054
long live the queen bee

Nobody said it was going to be easy. Life, that was.

Bianca Prescott knew this and even so, she made the conscious decision that she wouldn't let her life end after her father's did.

What she didn't know was just how hard it would be.

Like the ocean, wave after wave, Life showed no mercy. Even the most mundane normalcies felt like bricks in her school bag or anchors instead of paperweights. Bianca was quickly learning that the calmest waters hid the most sinister rips andthe smallest of thunderclouds brewed the worst storms.

But Life, with some luck, threw a buoy and a little help along the way.

"I can't do it."

Bianca swallowed thickly, staring at the scattered papers across Pope's bed. Her grip tightened over her pen to hide her trembling hands when the boy glanced over his shoulder.

Pope pushed off the desk where he was scribbling away at his math homework and scooted his wheelie chair closer to the bed where Bianca sat with her legs tucked under her. They would do this, every couple of days while Cleo helped Heyward out at the shop.

With their textbooks scattered across the bedsheets and floors, study sessions with Pope became the only way Bianca could get anything done without being reminded of what she did. The silence of her bedroom couldn't be drowned out by even the loudest music blasting through her headphones.

Pope leaned forward on his chair, eyebrows furrowed, "It's asking you for the asymptotes of the hyperbola. So, all you gotta do is swap everything on the right side of the equal sign to the left side, change the negatives to positives, and vice versa- that's the quadratic equation. Then factor it out into intercept form and graph it."

Bianca blinked at the papers. Her throat tightened to the point she could hardly respond. Even if she could, what would she say?

That she should have never picked up this stupid AP class just because it looked good on her transcript? That there was no point in trying to get her life back together? That it wasn't math that was the problem, it was her?

Bianca's fists tightened over her school skirt, the muscles in her body taut. White noise roared in her ears and she let her hair drape over her face to shield it from Pope. She didn't even realize she was crying tears of frustration till one fell onto the page of her graph book.

Pope's eyes widened at the newly smudged ink, "Hey, hey- it's okay. We'll do it together. Look, here- let me just-" The boy reached for the pen but her voice stopped him.

"No, Pope, it's not that- it's-" Bianca wiped her burning cheeks with haste. She hated crying in front of people, "It's everything, I... I don't know."

Pope sat stunned, unsure of how to comfort her. He'd never seen Bianca cry so openly. Sure, maybe she shed a tear here and there but not like this. Never like this.

Cleo wasn't much of a crier and the one time he tried to hug Kiara when she was upset, she shoved him off. Pope didn't know what to do when people cried, let alone a girl.

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, Pope reached for the pen in her hand and placed it in the book before closing it. He put it to the side and shifted so he sat on the bed beside her.

Bianca sniffled softly, her heart aching. She wasn't even sure what she was crying about. It had been over six months since they returned from South America but everything still seemed so...overwhelming.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated for forcing Pope to be a witness to her breakdown, Bianca shook her head, "I'm sorry– I didn't mean to freak out on you. I'm just- I'll just-" She reached for her backpack at the foot of the bed but Pope took her wrist.

"What? No, what are you doing?" He shook his head. "Where are you going?"

"Pope," Bianca stared at him blankly, her eyes bloodshot and nose tinged a rosy hue. "I love you and I'm so grateful you sit with me and help me with homework and my essays and everything but this isn't working out," She explained tiredly. "You've got your shit together and I'm behind in like...everything. And I just keep adding more to my plate and I know I shouldn't but it's the only thing that takes my mind off-"

"Why would you think that?" Pope's voice cut off her rambling. It was quiet, but she heard him.

"What?" Bianca frowned.

"That this isn't working out... Why would you say that?"

"Pope, can we just be real for a second?" Bianca threw her arms up in exasperation, getting to her feet. "You get nothing out of this, all I am is a burden to you... and- and everybody else for that matter."

Pope rose too, "So what? You think you're using me? That the only way I would ever help you is if I'm getting something out of it?"

Bianca reared her head back at the accusation in his tone, "No- but-"

"Look, Bianca, I've never been a Kook. I don't know what messed up shit you were taught growing up about using people and- and winning but we're not like that," Pope's gaze narrowed to a scathing glare. "Pogues aren't like that. We help each other. No Pogue left behind, get it?"

