can feel her curls frizzing out of her ponytail, and hopes she doesn’t look as ridiculous as she feels. “Yeah, I know. Then he fled the scene.”

“What a crime,” the girl replies, smiling now. Her entire face lights up with it; she looks younger, even more out of place in this PTA mom car. Harry walks around to the passenger’s side door, and she leans over to open it for her.

The air conditioning is heavenly. Harry feels like she’s going to pass out as soon as that first cool blast hits her, and she melts back against the seat like all her bones have turned to liquid. The girl giggles next to her, and turns up the air.

“Oh my god,” Harry moans; then, after a moment, she remembers that she’s in a strange cute girl’s car and she hasn’t even introduced herself. “My name’s Harry. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Kitty,” the girl replies, smile widening. “Glad to be your knight in shining armor.”

Harry learns a lot of things about Kitty that afternoon. She doesn’t have her own car, so she borrows her mom’s whenever she needs to get somewhere. She listens to Halsey and Hayley Kiyoko while driving, and likes to turn the music up loud. She has five little siblings, and is the type of big sister to help them with a lemonade stand in the middle of a heat wave.

She was headed to the grocery store for more sugar when she spotted Harry. For lack of any place better to be, Harry follows her.

“Okay,” Kitty hums, frowning up at the shelves. “Do you think the granulated sugar is better, or the brown sugar? Isn’t that supposed to be healthier?”

Harry snorts. “Putting brown sugar in lemonade should be illegal. I think it is.”

“Okay,” Kitty says, fighting back a laugh. “Name brand?”

“No way, go with store. It’s just as good, for half the price.” Harry lifts the bag of sugar down from the shelf and clutches it to her chest while offering Kitty a wink. “Trust me, I know these things.”

“I’m so glad to be shopping with the expert,” Kitty replies. Harry grins.

They spend five minute struggling with the self-checkout before giving up and going to wait in line. The cashier rings up their items quickly, and Kitty pays; she won’t let Harry pay, no matter how much she tries to insist. Harry thinks it’s the least she can do for getting sweat all over Kitty’s car seats, but Kitty has a better plan.

“Buy a cup of lemonade and we’ll call it even,” she says. Harry pretends to consider this for a moment before smiling so wide that her cheeks ache.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kitty has four brothers, and one little sister who is barely out of pre-school. None of her brothers look anything like her. While Kitty is blonde and fair, all of the Grogan boys are dark-haired and suntanned, some with freckles, some without. A few have brown eyes, the others have blue. Kitty is the only one with those sparkling emerald eyes that seem to dance whenever Harry makes her laugh.

“You sure you weren’t adopted?” Harry asks, watching the stream of smaller Grogans file through the kitchen. Kitty shakes her head, setting a large, empty pitcher on the cooking block next to the bag of sugar and bowl of lemons.

“That’s something I ask myself every day.”

Harry counts four brothers vanish into the front yard, and she’s sure that’s it until a tall, dark-haired boy steps into the kitchen with a little girl hanging off of him.. She’s got her arms around his neck, and her mop of blonde curls almost burying his face. He’s holding up well, considering. One hand supports the child, while the other holds her hair out of his eyes.

He steps up to the counter where Kitty stands an mutters something to the child. She releases his neck, landing on the counter with a small thud, and quickly makes herself comfortable with her legs dangling over the edge. Free of his burden, the boy’s intense gaze locks onto Harry.

She can’t help shifting uncomfortably, running a hand through her frizzy ponytail. “Uhh,” she says to Kitty, “does he belong to you too?”

“No,” Kitty replies, half-distracted by the little girl (and finally a sibling who looks like her) chattering about how many people have come to the lemonade stand so far. “That’s Ron, he – wow, a whole family stopped by! Very nice! They must have bought a lot of lemonade! – He lives next door. Ron, this is my friend Harry.”

“Hey,” Harry says. Ron blinks back.

She knows him, of course. Everyone at their school has heard of Scary Speirs, more of a legend than a student at this point. Stories of Ron Speirs’s exploits vary, but Harry has heard everything from him locking a teacher in a closet overnight to fighting a bunch of kids behind the gym. The number of kids ranges from five to fifteen, but according to the rumors, he sent them all to the hospital.

Harry’s seen Speirs before, but she’s definitely never come face to face with him. Kitty lives next to this guy?

“Hi,” Ron says after a few seconds, nodding at her. Harry offers an awkward smile back.

Kitty is tolerating her little sister’s help mixing together the lemonade, but it’s clear that pre-school enthusiasm is becoming more than she can handle. “Okay, Marie,” she says, running her hand over the child’s messy curls. “We’ll have more lemonade in a minute, and then we can go back to serving it. Ron, can you take her back outside, please?”

“Sure,” Ron replies, and holds out his hands for the little girl. She pouts, shaking her head.

“I wanna stay! I can help, I wanna help!”

“You have to help your brothers outside. Your face is the moneymaker,” Ron says very matter-of-factly, like he’s talking to another student his age. Harry is awed, and a little confused.

Kitty must see the look on her face as Ron leads tiny Marie out of the house, because her laugh bubbles through the newly-silent kitchen. Harry can’t help the way her face flushes, and knows better than to think her freckles will cover it. Making Kitty laugh is one thing. Being laughed at is another.

