Chapter Text
It’s not the last time they see each other. Not by far. Paul practically carries her over to the art studio on Wednesday with an eagerness that is beginning to wear on Ellie’s nerves.
“She’s so pretty. I think about her all the time. When I’m brushing my teeth or getting ready to sleep, and even when I’m eating disgusting Sloppy Joe in the dining hall.”
He sighs dreamily as they walk along the dusty sidewalk into the better part of the city. “I can’t believe out of all the volunteers we could have gotten, we got her.”
Ellie silently agrees. Seeing Aster in the middle of that classroom had almost gave her a heart attack.
“Do you think we’ll see her? I want to tell her about how I found that art magazine in Davis’s office yesterday.”
Ellie sighs, scanning the streets to see if their turn was approaching.
“Seriously, the stuff in there is beautiful! I mean, I couldn’t really tell the difference between all of them, but I think she’ll like some of the portraits, don’t you?”
“Yes Paul,” Ellie snaps, “I’m sure she’ll like your dusty magazines and take time away from the people that are looking to buy her paintings—her customers, just to talk to us.”
Paul recoils immediately. She doesn’t mean to come off as moody, but meeting with Aster again was taking yet another unnecessary risk. Especially without knowing where Aster stands on her stealing off of her friend and the confusion surrounding why she hasn’t turned Ellie in yet, she ran the risk of being turned in with every interaction. And it was stressing her out.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snappy, I just,” she sighs. “Didn’t really expect to see her at Squahamish is all.”
Paul’s face fills with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I kind of… met her before all this.” Ellie mumbles. “I, um, I stole off of her at the market a few months ago.”
They were a turn away from Sed’s Sausages and the studio, and it seemed like they were in an entirely different city. The streets were clean and the sides of buildings were no longer dark with the accumulation of filth. Tables outside were no longer chained down and stores have enough trust to leave their doors open to business and casual passerbys. It was beautiful in comparison to Central City and Ellie finds herself yearning.
“You what?” Paul all but yells at her. “And you got caught?”
“Shhh.” They were no longer in their part of the city and over here, people glanced over at the slightest disturbance.
“Sorry, sorry. But why didn’t you tell me before? I would have never forced you to come to that stupid painting class!”
“Well I was trying, but you were excited and… I just thought maybe I should try my luck a little longer. She hasn’t turned me in yet hasn’t she?” Ellie replies sheepishly. “Even though she had plenty of opportunities to.”
Paul just shakes his head. They arrived at Sed’s Sausages which was already bustling due to the extra business that the show brought in. Ellie didn’t have to go up the stairs to know that it was going to be packed. People milled about on the side of the street near the staircase talking with one another and laughing.
“Woah. Everyone’s dressed really nicely.” Paul says, eyes running through the crowd. Both of them stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in oversized sweaters and jeans. There were men with suit jackets, neat button downs, and khaki slacks, and women with fur coats, long dresses, and bright lipstick. Everyone seemed to tower over them menacingly and Ellie starts to wonder if money made people bigger as well, physically inflating them with wealth that wraps around like armor— bullet proof.
“Maybe we should go.” Ellie mutters, and Paul gulps nervously. But it’s like she’s said the magic word because suddenly, someone taps on her arm and she spins around to see Aster beaming at them.
“You came!”
“We… did.” Ellie says at the same time Paul says, “Wouldn’t have missed it!”
Ellie rolls her eyes at him when he’s not looking.
“Well, are you going to come in?” Aster asks, and that’s how Ellie finds herself being dragged through the door as Aster squeezes past several mumbling guests standing out on the staircase. Secretly, Ellie is glad to have made it indoors where the chilly air can’t whip at her face any longer and she huffs out a breath, feeling the warmth return to her cheeks.
The staircase is narrow and they’re forced to walk single file with Aster leading, Ellie following, and Paul bringing up their rear. They push up the last few steps to a door on the left side where, from the awkward angle Ellie is ascending, she can make out a glimpse of a row of picture frames with paintings blocked by groups of viewers. It seems quite small, but after stepping in, Ellie’s mouth drops because where the studio lacked in width, it made up in length. Rows and rows of art lined the walls, some paintings, others photography, and there were even some 3D pieces.
“Wow.” Ellie says under her breath, so utterly mesmerized by the amount of exploring available to her and so busy scanning the room that she doesn’t notice Aster watching her.
Paul has already shuffled forwards seemingly under the same spell as Ellie. He crosses the room and pauses next to one of the 3D pieces protruding out of the wall. There’s a little white slip taped to the wall, no doubt an explanation of the piece to which he pays no mind. The piece is certainly… fascinating. Dark copper wires as thick as Ellie’s fingers tangle to form a cylindrical object with a cap on the end. Honestly, Ellie thinks it kind of looks like a…
Paul turns back towards them after craning his head to get a good look.