Bianca pursed her lips to stop them from trembling, "...Mhm."

Pope watched her lower her gaze and he hesitated with a pounding heart. He'd been keeping this secret to himself for over a year now but seeing the girl in front of him, on the precipice of giving up, he felt it was finally right.

"Can..." He piped up again. "Can I tell you a story?"

"Right now?" Bianca's eyebrows drew together in confusion and followed his lead when he sat back down on the bed.

"It'll make sense in the end," Pope reassured with a small, nervous smile. "It's worth it, I promise."

CIRCA 2011

The boy's hands brushed over the creases of his blue button-up, trying to make it seem less crumpled than it was.

It was just his luck that right before Kildare's Annual Spelling Bee Championship Tournament, the electricity in his house cut out. Perks of living on the Cut, he supposed.

Oh well, he didn't have time to dwell on that now. They were about to announce the under nine's finalists to come out on stage for the last round. He wasn't that nervous but his mother, on the other hand, wouldn't stop fussing over him.

She tucked the tail of his dress shirt into his knee-length shorts before spinning him around to kiss his forehead, "We're so proud of you, Pope. You worked so hard for this."

"Now, even if you don't win, it's alright," His father, patted his head. "Just try your best, Son. Plus, we already know in our hearts you're smarter than most of these snot-nosed, rich sons of-"

"Heyward, they're children," His mother chastised.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Heyward conceded, giving his boy a final smile. "Go out there and make us proud, kid."

Pope watched his parents leave after that, weighing their words. His father was right, most of these children had hours with private tutors and brand-new textbooks to give them a head start. And well... All Pope had was himself.

These thoughts preoccupied Pope's mind as he awaited his name to be called out on stage. He peeked past the red curtains at the lit-up stage where the eight-year-olds were still spelling into a single microphone.

Pope craned his neck, trying to see the crowd of parents so he could spot his own but the sound of quiet sniffling distracted him. He glanced over to see a woman, who looked far too young to be a mother, talking with her daughter. Or rather, scolding her.

"But daddy's not here yet," The girl hiccuped, wiping her own tears.

Pope's head tilted in curiosity. He couldn't recall a single time in his life when he wiped the tears off his cheeks. His mother or father were always there to do it for him.

But what really caught his attention was the girl's head. Pope had never seen hair so stark-black in his life. It seemed so opposite to the flowery yellow sundress and pearl-white shoes she wore. It was almost like this was one big pageant, and she was playing pretend till she could pull the ribbons out of her hair and rip off her frilly socks.

"Don't be stupid, Bianca," The platinum-haired woman chastised, towering over the girl. "Did you really think he was going to fly all the way from San Francisco to come watch a Spelling Bee?"

"...He said he would try," She replied. Pope didn't think it was possible but somehow, her voice had gotten even smaller.

The mother clicked her tongue, "He's working. Now, enough, you're acting like a child," She demanded which confused Pope because... Well, she was a child. "Stop with the crocodile tears, you're embarrassing me in front of the other mothers."

Pope's eyebrows furrowed, and he shuffled closer to listen. He'd seen this girl before— Bianca Prescott, read the nametag with her call-number stapled to the front of her dress. But he'd seen her elsewhere too, around the island.

She was hard to miss.

The mother's hand gripped Bianca's arm and tugged her so she stumbled toward a crevice backstage where they could see the audience, "See her? That's Carmen Winthrop. She's the head of the Island Club," Her nails dug into the girl's skin. "If you win today, we'll get to meet her. Isn't that exciting?"

Bianca shook her head. She couldn't think of anything worse. Actually, she couldn't think of anything except the nausea swimming in her stomach. It made her heart pound and her chest tight.

Bianca wasn't sure when exactly she started to feel like this but it always seemed to linger everywhere she went. At school,when she got home, at the Island Club events her mother dragged her too, right before bed. The feeling never completelywent away.

