Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since she first learned how to talk, Natalie Goodman had always been a quick learner. Quick to stand, quick to walk, quick to read. She liked learning, and she liked being ahead. So it really shouldn’t have surprised anyone when one day, at five years old, she decided to learn how to ride a bike. 

That morning had started like any other in the Pacific Northwest, with gray skies, mild air, and the drone of suburbia humming in the background. In their white-picket-fenced home on Walton Way, Natalie’s mother, Diana, lay fast asleep on the couch, completely oblivious to the possibly dangerous activities of her youngest child. 

This wasn’t the first time an impromptu nap like this had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Diana wasn’t a bad parent, exactly, but not a great one, either. Diagnosed with Delusional Bipolar Depressive Disorder, she had recently begun taking a whole new rainbow of medication that were both ineffective and drowsiness-inducing, as evidenced by the almost narcoleptic sleeping spells that they triggered. They numbed not only her thoughts but also her senses. Whether it be a call from her psychiatrist or her crying child, nothing woke her. And conveniently, her husband, Dan, was at work on weekdays, leaving their two kids to more or less fend for themselves. 

When they weren’t at school, Gabe was usually at a friend’s house or gallivanting about the nearby cul-de-sac. And Natalie was… around. She would usually read, play with toys, or eat snacks. Sometimes, their nearby neighbor’s nieces would come and hang out, but mostly, she found herself alone, waiting for her mom to wake up or someone else to come home. 

But not today. 

Today, Natalie had decided she was going to ride a bike. Equipped with her light-up sketchers and matching training wheels, she was ready. She crept out from her room where she had been plotting and tiptoed past her sleeping mother, her tongue sticking out slightly in determination as she made her way into the garage. Natalie held her breath, though she knew her mom wouldn’t wake up. Still, she breathed easier when she made it out of earshot, thankful for the soft carpet muffling her steps as she closed the door behind her with a click. Reaching into the darkness, she flicked on the light. 

And there it stood, in all of its shiny pink glory. Her bike. A birthday gift from forever ago (a whole year ) that her parents had promised to teach her to ride someday. 

Apparently, someday meant never. 

Natalie’d asked and asked and asked, but there was ‘just no time’. She thought that was what her teacher would call a “lousy excuse”. They’d just taught Gabe to ride, after all– without even his training wheels. The proof was leaning in the corner, decked out in all its big kid glory: his red and black Spiderman bike, complete with a kickstand and pegs that he only sometimes let her ride. Gabe thought he was such a pro now, but he was actually just a show-off. He kept talking about wanting a dirtbike, or riding in circles around Natalie like a vulture. 

She hated it when he did that, which was why she had to do this. So he would finally leave her alone.

Casting one last dirty look at her brother’s stupid bike, she pushed her own out onto the driveway. The pavement crunched under the tires, the charms on the spokes tinkling as they fell back and forth. The air was crisp around her, her smile as big as the oak tree next door. 

Natalie pushed the bike to the center of the driveway and swung her leg over it. She took a deep breath in, imagining that she were a bird, about to flee the nest for the first time. Things were scary, but she could do it. After all, how hard could it be, if nearly everyone knew how?

She was going to ride this bike. 

It shook a little as she got on, and her resolve wavered with her balance. If only her grandparents had gotten her the bike she really wanted, instead of this stupid Barbie one. Ever since they saw the new Avengers movie in theaters last year, Natalie had been obsessed with superheroes, especially Thor. She wanted to fly around like him and have immeasurable strength. Maybe then her parents would pay attention to her like they did Gabe. 

(Plus, she liked the way Thor’s hair looked just like hers, only longer. Her mommy said she could have hair as long as his if she ate her vegetables, but Natalie had some serious doubts.) 

Gabe’s bike was Marvel, just like he’d asked. Natalie had practically been green with envy when they’d unwrapped them this past Christmas, as gifts from their grandparents. Superheroes, she’d been told, weren’t “girly” enough, so she’d gotten this instead. 

Even though her friend Sarah said Barbie was “super cool”, Natalie would’ve preferred Thor. And maybe that bike would’ve been easier to ride.

At least it had a super cool bell and basket, two things Gabe’s didn’t. Natalie grinned, relishing her tiny victory in a way only younger siblings can. She took a deep breath, using the spite to fuel her bike-riding mojo. 

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, her gap-toothed lisp soft but fierce. “I can do this.” 

She would have to, after all, since nobody else would. Her dad had promised to teach her how to ride it, just like he had with Gabe. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and now it was the middle of summer. And still nothing. 

Natalie loved to learn. And to be ahead. But by now, all of Natalie’s friends could ride, and she was stranded at home with her mom. She could do this. She had to do this. 

Reaffirming her motives, her sketcher-clad foot pushed the bike pedal, and the bike jolted into motion. The driveway sloped toward the street, giving her a little extra help. If she tilted her head just right, it almost felt like she could be flying, a fact which both excited and nauseated her.

The bike sped up a bit, and she giggled at the rush it brought her. This wasn’t so hard! All she had to do was move her feet, and the bike moved with her. Pedal. Push. Fly.

She brought her feet down again and again, squealing as the wind whipped through her hair and the tires hummed beneath her. She was flying , just like Thor!

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut in pure delight, soaking in the moment. Her parents were going to be so proud of her. She never wanted this moment to end, never wanted to reach the end of the driveway. 

