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The wooden crate protests against the insistent prying of Boy’s crowbar, but it eventually relents, yawning open with the crack of wood. Five heads peer inside, their eyes wide in awe.
“No way…” Boy says.
“Is that…real?” Bandage whispers.
“I think so…” Girl murmurs.
“SWEETS!!!” Bucket cries.
Sitting within the crate are several packaged sweet foods—chocolate bars, plum pudding, oatmeal cookies, trench cake, gingerbread, ginger snaps, pear snaps, peppermints, pudding cups, jars of jam, and more.
“It was probably gonna be shipped to the front lines for the soldiers,” Boy says. “But it never got sent out… Probably because of the Flood.”
They’ve stopped for the night in an old industrial building. There was a large enough strip of dry land outside of it for them to park the boat and clamber inside through a window. Within it, there’s many crates, as it seemed to once been a storage facility of some kind, and, being the nosy children they are, they started to go through them.
That’s how they found this treasure trove of goodies.
Bucket is already halfway in the crate, pulling things out. It quickly accumulates into a pile on the floor.
There’s a lot.
More than any of them have seen in awhile.
Bandage stares at them like they’re sacred relics. He keeps twitching like he wants to reach for one of the oatmeal cookies but is holding himself back.
“Are those actually…good?” he asks cautiously.
Boy picks up one of the pudding cups and checks it three times. “Still sealed. No swelling. No leaks,” he says. He looks up with a nod. “I think they’re good.”
“I’d eat them even if they weren’t!” Bucket proclaims.
“No you wouldn’t,” Girl chides softly. “You’d get sick…”
“And you wanna be the only sick one around here, huh?” Bucket titters, making Girl’s nose scrunch up.
“I can’t believe they’re real,” Bandage murmurs.
For a moment, the group just stares at the pile.
Food is already rare.
Good food is rarer.
Dessert feels almost unreal.
Bucket finally grabs a package of ginger snaps and tears it open.
“Alright, that’s enough admiring,” he says, plopping himself down. He yanks off his bucket and hurls it carelessly over his shoulder, almost taking out Girl. “If we wait any longer, the universe will probably send a seagull army to steal it. And I WOULD fight them tooth and nail for this! Let’s dig in, boys! And Hood. And you.”
Boy snorts quietly. But he, too, settles himself, opening the pudding cup. Bandages snatches up some of the oatmeal cookies with barely restrained excitement. Girl takes herself a peppermint, making sure the others got what they wanted first.
The smell spreads quickly.
Sugar.
Chocolate.
Artificial vanilla.
Sweet, thick, unmistakable.
The only one who hasn’t made a move to grab something is Hood.
Hood stands farther back, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture is as rigid as usual, but when the discovery was made, she seemed to grow even more tense.
In her head, she’s telling herself that this is stupid, these things she’s feeling suddenly. It’s just a few cookies and candies. Nothing special. She shouldn’t be distressed over something as dumb and simple as that.
But then, the smell hits her.
Sweet. So sweet. Too sweet. You’re so sweet, little one…
Her throat tightens.
No.
No no no—
Her body reacts before her brain can.
She backs up abruptly. She bumps into another crate, making the others look over at her.
“Everything okay?” Boy asks.
“Are you alright?” Girl questions.
Bucket, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to pick up on Hood’s unease, which she doesn’t know if she appreciates or not. Instead, he waves a chocolate bar at her and says, “Whaddya doin’ standing over there? Come eat! Revel with us! Tonight, we’re kings! And, er, queens! For you. And her. WE’RE KINGS AND QUEENS!”
Bandage giggles. “Hurry, before Bucket eats it all.”
Bucket nods, unabashed. “I will! You know I will!”
But Hood shakes her head, almost angrily. She takes another step back. “No. I don’t want any.”
Bucket tilts his head like a confused puppy. “You don’t…want any sweets?” He blinks, then laughs. “Come on, Hood! Stop being like that! You don’t gotta be so moody for once!” He leaps up to his feet and starts to trot over, holding out the chocolate bar to her. “Here, take it!”
Take it. Take it, like a good girl. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?
Hood’s arms tighten around herself. “I don’t want anything, Bucket.”
“Yes you do,” Bucket insists. “You’re a kid! Of course you want sweets! Even the rabbit is eating something!”
He’s getting closer, backing her up against the crate. Something feral is roaring inside of Hood, while something smaller cowers away, and she doesn’t know which to listen to.
“I don’t!” Hood snaps, breathless. The sweet smell of the candy worms its way underneath the sack over her head and into her nose unbidden. Her stomach twists.
“Bucket…” Girl says worriedly behind them.
“Whaaat?” Bucket says, jerking his head around to her. “I’m right! She’s being weird!” He looks back at Hood and pushes the chocolate bar against her chest. “Just take it already!”
“I SAID NO!” Hood yells, slapping Bucket’s hand away. The chocolate bar falls to the floor, and he gasps in horror, as if she shot at him. She takes that chance to run away, fleeing the building through one of the windows.