Wow. He mouths, pointing at the piece. It was impossible to hear him with the space between them and Ellie’s legs still glued to the ground.
Sausage? Ellie reads.
She glances at Aster and sees her biting her lip to keep back a smile. They turn towards each other, laughing silently. A boy with curly hair, square glasses, and a collared shirt tucked into his pants comes up to Paul and sticks out his hand which Paul bewilderingly shakes.
“That’s the artist. Colin.” Aster murmurs. “I’m sure he’ll tell him all about his… sausage.”
Ellie huffs out a laugh at that, shaking her head as she watches Colin wave his hands in the air. He really didn’t waste any time. People mill about, usually in groups, chattering among themselves and the general vibe of the gallery is rather homey. A young woman tugs a man along eagerly but the hand and for a moment, Paul and Colin are completely obscured.
“Do you want to see my section?” Aster asks, almost timidly Ellie notices as she turns back, with her hands crossed behind her.
Ellie nods and Aster smiles. Once again, Ellie finds her wrist wrapped in Aster’s fingers as she tugs Ellie towards the other side of the studio. White walls serve as dividers and don’t extend all the way across the entire width of the studio. They separate the room into sections, allowing visitors to walk freely from exhibit to exhibit. But Ellie hardly notices the paintings and people milling about, so focused on the way Aster’s fingers are burning into her skin.
If you’d told her that she would be willingly walking through a room filled with rich people and expensive art, she would have laughed her ass off. The Ellie Chu’s of this world weren’t supposed to interact with the Aster’s and Colin’s, and Ellie thinks that the very fact that she is standing in this room must have still been left unprocessed by her brain because there is no logical explanation for how she isn’t out the door by now. The net value packed into just this one section would probably be enough to put her through college and the sheer wealth stands out so much that Ellie can almost smell its stench, acrid and unpleasant, through her nose.
They stop at the very end of the studio where there’s a door on one side that’s marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL” in menacing sans-serif font. The door itself blends in well with the rest of the wall, however, and Ellie wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the glint of a door handle and matching silver hinges. A gentle tug on her hand brings her attention back to the girl in front of her and with a start, Ellie realizes that she’s talking.
“-but at least they’re finished. What do you think?” Aster turns around to look at her nervously.
And for the first time, Ellie lets herself take in the rest of the section, less crowded with pieces this time. Five tall paintings and one small one line the wall, evenly spaced, and small descriptions stick right next to each. This section is a lot quieter as most of the people group towards the entrance, leaving them alone except for the company of an elder couple surveying the piece farthest from them. Ellie takes a step towards the one hanging directly in front of her and stares. It’s… well, it’s amazing.
It’s an oil painting this time, unlike the cheap acrylics Aster had used at Squahamish. Bold, solid tones blended together in swirls, each stroke distinct enough to give texture to the painting, yet complimentary to its surrounding strokes such that they all come together to form a cohesive image. It’s a vase filled with sunflowers against a grassy field larger than any Ellie has ever witnessed herself. The flowers are craning upwards, but away from the sun, Ellie notes, as if it were too blinding. The painting itself is filled with colors so bright that it was getting hard for Ellie to keep looking at it, so she moves to the next one.
One by one, she moves down the row of paintings, slowly, afraid of missing even the smallest detail. Aster trails behind her silently, letting her take in the artwork on her own.
The first one is the only painting that is bright. All of the other ones use muted, pastel tones that feature scenes unlike any she had seen in the city. Rolling plains of green, blots of colorful flowers, tall trees swirling with earthy tones and so bumpy with texture that Ellie is tempted to reach out and touch it. She pauses next to one of the larger paintings. Her gaze scans over the hills upon hills of green and the blue sky with fluffy white clouds. It was such a stark contrast to the usual city palette that Ellie catches herself wondering what Aster’s inspiration could have been. Where is this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.
It’s like Aster can read her mind or maybe Ellie had simply been standing next to this painting for a really long time (she’d lost track), but for the first time Aster speaks up.
“They’re of my grandparent’s house in Portland. I grew up there before I moved to the city for high school.” She regards the paintings fondly and Ellie can practically see the memories in her mind swirling around the room. “I miss it sometimes.”
Ellie swallows. She’d love to be living somewhere like that instead of this city.
“They’re really good.” Ellie turns towards Aster again who is still caught in her own world. “Great. Amazing, actually.”
She stumbles over her words and flushes. That breaks Aster from her thoughts and she faces Ellie with a smile. “Good, maybe. Great? I wouldn’t say so yet.”
Ellie quirks an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, has anyone ever told you what the difference between a good and great painting is?”
“I don’t think so, no. Though Gustave Courbet would say it’s whether he painted it or not.”