But as all good things must come to an end, so must all driveways. The one on Walton Way was no exception, ending abruptly with tall bushes flanking either side of it. As Natalie sped towards the road, the smooth pavement under her gave way to rough gravel. Instantly, the smile was wiped from her face as the bike shook and rattled like it was going to explode. 

She gripped the rubber handles, trying to wrest back control. No, no, no , this was not supposed to happen! She was supposed to be a bike-riding expert, not die in some freak accident because she forgot to wear a helmet. 

Beneath her, her front tire betrayed her as it hit one rock particularly hard. It jerked to the side, wrenching the pink grips from Natalie’s control and her feet from the pedals. Everything after that seemed to happen in hyperspeed. Her body went one way. The bike went another. 

They both ended up on the ground. 

Dazed, Natalie stared up at the sky. It didn’t look like she was flying anymore. It looked like she’d fallen on her butt and ruined everything. 

Her head spun, not quite back on her shoulders. Her knees hurt. Her elbows throbbed. The Barbie bike lay feet away, perfectly intact, as if to spite her. She sniffled. Everything hurt, and she was afraid to look. She didn’t want to see a bone sticking out or something, like the scary stories Gabe sometimes told about bad bike accidents. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sat up slowly. If she didn’t look, it wouldn’t be real. She would still be flying, going faster than anyone probably ever had. Or she’d be inside, stealing her brother’s action figures. Anywhere but on the ground, achy and alone. 

Natalie’s eyes burned, and she scrubbed at them furiously, wishing that she could will the tears away. Gabe didn’t cry half as much as she did, and he usually thought she was annoying for it. 

The thought was enough for her to force her eyes open– and freeze right after. Blood. It was smeared across her tattered palms, her scraped knees, and even her brand-new shirt. The sight of the smiling whale splattered with dark red liquid was enough to burst the dam behind her eyes, and she fell into hiccuping sobs right there on the driveway. She had been right: it was so much more real now.

“Mom?” she tried timidly, staring at the huge stretch of yard between her and the front door. “Mommy?”

Her small body shook with the force of her tears. Her nose ran. She wailed. And still nobody came. She thought that if she cried long enough or loud enough, maybe someone would hear and come help her. Her mom, woken up by Natalie’s panic. Her dad, home from work early after sensing her distress. Even a neighbor, concerned about the noise. 

But no one did. There was no sound of footsteps, no doors opening, no worried mother fussing over her. No car noises. She was well and truly alone, with only the slight breeze rustling the bushes for company. 

Natalie wasn’t sure how long she sat there, hugging her scraped knees and feeling sorry for herself. It felt like forever, judging by the clouds sluggishly passing above, their vague shapes wispy and dreamlike. Beneath her, the pavement grew warmer as the day trudged on, and her tears tapered off into pouting. She picked at a scab on her leg and thought about running far, far away. Further than even the sounds of traffic in the distance. Somewhere she could never be found. 

Lost in her fantasies, she almost missed the soft sounds of footfalls on pavement. Almost. Her head shot up, and, with an eagle-eyed stare, she honed in on a small figure several feet away.

Gabe.

He had left to go hang out with his friends earlier that morning, back when Natalie was still hammering out the dents in her plan. Usually, he wouldn’t be back until the sun was low in the sky, returning only for dinner like a wayward cat. Of course today was the one day he’d return early. Lucky her. 

Gabe froze when he finally saw her. Natalie could only imagine how she looked in his eyes: his loser sister curled up on the driveway, looking like she’d fought a bear and lost. 

Her bottom lip quivered. Blood was smeared on her knees and arms (and shirt), and her face was puffy and blotchy. Snot dripped down her face, and she sniffed it back up uselessly, in that way that little kids do. 

In front of her, Gabe squinted at the wreckage, clearly trying to puzzle things out. “Uhhh, what happened? Why are you crying?”

Natalie felt her cheeks heat up, and she avoided eye contact, refusing to answer. Maybe he would get bored and go away if she didn’t engage.  

As if hearing her thoughts, he poked her instead, trying to get her attention. “Hey. Hey. Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Just leave me alone, Gabe,” she said, pushing his hand away. 

He rolled his eyes, gesturing at her various injuries. “Come on, Nat. You’re literally bleeding.”

He was right. She stared down at the blood on her shirt, red marring the glittering sequins. Her eyes watered, and she ducked her head so Gabe wouldn’t see, trying to be tough. 

Natalie waited for her eyes to clear before she responded, her voice much quieter than she would’ve liked. “It’s not that bad.” 

If Natalie were looking at her brother, she would’ve seen his frown deepen, followed by a determined set to his jaw. She could be stubborn, but so could he. 

Assessing the damage again, Gabe tried a different tactic, asking (what he thought) was an obvious question: “So why didn’t you ask Mom for help?”

Big mistake.

If looks could kill, Gabriel Goodman would have died right there. Natalie would’ve thought he’d known just how many times she asked and begged her parents for help, just to go unanswered. Obviously not. Just like usual, he didn’t have a single clue.

She crossed her arms over her chest and paused for a second to control her breathing before snapping back, “Why do you care?”

Her anger hit Gabe like a physical blow, and he took a step back, thrown off and bewildered by the sudden force of it. His heel hit the curb, and he turned to look at the house. His eyes lit up like a lightbulb had gone off behind them. Hastily, he said, “Mom’ll know what to do! We should go get her.” 

