homemade dynamite / friendly fire :: [ disaster date ]

Even the voice in Denali's head screaming THIS WAS ALL A BIG MISTAKE! THIS WAS ALL A BIG MISTAKE! THIS WAS ALL A BIG MISTAKE! cannot begin to fathom the levels of mistake happening in this very moment. In fact, the voice hardly believes itself. Surely she's just nervous. Nothing is actually that bad. Maybe she's even doing a little bit okay at this date thing, despite feeling like she's actively dying from gay panic. She prays to Ripred to give her strength, pleads to him to not allow her to be so pathetic as to choke to death on her next bite of pie, begs for her cheeks to not be blushing so badly as it feels like they are. She can't possibly be burning alive... again. After everything, this can't be how she goes out. Not today. Not like this.

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe next decade realization will settle in about the hot mess of bad advice and misinterpreted sarcasm that brought her to this bakery, but for now everything still feels so logical. When she finally becomes aware of how it might have been better to let the embarrassment take her out like a friendly assassin doing her a favor she will sit down on the floor — not caring one bit about where that floor might be located and if she has privacy or not, because it won't matter. Surely nothing could ever be as embarrassing as what's happening right now. Collapsed on the ground, she will write herself a note. It will read something like:

Stupid Denali,

You're the absolute worst. How could you do this to me?! I hate you, like... so much. Wow. Seriously. Like... okay, okay. Let me count the ways:

Holding her breath as if this will hold in her overdue anguish, she will throw her head back with a groan of horrid misery and no idea of where to begin except perhaps:

1. Who did you think you were? Asking Bette Sublino out on a date?! As if that was ever a thing that made sense in any timeline of your existence.

That wasn't actually where the whole catastrophe began, but it sure was the beginning of it being her fault. But... standing there... at the Ratmas markets... at the Sublino booth... with grandfather clocks, crystal sculptures, extravagant jewelry, and other beautifully bizarre antiques whose purposes she couldn't even begin to guess at... so cool, so interesting, so wonderful... chatting with Bette as if everything in the world was easy and effortless... definitely not being a total weirdo for once... it just... happened? "I know you're kinda busy right now, but do you wanna do something together later? I walked by this bakery earlier that has flights of mini pies and I think I'll die if I don't eat them all. But also maybe because of how cute they are. I dunno. Either way it's obviously not safe for me to go alone." Bette just nodded oh-so-nonchalantly, looking as if being asked out wasn't a big deal at all, like that moment didn't require more courage than any fight Denali had been in during their Games. And then she said: "Mhm, sounds like you need backup." Backup, she said. Like: Of course I'll be your backup. Like: Maybe I've always been your backup. Like: What were you even nervous about, Denali? Like: This is totally happening.

WHAT.

STOP.

DENALI.

THIS ISN'T REAL.

Except, no, it turns out that it was definitely real. So real in fact that all Denali could do was hyperventilate quietly for a moment before half-yelling, half-wheezing, "Hnnngh! Mmkay! Yuh-huh! It's a date then!" Trying to sort out what to do with her hands — because whenever she's trying to play it cool, this is always a major problem — some irresistible super-force from deep within told her to salute. So she did. She really, truly did. "That's neat!" With that horrifying final word launching itself from her mouth, she found herself running away in maniacal panic for the first, but definitely not the last time today. Inviting Lex along (for... emotional support???) would be the second. Then, of course, she had to ask Temple to come too so it wouldn't be weird because, like, who even knows what a three person date is, but a double date is acceptable. Probably. Oh my Ripred, hopefully. Surely they can talk about trees and making fence posts and stuff. Yeah. It'll be fine.

2. No, Denali, you invited other people on your own date. That was stupid. It was not supposed to be a "cute, group hang kind of thing." It was just stupid. You did a stupid.