Ellie catches the brief flicker of surprise on her face before Aster laughs, bright and abrupt. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was talking to an art connoisseur.”
“I read.” Ellie shrugs and her lips tilt upwards.
“Well, I’m going to have to contradict Mr. Courbet,” Aster laughs. “Because I was taught that the difference between a good painting and a great painting is the five boldest strokes.”
Ellie frowns. Behind them the old couple shuffles out of Aster’s section, leaving them alone. In the back of her mind she wonders what time is it and frets that they’ve stayed too long and are now going to get into trouble for missing dinner. Impatiently, she pushes that out of her mind. Davis will have to deal with this being the one day out of the year in which I might not be present at dinner.
“How do you know which strokes those are?”
“You don’t. You just have to be bold and make those strokes that you think will be the best and if you make too little or too many or just the wrong ones, you ruin the whole painting.” Aster has turned back to the canvas again with a small frown, as if she is frustrated with the fact that is not perfect, yet indecisive on whether or not it would be a good idea to continue adding to it. “That’s why so many artists are just average. They’re not willing to ruin something that’s already good for something that could be better.”
“I didn’t at least.” She mumbles. “I’m too afraid of ruining everything, even though I admit there is a certain appeal to it.”
Then, turning back towards Ellie suddenly, she asks, “I mean, have you ever just known that something you do could ruin everything, and then said ‘fuck it’ and done it anyways?”
Ellie meets her eyes steadily and gulps. She runs her gaze over the beautiful curls framing Asters face and her clear, smooth skin. Trails across the space between her two dimples and the pink of her lips. Meeting you again, voluntarily, even though you still might turn me in because strangely, we’ve never talked about that day I stole $600 from your friend, even though we both are clearly aware of it. Does that count?
Unfortunately, Ellie doesn’t get an answer because she never gets the chance to ask the question. In that moment, Paul comes barging in, face so red that Ellie actually looks at him in concern.
“Oh my god.” He whisper-shouts. “Did you see that statue in the front? The one with the wires I was standing under? I thought that was a sausage, but it was supposed to be a condom!”
Aster laughs at his mortified expression and Ellie has to join in. The look on his face is too priceless. They spend the next few minutes walking with Paul down the row of Aster’s paintings again and listening as he comments on each one enthusiastically. Aster blushes at his praise and Ellie has to look down as something funny twists itself into her stomach. She gives them both a little space, trailing a little behind as Paul points excitedly to different parts of the paintings and Aster explains her inspiration to him. He looked at the luscious landscapes with a similar level of awe as Ellie and Ellie smiles to herself as she sees, not for the first time, how similar they truly are on the inside. Eventually, Ellie checks her watch and realizes that it’s time they head back. Paul bounds down the stairs like a child, taking a deep breath of fresh air at the bottom. That boy could not be kept indoors for long. There are more people marching up the stairs and Ellie has to wait her turn. When the last person pushes past her, she gets ready to descend, but a hand on her arm stops her.
“Wait.” Ellie turns around and finds Aster digging in her pocket for something before she pulls out a card.
“I’m sorry that we spent so much time in my section. You didn’t even get a chance to see the other paintings!” Aster hands her the card and on it, Ellie can see her contact information printed in neat, black letters. “If you ever want to check out everything else, I’m here working in the back room most days after school. You can stop by if you’d like or you can just text me. I… really enjoyed talking to you today.”
If Ellie looks closely, maybe she could see a light dusk of pink across Aster’s cheeks, but she doesn’t and instead, reaches out to take the card and tucks it safely into her coat pocket.
“See you, Aster.” Ellie shoots her a smile that feels a little awkward, and bounds down the stairs after Paul, face completely red.
//
A week goes by and she doesn’t text her. She really doesn’t.
Until Paul does.
“Well, if you’re still not going to do it, give me her number because I want to send her pictures of that art magazine.” Paul reaches out across her lap for the card, but Ellie snatches it away.
“Nuh uh, she gave it to me in case we wanted to go back and keep looking at all the art, don’t abuse it.” And even more pressingly, even though she didn’t dare think, Aster might have given the card to her because she wanted to hear from Ellie, not anyone else.
“I won’t, I won’t. I’m just going to send one picture and maybe a ‘hi Aster.’ But also I should probably write ‘this is Paul Munsky from Squahamish’ or else she won’t know it’s me.”
It’s only because he’s stretching so far into her space that they’re threatening to topple out of Ellie’s rickety bed that Ellie gives in.
“Fine.” She places the card gently in his hand, cringing as he crinkles it immediately as shifts to take out his phone from his back pocket. Ellie watches his fingers dash rapidly across the screen and finally blue text boxes balloon out in the window.
Ellie groans as the blue boxes grow more and more. “Paul, you said one text.”