He grabbed Natalie’s elbow to help her up, and again she shrugged him off, growing less upset and more angry. Of course Gabe didn’t know that their mom was asleep; she was always her perkiest self (or tried to be) when he was home. Every morning, it was the same. She would get up, pack him a lunch, and take him wherever he wanted, coming back home to fall asleep again and leave Natalie to her own accord. 

She used to try to wake her mom up, but Dad said she needed her rest. Besides, Mom didn’t like being woken up anyway– she usually just stared at the wall. It scared Natalie, sometimes. The switch that flipped inside of her mom when it was just the two of them. The side of her that nobody else got to see.

Gabe tugged her again, and the thread of Natalie’s patience snapped. “Mom’s asleep.” 

The truth finally came out, and instead of feeling relieved, she felt guilty. 

Across from her, Gabe’s brow scrunched up in confusion. He craned his neck skyward, staring at the midday sun partially obscured by clouds. “What? Why?”

Natalie scoffed, both annoyed at his obliviousness and feeling superior for knowing more than him. “She always is.” 

“Okay…” Gabe continued, still trying (and failing) to gauge Natalie’s opinion as he spoke. “Well then, we’ll just wake her up?”

Instead of responding right away, Natalie looked down again, picking at her fingernails. 

While her mom normally didn’t like being woken up, seeing Gabe might be a nice surprise. Plus, her mom had always said to wake her if “there was any blood”. 

Well, there was blood . 

She weighed her options, chewing on her lip. Noticing the silence that Gabe usually would’ve filled, she glanced up. He was holding out a hand to help her.

She took it.

Hauling her up, he gave an exaggerated groan. “Jeez, you’re getting big.” 

With the words, he grinned at her, holding his arm like it hurt. He was hoping for a laugh– or at least something other than the tears that had been in her eyes for the last five minutes– and was rewarded with an elbow to the side. Even though he was left gasping for air, he decided he’d take it. It was the best he was going to get. 

Together, the siblings made their way up the driveway. Past the bushes, past the wreckage of the Barbie bike, and towards the house, they walked together, their steps always just out of sync. 

“You know,” Gabe said, “I could’ve just taught you how to ride.” 

Natalie stopped in her tracks.

 “Oh.” 

Why hadn’t she thought of that? She considered it for a second, the thought having never crossed her mind before. If Gabe was the expert he claimed to be, it should be easy peasy to learn. 

Tentatively, she smiled. “Yeah. I would like that.” 

Gabe smiled back, and they turned to keep walking to the house. Tomorrow would be the day she would finally learn how to ride a bike. Tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Natalie loved the farmer’s market. The free samples, the nice man at the counter, the spinny banana machine– she would’ve gone every week, if she could. But they only really made the trip when her mom was having a good day, the kind that came once in a blue moon. The kind that had been coming less and less recently as summer slipped away.

Now, the air was crisp with the feeling of fall. Summer break had come and gone, taking long bike rides and melted popsicles with it. In its place came pumpkin patches and school mornings that started too early. Flipflops were exchanged for sneakers, tank tops for itchy sweaters, the seasons bleeding into the next slowly and all at once.

In their driveway, the Goodmans piled into their gray minivan for the outing they’d been procrastinating for weeks. It was late September, and the market would be closed soon, but that blue moon good day was here, and they weren’t going to waste it. 

In the backseat, Natalie sat on her hands, wriggling with barely contained excitement. Beneath her, the minivan seemed to share her enthusiasm, rumbling to life and soon soaring down the streets of Fairview. She pressed her forehead to the window, her breath fogging up the glass. Outside, the trees zoomed by, all smushed together in a blur of greens and browns. 

She craned her head to look above their tops, noticing a flock of birds ducking and swooping in their formation, leaving for the winter. She wondered where they were going. Probably somewhere warm, like the Bermuda Triangle. If she were a bird, that’s where she would go, for all the monsters and stuff. 

“Dad?” she asked, twisting to stare at the back of his head. 

“Yes, honey?” 

“Have you ever seen a monster? Like a real one?” 

He chuckled, glancing up at her in the mirror with a smile. “Once. It had tangled hair, terrible morning breath, and long, sharp claws.” 

His voice got conspiratorially low as he spoke, and Natalie leaned forward, eager to hear more. “And? Did you fight him?” 

Her dad winked, shifting his gaze back to the road. “Oh, I fought alright. But she was too strong, and I’m legally required to take care of her, so I guess I’m stuck.” 

Natalie frowned, trying to puzzle it out. This monster sounded familiar…

Looking up from his tablet, Gabe decided to contribute to the conversation. “He’s talking about you, stupid.”

Cheeks flushed with rage, she shrieked, “I know that!” crossing her arms over her chest and returning her gaze to the window, muttering, “You’re the stupid one.” She shot him a glare.

 “Hey! What did we say about name-calling?” her mom asked. She turned to level them with a stern look. 

“He started it!”

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it. Now, let’s be nice and have a fun time.” Her one moment of parenting over, Mom straightened in her seat, turning up the music on the radio and humming along. Natalie stewed in her rage, wishing she could be one of those birds in the sky, now long gone. Flight would be so awesome. Then she could go anywhere she wanted. 

The minivan’s brakes squealed, startling her from her daydreams. They were finally here! Natalie leaned toward the window, already searching through the fog of the chilly afternoon for the fruit stand. 

At the front of the car, Mom pressed a button to open the car doors. “Touch anything and it’s coming out of your college fund!” She winked and jumped out of the car, beelining for Gabe’s door. Dad moved a little slower, giving an exaggerated shake of his head and tsking in disapproval. Natalie giggled, thrown from her pout by the thrill of the market. She squirmed in her booster seat; she loved it when they were like this. When everything felt like the movies, alive and together.

