"Everyone thinks that we're perfect...
Please don't let them look through the curtains."

__
"Royce? Hey, uh...Royce?"

"What the fuck, Calum? Royce whisper-yells, the light from her phone blinding her. "It's fucking four in the morning!"

"I know, I know," he sighs. "I just...I didn't have anyone else to call."

Royce lets out a loud, long sigh as she falls against the mattress. "What is it?" She asks.

"Can you come get me? I really..."His speech is slightly slurred, as if he's been smo-no, wait, as if he's been drinking. "I really really need a ride."

"Where are you?" Royce asks, because it must just be one of those nights, apparently - it's one of those nights she just can't catch a break. "Do you know the address?"

"Bliss," Calum replies. "I'm at-" He hiccups. "I'm at fuckin' Bliss."

"The club?" Royce exclaims.

"Yeah."

"God. What the fuck're you doing there, Calum?"

"Long-ass story. Can-can you just come?"

"Be there in twenty," Royce replies, and Calum pauses over the line.

"Thanks - thanks, Royce."

She hums. "Don't move."

"I won't," he chuckles. "I'm staying, I'm staying..."

"See you in a sec, Calum," and Royce hangs up the line, pushing herself from bed. She throws on some boots and a hoodie and a scarf because there's no fucking way she's putting on a bra, slipping the scarf from her head and tiptoeing downstairs for someone's keys because she's about to sneak out of the house and there is no way to explain to her parents what the hell's going on if she gets caught.

Not tonight, at least.
__

"Ready, Royce?" asked Tobe as he, Paige and Royce all exited the school building.

It was finally Friday.

And Royce had only let out a sigh as Paige popped the trunk on her A4.

"As I'll ever be, I guess," she'd replied.

Paige had only rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Pops. This is needed, okay? Dina just misses you, is all."

"Says you," Royce grit, because all day she'd been trying to contain her anxiety for this whole situation. All day, she'd been dreading this time right now as the day completely ended and Royce had to face the music: her fucked-up, drug-addict mother was back in Seattle and there to see her. After all these years, she wanted to "check up" on her children and Royce thought that was some pretty low shit, when she'd all but left her and Chris to fend for themselves. "It's been twelve years and now she misses me? Get the fuck outta here with that, Paige!"

"Look, Pops-"

Royce groaned loudly, rolling her eyes as that nickname grated on her nerves. She threw her bag into the trunk. "What, Paige?"

Tobe hummed. "Takes less muscles to smile, Royce..."

"Shut the hell up, Buddha."

"Royce," Paige had laughed. "It's just dinner. You can make it through one dinner."

And Royce rolled her eyes again so hard they hurt this time, because she knew Paige just wouldn't understand. This wasn't just dinner to Royce like it was just dinner to Paige. This wouldn't be nearly as painful for her as it would be for Royce. Paige didn't know what it was like to have a mom who'd abandoned her, and that was obviously something Royce would never be able to get Paige to understand.

So, when Royce got home, she immediately went to her brother's room.

"Chris?" She'd called, knocking softly on his bedroom door. "You in there?"

"Come in."

She did, slipping quietly into the room and closing the door behind her.

Chris looked up from whatever he was doing on the computer. "Hey, Roycie."

"Chris," she smirked, walking silently to his bed. "Quit watching porn, ew," she'd teased, elliciting a short laugh from her brother. Chuckling to herself, she'd stretched out in the middle of her brother's mattress and extended all of her limbs as her brother watched her with amusement.

"Uh," he began, turning on a swivel in the chair at his desk. "What's up, girl?"

Royce shot him a quick glare, playful nature evaporating. "Really, Chris? What's up? C'mon. Let's use the power of deduction here."

He laughed. "Royce, if this is about Dina, then-"

"You're damn skippy it's about Dina," Royce snapped. "What'd you think?"

"Look, Royce you gotta chill-"

"Chill?" Royce laughed. "I'll chill when it's cold out. I'll chill when St. Augustine actually lets me skip Call to Prayer. Hell, I'll fucking chill and watch Netflix, Christian. Dina coming here to where I live does not make me want to chill."