“We’ve grown up next to each other. Ron’s practically family. He helps with the kids all the time,” she explains. “I know, surprising, right?”

Harry takes a moment to process this before she manages to shake her head. “No,” she replies. “It makes perfect sense.”

When Kitty gestures her own, she’s not sure exactly what’s happening. She obeys anyway, because Kitty doesn’t have to say a word to be compelling. Before Harry knows it she has her arms full of a lemonade pitcher and is helping Kitty stir it in smooth circles.

“You have to get the texture just right,” Kitty says. With Harry holding the pitcher steady, Kitty is close enough that their foreheads are practically brushing. Harry can feel a stray lock of Kitty’s hair brushing her cheek. Her eyes are downcast, but it’s easy to get lost in them, like a forest canopy lit up in the afternoon sun. Her voice is soft. “You want the lemonade to taste perfect. So you have to mix until it doesn’t feel like you’re mixing anything at all. Like you’re dragging your spoon through air.”

Harry is nervous, and maybe that’s why her stupid mouth doesn’t know when to keep shut. “You have a lot of practice, huh?” she asks, and then wants to hit herself for how stupid that sounds. Instead of rolling her eyes, however, Kitty hums in agreement.

“I used to be the lemonade stand queen. I did one every summer for years.”

“An expert, then,” Harry says, echoing Kitty’s words from earlier. “Great to know.”

When Kitty looks up at her, Harry feels her breath catch in her throat. There’s something in the other girl’s face, light and amused and so happy, that makes her feel like all the air has been knocked out of her chest.

“I guess you could call me that,” Kitty replies, and Harry almost feels giddy at the sight of the other girl’s grin.

She winds up sticking around for four cups of lemonade, sixteen customers, eight embarrassing Kitty stories courtesy of the little Grogans (plus one from Ron), and four hours.

It’s the nicest afternoon Harry can remember spending in a long time. She and Kitty help out the kids, but there’s not much to really do once they’ve found their rhythm. Ron leads little Marie up to the corner of the street, waving a brightly painted sign advertising lemonade. Kitty and Harry lounge in the backyard, ostensibly watching over the other kids, but for the most part doing their own thing. They show each other pictures on their phones (exchanging numbers in the process). Kitty plays a few of her favorite songs for Harry to listen to. Harry talks about the upcoming soccer tournament she’ll be playing in at the end of the month. They each take turns on the tire swing in the Grogan’s front yard, shrieking and laughing in harmony with one another. Once they’ve tired themselves out, they collapse at the base of the tree and talk about anything and everything.

By the time the sky begins to darken, the kids are ready to close up shop for the day. Harry helps with the clean up process, but once everything is put away she announces that she should start her walk home.

“What?” Kitty exclaims, a pout on her lips. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

“I’d love to, but my mom will worry about me. I’ve got to get back.”

“Well, you can’t walk. I’ll drive you.” Kitty declares this as if it’s the most certain thing in the world, and somehow Harry knows that arguing will get her nowhere. So once again she finds herself in the passenger’s seat of Kitty’s mom’s car as music blares over the speakers and Kitty’s painted nails drum against the steering wheel.

Kitty almost passes Harry’s house before Harry tells her where to stop. She can’t help it; the last thing she wants to do it end that wonderful day they’ve had together. She’d love to spend hours more with Kitty; she’d love to eat dinner at her house, stay the night, and wake up the next morning to the other girl bleary-eyed and bedheaded in the morning light.

All things, however, have to end. Harry lingers for one moment in Kitty’s car. The warm light shining from Harry’s home casts them both in profile. She can no longer make out the color of Kitty’s eyes, but she can see them fixed on her.

“I’ll text you,” Harry offers. She wishes she could find the words to say more.

“Yeah.” Kitty’s hand lingers over the back of Harry’s. Her palms are soft, her skin warm. “We can do this again sometime. The kids would love another lemonade stand.”

“Sure!” Harry agrees, too quickly. “Or, you know, we could do something else. The fair is this weekend, if you aren’t busy – or if you want to take your siblings, we could do that too – heck, even Ron, he’s tall enough to get on all the rides – or if you just wanted to go to the mall or something, that’d be awesome, I mean –”

“Harry,” Kitty says, and leans over.

Her lips taste like vanilla chapstick and lemonade. For a second, Harry finds herself blinded. Her eyes are wide open, because she can’t stand the thought of not looking at Kitty, not being able to take in every detail of her face when it’s pressed so close to Harry’s own; but her brain is lost in euphoria. She can’t think of anything except Kitty, can’t feel anything but the warmth of the summer sun and drops of lemonade against her bare skin. The pressure against her lips is gentle but determined – a promise.

When Kitty pulls away, she blinks at Harry. Harry blinks back. Then they both grin at the same time.

“See you soon,” Harry says, and climbs out of the car.

She hears Kitty’s engine start up behind her, but doesn’t look back as she makes her way up the walkway towards her house. The big, dumb grin on her face will ruin her cool exit. besides, she’ll definitely see Kitty again soon enough.

Maybe she really did die in the summer sun, because Harry feels certain she’s just fallen head-over-heels for an angel.