It was the second-best thing about trips to the Farmer’s Market, right behind the nice man who let her spin a wheel for free fruit. If she craned her neck from where she sat, she could just see it. 

Outside the car and already freed from his own polyester prison, Gabe was also growing impatient. “Hurry up!” he yelled, chomping on gum noisily. 

Natalie scowled, her tiny hands scrunching into fists. “We’re going!” she yelled back, mashing at the stuck clasp of the seatbelt. 

She wished it were Gabe’s face instead. He was so annoying. 

Finally, Dad managed to unclasp the belt. In a flash, she was gone, bolting over to the fruit stand. The kind worker smiled down at her, bringing out the banana spinner.

“Let me guess: you want to spin?”

She nodded violently, head bobbing up and down. On her tiptoes, she reached up to spin it, crossing her fingers in hope for an orange. Around and around the yellow fruit spun, stopping finally at…

Orange! Natalie pumped her fist in triumph, accepting her treat and running off. She sat down, ready to tear into it, before she remembered that she couldn’t peel oranges. Sighing a bit dejectedly, she trudged back over to her mom, who was still standing over by the car. Wordlessly, she handed it over. 

“Is this for me?” her mom asked, turning it over in her hands. 

“No! It’s mine!” 

Mom laughed. “Alright, sweetheart. Want me to peel it?”

Natalie nodded, chewing on her lip. She watched, entranced, as her mom made quick work of the unblemished skin. She snatched it back eagerly as soon as she was done, plopping down on the ground to consume her treasure. 

It was sweet and tangy, and juice dripped down her fingers. In minutes, it was gone. Natalie licked her lips, enjoying the aftertaste. Oranges were awesome. Maybe Mom would buy some if she asked really nicely. She looked up, ready to put on her puppy dog eyes, and was confronted with her mom’s confused face already staring down at her.

“Where’s Gabe?” she asked, scanning the market. 

Natalie shrugged. “I dunno.” 

“Where is Gabe?” she asked again, a tinge of panic in her voice. 

“I don’t know ,” Natalie said again, getting annoyed. Why would she know if her mom didn’t, anyway?

Dad walked up, sensing blood in the water. “Hey, is everything okay over here?”

Her mom fell into him, free-hand tugging her hair. “I can’t find Gabe. Have you seen him?”

“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. You know he likes to run off.” His hand made soothing circles on her arm, trying to calm her. 

Natalie stood up, deciding to search for herself. Maybe he’d gotten lost. She squinted, trying to spot his red shirt. There weren’t many people there, just a few others besides them. There was no sign of Gabe. 

She glanced back at her mom, and her stomach dropped. Her eyes were foggy, her mind somewhere else. Uh oh.

Mom’s voice was growing more urgent. “Gabe?! Gabe! GABE!" Dad was ineffectively trying to soothe her, and Natalie felt her heart racing. People were looking at them, now, with the usual concerned expressions they wore. 

She tasted blood. She was biting her lip again. 

“GABE!! Where the fuck is Gabe?!”

The glances turned into full-on stares, and Natalie felt herself begin to vibrate anxiously. No no no. This couldn’t be happening; this was supposed to be their good day!

Mom’s screams faded away as Natalie’s eyes filled with tears. It had all happened so fast. One second, everything was fine, and the next, it was chaos. There were too many people. Too many noises. 

It was all going wrong. 

Distantly, a kind voice interjected. “Here he is. Found the little rascal over by the pumpkins.”

“I’m here, Mom. Everything’s okay.” Gabe’s voice was small but serious, used to this. “I’m okay.”

Okay. She zeroed in on the word. It would all be okay, now. Gabe was back, and there was no reason to worry. They could go back to their family day, and everything would be okay.

Natalie wiped her nose with her hand, her watery eyes now fixed on the scene ahead of her. There he stood, her big brother, hands raised like he were talking to a wild animal. Maybe he was. Mom stared back at him, eyes glassy, not saying a word. 

There was a static stillness to the air, the calm before the storm. She knew what was about to happen before it did, sensing it in her bones. It swelled; pianissimo to forte in a grand crescendo. 

Then, a balloon burst and splattered everyone around. Her mom’s gaze turned sharp, like she’d eaten a lemon whole. Her eyebrows crinkled. “Who are you ? Where is my son?”

Tears welled anew in Natalie’s eyes, and her small body shook with her sobs. She felt like a piece of corn about to pop. An egg bursting open and all of the guts spilling out. She clung to her dad’s leg, trying to anchor herself. He put a comforting hand on her head, trying to shield her from the crowd’s gaze. 

Gabe looked as crushed as Natalie felt. “Mom, I’m your son . I’m Gabe. Don’t you remember me?”

Instead of responding, Mom looked past him to the crowd of onlookers. Her hysteria was rising to a new height, the peak of a mountain never seen before. “That is not my son. That’s not Gabe! Where is Gabe?”

She turned to Dad, clutching his shoulders. “Dan, where is our son? Why don’t you care?!” 

He stepped forward, and Natalie stumbled, anchor yanked away by the tide. Her teeth chattered, clacking together in a senseless rhythm. She tried to focus on it, instead of the murmur of the crowd or her mom’s shrieks. She stared at the orange peel, now on the ground, dropped and trampled on. She could almost still smell it, citrusy and tropical, a cloying harbinger of doom. 