Sometimes, it got easier, like when her father came home from his work trips. Then, he'd take her out for ice cream, or to the park. Bianca didn't mind anywhere as long it was away from her mother and the empty hallways of her home that echoed her footsteps.

But even so, those moments of reprieve didn't last for long. Her father was always whisked away days or if she was lucky, weeks later to go on yet another trip. She was told not to complain, however, because he was building a life for them, her mother would say.

His hotel business was booming, and constantly expanding. He was doing this for her, was what her father would say andBianca didn't have the heart to tell him she'd rather have him tuck her into bed than say goodnight through video calls.

"Listen- if you stop crying, I'll buy you that pretty pink dress you wanted?" The mother sing-songed, though her glare didn't match her tone. It felt more like a threat, than a bribe, "The glittery one we saw in the window at Chapel Hill, remember?"

Bianca shook her head, "I want to go home."

Through the crevice, Bianca's eyes landed on the crowds of people and felt her head spin. She didn't understand why she was doing this. Her mother was the one who signed her up in the first place.

Bianca was going to be sick, like nauseous sick but she didn't know why. She didn't eat anything bad so why did it feel like she was going to throw up? She didn't voice any of these thoughts, however, knowing it would only serve to irritate her mother more.

Her mother exhaled sharply and Bianca's heart dropped. She knew that sound. Her mother only made that sound when she was disappointed with her.

The woman's grip tightened on her arms, "Enough, Bianca," She ground out sternly. "You're acting like a baby. Is that what you are? Are you a baby?" Bianca shook her head 'no' again. "Then wipe your tears and when they call your name out there, go on stage and win."

Before the girl could get another word out, her mother was already turning on her high heel and heading back to her seat in the audience. Bianca watched her leave, biting her lip to distract herself from the tears welling in her eyes.

Bianca stood there, alone, not knowing that the boy behind her had been watching the entire interaction with unease. He'd been hiding behind the red curtain, unsure of when or even if he should say something.

Technically, if she kept crying and didn't go on stage, he'd have less competition. But as Pope watched the hot tears she couldn't hold back any longer come tumbling down, his heart jolted.

He let the curtain unravel and took a step toward her. Then another. Each more sure and firm than the last.

"Your shoelace is undone."

Bianca jumped in surprise, not having noticed the boy's presence. She turned, blinking blearily through bloodshot eyes, "What?"

"Your shoelaces," Pope deadpanned. Now that he was closer, he noticed her irises were even darker than her hair, "They're untied."

"Oh..." Bianca simply stared at them on the wood floor. "Um..."

"Well, aren't you going to tie them?"

"I..." Bianca swallowed thickly, "I don't know how."

Pope's eyes narrowed. What kind of servants were these Kooks raised with? And why were they getting them to tie their shoelaces for them?

He chose not to question it, "Do you want me to tie them for you?"

Bianca half shrugged.

Even without a full yes, Pope got down on one knee without hesitation, "First you do a little criss-cross, then you put the scarf around the bunny and pull-" He stuck his tongue out in concentration. "There you go."

"Thank you," Bianca mumbled, still not completely meeting his gaze when he rose to his feet again.

"It's okay," Pope lifted a shoulder bashfully. "Don't want you to trip when you walk on stage."

At the mention of the competition, Bianca deflated, "Doesn't matter. I can't do it."

The boy shook his head, "What are you talking about?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm going to mess up and then my Mom will get mad at me and everyone's going tolaugh."

He frowned, "No one's gonna laugh at you."

"They might," Her voice came out in a whisper.

"They won't," Pope's tone was firm as he puffed out his chest. "I promise. And if they do then- then I'll pretend to trip over and everyone will make fun of me instead."

Bianca giggled before quickly covering her mouth. Pope knew by helping her, he was increasing his chances of losing butseeing her laugh with tear-tracked cheeks made something behind his ribs feel full.

"Or I'll burp real loud and everyone will laugh at me."

Bianca giggled again, no longer afraid of hiding the sound behind her hands.

"See? Or- or I'll do the splits and rip my shorts."

"You can't do the splits," Bianca let out between laughter.

"Wanna bet?" Pope grinned, sticking his hand out for her to shake. "The name's Pope," He introduced, knowing it was on his name tag but did so anyway.