Peregrine, as per usual, was not the least bit sympathetic to Denali's romantic woes — guffawing with petty amusement and rolling her eyes at declarations of embarrassment — despite all of this being completely and totally her fault. Well, twenty-five percent her fault. And twenty-five percent Seville's fault. And twenty-five percent Rio's fault. And, like, one thousand and twenty-five percent Tallulah's fault? "She really gave this to you? Did she make it herself?!" Tallulah was too distracted with examining an incredibly adorable wooden porcupine that Bette gave her as a present before Denali started rambling about pie and death, its chubby body drilled with teeny tiny holes to hold her sewing needles as if they were its quills. Also with squealing. So much squealing. "It's perfect. For you, I mean, but also how it's made is very, very nice. Ohhhh... Denali! Her gift is better than what I got you for Ratmas. Oh, no!" Distracted by her own fretting over being one-upped in one of her favorite hobbies — unbelievably thoughtful gift giving — Tallulah lost all focus on the matter at hand.

"A date, Tallulah," Denali gasped, sinking into a puddle of angst and light-up evergreen boughs on the floor. This is a girl familiar with trauma and this... all... suddenly... felt... traumatic. "I have a date tonight! BUT WHY?! Why would I do that to me?!" Palms melodramatically pressed to her cheeks and her jaw hanging agape as if an endless, silent scream occupies her mouth between words, she stares at the wall on the far side of the room, waiting for it to transform into a void that she can hurl herself into so as to no longer have to deal with the repercussions of her choices. "I don't know how to date! What even is a date anyway?!" Her voice cracks nearly the same way Zion's did when he hit puberty. Back then she teased him at every opportunity, mimicking him to the best of her ability, but never getting it quite right until just now. Is this... karma? "This is the worst idea I've ever had. No — uh, correction! — this is the worst idea you guys have ever had!" Pointing accusational fingers at her wannabe matchmaker sisters, Denali narrows her eyes and tries to glare with all the ferocity she possesses, but only ends up melting further into the glittering hot mess of her Ratmas tree dress. "I didn't do this to me! You did this to me!" Attempted rage whirls on itself as her eyes well with tears of anxiety, her voice hushed and keening. "Why would you do this to me?"

3. What kind of idiot gets their dating advice from a pack of thirteen-year-old girls? And Seville.

It all started when she came home from the Games, concern for Denali's wellbeing quickly replaced by all of her sisters fiending for gossip. They had witnessed her getting into scuffles with schoolyard bullies for years already and so the likes of Parson, Oliver, and Maxwell were old news once the murder bits were taken out of the equation. Been there, done that. How uninspired. The truly shocking thing had been listening to Games commentators point out the suspicious hints of, well, something between their sister and Bette Sublino, a girl she wasn't even allied with. "Uh, hello? They're enemies. Duh," Peregrine had scoffed when Tallulah turned to her, eyes comically wide with YEAH OKAY BUT WHAT IF conspiracies of romantic tension. It's one thing to watch strangers flirt to the death on television, but this was their sister. This was their romantically inept sister who had never mentioned crushes or dating or anything like that, but who had inexplicably been sent flowers and messages of genuine concern via "— a really darling bird, okay, Ginny? There was no reason for her to dress that bird up and make it look extra cute like that! No reason except hope that the bird's enhanced cuteness would give Denali a reason to smile one last time, despite feeling like she was staring down the end of the world! So, yeah. You tell me what that bird was if it wasn't a gesture of affection." "Tallulah. I have no idea what that bird was." "Exactly!" "Or what anything you just said was." "Ugh! Peregrine! This is serious!" "This is the serious part of things?"