“Of course I care, Di.” her dad said gently, a hand still on Mom’s shoulder. “He’s at home with the babysitter.”

“I need to see him,” Mom said, not swayed in the slightest. “I need to see my baby.”

Her baby. Not Natalie, Gabe. Gabe was the one she cared about. The one she lost her mind for. 

Waves crashed over Natalie’s brain, breaking at her forehead. She sank into them, an oasis of calm. Somewhere far away, the conversation continued without her. 

“Mom, I’m right here,” Gabe tried again, lip quivering. 

An ant crawled onto Natalie’s orange peel. Her fingers were numb.

Dad sighed in defeat, rocking back onto his heels. “Alright, then. Let’s go home.” 

The words were like a rubber band twanging against her skin, snapping her back to reality. Home? Home? Already? 

Before she knew what was happening, she was running. Past the fruit stand, past the pumpkins, past the people and their stares. The pavement flew by beneath her, sneakers pounding against the asphalt, arms pumping at her sides. Everything disappeared, left behind in the dust. It was just her, now, and still she ran. 

She ran until she couldn’t anymore, breaths coming hard and quick with exertion and the force of her sobs. Then, she dropped to the ground, curling up into a ball. 

Maybe if she tried hard enough, she would disappear and wake up in the car. Then none of this would be real. They’d all still be laughing and having a good day, like in the movies. 

Natalie hiccupped, her breath catching. It was all real, and it was all ruined. Like her orange peel, their perfect day had been stomped on. Left on the ground and forgotten. 

She sniffled again, rubbing her nose and taking in her surroundings. There were trees all around her in little rows. She sat on soft, thin grass. It was an apple farm, one that the market used. 

Natalie laid her wet cheek on her knee, gazing at the fruits. Her class had gone apple-picking here last year, and she remembered picking a whole basketful. Except there’d been a worm in one, which was super gross. Her nose wrinkled, remembering the way she’d bit into the apple before discovering the critter. She eyed the trees distrustfully, ripping out the grass beneath her. 

Gabe’s class had gone apple picking last year, too. Against her will, her lips turned downwards. It couldn’t have been easy for him to have Mom not recognize him. Her brother might be annoying, but that still sucked. 

A few rows over, there was a family. One that looked kinda like hers: a mom, a dad, a son, and a daughter. They were all laughing. Natalie sighed. 

“You’re going down!” the little girl yelled at the others, shoving apples into her basket as fast as she could. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, but her grin stretched from ear to ear. 

It looked like they were having some sort of contest, all seeing who could pick apples the fastest. Everyone seemed to be trying their hardest except for the mom. She was picking the apples rather half-heartedly, taking the time to watch the others instead. A soft smile sat on her face, crinkling her eyes. She looked so happy. 

So normal. 

Natalie rubbed her chest, feeling a sudden ache there. Her family had never gone apple picking. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure approaching and turned to face it. 

Was that… Gabe ? 

She narrowed her eyes. Why would Gabe be over here? Shouldn’t he be with her mom and dad still? She buried her face in her arms, not having the energy for a fight or a lecture. She heard his steps get closer, the grass quietly crunching beneath his feet. 

She held her breath. What would he even say? What was there to say? She felt him stop beside her, just standing there for a moment, and she peeked up at him through her hair, waiting to see what he would do. 

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Closed his eyes, like he was preparing for something.

And then he just sat down. Right there next to her. He plopped down onto the grass with a sigh, as if his strings had just been cut. 

He leaned on her, arm a warm line against her own. “Hey, Nat,” he said, voice soft. 

Voice muffled by her arms, she replied. “Hey.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She lifted her head to look at him. He was watching the family now, eyes a little shiny. “It’s okay, Gabe.” 

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around hers. And they sat, watching a family they could never be. 

Chapter Text

It had been a long day of third grade for Natalie Goodman. Like, long long. Times tables and various maps still swirled through her head, making her brain feel like little more than a smoothie. And she had homework . Math homework. 

All of this is to say that she was not in a particularly patient mood. Especially not patient enough for Sarah. 

“I swear he looked at me today. In the cafeteria.” Sarah giggled, tugging at her hair.

They’d been friends for a couple of years now, and, if pressed, Natalie probably would’ve called her her best friend. Sarah lived in the same neighborhood as her, three houses down. Since pre-school, they would play together, and it used to be fun. 

Now, it was just convenient. Recently, Sarah had been on this whole thing about boys . Why, Natalie had no idea. Boys were so gross. She would know. She had to share a bathroom with one. 

Natalie shot a dirty look at her brother, walking several feet ahead. Gabe used to walk home with her and Sarah before he’d met Caleb and Anthony. They lived a couple of streets over, but the three seemed to be attached at the hip, which meant more gross, mean boys at their house. 

Yeah, she wasn’t really into the whole talking about boys thing. But Sarah was staring expectantly at her, and they had like 5 blocks to go, so she tried to engage. 

“Uh, who?” Natalie asked, already dreading the answer. Please don’t let it still be…

“Gabe,” Sarah whispered, as if he could hear it over the general noisiness of his friends. “You know. Your brother.”

Of course Natalie knew. For two weeks now, it had been all Sarah could talk about. ‘Gabe this’ or ‘Gabe that’, Natalie hated it. She got enough of that at home, and now this?

“Gross,” she said, making a face. 

Sarah giggled again. Natalie missed when she used to snort laugh. “He’s cute. And my sister says girls always go for older guys.”