"Bianca," She returned the handshake. "Sorry, it's not as cool as Pope."

"You think Pope's a cool name?" His cheeks grew hot.

"Yeah," Bianca smiled. "You're like a kid named after a really, really old guy. Why?"

"Dunno," Pope lowered his head. "The kids at school think it's lame," Specifically this boy, JJ, who had been relentlessly teasing him about it all week.

"Well, you can tell them I think they're lame," Her eyebrows drew together as if she was genuinely infuriated about this news.

Before Pope could respond, one of the announcers spoke into the microphone, forcing the two to snap their heads over to the mainstage, "Can all finalists aged in the under nine's category please make their way to the stage. That's all the under nine finalists to the stage- thank you."

Bianca's breath hitched, "Pope-" She reached for his hand without thinking.

Pope looked down at their entwined fingers in surprise. He never had a girl who wasn't his mother hold his hand before. For some reason, he didn't mind Bianca's.

"Hey," Pope whispered, tugging her forward. "You'll be fine, come on."

Pope led her along with the other two finalists in their age category. Everything was fine until he let go of Bianca's hand right before they stepped on stage. Then, the nervousness and nausea tripled tenfold.

They went through the next couple of rounds with relatively easy words. Soon, the other two contestants were eliminated, leaving just Pope and Bianca in the end.

It wasn't until Pope fumbled the word 'fluoride' did it hit Bianca just how many people were in the crowd. Suddenly thelights felt harsher and hotter which made her skin crawl. Her chest rose with shallow breaths but her mother would have her head if she burst into tears in front of everyone.

Bianca turned back to the judge, Carmen Winthrop herself. The head of the Island Club and the woman her mother idolized so dearly, "Miss Prescott, if you get this correct, you will be crowned our Queen Bee for the 2011 Kildare County Spellers Championship."

Bianca squinted through the harsh stage lights. She scanned each face in the crowd, hoping maybe her father managed to make it anyway despite what her mother said but came up short.

"Your word is... nuisance."

Bianca's breath hitched. She knew this word. Her mother had called her this once. She could spell it and win the whole thing.

But as she stared at the audience, Bianca found her voice getting stuck in her throat. Her chest tightened and when she parted her lips, no words came out.

What if she got it wrong? What if she messed up and her mother would hate her for it? And then everyone would laugh.

From behind the microphone, Bianca could make out Carmen Winthrop sharing looks with the judges on either side of her. Clearly, she was taking too long. Pope could see she was getting caught up in her head.

"Could I please have it in a sentence?" Bianca's voice was barely a whisper through the microphone.

"Certainly," Carmen briefly glanced down at her sheet through spectacles. "Nuisance. That fly is such a nuisance. Nuisance."

Bianca's skin grew hotter at the feel of Carmen's beady eyes on her. Her lower lip wobbled and without her father in the crowd, she glanced over her shoulder at the one person who could possibly provide her with some sort of comfort.

Pope met her petrified eyes and gave her a reassuring nod to continue. Sure, he was disappointed in himself for getting his question wrong but that didn't mean it was over for Bianca. He was rooting for her.

With a small smile, Pope shook his left foot subtly so only the girl could notice. He was ready to trip if need be.

Bianca's gaze caught his untied shoelace and felt the knot in her stomach loosen so she could finally breathe. She returned Pope's smile with the best one she could muster before turning back to the crowd.

"Nuisance. N-U-I-S-A-N-C-E. Nuisance."

Pope watched as the audience rose to their feet for a standing ovation, and the judge announced Bianca as their winner. He watched streamers fall from the ceiling and the judges shake her hand, crown her, and hand her the big golden trophy he dreamed of having on his shelf.

Pope stood behind and watched it all. But from the corner of his eye, he saw his father, Heyward give him a small thumbs up from the crowd and the ache in his heart melted away.

Maybe he didn't have a trophy or a medal to show for his hard work but his dad was proud of him. And that's all that really mattered.

THE PRESENT

"That was me?" Bianca frowned. "I... I don't remember that."