He grins up at her sheepishly and Ellie rolls her eyes.
“Okay, now that you’re done disturbing my peace, let’s keep reading for a bit longer before lights out.”
“Okay.”
He picks up his book, a dusty and cracked version of the Grimm’s fairy tales that they found under a pile of donations. Ellie, herself, is reading Wuthering Heights in which she still struggles to decide on whether or not she detests or relates to Heathcliff. Maybe both. They’re not entirely mutually exclusive after all. Besides her, Paul shifts anxiously. Ellie frowns into her book and buries herself deeper into the covers, determined to get through Part 1 tonight. She only has 30 more pages to go and that could hardly be another 15 more minutes of reading for her. But then of course, she had to take into account that reading with Paul meant it would take her twice as long as usual, but 30 minutes still puts her just under curfew time.
“Do you think I overwhelmed her?” Paul frets.
“Probably.” Ellie mumbles, eyes still rapidly scanning the page. She’s only halfway down when Paul interrupts her again.
“Do you think she’ll reply?”
Ellie sighs, letting her book flop down on her lap. “She will. I was just teasing. She’s probably just in the middle of something right now.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, honestly. Whatever rich people do in their free time.”
“So like,” Paul scrunches up his face thinking, “Reading?”
Ellie laughs. “Sure. Definitely. Although I was thinking more expensive things like… I don’t know, burning last week’s clothes ‘cause they’re out of style or… driving around sports cars with the mufflers off.”
Paul wrinkles his nose. “Do you think you’d like those things even if you were rich, Ellie.”
“No,” Ellie grins at him and he grins back.
“Neither would I.”
The shrill ding from Paul’s phone blares out into the room and they both dive towards the device. Paul grabs it first and fumbles to unlock the home screen, smirking at how her eagerness betrayed her in the moment. “Thought you said you didn’t want to text her?”
Ellie flushes and glares at him. “Well, now that you have, I want to know what she said.”
They both huddle over the screen.
Paul: Hey Aster!! It’s Paul from the other day [grinning emoji]
Paul Munsky
Paul: The one from Squahamish haha
I found this art mag that I thought you’d like, look at all the cool portraits!! [smiling emoji] [smiling emoji]
[image attached]
Anyways just wanted to say hi!!!!
Aster: Haha, hello Paul! Did you get my number from Ellie?
Ellie groans into the blankets bunched around her. “Thanks a lot. Now she’s going to think that I’m going around giving her number to random people.”
“Why don’t you just text her yourself and explain then?” Paul responds, grinning. He was already typing away at his reply and Ellie mumbles something under her breath about how every act of care is an inadvertent risk.
“What is she saying? I don’t get it.” Paul furrows his eyebrows and stares at the screen like it had transformed into a complex math problem. Ellie peeks up from her blankets to see him with his head cocked and fingers stalled, hovering over the screen like goal posts.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. She’s going on about some animals and phantoms?”
Ellie frowns and grabs the phone from him.
Paul: Did you like the pictures?
Aster: They’re amazing! The fourth one is so moving. Reminds me of the summer
“They crossed before the sun like burnt phantoms with legs of the animals kicking up the spume”
Ellie scrolls up and glances at the painting. Before she could even register her actions, she was already typing back a response.
Paul: Cormac McCarthy.
Not a usual summertime fantasy though. Unless you’ve spent summers engaging in gang violence?
Ellie waits as the three dots seem to appear and then disappear many times over. She bites her lip, thinking maybe she had gone too far in accusing her of crime when she was probably over there remembering the market.
Aster: Ha! Definitely did not appear in my summer plans and never will. But for such a horrific storyline, his writing is really beautiful. Better than high-school level us?
Paul: Maybe. Who’s to say we won’t reach his level one day?
Aster: We certainly can. But for now, we’ll just have to enjoy his well-painted imagery.
Paul: Well-painted yes. But also maybe not good enough to beautify scalp-hunting.
Aster: Definitely not.
Paul: Then I rest my case.
Ellie is still smiling to herself when she clicks the phone off and tosses it onto the bed in between them. It’s only when she glances at Paul to find him staring at her weirdly does she school her expression back to her natural pout.
“What?”
“Uh,” Paul stops, shaking his head “No, no, nothing.”
Ellie huffs, tugging her book back onto her lap. She decides to let it slide this time because she really really wants to finish this last part and her time is almost running out. Paul stands and stretches, a series of cracks filling the room. He yawns and reaches under his shirt to scratch his stomach.
“I’m gonna head back. Coach made us run extra drills today and I’m burnt.”
“Okay.” Ellie says, glancing away from her book momentarily. “Have a good night.”
“Yeah, goodnight Ells.”
