PennyBassett Fanfiction

[Katie10]

Alright! Chapter 2! It's finally here! It's longer too. I hope to make these chapters longer in general. Enjoy!

Eugene’S POV

I sat in our living room chair with Eliza in my lap.
“Okay. Now that you have the three sections, take the one to the far right and place it between the two strands on the far left and middle.” I struggled to control my fingers as I attempted to do as Katrina had instructed. I sighed in frustration as Eliza’s hair fell together, merging the middle and right strands. Katrina laughed.
“You’re supposed to take the right in your left hand!”
“What?” I sighed, “I think I give up. Eliza? Will you let your mother do it instead?”
“No.”
“But Buck will be back soon with the food, then the guests will be here in an hour.”
“Won’t you let me do it, Lizzie?”
Eliza looked at Katrina with big brown eyes tinted with fear.
“No.”
With red eyes, she slipped off my lap and ran upstairs to her room. I turned to Katrina who took in a shaking breath. As she let it out a tear slipped from her eye. She quickly brushed it away as I stood up and embraced her.
“Hey. You’re tired, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to lie down for a little. I’m- feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“Alright,” I said kissing her forehead. As she walked towards our bedroom she called back briefly,
“Make sure Buck puts the soda in the fridge this time!”
I chuckled to myself remembering our Easter party when a pack of soda cans was put in the freezer by mistake. An error which resulted in a fountain-like spray to burst from the first can opened and the still visible root beer stain on the living room rug. With a click of the garage door, Buck stumbled in, holding plastic bags marked with the Jenkins Market logo.
“Help,” he ordered through a lowered brow, seeing my blank expression and standing-still position. Laughing at his serious expression, I quickly took some of the bags from him and set them down on the kitchen counter. Beginning to unpack the chips, Buck paused a moment.
“Eugene?”
“Buck, won’t you start calling me Dad?” I answered, getting out serving bowls and spoons.
“Fine, Dad. Um, where’s Mom and Liz?”
I sighed.
“In their separate rooms.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I believe so… hm… perhaps we should check on them. The issue began when Elizabeth refused Katrina’s help on her hair.”
“She still doesn’t trust her then. That’s not unusual. It took me awhile to trust you.”
“Well, that’s true. She’s upset though. I think she feels she’s disappointed us.”
“Why’s Mom upset?”
“She’s tired. She’s also afraid. There’s a certain amount of pressure that comes with being a mother. She doesn’t want to disappoint you two.”
“So, should I go check on Eliza?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. And be sure to wish her happy birthday. Remember, this is the first birthday she’s been able to celebrate.”
“Yes. I remember,” he walked off smiling and rolling his eyes.
I smiled slightly, then walked off to the bedroom. Silently opening the door, I tapped on it gently. Katrina sat up and wiped her eyes.
“I know. I’m overreacting.”
“No,” I said, lying down on the bed next to her. She lied back down and rested her head against my chest.
“It’s harder than I thought it’d be,” she sniffed.
“Yeah. She wants to trust you.”
“I love her, and I don’t know how to show it.”
“Mhm. I understand.”
“I have to prove I don’t want to hurt her. How’d you get Buck to trust you?”
“I’m not sure… we found something in common?”
“Hm.” She sighed and sat up. “Alright. We can do this.”
“Do what?”
“Get through the birthday party. Come on,” she smiled slightly, taking my hand.