“He’s Gabe ,” Natalie said, as if that explained anything. And it should’ve, at least in her eyes. Sarah had known him forever now, how couldn’t she get this?

“Well, maybe I like Gabe ,” Sarah said, imitating her tone of voice. “Come on, Nat! Don’t you like anyone?” She bumped Natalie’s shoulder, raising her eyebrows. 

Natalie shifted uncomfortably, turning her gaze to the passing pavement. She crunched a few leaves beneath her feet, wishing the cracks there would open up and swallow her whole. 

“I mean… I guess Ryan M. is kinda cute,” she hedged. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She liked talking to Ryan in social studies, and he was funny enough. Cute, though? 

Natalie had once seen him pick his nose and eat it. She couldn’t imagine trying to hold hands with him after that. 

But it appeased Sarah, and that was all that mattered. The other girl nodded like she approved, brown eyes glinting with knowledge. “You should tell him.”

“Maybe later,” Natalie said, picking at her nails. 

The boys peeled off for the shortcut, saving Natalie from further discussion. Sarah dreamily watched them go (ew), but the two of them stuck to the sidewalk, lapsing into silence for a moment. 

Natalie kicked at a rock on the ground. She missed the talks they used to have. Down the street, the boys’ voices echoed, joined shortly after by the repeated sound of rubber hitting pavement. They were playing basketball again, for what had to be the thousandth time. She rolled her eyes. 

“We should go play Legos,” Natalie urged. “Or fairies.” Anything would be better than hopscotch, which they’d played for a week straight. Pretended to play would be more accurate, anyway, as Sarah just watched the boys and waited for the ball to roll over. 

Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but someone else called out before she could.

“Natalie! Hi!” It was Ava, one of her next-door neighbor’s granddaughters, who went to the private school downtown. Her sister, Sophia, was with her in their matching uniforms. The four of them played together sometimes, when Mr. Elliott picked up the twins from school. Natalie would even consider them friends. 

“Hey!” she called back, mouth lifting into a smile. It had been forever since they’d seen each other, with Mr. Elliott and his wife having just gotten back from their winter home. Natalie and Sarah ran over, hugging each of the girls. 

“We saw you guys walk over,” Sophia said, by way of explanation. “And thank God. We were so bored.”

Ava nodded in agreement, linking her arm with Natalie’s. “Totally.”

They walked to Natalie’s backyard, instinctively climbing onto the trampoline. They kicked their shoes off the side, gathering in a circle. 

“So what should we do?” Sophia asked, clearly not freed from boredom yet. The rest spoke over each other, scrambling to be the one with the answer.

“Legos!”

“House!”

“Hopscotch!” 

At the last suggestion, Natalie shot Sarah a glare. “ Not hopscotch,” she insisted. “Please.”

“Oh, come on, Natalie!” Sarah whined, clasping her hands together. She stuck out her bottom lip, and Natalie’s stomach twisted with anxiety. Not this again.

Across from her, the twins shared a confused glance. “Why hopscotch?” Sophia asked. 

Sarah’s fake pout morphed into a secretive smile, and she leaned in close, beckoning them all to do the same. “Because…”

“Because she has a stupid crush on my stupid brother!” Natalie cut in, whispering furiously. She crossed her arms over her chest, fuming. 

“He’s not stupid!” her best friend shot back. “He’s cute .”

The twins made noises of understanding, glancing over to where the boys were playing. Ava giggled, her eyes practically forming hearts at the sight of them. “What about Caleb? He’s cute and really good at basketball.”

Sophia nodded, chiming in. “There’s this boy at our school that I like…”

Natalie sighed, letting their voices fade into background noise. She squinted at the basketball game, looking for what they saw.

She couldn’t find it. All she saw was three boys being really loud and shoving each other. They kept dropping the ball, unable to dribble and run at the same time. She couldn’t tell if they even had teams or if it was a free-for-all. Gabe caught the ball, shouldering Anthony out of the way. He went to shoot, both hands coming up–

And Caleb knocked the ball right out of his hands. 

“Foul! That’s a foul!” Anthony yelled. Gabe just rolled his eyes, sneakers scuffing the pavement as he went to retrieve the ball. The ball that was currently rolling to a stop at the edge of the trampoline. 

A flip switched in Natalie’s brain, and she clambered off the metal structure. Her socked feet crunched sticks littered throughout the grass, but still, she persisted, managing to get to the object before her brother could. 

She held it in her hands, the keys to the whole game. It was red, black, and scuffed from years of use. All eyes were on her. The girls’ conversation faded from a dull murmur into silence. 

Gabe held his hand up to catch it, but she didn’t throw it over. Instead, she tossed it from hand to hand lightly, appraising its weight. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Sitting outside all day had made it warm. 

“Come on, Nat. Give it here.”

She tried dribbling it, having learned the basics in P.E. She liked the noises it made, the rhythm. It reminded her of the exercises she and Gabe had to do with their piano teacher to learn time signatures. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

“Give it!” Anthony yelled, drawing Natalie’s ire. She half-debated throwing the ball at his face, but decided it would be cooler to keep it. Gabe stepped forward, reaching to intercept her, but she lifted it up out of his way.

“I want to play!” she said, stomping her foot. Her tone turned nasally without her permission, and the other boys snickered. She sidestepped her brother, still dribbling somewhat inconsistently. 

Gabe reached for the ball again, his friends closing in. “Well, you can’t. You suck at basketball anyways.”