The lights click off after some point, but Ellie has already managed to finish the end of part one. She’s tucked in, listening to the dull humming of the power generator whir through the walls, and lets herself drift off to sleep. It’s only in the morning does she click off her alarm and find a text from an unknown number displayed on the cracked screen.
Aster: Next time, text me from your own phone.
//
She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow, they start texting every day. Ellie’s heart had flipped when Aster admitted to asking Paul for her number because “you obviously weren’t going to text me yourself, so of course I had to do all the work.” And it was getting harder and harder to maintain her usual guarded grounds when it came to dealing with pretty girls and rich people, both categories of which Aster fell into.
They talk about random things: school, literature, food, what they did that day. Never anything serious, but at some point, Ellie starts looking forward to, no, craving their interactions. She sits in class staring at the clock, wishing impatiently for the hands to move faster, gives up reading in lieu of texting Aster late into the night, and for the first time since grade school, misses the opening line to the yearly The Godfather showing in the recreation room because Aster was in the middle of a dramatic rendition of her latest tutoring session with an especially annoying boy.
Things in Ellie’s life dramatically improved during that brief period before winter fully hit. First, the school cancelled their volunteer-based tutoring program because the head tutor was caught having inappropriate relations with one of the girls he was tutoring. A flood of business presented itself to Ellie just a few hours later and damn if rich people didn’t move fast. It’s like they get worried when there’s nowhere to burn their money, as if without the consistent funnel of cash flowing out of their pockets, they would simply swell up like a balloon and burst.
Ellie was happy to take their money, and she found herself working harder than she has ever worked, tutoring two or three or sometimes even four kids a day before taking the bus home just in time to catch dinner and work on her own homework before passing out and starting the day again. But she was bringing in bank, like $60 a day on average. Whatever time she had left, she would spend with Paul, planning out their new life at one of the public library computers. Paul didn’t have the same amount of luck as Ellie, but she was never gladder to have him as her family. They've never fully said the words, but that’s what they were to each other because they always had each other’s back. She could tell that he was getting more and more antsy, though, when Ellie’s total savings continued to increase in the notebook they were using to keep track while his remained the same or sometimes even decreased when he gave into a particular desire and splurged. It was almost always food.
That was another place that Ellie trumped him. Not only was she fortunate enough to have a pretty stable source of earnings, she also was the master of saving. Not a penny left her hands once she had managed to get ahold of it. Whatever cravings, be it Yakult from the Chinatown grocery store on sale or the yummy Peking chicken cheaper by the pound, Ellie let go of it all. There was nothing more important than finding a place for herself.
The other thing going for her was that she had been accepted into a special program that her high school provided to pay for college applications of students from low-income families. Paul had picked her up, yelling so loud that Davis himself had come running to the room.
“Ellie’s gonna get into college!” Paul had yelled at him excitedly, with Ellie still slung over his shoulder, beating his back to let her back down.
But she must have had extra adrenaline pumping through her blood from all that spinning because she actually sat down and registered to several college application portals after Paul had finally set her down.
And, of course, there was Aster. Ever-supportive Aster who encourages her to apply to colleges and sends her pictures of her cat. (Many of those pictures were saved in her phone. Because she likes the cat of course, not the human wrapped around it.) And deny as she might, Ellie was slowly, but surely getting over her fear of Aster turning her in (which is still alarming, don’t get her wrong, Ellie is still very much prepared for the worst), and gradually accepting that what they have between them is slowly developing into a full-blown friendship. It’s unlike anything she has known before—Ellie had always been a bit of a loner growing up, with the exception of Paul’s friendship of course. But having someone else to talk to, someone who didn’t already know everything about her since she was just a snot-faced kid in baggy clothes, was... refreshing, good, great even.
Aster: So I was thinking on your non-religious tendencies. What do you believe in then if you don't believe in god?
Ellie: You make it sound like a crime.
Aster: Ellie, it's a sin.
Ellie: Haha
I don't know i'm just a heat han.
Heater
Heathen
Why can't I type that word.
Aster: It's God telling you that you're doing wrong.
Ellie rolls her eyes at the screen, laughing quietly. Paul turns to look at her, scooping more fries into his mouth and chewing loudly.
"Who are you talking to?" He asks, trying to peek at her phone. She turns it away from him and pushes his shoulder lightly.
"None of your business." She says, still smiling.
"Okay." He pouts, rolling his eyes and turning back to his food. "Whatever."
Ellie doesn't really hear him, already looking down at her screen again.
Aster: Haha, I'm just teasing
Come back
Ellie: Sorry, Paul was distracting me.
He'd agree with you though.
Very religious, that boy.
He was Jesus in the school play.