"I'm not happy either, Royce," Chris said, "but I'm trying to make the best of it, alright? It's gonna go by way smoother and way quicker if you pretend like she wasn't-"

"Fuckin' terrible?" Royce snorted. "Uh huh. Okay."

Chris choked on a laugh. "You have no fuckin' chill, Royce."

"What?" She'd exclaimed, "Am I just supposed to forget she doesn't give a fuck about me? You're good with that?"

"Of course I'm not good with it, Royce," Chris retorted. "But, you've gotta grow up one day and realize you can't walk around here being mad at her forever."

Royce's teeth clenched. "That's part of 'growing up,' now, Chris?" She glared. "Didn't know that's what it meant to be a real adult. You're the shit, aren't you?" She exclaims, rising from the bed.

"Royce, you know I don't mean it like that-"

"Sure you do, Chris. You know everything, don't you? You know exactly how I'm feeling, 'cause you always do, right? You and Paige, you always know what's best for me, right? And now, you've only been in college for a few weeks but it's cool 'cause you're a brand new person, aren't you?"

"Royce," Christian had frowned, "where's all this coming from, girl?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," she huffed. "Fucking forget I said anything," she'd finished, stalking from the bedroom in a huff.

Yeah, okay, that was dramatic, thought Royce, as she ran her hand through her hair and stared angrily around the hallway, but fucking damn it, this wasn't fair. Was no one understanding how big of a deal this is to her? Was no one going to try to understand that you don't just invite the woman who left you and your brother at home alone for nearly ten days because she'd gone off chasing a high?

So, for about two hours, Royce lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore that bubble of anxiety in the pit of her stomach and couldn't help that her thoughts drifted from Chris - the dumbass - to Dina...

Royce was eight the second-to-last time she'd seen her.

By then, it had been four years since her dad remarried.

By then, it had been two years since her dad won full custody over her and Chris.

By then, it had been one year since Theresa adopted Royce and Chris as her own.

By then, it had been six weeks since Dina checked into a rehab facility.

By then, it had been mere months since the phonecall.

It had been months since Fairview Rehabilitation Center called her dad, telling him that Dina had been dying to see her children; telling him that Dina thought the only way to recovery was to reconnect with her kids.

And, as Royce's thoughts drifted to that day - a day she'd never forget, honestly - that's when she had the idea.

She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

There was someone who'd let her out of this dinner. There was someone who'd protect her from having to deal with her crazy-ass mother.

Royce knew there'd at least be one person who'd sympathize. Typically it's Paige who'll whine for their dad to give her what she wants, but today, Royce is playing the 'daddy's girl' card and damn it, she's going all in.

It's time to go big or go home.

Royce's dad, James, was the only other person besides Royce who had initially voiced his displeasure over dinner.

"You've had better ideas, Paige," he'd said the night Paige decided to drop that bomb on the house.

He'd also said some other stuff like, "You should've ran this by me, first," and "I'm really, very dissapointed," before their mom made him apologize because Paige, again, was "just trying to bring the family together."

Together, Royce's ass.

But, Royce realized in the moment she'd left her brother, that if there was one person in this house who'd let her get out of dinner, it was her dad. He knew firsthand how affected Royce would be by this. He knew exactly how she might have felt about this.

And Royce found her dad in his office. He was standing, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the passersby through the second-floor window.

Royce could tell immediately that there was something on his mind.

Considering the circumstances, Royce had to assume that he was also troubled by the thought of Dina.

Royce knocked softly on the door. "Daddy?"

He'd turned abruptly, smiling at once as he realized who brought this surprise.

"Royce," he'd grinned. "Come in. Have a seat."

And she did, plopping down into the chair.

"What's up, babe?"

"Daddy," she'd whined instantly. "I really, really can't do this dinner tonight."

Her dad nodded silently, turning back to the window. "Neither can I."