Her cheeks flamed. “No, I don’t!” she countered, running in to shoot. Like her brother before her, she pulled both hands up, winding up the strength in her wrists. She pushed off, throwing the ball into the air. 

“Airball!” Caleb jeered, sending everyone else into a fit of giggles. 

Sarah’s were the loudest. She shot a glance at Gabe, batting her lashes almost cartoonishly. “You’re so right, she does suck!”

Gabe’s face mirrored how Natalie’s felt, cheeks bright red and eyes downcast. It was just like in Natalie’s worst nightmares. Everyone around was laughing, whispering to each other, or outright making fun of her. Not even Gabe was defending her. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Head ducked, she ran after the ball, scrambling to pick it up in her small hands. It felt too heavy to aim properly, weighed down by the shame she felt. She hefted it up, trying again.

She missed again. And again. Three times she tried to shoot and missed. Her skin felt tight around her eyes, and there was a basketball-shaped lump in her throat. 

“God, you’re such a loser,” Gabe muttered, ducking his head. The tips of his ears matched his cheeks, both drenched in Gabe’s favorite color. 

“No, I’m not,” she protested weakly, “I’m not a loser.” She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her face was sticky with sweat, and her hair stuck to the back of her neck. Gabe wouldn’t make eye contact, choosing to have a staring contest with the ground instead. 

The basketball counteracted Natalie’s words, still rolling yards away from the hoop. She gnawed on her lip, watching as Sophia said something she couldn’t hear to Sarah, who smiled and turned to whisper back. Sarah beckoned Ava over, and the three had a brief huddle. Natalie felt herself grow smaller– a pillbug curling up to protect its vitals. 

Then, a shift. The session dispersed, opening up and spitting out a decision: “Prove it.” 

And there it was: a golden opportunity. To put this humiliating encounter behind her and be proven a hero. Not a loser, a winner. Someone brave. 

Then they could go play Legos. 

She hesitated, but set her jaw firmly. She felt her teeth click together and nodded once, a girl awaiting a mission. 

Sarah’s smirk was so wide that she almost looked like the Grinch. The green shirt didn’t help. She looked almost like a caricature now, with one hand on her hip and the other directed straight at the old treehouse. 

“Climb it.”

Natalie felt a tsunami of emotion rush down her spine. The treehouse was years old, from a time when her mom had had a lot of energy and no way to expend it. It was one of her many abandoned projects from that time, the chipping red front door and the baby blue kitchen, its more well-loved friends. 

Well-loved wasn’t the word to describe the treehouse. Well-worn was more like it. It looked much older than its short three years, nature taking its toll on it as it does most things. She gazed up at it, basking in the shadow of its half-rotted, speckled glory. 

Dad had wanted to get it torn down, saying it wasn’t safe enough for kids, but Mom had been adamant that she’d get back to it, eventually. In the meantime, Gabe and Natalie were ‘never under any circumstances ever to go up there.’

But as the other kids chimed in on the slowly rising chant of “Climb it,” Natalie stepped towards the ladder. The playhouse looked less like a safety hazard and more like just another fear to be conquered. She reached out for the rungs, a leaf tickling her finger.

“Natalie, don’t.” 

It was Gabe, finally looking her in the eyes. His face was solemn, his eyes serious. “You know what Mom and Dad said.”

She rolled her eyes, fueled by the chants of their friends. “Oh, so now you care?”

Anthony and some of the others laughed, and she felt her lips turn up into a smile. Her brother’s, meanwhile, twisted into a frown. Gabe crossed his arms, shifting from foot to foot. “Of course I do.” He leaned in, speaking to only her now. “Look, I’m serious. You could get hurt.” 

Natalie stepped away from him, one foot already on the ladder. “It’ll be fine.” She pulled up, starting to climb. “And besides, I wouldn’t want to be a loser .” 

Gabe flinched, eyes glued to the ground again. Ava glanced between the two of them, teeth worrying at her fingers. “Just be careful,” she said, her gaze flicking between the sketchy-looking wood and Natalie. As if on cue, the ladder wobbled beneath her, and she clung on to it, the ground looking very far away. 

“You got this, Nat Nat!” Sarah yelled, pink-painted nails coming up to cup her mouth. “We believe in you! Keep going!” 

The others joined in, all but Gabe cheering her on. Her brother just stood there, arms crossed, gaze locked on her, mouth a thin line. Natalie turned her face back to the ladder. She had been starting to sway, pulled in by the height of the ladder and the slight breeze taking hold of it. Looking down made her nauseous. She tried to focus on climbing, one rung after the other. 

Had the treehouse always been so tall ? 

Three more steps left. Two. One. And then, she was at the top of the world. Her friends cheered, and even Gabe cracked a smile. But Natalie didn’t care. She could see everything from here. Or, at least her whole neighborhood. 

She could see Mr. Elliott inside his fence, with his fluffy black poodles. And Miss Brighton, bringing in groceries with her teenage daughters. She squinted, looking out to the street beyond. Was that…?

It was her dad’s gray car, waiting at the stop sign just outside the neighborhood. Her heart sped up, pumping her full of both adrenaline and excitement. Her dad was coming home! But also, her dad was coming home… and she was in the treehouse. 

Her stomach and smile dropped at the same time, silencing the previous celebration. “Natalie?” Sarah called up, her voice carrying. “Is everything okay?” 

Natalie nodded, forgetting she was probably too far for them to see it. “Uh. Yeah! I just need a second!” She whirled, ready to go back down as fast as she came up. 