Denali lived. Bette lived. The wild plot of star-crossed romance and tragedy within Tallulah's mind lived and both Rio and Seville were roped into lengthy discussions of wild conjecture. The simple words be careful were analyzed more than, perhaps, any other words throughout history. Footage of Bette watching Denali from a hidden vantage point in the redwoods was submitted into evidence. The second messenger bird — so fluffy, so adorable — was compared to the first in search of any number of secret meanings. Numerous photographs were debated at length, but even Peregrine had to admit, "Okay... yeah. That picture Bette took of Denali next to the campfire was... possibly not one hundred percent platonic." "Possibly?! Are you kidding me? That was a total wow look how beautiful this girl is, I need to capture this moment for all time. And then! Then she gave it to her so Denali would know that Bette sees how pretty she is and that she is loved and appreciated and —" "Uh-huh. Sure. But what about Tem—" "— and watched over and cared for and ohhhhhhh. It's just so sad! Defending each other to the very end! And even though they survived, yet more distance separates them now! Do you think she'll find a way to send more messages? I think she'll definitely find a way to send something." Like a porcupine pin cushion, perhaps.

When the saga was recounted to Denali, it took some convincing. "Wait, wait, wait. So you guys are trying to tell me that Bette — the Bette Sublino — likes... me? No, that's stupid." "Why would that be stupid?" "Well okay, first of all, are you crazy? She's, like, the coolest person I've ever met. She knows how to do all these amazing acrobatic tricks like running up walls and probably triple-double axel backflip handsprings while blindfolded and stuff. And she's obviously really smart. And... I mean... you've seen her face, I don't... I don't have to tell you what her face looks like. And she's strong! She made it all the way to the end! She's totally good at everything and she's... Why would she like me?" "Triple-double blindfolded what now?" Peregrine questioned, brow furrowed over nonsensical details the rest of her sisters somehow seemed to miss entirely. "Don't be silly, Denali," Tallulah insisted, "even Seville thinks it's really obvious." "It is traditional to send flowers and written declarations of emotional interest to potential romantic partners," Seville commented factually, despite still being uncertain about what things like love and romance actually mean. "I dunno," Denali whined while fidgeting her toes against the carpet, "I don't... I mean... Peregrine? You think so too?" Every face turned to the daughter of blunt honesty and brutal truths — the sibling who could always be counted on for objective opinions. "Urghhhh," she groaned miserably, rolling her eyes and sighing at the mind blowing ridiculousness of the whole discussion when the real answer seemed so apparent from the very beginning. "Sure. Bette is obviously the person who likes you or whatever," Peregrine responded, her voice loaded with blatant sarcasm that her sisters either couldn't grasp or shamelessly ignored in favor of taking her words at face value. "She was definitely the person thoughtfully keeping an eye on you the whole time. Yep, that was Bette."

4. Learn to speak sarcasm fluently. You're supposed to be well-educated.

The more they watched replays of the constantly looping Games footage, the more plausible Tallulah's theory felt. It was surreal for Denali to watch herself on television, saying and doing things that she remembered, but... somehow it was still different. Removed from her own perspective and filtered through someone else's idea of the events, details blurred and conversations were difficult to recall. Footage of her willing herself to slit Lex's throat in the middle of the night was layered with ominous music, the glint of Denali's knives artificially brightened in the shadow of the trees, and then other times heroic melodies crescendoed in time with other tribute's attacks against her. "There was so much more," she whispered during a montage of Day Five highlights that merely focused on the death she and Lex wrought, glossing over most of the evening that followed. Only a few snippets of their endless stories of home from throughout the Games were aired. In this remastered footage, she was portrayed as a supporting actress in Annie's story and so moments that had felt so important to Denali weren't deemed as significant to the greater narrative, but Bette's story was still a priority. The Upper District runner-up was never going to be tossed aside on the editing room floor and so her moments with Denali still carried narrative weight. "You mean of you and Bette?" Tallulah asked hopefully, turning to her sister. Denali could only blink for a moment, trying to figure out what was ever real. "No," she murmured distractedly, "I mean, yeah, I guess. Kinda. I hugged her before the campfire because I was happy to see her... and the campfire went all night and they didn't show very much of that, but that was... not what I meant." "You hugged? Oh my goodness, tell me everything!"