Royce took that as a good sign.

She continued, "Do I have to?"

And her father had only let out a long sigh. He shook his head, turning from the window to sit down in the chair at his desk. "I know this isn't easy for you."

"And Paige doesn't get it!" Royce exclaimed at once.

"I know," her father grit, jaw clenhed. "She means well, Roycie, but," he nodded, "I know."

"Daddy," Royce had continued, leaning forwards now, and clasping her hands, "please don't make me do this. Pretty pretty please?"

He'd sighed again, staring at Royce with tired brown eyes.

"Please?" She'd begged. This was serious, now. "Please please please? Daddy, last time just-"

"Say no more," James said, placing his steepled hands against his forehead."I replay that day and wish I..." His voice trailed off and James stared sadly at his daughter.

Finally, he shook his head.

"No, Royce," he said. "You don't have to do dinner."

And that bubble - that tiny bubble of anxiety - that Royce had been harboring in the chasms of her stomach seemed, in that moment, as a smile stretched across her face, to instantly and miraculously pop.

Royce was twelve, the last time she'd seen Dina.

She was twelve, the very last time she'd seen her biological mother.

"Come on, Poppy. We're. Going. Home."

"No," Royce had cried. There were tears -- real tears -- streaming down her face as Dina reached for her again and again, scratching her skin with long nails as she attempted to drag her daughter from the front office of her St. Augustine's middle school grounds.

Royce had been called to the office.

"Royce, your mom is here," her teacher had been told, and this was the message passed on as Royce sat in her class.

"Lucky," muttered Lola, as Royce had only laughed and grabbed her things, expecting to find Theresa waiting for her in the front office, waiting to tell her mom how surprised she was to be pulled early from class, except, there was a small nagging voice in the back of her head asking where was Paige? Chris had begun his first year on the high school campus, so she didn't expect him to get her. Usually, when she was pulled from school early, one of her older siblings came to her classroom first.

Royce knew something was wrong, but because she was excited, she'd ignored that inner voice of hers telling her to go back to class and wait for someone to come, when she ran right into Dina.

And the office was empty.

"C'mon, Poppy. Let's go."

Royce froze. In her school uniform and starch white shirt and penny loafers, her heart seemed to fall between her legs and hit the floor.

It'd been four years since she'd seen Dina before then at Fairview and that time hadn't been spectacular, either.

Royce's stomach sank. She wanted to throw up.

Instead, she shook her head softly. "No."

Dina had laughed out of shock. "No?" She'd taken a step towards her. "No?" Her oversized clothes hung from her unhealthily thin frame. "Girl, get that ass over here, now."

If Royce hadn't been frozen, she'd have ran back to class. If Royce knew where the principal was, she'd have called for him. All Royce knew was that she was alone in an office with her fucked up mother and had no idea where Sister Mary Magdalene, was at all.

"You're coming with me," Dina had slurred, her eyes red and bloodshot, breath smelling strongly of cigarettes.

"I'm not going with you!" Royce had exclaimed, the tears flowed more freely. She jerked and writhed beneath her grip. "Where's Daddy?"

"He's not here!"

"I want to go with Daddy!"

"That's too damn bad, Poppy!"

"Don't call me that!" Royce had screamed. "I'm not going with you!"

"You sure as hell're gonna do exactly what the fuck I say-"

"She's not going with you."

And what Royce remembered, quite vividly through her tears, was Sister Mary Magdalene's hands around Royce's shoulders, as she was, quite forcefully ripped from her mother's grip and shielded behind the - then - young woman's back.

"You're not an emergency contact for either of your children," she'd said, because Sister Mary had never seen this woman before at any PTA meeting or parent-teacher conference, so she'd stepped from her desk only to pull files specifically on Royce Greene and any adult associated with her. "So, I cannot allow you to remove this child from the premises," she'd finished, adding, "and I'm calling her parents."

And she'd also called the police.

Royce hadn't returned to class because she could not get herself together.