Aster: Oh gosh, truly a horrifying thought
But I do find it necessary to tell you that I played Eve in our church's rendition of Adam and Eve
My costume was literally a giant cotton ball because Eve didn't have clothes and I couldn't show up naked so they made me wear clouds
Ellie full-on laughs at that. The thought of little Aster rolled into a ball of cotton was just too endearing.
"Who is it?" Paul whines, craning to see her phone again.
She clicks it off and slides it into her pocket, shaking her head at him and going back to the meal in front of her. And for the first time, she doesn't really notice how bland the patty is or how soggy the fries turned out.
//
But like all good and prosperous periods, the calm before the storm, it’s very short-lived and things come crumbling fast.
It begins like this: fall bleeds into winter. The temperature drops like crazy, and the clothes that she was getting from donations weren’t enough. It’s so bad this year that reports of the “coldest winter” in the City are being circulated on all sorts of platforms. Ellie sees it on the TV in the recreation room.
It’s only the beginning of November and it’s already so cold that her hands are turning purple and she’s waking up shivering with massive headaches. Finally, when Paul gets pneumonia and hacks up a lung in the medical center, Ellie’s resolve cracks and for the first time, she opens the carefully sealed envelopes of cash in her duffle and buys them both thick jackets, hats, gloves, and an extra pair of pants. It cost her $150 in total from the local thrift store, but when Paul gets better after two long weeks in bed, his tired smile is enough to make it worth it.
The homeless population is dying on the streets. There’s nowhere to go and the shelters have long since filled up. So when Ellie walks past an old man crying in the alleyway, she grits her teeth, marches back, and hands him a $20 for warm food and a chance to survive another day.
And when that envelope opens, it’s hard to shut again. Ellie finds the money slipping through her fingers like water.
Then, she’s the one that gets sick, and for a week, she’s unable to attend school much less than tutor kids. Even if she could physically get out of bed, there was no way the parents would let her anywhere near their kids. Paul sits with her patiently, telling her that it’s fine because she needed to take a break anyways. Nevertheless, her throbbing head, the thick mucus suffocating her, and the goddamn persistent cold was just a constant reminder of how much of a set-back this was and hot tears pour down her cheek. Paul grabs her hand and slides into bed with her, wiping away her tears carefully. He reminds her that he's there for her- that they're family and they'll get through it together. It was just so stupid when, in her 17 years of existence, things were finally going right, the universe has to remind her that the happiness she has is only temporary, like she’s running on borrowed success. It’s just so hard sometimes—that’s it.
She recovers though, like she always does: miraculously. Then she pushes out of her bed and doesn’t look back on the past month that they’ve lived through. But then her business slows. The booster clubs fundraises for the return of volunteer tutoring with the condition that a new head tutor be selected. Even though Ellie is singlehandedly tutoring about half of the demand for tutors, she simply doesn’t have the capacity to deal with the other half. News comes out second week of November and Ellie swears the entire way home. If the onslaught of cold weather threw a wrench in their plans, the loss of their entire source of income practically threw any hope of living on their own out the window.
And maybe it’s the fact that it was speed bump after speed bump for a long while now that she hesitates when Aster full on asks her one day to come see her at the studio.
Aster: What are you up to rn?
Ellie: I have tutoring in five.
Aster: And after? Thought you said business was slowing, Ms. Rise-And-Grind.
Which, okay, intensely hypocritical, because Aster worked just as hard as Ellie. It’s not her fault that Aster is having a slow week while Ellie is just getting back into it. Nevertheless, Ellie bites her lip to keep back the grin that’s threatening to spread across her face.
Ellie: Only one today.
Aster: Oooh okay.
Ellie watches as Aster types and then stops, and then starts again.
Aster: You should come visit me at the studio. I’ll be there until late night.
Ellie closes her eyes, exhaling forcefully. She has to admit that it tempts her. In truth, she wants nothing more than to see Aster after a long week of work on work on more work, and just lean her head on her shoulder as they discuss more classics and the wonders of the world. But the reality is that their worlds are so different, and right now, the world of Ellie Chu is on fire.
Ellie: I’m sorry, but I can’t. Paul and I have to study.
She’d hoped Aster would drop it, but she doesn’t miss a beat.
Aster: Hmm, more of this mysterious studying. Are you two up to no good again?
Ugh. If only she knew. Ellie shakes her head as the classroom door creaks open. Her 3 o’clock appointment was here.
Ellie: Always. But then again what could we get up to in the grand scheme of things.
Aster: Plotting my murder? I know you’re fond of Belle. Maybe you’re trying to get me out of the way so that you can get her all to yourself.
Ellie actually laughs out loud at that. Planning to steal a cat was the last thing on her very long list of things to do, but before she can reply, a throat clears from beside her. Ellie looks up and sees her ‘student’ standing by the door, clearly unsure whether or not to sit down yet.