Outside, there’s a thin strip of pavement that wraps around the building like a crumbled bay. The motorboat bobs in the waves, splashing softly. The sky is dark grey, and the air is cool and humid, but it does little to soothe the prickling in her skin.
Her whole body is uncomfortably hot. She’s sweating all of a sudden, but she doesn’t want to remove any of her clothes.
She wears so many layers for a reason.
She can still smell it, that vile sugary odor. It’s stuck in her nose, and she claws at her face beneath her sack, trying to get it out.
Suddenly, she’s back in the back of that ice cream truck again. It’s cold, but she’s still broken out into a sweat. Her face is smeared in ice cream, thin rivulets dripping down her chin to stain the collar of her shirt, but he doesn’t let her clean herself, as he thinks she looks cuter when she’s messy.
He’s bent over, already scooping her another cone.
“I’m full,” she says. Her belly hurts even when she speaks.
He just laughs. He stands up straight, towering over her. “No, you’re not,” he says in that fetid, gurgling voice. He shoves the ice cream cone at her face. “You can take more.”
Hood throws herself into the ocean to escape the memories.
The water is freezing, stinging every inch of her body, but it works. The images fade away into bubbles—for now.
She forces herself to snort saltwater up through her nose, just to get rid of the smell, just to feel it burn.
She resurfaces with a gasp, then immediately chokes when the wet fabric of her sack sticks to her mouth, blocking out any air. She scrambles, panicking, realizing her mistake a little too late. Her limbs flail everywhere, clambering at the crumbled edge of the pavement until she’s able to heave herself out. She pulls the soaked cloth away from her face so she can actually breathe, and she coughs violently.
“Stupid, s-stupid,” she wheezes.
Her stomach hurts. Why does it still hurt?
Footsteps thump onto asphalt behind her. A halo of golden-orange light fans out.
“Hood?” Girl says. Of course it’s her.
“Go away!” Hood snaps. “I-I’m fine!”
Girl hums. “Did you…get in the water?”
“No,” Hood grumbles, dripping wet.
“Oh,” Girl says. “Must be my imagination then.” She shifts, then sits down a few feet away from Hood. Hopelessly kind, even now.
Silence settles between them for a moment. Even though Girl is there, she doesn’t press. She’s always been like that, lending her presence, waiting for the other person to speak. Through the building’s open window, Hood can hear Bucket laughing victoriously about something.
Finally, she forces out, “I’m not eating that…”
Girl tilts her head. “The chocolate?”
“All of it,” Hood grits.
Girl nods. “I assumed so. You never ate sweet stuff, even back at the cottage.”
“Because I hate it.”
She does. She really does.
Maybe at some point, she used to like sweets, like any kid would. But ever since him, it’s been tainted. Rotten.
“Is there…a reason?” Girl asks gently. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
But Hood does answer, the words slipping out before she can stop them, “Because of him.”
Everything that’s wrong with her is because of him.
He used to make her eat sweets constantly. Sometimes multiple cones. Sometimes off of the floor. Sometimes she had to eat out of his too-warm hands and then lick his fingers clean. And once her belly was uncomfortably full, he would have his way with her because it hurt too much to squirm.
She gained a lot of weight because of him, but that didn’t deter him. In fact, he seemed to like her even more when she plumped up. Fattened like a prized chicken.
“Oh,” Girl says softly, and Hood knows she understands without her having to specify further.
Hood has never fully opened up to any of them about what the Sniffer did to her, she just can’t bring herself to, but she’s insinuated enough to know Girl understands. Girl is smart like that. She notices the little things, the implications, without having to ask other questions. Emotionally intelligent in the way she and the others are not.
Or maybe it’s just the innate kindred all girls seem to have with one another. That sinewy connection that binds all of them.
“Fruit is better,” Girl says after a moment.
Hood snorts despite herself. “Yeah…” She shifts, wincing when her stomach twinges. The nausea isn’t going away. Infuriatingly, it seems to be getting worse. “You don’t have to miss dessert because of me.”
Girl shrugs. “I had a peppermint,” she says.
From inside the building, Bucket is yelling, “WE ARE RICH! Come on, guys, say it! WE ARE RICH!”
“WE ARE RICH!” Boy and Bandage join in.
“YEAHHHHHH!”
Hood groans softly. She presses one hand to her head, while the other grabs her stomach.
“Hood?” Girl says worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“I already said I’m fine,” Hood growls.
But her throat tightens.
And that hot, prickly sensation spreads all over her face, despite the cold water she’s still damp with.
And her stomach rolls.
No.
No, no, no—
Her shoulders lurch. One hand slaps over her mouth, the fabric of her sack pressing against her lips.
Girl understands immediately.
“You’re going to throw up,” she says.
“I’m not—” Hood argues. But she chokes on the words, and they come out gurgled through the rising nausea.
“I’ve been sick enough lately to recognize the signs,” Girl says, and Hood just growls weakly in response. She gestures urgently towards the sack over Hood’s head. “You need to take that off.”
Hood freezes.
“No.”
The answer is immediate. Firm.