The principal had called both Christian from the high school and Paige from her classes and Tobe from his to keep Royce company before James and Theresa eventually showed up.

And by then, Dina was gone.

Yeah, "Fuck dinner," Royce muttered, as she happily called Kennedy, realizing that yeah, she had a right to say, 'Fuck Chris,' because she was the way she was because of Dina. So what, people called her a 'perfectionist' or a 'princess' or a 'killjoy' because she worked hard and got good grades. Royce didn't give a fuck. Yeah, the name-calling was annoying, but she pushed past it. At this point, it barely affected her.

Why?

Because Royce would rather work five hundred times harder and endure more teasing than let herself stoop anywhere near the level her mother had fallen to.

Over all things, Royce's biggest motivator, besides her siblings and her parents, was the woman who had given birth to her.

That would not be Royce.

Royce would not be Dina.

She would never, ever allow that shit to happen.

Which was why Royce was like, 'Whatever' when it came to Calum. That day in the janitors closet was good, she'd realized. It was necessary, she thought, because if people like Dina were the types of people Calum associated with, then Royce didn't need to be anywhere near that nonsense.

Fuck him...

...Even if she couldn't quite shake the feeling of his lips against hers...

Kennedy laughed over the line. "What up, chick?"

"Got plans, tonight?" Royce had grinned, because she'd thanked her dad a billion times before quickly calling up her bestie. She'd immediately checked the time: 6:30. She had an hour to get out of the house before Dina showed up.

Kennedy snorted. "What happened to you being all, 'I've got a family dinner,' and 'It's complicated,' and that other bullshit?"

"Got out of that, thank God," Royce exclaimed, because she was seriously so happy. "So, I'm literally down for whatever."

"True," Kennedy had laughed. "Alright, sweet! Girl's night let's goooo."

Royce had laughed. She'd be down to go to a party and she fucking hated parties, all to get away from her psycho mother. "Meet you at your place?"

"You're driving?"

"Yup," she'd exclaimed, popping her p. Her dad had given her the green light to take his car.

Kennedy had chuckled, offering a slow clap that Royce could hear over the line. "Ho-ho-ho-okay, Royce. I see you, Missy. You'd better go."

And Royce had only laughed, shaking her head as she threw on some different clothes and grabbed for extras just in case. "You're so extra, Kenn."

"Love you too," came her response. "Now, hurry up and getcha ass over here. Wanna meet Lola for dinner? She said her dad's buying."

"Hell yes," Royce replied, because honestly, she was seriously the happiest she'd been all day. She was ready to slip out of this house and avoid her brother and sister and anyone else who'd question where she was going, because the only thing that mattered to her, was that she got as far away from her place as possible.

And she did.

And Royce spent the night out with her friends, ignoring her sister's texts of, WHere ARE YOU? and also ignoring the calls and the other shit from Christian saying, I know you didnt leave me to do this on my own.

Royce decided to text Paige back once: Ask daddy, she said.

To Chris, she wrote: IT'S ALL PART OF GROWING UP REMEMBER????

And she also talked briefly to Tobe though, texting him a quick, Lemme know when she's gone Toblerone, because if there was one thing she loved about her younger brother, it was that even if he didn't understand why she was upset, he always had her back.

His response?

Gotchu fam.

And Royce went out and had a great time, actually. Her Friday night ended up being spent around her girlfriends who helped her forget all about her fucked up family life so she could enjoy the moment. She could enjoy her weekend just like everyone else without the same magnitude of issues to worry about.

And things happened perfectly, too, because just as she finished dinner, a text chimed through her phone.

She's gone. You can come home now.

It was from Tobe.

And Royce's thumbs lingered over the keyboard as she wondered exactly what she might say in response.

Thanks bff, she'd typed, before turning to her friends.

But, just to make sure...

"Hey, guys," she'd lifted her eyebrows, "Let's go get dessert."

__

Calum's standing on the corner about a block away from the nightclub.

Royce pulls up on him, spotting him almost immediately, since he's the kid that somehow doesn't fit against this backdrop of dilapidated buildings and crackheads and prostitutes all out like he really shouldn't be.