When the Ratmas Markets were announced, Tallulah lost her mind with excitement (nearly as much as Denali did over the idea of getting to see all her friends again), thrilled that her months of effort dedicated to convincing Denali of Bette's affection wouldn't be for nothing. Not asking Bette out wasn't an option. It had to happen and somehow it actually did and now... "Don't worry," Peregrine sighed with a deadpan voice, patting her sister on the shoulder as she smoothed her hair down one last time before leaving for the bakery, "it's honestly not weird that you asked Lex and Temple along on your date. It makes total sense if you stop and think about it. Would it even be a date without them?" Tallulah elbowed her conjoined twin and did her best to reassure Denali that things would go well. She wasn't going to literally die of embarrassment. Everything would be fine. Everything would be —

5. Actually, just... learn to speak while you're at it. Nervous rambling is not a conversation, it's a verbal assault.

"So it was kind of my only option, all things considered, you know? Like, I've dressed up as the wicked witch of Lyons mansion for All Hallow's Eve for so long now that I somehow forgot I could switch it up, but this year I couldn't really be anything except a mummy and so I just sorta went with it." Denali's cheeks color slightly as she holds her arms out over the table to re-enact a cliche risen-from-the-dead mummified zombie pose, deadpanning a dull droning sound for a moment before bursting out into a round of self-conscious laughter. Even now that her skin grafts have healed well enough that her limbs are no longer wrapped in constant bandages, she doesn't like bringing attention to the fact that her arms still aren't her arms. The sleeves of a festively red leather jacket covered in an excess of DIY handiwork — studs and safetypins, stitching and hand painting — hide most of the evidence of old wounds that still feel raw, but there's a hint of rushing when she drops her hands back into her lap. "Some of the kids in the neighborhood were really disappointed though." This is code for: I got bullied by eight-year-old trick or treaters because they prefer their candy to come with spell ingredient codenames and witchy cackling, not boring mummy grumbling. "I guess they missed having hexes cast on them when I answered the door and stuff like that. Their parents didn't seem to like me joking about being undead either, so... uh, sorry, wow. That wasn't as good of a story as I thought it was gonna be."

6. Maybe sometimes you shouldn't even speak at all. Just look up at what's right in front of you and try not to be stupid about it.

Glancing at the chair beside her, Denali can't hardly bring herself to look at Bette's face and immediately redirects her attention to the blonde sitting across from her, next to Temple. Teasing feels imminent and so just as quickly as she meets Lex's eyes, she turns her attention to the plates of adorable baked goods on the table between them. There are little round pies made to look like realistic peaches with melted toffee centers — the crusts colored, rolled in sugar, and topped with mint leaves to mimic stems — while others are shaped like pears and drizzled in warm caramel. "Soooo... what has everyone else been up to?" On another plate are tiny strawberry pies with bright pink latticework crusts and blackberry lemonade pies with purple crusts. Still more are heart-shaped and stuffed with cherries and cream cheese or decorated to look as as if they're covered in tiny rosettes, daisies, and autumn leaves. Perhaps her favorite are the honey lemon chiffon pies: sunshine yellow and pressed with a charming honeycomb design. Each one is topped with a fluff of freshly whipped cream, a slice of candied Meyer lemon, and chocolate bumblebees with almond sliver wings. They're much too cute to eat and so Denali reaches for a bite-sized buttery cookie pie dunked in caramel and toasted coconut before being drizzled with dark chocolate stripes. "Oh," her expression melts in perfect time with the chocolate on her tongue, "oh my Ripred. This is why we were all brought back to life, you know that right?"

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe next decade — after every realization about today has settled and her name has been signed at the bottom of the list of reasons as to why she is the absolute worst — Denali will fold that letter of shame and embarrassment up and set it to the side. She will take a deep breath in and then silently count as she breathes out, re-centering her panicked heart. Then she will write herself a second letter and it will go something like this:

Hey, Freckles.

You make a lot of mistakes, you really do, but hopefully that has given you a lot of practice at making up for them. Be nicer to yourself. You don't deserve that. How will you ever get better at listening to yourself — instead of listening to other people — if what you say is mean? Besides, it can't have been that bad. There was pie.

— Denali