Pope rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, I don't think you knew me as anything other than Kiara's friend for a while... And then the Pogue who sunk Topper's boat."

Bianca winced and the boy instantly backtracked. He wasn't trying to make her feel worse.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Pope shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is I know it feels like a lot right now but I promise, I'm right here. We're gonna figure it out together so don't ever say you can't because I know you can."

Bianca's eyes met the earnestness in his and felt her resolve crumble. Somehow, Pope had managed to weave his way into her life; her biggest supporter and number one cheerleader.

"You can do anything. Trust me, I know," Pope chuckled awkwardly. "It's like, sometimes, you get this look on your face. Like- like you can eat nails for breakfast," She scoffed but he didn't falter. "You can, Bianca."

Before she could thank him, the bedroom door flew open, "'Sup, nerds," JJ strolled in.

"JJ! That better not be you slammin' my doors!" Heyward's voice jolted him to attention.

"...No?" JJ called back as he winced, balancing a cardboard tray of plastic takeaway cups in his arms. If Kiara saw it, she would throw a fit about how it completely defeats the purpose of saving the planet.

When no response returned from Heyward, JJ let out a sigh of relief, assuming he was in the clear. He walked further into the room, handing the drinks to his best friend and girlfriend.

"Soy matcha latte for m'lady," He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and turned to Pope. "And an iced coffee for His Royal Highness, Lord Tanny."

"Funny," The Heyward boy deadpanned.

Bianca took her drink but not before admiring him. He looked so handsome like this, golden hair tousled from the wind and a leather jacket over his shoulders.

JJ's grin faded upon noticing the redness of her eyes, "What's wrong?" His eyebrows drew together and he gently took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Bianca shook her head with a small smile. A genuine one, "I'm fine, JJ. Really."

JJ's frown didn't lift. He didn't believe her. Instead, he sent a questioning look toward his best friend who was too busy staring at the label on his coffee cup which read— Jayjay.

Pope narrowed his gaze, "Is this full cream?"

JJ rolled his eyes, "Oh my God-"

"-Because you know I'm lactose intolerant, JJ," Pope straightened his spine, having already taken a couple of sips. "No, I'm serious, dude-"

"Pope, man, for the last time, you're not lactose- you eat ice cream!"

"That's different-"

"No, it's not- ow!"

The boys were too busy arguing to notice Cleo striding through the door, her own drink in hand till she twisted JJ's ear, "That's from Heyward, for slamming the door."

JJ rubbed his ear, "God damn it, woman-"

"And this is from me-" She punched his shoulder roughly before turning to the pair on the bed. "What's goin' on, geeks?"

Bianca scoffed, "Of course," She leaned back on the bed while JJ settled in Pope's desk chair and Cleo on the floor opposite them. "JJ got Pope full cream again."

"Again?" Cleo's lips parted. "Man, you know he's-"

"We eat grilled cheese sandwiches!" JJ gaped, spinning in the swivel chair while staring at the ceiling. He threw his arms up in exasperation. "He is not lactose intolerant!"

"Yeah, tell that to the bathroom we share," Cleo snorted.

"Alright, can we not?!" Pope abruptly stood up, grabbing his book and trying to swat the blond boy with it. "We're trying to get work done in here."

"Hey, man," JJ raised his arms in surrender. "Sorry for trying to do something nice for once."

Cleo laughed, "Don't lie to him, rude boy. You do it on purpose."

JJ was chuckling now, unable to catch his breath and Bianca couldn't help but join in. It was contagious.

She watched her friends argue back and forth. Even with all the piles of homework she had, the bickering, in a weird way, relaxed her.

Bianca wasn't sure when chaos became her idea of a good time but she didn't exactly hate it. The noise— or ruckus morelike, reminded her that she wasn't alone.

So yes, life wasn't easy. Nor was it kind. Bianca knew that firsthand.

But luckily for her, she had a life raft full of people she called her family in case the seas got too rough.

author's note. i love pope sm. this chapter is fully inspired by the idea of bianca and pope being academic rivals in another reality. there's a little extra i cut out of this chapter because i wanted it to be a cute ending to the book so i'll upload it soon but this is pretty much the last chapter omg!