“Hi Maria, come sit. Sorry I was just texting… a friend.” Ellie says, pocketing her phone. The girl shuffles forwards, still looking at her weirdly and Ellie touches her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Maria says. She adverts her eyes and drops her bag to the ground. “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”
Ellie frowns. “What?” She’s sure she must have… Then again, these few weeks have been tough.
“Sorry.” Maria mumbles, clearly picking up on Ellie’s discomfort. “Didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just, you look a lot prettier when you laugh.”
Ellie flushes and takes in the bright blue of her eyes and her sparkly lip gloss. Honestly, Maria’s a pretty girl if Ellie were forced to evaluate. Her phone vibrates on the table again and it startles her. Ellie makes no comment and moves to click off the screen.
“Is that someone special you’re texting then?” Maria asks casually while stooping down to grab her notebook.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ellie mutters distractedly, mind back on the task at hand and fingers pulling her hair back so that she can redo her pony tighter. Back to business.
//
By far the worst thing that happens reveals itself when she sees Paul later that day with his head ducked under the bed as he rummages for something.
Ellie never knocked, simply let herself in most days and today is no different. She slips in quietly and takes in the heavily decorated room. Compared to hers, Paul’s room is an entirely different universe. Posters line the walls, covering any free space. Letters and pictures are stuck in between the cracks and scattered across his desk. Trinkets, toys, and other junk that he’d taken a liking to are piled up in various corners of the room and clothes are strewn all over the bed. Even though it’s far too messy for Ellie’s taste, she still enjoys how undeniably homey the place feels, much warmer and more welcoming than the barren space of her own. The night-lamp is on, but a thin jacket is draped over it because it’s after curfew and any sign that they’re awake could get them in trouble with Davis.
The door closes with a gentle click behind her. “What are you doing?”
Paul’s head jerks up and hits the underside of the bed with a thwack.
“Ow! Ellie,” He hisses in pain and grabs his head with both hands. “What are you doing here?”
Packets of… something spill onto the ground and Ellie doesn’t get a chance to take a good look before Paul snatches them and shoves them back into a bag that Ellie has never seen before. The fact that she doesn’t recognize it should have been the biggest clue that it meant trouble because spending over 13 years together meant that all of Paul’s stuff was basically hers.
“What do you mean what am I doing? Today’s Thursday, our planning night.” Ellie pads over to him as he gives up trying to zip up the bag and pushes it further under his bed, out of sight.
“Sorry, I totally forgot.” He looks anywhere but at her and Ellie narrows her eyes.
“What is that?” She reaches a foot under the bed and nudges at the package.
“Nothing.” Paul says, a beat too fast. He rubs his head absentmindedly. “Coach gave us some new apparel and I was just trying it on.”
“Oh, okay. Can I see?”
“Uhh,” Paul stands from his crouched position and moves to clear a space on the bed for their planning session. “It’s nothing new. It’s just the same one as the one I have in my closet… well, the one on my bed.”
Ellie scoffs. “Paul, you’re literally always so excited to get new apparel. Let me just-”
She squats down and reaches for the bag, but Paul’s hand shoots out with surprising speed and wraps around her wrist. She looks up and his face has lost all the mirth and gentleness that she has known from Paul since grade school.
“I’m serious, Ellie.” He says. “Drop it.”
And a part of her wants to. His fingers loosen around her wrist as she nods once, and Ellie stands slowly. But just as he makes a move to step back, a flurry of movement has him back into her space, hands grabbing hers again. But that was the plan all along and with a swipe of her leg, foot looping into one of the bag straps, she jerks the bag out from the darkness and into the dull light of the lamp. Packets and packets of white powdery substance spills onto the ground in a trail from the main source and Paul curses loudly.
His hands let go of hers as he immediately stoops down with his arms held wide, shielding the bag from her with his body.
“NO!” He yells and starts talking at a thousand words per minute. Ellie makes out two large packs of white flour surrounded by a thick layer of clear wrap. Illegible scrawl is sharpied across the front. Ellie’s mind is reeling and she has almost entirely tuned out Paul’s chattering. She advances slowly and Paul’s eyes widen and he waves his arms around more frantically like cornered prey. She barely registers the footsteps outside.
“Shut up, Paul.” Ellie hisses urgently. They made too much noise. Paul doesn’t seem to hear her, still spewing random sentences that Ellie can’t be bothered to try and make sense out of right now. “I’m serious. Paul, we’re-”
Loud knocking reverberates throughout the room effectively sending them both into silence. Then, they both move at once, together, and they’re a team again. Ellie tugs open the closet door and spins inside, leaving a tiny gap for light to seep in so that she doesn’t get claustrophobic (the last time had not been pretty). Paul shoves the bag and all its contents back under his bed in one, swift movement. A knock sounds again. From the gap in the closet door, Ellie can see him rearranging the blankets frantically and kicking off his shoes and socks off in a single move. He reaches to click off the lamp before shuffling towards the door with his head drooping. He opens it to one of the supervisors.