"Cal!" She calls, rolling down the window. "Calum!"

And he spots her, a little grin growing on his face before he jogs her way, backpack over his shoulder and bass in hand, and jumps into the car.

"Fuck, yes," he exclaims, rubbing his hands together and wiggling a little in the seat. "Heat."

"Yeah," Royce nods, watching as he puts on his seatbelt and she pulls from the curb. "Careful, though," she yawns. "My brother's a freak about his car."

"S'nice," Calum nods approvingly, staring at the interior of the Lexus. He turned to her, smirk on his face. "Where's your car, Royce?"

Royce snorts, peeling from the curb. "Ask my dad. He's all, 'Share with Paige since she's still here,'" se mimics, and Calum laughs softly, eyes heavy as he leans back against the seat.

"Sucks balls," he nods. "I share with Mali, too."

"Mali?"

Her turns to her. "Older sister," he nods. "So, when she's home I've got no ride."

And Royce laughs softly, before another thought crosses her mind. "You've got to direct me," she says. "I've got no idea where I'm going..."

"Oh yeah," Calum nods, sitting up and thanking every deity he knows that someone got him away from Emma and that nightclub. Ashton could fuck himself. So could Michael.

And Calum instructs Royce to his house, and as she turns onto his street, his bass falls heavily in the backseat.

"Almost thought you were lying to me about that," she says, motioning towards the back.

He grins, scrubbing his face with his hands.

He's fighting to keep his eyes open. "My bass, Royce?"

"Yeah," she laughs, pulling in front of his house.

"Offer still stands," he grins cockily, as his front door comes into view. "Y'know, since you wanna hear me play so bad."

She rolls her eyes, snorting loudly. "Whatever, Calum."

And he only smirks, grabbing onto the door handle. "Thanks, Royce," he nods. "Y'know, thanks a lot for the ride."

And while Royce is actually, kind of, maybe, sort of sad this ride is over, while she would like to ask what the fuck he's been doing out so late at this time of night, anyway, she doesn't, because she's truly very tired and at the end of the day, it doesn't even matter, right? Calum probably wouldn't tell her, anyway.

And, they weren't even friends.

"No problem," she says, watching him grab the bass from her backseat and closing the door behind him. "Bye, Calum."

And he sends her a final smirk and wave before he's stuffed his hands in his pockets, jogging around the back of the house to let himself in through the kitchen.

With him inside, Royce pulls the car from the curb. She turns up her music, Rihanna loud in her ears because without company, she's got to stay awake making it across town.

And as Royce pulls to the bottom hill of The Bluffs, when she's very nearly home and about three minutes from pulling into her driveway, she pulls the car back into the spot Christian had originally been parked in and grabs for her purse when her hand connects, not with leather, but with like, nylon.

"No way," she mutters, as she grabs the fabric, lifting a black backpack into the passenger seat.

The idiot left his shit in her brother's car.

"Bruh," she whines, because there's no way he wouldn't need this over the weekend. There was no way she could just give him this shit on Monday.

She pulls out her phone and tries calling him.

Voicemail.

"Shit," Royce curses, as the backpack vibrates in the seat beside her.

He left his phone in his backpack.

Calum left his phone in the car, too.

And Royce sits, wondering in the moment whether or not she risks getting into trouble tonight by turning around and going back to Calum's house...or, not?

Nah, she decides.

That shit'll wait until the morning.

So, Royce grabs the bag and hoists it over her shoulder, bringing with her Calum Hood's belongings.

And Royce realizes, as she tiptoes back into the house, that Calum's stuff'll be in her house for the second time, and tomorrow, she'll have to see him, too...

Lord, she thinks, as she climbs into bed, she hopes she can make this a quick trip.

She hopes.

__

but this next chapter though...

and that's allllll i'm gonna say *insert grinning devil face emoji*

comment and vote! those comments have me weakkkk.

dollhouse || melanie martinez