Chocolate 23; Pistachio 16
Author: Marina
Story: Shifts universe (pre-Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 23 (insecurity), Pistachio 16 (a shoulder to cry on)
Toppings: Rainbow Sprinkles (Rand), Whipped Cream (Rand is thirteen and Lynne is ten)
Word Count: 506
Rating: G
Summary: Lynne always claimed that knowing she was adopted never made any difference to her. Rand is the only person who can testify otherwise.
Notes: Last post for a week, and one-third done with both these flavors!
Rand went up to the roof that day expecting solitude. What he found was a distraught ten-year-old slumped over on the observation bench.
Even though the door to the roof had rusty hinges and creaked miserably, Lynne did not appear to have noticed him yet, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he should just leave her alone and find somewhere else to sit. Then he heard her sniff, and decided that he should at least ask. “Lynne?”
She turned to look at him, face a teary, red mess. “Hi, Rand,” she said softly.
“Are you okay?”
“‘m fine.” She furiously wiped at her eyes, looking away again.
He crossed over and sat down on the bench with her. “You’re not fine.”
“Then why’d you ask?” she shot.
“Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do,” he said. “You would, if it was me.”
His statement seemed to cheer her up, if only a little. “I guess I can tell you,” she said magnanimously, which amused him. “My parents just told me I’m adopted.”
“That’s not a bad thing, don’t be upset.”
“I know it’s not,” she insisted. “They’re still my parents.”
“So why are you crying, then?”
She shrugged and turned back to the view. Rand sighed a little, wondering how best to approach his next try. He was pretty certain that Lynne really did think that her family was less of a family now that she knew this. “I’m adopted too, you know,” he said then.
Her head snapped back toward him. “Really?”
“Really.”
“How do you know that?”
He had to stop and ponder this before he could answer. “I guess I’ve always known,” he finally said. “I don’t remember when my parents told me. It’s just…it was always clear to me that even though they didn’t give birth to me-that sounds weird. You know what I mean. Anyway, I knew.”
“Why’d they adopt you?” Lynne asked. “What happened to your real parents?”
“I live with them,” he replied. “My birth parents are relatives of my mother’s. They couldn’t raise me themselves, so Mom and Dad said they would.”
She looked appropriately contrite, which made the irritation he felt ease and served to confirm his suspicions. “They said my birth mom couldn’t keep me, either, and Mommy can’t have any kids of her own ‘cause she got cancer.”
“You’re still their daughter, Lynne,” Rand said. “They raised you.”
“I know,” she said again.
“Did you tell them that?”
“No. I just said okay and came up here because I didn’t want them to see me crying.”
“You should probably go tell them. I bet they’re worried.”
“Okay.” All of a sudden, she straightened and threw her arms around his neck, which surprised him because she had never been very affectionate with anyone but her parents. He managed to give her a little squeeze in return before she let go. “Thanks, Rand. You’re a good friend.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
And he never did.
Story: Shifts universe (pre-Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 23 (insecurity), Pistachio 16 (a shoulder to cry on)
Toppings: Rainbow Sprinkles (Rand), Whipped Cream (Rand is thirteen and Lynne is ten)
Word Count: 506
Rating: G
Summary: Lynne always claimed that knowing she was adopted never made any difference to her. Rand is the only person who can testify otherwise.
Notes: Last post for a week, and one-third done with both these flavors!
Rand went up to the roof that day expecting solitude. What he found was a distraught ten-year-old slumped over on the observation bench.
Even though the door to the roof had rusty hinges and creaked miserably, Lynne did not appear to have noticed him yet, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he should just leave her alone and find somewhere else to sit. Then he heard her sniff, and decided that he should at least ask. “Lynne?”
She turned to look at him, face a teary, red mess. “Hi, Rand,” she said softly.
“Are you okay?”
“‘m fine.” She furiously wiped at her eyes, looking away again.
He crossed over and sat down on the bench with her. “You’re not fine.”
“Then why’d you ask?” she shot.
“Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do,” he said. “You would, if it was me.”
His statement seemed to cheer her up, if only a little. “I guess I can tell you,” she said magnanimously, which amused him. “My parents just told me I’m adopted.”
“That’s not a bad thing, don’t be upset.”
“I know it’s not,” she insisted. “They’re still my parents.”
“So why are you crying, then?”
She shrugged and turned back to the view. Rand sighed a little, wondering how best to approach his next try. He was pretty certain that Lynne really did think that her family was less of a family now that she knew this. “I’m adopted too, you know,” he said then.
Her head snapped back toward him. “Really?”
“Really.”
“How do you know that?”
He had to stop and ponder this before he could answer. “I guess I’ve always known,” he finally said. “I don’t remember when my parents told me. It’s just…it was always clear to me that even though they didn’t give birth to me-that sounds weird. You know what I mean. Anyway, I knew.”
“Why’d they adopt you?” Lynne asked. “What happened to your real parents?”
“I live with them,” he replied. “My birth parents are relatives of my mother’s. They couldn’t raise me themselves, so Mom and Dad said they would.”
She looked appropriately contrite, which made the irritation he felt ease and served to confirm his suspicions. “They said my birth mom couldn’t keep me, either, and Mommy can’t have any kids of her own ‘cause she got cancer.”
“You’re still their daughter, Lynne,” Rand said. “They raised you.”
“I know,” she said again.
“Did you tell them that?”
“No. I just said okay and came up here because I didn’t want them to see me crying.”
“You should probably go tell them. I bet they’re worried.”
“Okay.” All of a sudden, she straightened and threw her arms around his neck, which surprised him because she had never been very affectionate with anyone but her parents. He managed to give her a little squeeze in return before she let go. “Thanks, Rand. You’re a good friend.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
And he never did.