Girl blinks. “Hood—”
“No!”
Another wave hits. Hood presses both hands tightly over her mouth through the sack now. Her body is clearly trying to do something she’s forcing it not to do.
Girl frowns, concern evident on her face. “You’ll get sick in it.”
Hood shakes her head violently. “I’m not taking it off.”
“You’ll choke!”
“I don’t CARE!”
She hasn’t taken the sack off in front of anyone in so long she can’t even remember the last time. Even before the Flood, when the others donned their headdresses, she was covering her face; there’s been several different iterations of it, but this is the one she’s stuck with right now. She removes it in private, of course, but never around someone else if she can’t help it.
Bucket once said to her, laughing, “You wear that so much, I’m starting to forget what you look like!”
And she had responded, “Good.”
She doesn’t want to be looked at. She doesn’t want to be perceived.
Safety in unfamiliarity. Security in the unknown.
Girl is quiet.
Then, without another word, she turns and climbs back through the window.
And Hood is alone.
She stares in shock. She hadn’t expected Girl to actually leave her, but now that she has, she realizes how alone she really feels. It’s just her and the pain and the memories, and she finds that she doesn’t want to be by herself.
A soft whimper escapes her trembling lips.
But then, before she can fully sink into a puddle of her own self-pity, footsteps start to come back over. Uneven, shuffling footsteps. Awkward, fumbling movement. Hood looks over to see Girl clumsily coming out of the window again, now with all the grace of a drunk duck.
Because she has her brother’s cowl over her head—and more importantly, her face. Completely over her face.
Girl tumbles out of the window with a little “oof!”
Hood stares at her. “Wh-what— what are you doing?” she chokes out.
Girl lifts her head like a bunny alerted to a sudden noise. “I borrowed this,” she says, pointing to her head. The rabbit ears of her mask are making the top part stick straight up.
“I can see that…” Hood mutters.
“I can’t,” Girl says. “I can’t see anything. So you can take off the sack. I won’t look.”
Oh.
Now Hood understands, and it makes her heart flutter a bit that someone actually had the thought to do this. For her of all people.
Girl slowly crawls forward across the pavement, holding her hands out. When she touches Hood’s back, she jerks away immediately with an apology.
“It’s okay, Hood,” Girl says. “I won’t look at you.”
Hood almost wants to laugh, but her stomach lurches again. Her hands tremble. Another whimper worms its way out of her throat.
“…D-don’t look,” she croaks feebly.
Girl nods immediately. “I won’t.”
Hood hesitates for one more second.
Then, with quivering fingers, she reaches up behind her neck. She fumbles with the rope that ties the sack shut, but she eventually gets the knot loose, and she yanks the sack off right before she hunches over and vomits into the water.
“I’m just gonna touch your back,” Girl says before she sets her hand exactly where she had said, rubbing slowly. “You’re doing great…”
She used to make herself throw up all the time once the Sniffer finally left her alone for the day. She thought she’d be used to the feeling by now, but it still hurts.
Hood retches for another minute or so before it finally stops. She pants heavily, choppy reddish hair falling around her sweaty face. She shakily wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Mmmm…” she groans softly.
“Feeling a little better?” Girl asks.
Hood exhales faintly. “Yeah… Thanks. You didn’t have to do that, but…thank you.”
Girl smiles. “Of course I’ll help you out! You’re my family, just like the others!”
Her words warm Hood’s chest, despite the unsettling sensation that trickles down her spine at the same time. She’s not thinking about that right now.
“Y-yeah…” she says softly.
Girl shifts. “I’ll get you some water—”
Hood’s hand flies out, grabbing Girl by the wrist when she starts to stand. “No,” she says quickly. “Can you just…sit with me for a bit longer? Please…”
Her mouth tastes bitter, but she almost prefers it. Even the smell, as vile as it is, covers up any lingering sweetness.
Girl nods immediately. “Of course,” she says, not arguing. She sits back down.
Or she tries to, at least, because she slips on a chunk of loose pavement and pinwheels into the ocean with a piercing squawk. She flounders in the water like a panicked kitten.
“Oh my god!” Hood yelps. She reaches down and grabs Girl by the scruff of her white dress, pulling her out.
Girl spits. “Wh-whoops.” She looks up, her dumb face still covered by the damn cowl. “Sorry.”
Hood shakes her head in disbelief. “You can take that off if it's gonna make you almost drown.”
“No,” Girl says. “You don't feel comfortable with your sack off, so I wear this! That's the rules.” She finally sits down properly, dripping wet but resolute. “I don't mind it. It's warm and smells like my brother. It's okay!”
“You're so weird,” Hood says, sitting down next to her.
Girl nods. “So I'm told. Often.”
A serene silence starts to settle down between then, and Hood begins to relax.
Inside the building, Bucket yells, “WHO ATE MY LAST GINGERBREAD?!”
“YOU ATE IT!” Boy yells back.
“OH!”
Hood rolls her eyes, thumping her head against Girl’s shoulder. “Boys…” she groans.
Girl giggles softly. “Boys,” she agrees.