from the OTHER archives: Socks, Part 4, Chapters 13-14

Did you know that, on this day in 1957, the USSR launched the first dog (Laika) into orbit?

I just thought you might like to learn something interesting before we dived in.

“So what happened to your arms?” I asked after Emma and I got over our initial shock.
“I wrote that in the first post. Gosh, don’t you guys ever read?” Man, this girl had a temper.

Well, to be fair, Yasmin, she could be referring to the exact medical procedure required to make your arms wings. No need to get upset so easily.

I’m not happy with the way this conversation is going… Emma’s stray thoughts caught my attention. She can’t send any thoughts of her own, but I am usually open to random thoughts from her.

That must be infuriating, seeing how frequently she gets the most annoying of songs stuck in her head. I thought you could shut it on and off at will?

Tim walked in. “You can go now, Yasmin.” She sprinted out of the room in a second. “You too, Emma.”
She crossed her arms. “I stay here.”
“Fine then. But this is personal stuff.”

I hate it when my own characters burst into the room that I was writing and tell me to pack my crap up and get out of the shot. Bit of an annoyance, really.

Tim came up closer to me and sat on a part of the bed I wasn’t taking up. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Saturday?”
“No, the date.”
I thought about it for a while, then shamefully said, “No idea.”

Why are you asking the burn victim who had been in the hospital for what I think was a few days? I mean, there are almost always some sort of notepad or whiteboard where the nurses who check on the patients write down information about the patient… plus the ate. Don’t ask me how I know this.

“May 25th. But that’s not the point. You see, the point is-” and then Tim quickly glanced at Emma- “Tomorrow screwed you up.”
“Master of the obvious.” I smirked.

I’m not sure which part is better- that I unironically used the word “smirk”, or that Algeria almost showed some self-awareness, if only for a moment.

“This isn’t funny. Ever since you got turned ‘perfect’ that one day, you were screwed up. Just think about it. You can’t tell the date, you can’t think clearly like you used to be able to- YOU CAN’T EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO ANYTHING I SAY!”

I’d be drifting off too if I were hopped up on pain drugs and being yelled at by a preadolescent boy for not knowing the date.

That got my attention.
“We need to find Tomorrow and her entourage of freaks and get her to make you NORMAL again!”

What, and go back to being a zit-faced snob? At least she’s a pretty weed.

“Normal? Last time I checked, which was a SECOND ago, we were the results of an EXPERIMENT! We’ve never been NORMAL! Hello! We have WINGS! We FLY! We’re both TELEPATHIC!”

“Telepathetic!” was Emma’s merry interjection. Tim and I just glared at her.

Fun fact: until I was about fourteen, I kept thinking that the word “telepathic” was pronounced “telepathetic.” It didn’t help that I was growing out of a speech disorder. It… it was a bad time, I think.

“So, Maxi, you’re saying that you don’t care if you’re screwed up? Huh.”
“Ummm…” Emma interjected again. “Did you guys know that Luna was under the bed this whole time?”

I don’t think that’s possible with hospital beds. There’s too much machinery under there.

Tim and I just glared at her as Luna crawled out from under the bed. She was wearing a pink ruffly shirt and blue jeans.

Why? Why did you tell us this, G? These details have no relevance to any of the plot, unless you’re trying to emphasize that Luna is a little girl. In which case, a super gaudy costume dress would have worked better.

“I’m sorry, Algeria,” Luna sadly intoned. “You need to go with Tim.”

An insistent little girl trying to command a teenager much older than her! How cute! I can’t possibly see where you got this from, G!

“Excuse me- advice from a 7-year-old?” I asked in a sarcastic voice.

The retort was warranted. The awful dialogue tag was not.

“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT AGE SHE IS!” Tim yelled again. “SHE’S FIVE!”

I’m 99% sure that this was the only time G ever went back in what she had already written to verify canon. Good on you, G. If only you had done that more.

“You need to go with him, Algeria,” Luna intoned again. “Admit it- you’re messed up. He’s not.” I gave her my worst scowl.
“Fine. Whatever.”

Friendly reminder that this part was called “This Has Been A Tragic Year”.

Tragic indeed.

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