But her shoelace had come untied while she was climbing, and now she’d accidentally stepped on it. She stumbled, looking for something to grab. She grasped at railings that weren’t there. 

She felt her mouth open before she heard screams; a silent rest before the melody that came after. It happened in slow motion and all at once, her world quite literally turned upside down. First, it was her head, clipping the side of the structure and springing a leak. Then, free fall. 

Finally, impact. Her left leg took the brunt of the impact, twisting and snapping at an unnatural angle. More screams, this time chorusing with her own. But she watched the whole thing like it was happening to someone else. She was a beautiful ballerina twirling on her way down, not a flailing eight-year-old. 

Except she was a flailing eight-year-old. One with a heavily broken leg, too. She twisted to look at it and screamed again, shocked into it by the white-hot pain jolting through her body. Everything around her was blurry, the others’ faces swarming together in a hive of worry and guilt. Above it all, she could hear Gabe’s voice, rising above like his namesake angel.

“NATALIE!!!” 

There was a ripple in the crowd. Her brother shoved Caleb out of the way, dropping to his knees at her side. A faraway part of her mind worried about the grass stains on his jeans. She reached out, unsure of why she did so, and watched as Gabe clutched her hand in his. The sudden movement made her head and leg throb in tandem, and she whimpered against the onslaught of pain they brought. 

That noise, coupled with the ones coming from the car pulling into the driveway, were enough to send the other kids running. Off they scurried, fleeing to their respective hidey-holes in the neighborhood. And Gabe and Natalie were left broken on the ground. 

She tried not to even breathe, afraid of what she’d feel if she did. Next to her, blood soaked the ground of their yard, further staining Gabe’s pants. He looked worried about it, eyes shiny and lip quivering. Natalie wanted to tell him it was okay, that they could always get new ones…

A car door slammed, chasing the thought from her mind. 

It was her dad. “Why–” she started, but immediately stopped, jarred by the shooting pain the noise caused. 

Pain that was amplified again by her dad’s worried tone. “What the hell is going on here?” He called out as he ran towards them, dropping his jacket to the ground. “Hey! What are you doing?” he shouted after one of the fleeing kids, turning to chase after them. He got a few steps away before Natalie’s tears started up, and he whirled around at the first sob, now fully realizing the gravity of the situation. 

Dad’s eyes went wide, and he frantically moved closer and knelt down beside Natalie. “What happened?” he said, looking from her brother to her and back again. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

Gabe went pale, eyes locked onto Natalie’s broken leg. He stuttered, unable to form words. “I–Uh– We were just playing, and then–”

“Were you in the treehouse?” Dad demanded, gripping Gabe’s shoulders tightly. “I told you not to go up there!” He gave Gabe a little shake, and Natalie shrieked in pain, jostled. 

“No! I was just– ow, playing basketball!” she protested pitifully, tears streaming down her face. 

Seeing them, her father’s face morphed from anger to fear. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, something he always did when stressed. “Okay, okay. It doesn’t matter. Fuck, we need to get to a hospital.”

He searched around for what to do, looking somewhat helpless. Again, he locked eyes on Gabe, grabbing hold of his shoulder. “Gabe, go get your mother. Tell her we need to go now .” 

Her brother nodded, wiping at his eyes just like their dad had. Then, he was gone in a blink, his speed merging with Natalie’s bruised brain to form an optical illusion. A small laugh escaped her, drawing a worried glance from Dad. “And get an icepack!” he called to the wind, Gabe long gone. 

An ant crawled on Natalie’s arm, and she reached over to swat it, jerking in pain as she did. Her dad winced in sympathy, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Just hang in there, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. “And try to hold still.” Then, he scooped her up, and Natalie’s vision went white. 

When she came to, they were in the car. She could feel the wheels churning beneath her, and they churned her stomach. She leaned over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor of the backseat. Sobs tumbled from her lips, bringing dribbles of spit and painful bile with them. Even the icepack on her leg couldn’t numb the furious pain. 

She tried to breathe, gasping and choking on spit and tears. It was so much, it was too much, she wanted to go home. She was stranded in an ocean with no way to shore, no anchor to place her. 

“Natalie.” 

The waves of pain buffeted her, caught in a riptide between her head and leg. She cried, hot tears soaking Gabe’s lap, on which her head lay. 

“Natalie!” he whisper-yelled, trying to get her attention without causing further pain. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” 

The words came out in a rush, a lifeboat skating along towards her. She grabbed onto his shirt, trying to match his breathing. There was already blood on it, and tears and maybe vomit too, which was just great. Another article of clothing she ruined.

“I– I’m sorry,” she rasped, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m really sorry.” She suddenly felt very stupid for not listening to him earlier. Maybe she was a loser. 

At least Gabe didn’t seem to think so. He looked down at her, the fading light casting shadows across his face. His eyebrows twisted together. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” 

He looked haunted, and much older than he was. Tear tracks glinted along his neck as the sun set behind him. Natalie’s hand was clutching his shirt, wrinkling the soft pattern. Gabe untwisted it, twining their fingers together instead. 

“This will never happen again,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I promise.” 

And for some reason, she believed him. 

She tried to respond, to give assurances she was fine, but the pain rose again, stealing the words in her throat. Instead, she closed her eyes, and she let the steady thump of his pulse rock her back into silence.

And they didn’t say another word.

But the whole rest of the way to the hospital, he held her hand.