Later, Eliza was on my lap again, chatting like nothing was wrong.
“And so- so now I can basically be a princess all the time,” she said, commenting on the new plastic tiara that rested on her head.
“Indeed,” I laughed. Jules came into the living room and sat down next to us.
“Hey Liz, your grandpa, and uncle just got here. You wanna go say hi?” A broad smile smoothed over Elizabeth’s face as she giggled with excitement and got up to run to the door. As her excited giggles mixed with my father’s soft excitement, Jules turned to me.
“Eugene?”
“Yes?”
“You’re a strong Christian. What do you think of the shooting? Connie won’t talk about it.”
“What do I think of it? I believe it’s sad, obviously. What those people did was very wrong.”
“But people are angry. I mean, angry at Christians.”
“So? That’s nothing new, Jules.”
“Yeah but people think all Christians are responsible. They think it’s a part of Christian beliefs.”
“Then those people need to read the Bible more.”
“But shouldn’t we correct them?”
“Should we? Our call is love, not to reprimand or defend our beliefs for the sake of our own pride.”
“Hm. Are we in danger?”
“What sort of danger?”
“I don’t know. People are angry. It-”
“Scares you?”
“Well, yeah. It scares me a lot.”
I stared at her a moment, her green eyes sparking something. What was it? Something odd. A sort of prophetic shock. Why did I feel a connection with her? We’d hardly spoken before this- yet something somewhere in the future- there was… perhaps it was just a strange feeling.
“Have you prayed about your fear?”
“Will I be in trouble if I say no?”
“No.”
“Well, I haven’t. Sorry, I’m just new at this.”
“It’s quite alright. I too sometimes forget to go to God with my fears. It’s an area in which we must discipline ourselves.”
As I spoke, Eliza skipped over with Everett.
“Hey, Eugene, do you still have that record player?”
“Oh. Indeed! It’s um- in the basement. Jules, would you excuse me?”
“Yeah, sure, I need to find Buck.”
“He might be in his room.”
“Thanks.”
Buck’s POV

I stared out my window, heart pounding, knowing Mr. Whittaker was downstairs even as I sat fiddling with the pencil between my fingers. A soft rap came from my door. I prayed it wasn’t Katrina. I didn’t want to talk about it, and I was afraid she’d make me talk about it. I was fine anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. My fear was just worse sometimes. That was it. What good would talking do anyway? It wouldn’t change what happened. My eyes plunged into a deeper daze as I remembered what’d happened a couple weeks ago. When Mr. Whittaker had-
“Buck?” I broke my stare as I realized someone was at the door. It didn’t take a long for me to realize it was Jules.
“Sorry, you can come in,” I answered. She entered, wearing a white, vintage-inspired sundress, an outfit that reminded me of something Clara Oswald from Doctor Who would wear. It’s crazy to think about it now. How important that dress turned out to be.
“You coming downstairs?” I shook my head, giving a non-specific answer.
“N-no… I-” why did she make me stumble over my words so much? I was sixteen- to mature for crushes. “I don’t like people.”
“I didn’t think I did either until I met Eliza.” I smiled despite my fear.
“Heh. She’s got a big personality.”
“She makes me wish I was an extrovert.”
“Hang around her for more than a day, and you’ll be glad you’re not. She’s actually super annoying sometimes.”
“So, what’re you afraid of?” She asked, sitting on my bed. She wasn’t leaving without an answer. I sighed. Might as well get it over with.
“Mr. Whittaker,” I said quietly. A confused expression rippled across her brow.
“Mr. Whittaker,” she repeated.
“Yeah,” I said, a lump in my throat. “I hate this,” I sniffed, surprised by how emotional I’d become about it. I dropped my pen and rested my head in my hand.
“Why are you scared of Whit?”
“I don’t know,” I lied, “He’s just- I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” I forced out, feeling childish.
“Like- Mr. Skint hurt you?”
I flinched. “How’d you know?” I’d never told her about the abuse- it’d never came up.
“Just a guess. Hey, I get it. My dad wasn’t physically abusive but-”
“Then you don’t get it,” I snapped, feeling suddenly angry. ‘She doesn’t understand. Why does no one understand?!’
“I was just going to say that-”
“You were just going to say that he hurt you verbally. And I’m sorry but it’s just not the same,” I stared at her in the eyes. I was emotional- it was all caving. With the shooting and Whit and everything. I bit back a curse meant for myself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“What can I do for you?” I didn’t expect that question. It took me awhile to answer.
“…I need help,” I finally said. “I was going to counseling- I thought it helped- but there’s more fear. Does it ever end?”
“I don’t know.”
That conversation was probably a little dumb. I mean. The way we were talking about suffering. Not that abuse wasn’t serious- but we didn’t know- how could we know?