“Paul? Are you okay?” Ellie hears.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, what’s going on?”
“I thought I heard some yelling coming from your room. Was that you?”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” Paul responds with exaggerated regret and Ellie rolls her eyes into the darkness. “I must have screamed again in my sleep. I get really bad nightmares sometimes.”
Ellie holds her breath.
“Okay, do you need anything?” The supervisor says, concerned.
“No, no. I’m just tired. If it’s alright with you, I’ll just go back to sleep.”
“Of course, goodnight.”
As soon as the door clicks, Ellie pushes out of the closet and into the free space again. She clicks on the lamp again and inhales deeply before spinning to face Paul, still standing by the door.
“Close call.” He murmurs, still not looking at her.
“Mhm.” Ellie crosses her arms in front of her body and they stand there in silence. Paul fidgets, but doesn’t stray from his post by the door as if Ellie’s gaze is physically keeping him there. Finally, he can’t stand the silence anymore.
“I didn’t have a choice.” He hushes. “I don’t have any way to get money, and your birthday is coming up soon, and when we finally made progress again, we lost it all. How are we going to make it out of here unless I do something?”
“Drugs, Paul?” Ellie hisses. “That’s what you choose? There are a billion other ways to make money with a lot less risk and you know that!”
“Like I said, I don’t have a choice.” Paul moves towards her with his hands held out on either side, palms facing the sky. “We need this money and our time is running out. And we need more if you’re going to college-”
“Oh drop it. I told you I’m not going to college, dammit!” Ellie whispers furiously, stepping forward as well. They’re in each other’s faces again. “We’re doing fine. We have a decent amount saved right now, and, and. We’ll have the rest by next spring.”
“How? Ellie, you’re losing clients and don’t say that you aren’t,” he says as Ellie opens her mouth to refute him. “I’ve seen your notebook, and trust me, this will put us ahead again.”
He drops his hands to Ellie’s shoulders. “I promise this will work.”
But Ellie twists out of his grip. “Yeah, all it takes is for one job to go wrong or for you to get curious and take some of that stuff and we’ll be way worse off than we were.”
“Don’t be silly. I won’t take it.”
“That’s what they all say! It’s a risk and we have to treat it like it is! And how much is your cut anyways. There’s no way they’re going to give you a fair portion.” Ellie is getting more and more angry as the situation reveals countless potholes more like giant cliffs they could hurtle down.
“Well, it’ll be enough to cover what we need. With your money from tutoring and if I take this re-homing request while bringing in a fair share of money, we’d only need to reach $5000 and if we have extra, you can go to school.” He says excitedly, but Ellie was stuck on one word. “We could do this. Ellie?”
Ellie takes a step back, away from him and he scrunches his eyebrows together.
“What did you say?” She whispers. Her hands are out, clenching and unclenching. Paul looks at her confused and she sees the gears in his head work to recall what he had just said and the moment it clicks. The lamp flickers casting shadows across his face and in the moments of darkness, Ellie could swear she was seeing an entirely different person altogether.
“Oh shit.” Paul’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, no.”
But Ellie just continues to stand there. “You got rehomed.”
Paul looks at her with eyes pleading for understanding. “It’s not like that.”
“But answer me. Did you get rehomed or not?” Ellie cuts him off and he just stares at him as he opens his mouth and closes it with no words coming out. It was confirmation enough.
“You did.” Ellie says flatly, eyes dart to the door. Paul catches her glance and takes a step so that he’s in between her and her escape if she chooses to take it. “When were you planning to tell me?”
“I don’t want to take it. I just thought, if I did though, you could go to college…”
Tears of frustration are blurring her vision as she continues to back up. The world swirls such that Paul is just another blurry figure, indistinct and featureless.
“So you were about to take the offer, and get placed into a new home with a new family,” her back hits the wall and she shuffles slowly to the side. “All without telling me.”
Paul opens his mouth, eyes filled with regret, but Ellie continues on.
“You were about to deal drugs like every other kid on the streets and get locked up because you thought your money would be of more value to me than you?” Her shoulder bumps into the cold glass of the window and her hands come around behind her back to press against its smooth surface, creating imprints as the steam fogs up the area around her palm.
“Go be with your new family.” She spits, tears spilling down her cheeks. Behind her, her fingers fumble at the window latch. “Because as of today, we’re not family any longer.”
Before Paul could register what she was doing, she already had the window opened and then it was too late. She hears his shout, like it traveled through tons and tons of molasses, and launches herself out of the window, ignoring the way the ice pulls apart the skin of her fingers as she slides down a drainage pipe and runs.