I can't wait to see were this is heading! Great job!

[Jo March]

Ooooh I love all the suspense!!!! Quick quick quick new chapter!!!! You did a great job on this one!

[Kungfunaomi]

What, what? What what what?
Whit!? What on earth, Buck!?

[Jo March]

What, what? What what what?
Whit!? What on earth, Buck!?

My thoughts exactly.

[PennyBassett]

Three things: Bit of a trigger warning on this one. It's a little heavy. I have a title that I forgot to add to this. This very sad, long AU fanfic is called Spero. Some of the chapters will also have titles. But not this one.
Chapter 3:

BUCK’S POV
Jules eventually convinced me to come downstairs. When I did, the first person I saw was Leonard.
“Buck!” He greeted me excitedly pulling me into a hug. ‘I love having a grandpa,’ I reflected as he asked me how I’d been doing.
“Fine,” I answered, knowing Jules had heard the lie.
“Well, Everett won’t play a card game with me. Would you care to?”
“Sure. What game?”
“I was thinking Kings in the Corner.”
“I should have guessed.”
“Why?” He laughed.
“Cause you’re a Brit. Let’s go.”
“Wh- now you can’t get away with saying something like that!”
“You have a comeback? I’ve been doing good. Creaming you lately.”
“You’ve been doing well,” he corrected, chuckling.
“Okay, let’s go start this game before you two start a war.”
“Excellent idea, Jules! Keep her around, Buck,” he nudged me. I felt my ears grow hot. We walked into the dining room and sat down. As I began to shuffle the cards, Mr. Whittaker walked up. He put his hand on my shoulder. I flinched away.
“Hello, Buck! I was wondering where you were.”
“I was upstairs,” I said quietly, not looking at him, but briefly making eye contact with Jules, “I don’t really like being around so many people.”
“Hm. Yeah. I get that. Well, I’m glad you decided to join us,” he chuckled, “Elizabeth is quite a character.”
“Mhm,” I forced out. My heart was pounding against the wall of my chest. I tried to take in a breath as my perspiration damp hands twisted together. My stomach brushed against my lungs. I locked eyes with Jules.
“Buck. You okay?”
I shook my head slightly as Mr. Whittaker put his hand back on my shoulder. I crumbled. Drawing unwanted attention to myself I shouted (I don’t remember what) and Whit let go. Insanity attacking my air support, I purposefully drove my head into the table in front of me. Again, again, again. I bashed my skull against wood, the pain distracting me from my stinging chest.
“KATRINA! KATRINA!” I cried, the tips of my nails sinking into my scalp. The second my mother’s hand appeared on mine, I ceased my self-harming activity and fell into my mother’s arms. My sharp sobbing softened as I and buried my head in her shoulder. I still couldn’t breathe. Every inhalation felt like it was being filtered through dirt. Through the worst panic attack of my life, my only thought was,
“Thank God for my mother.”

KATRINA’S POV
Our guests stood and gawked in silence as my sixteen-year-old sat weeping in my arms. It was normal for me. Panic attacks in that house were as frequent as family game nights might have been in other Christian homes. I knew there were those at that party who thought of fostering and adoption as a constant pile of good, happy times. A simple ordeal. One that anyone could go through.
“See!” I so often had wanted to shout at them, “IT’S NOT EASY. IT’S COMPLICATED. AND MESSY, AND HEARTBREAKING.”
I wasn’t used to an audience. I kept my eyes glued to the floor as Eugene asked everyone to give our child space. Jules sat next to him, holding his hand and praying. ‘She has her sister’s faith.’ I thought. As I joined her, all I could think of as what a privilege it was to call the broken angel, who’s tears drenched my shoulder, mine. He was my son. He didn’t have to be alone anymore.
“Thank you, Jesus, that he isn’t alone anymore.”
Eugene was soon sitting with us, a hand on Buck’s head, quietly praying in tongues. Connie joined us next, to hold my hand and put her head on my shoulder. I needed as much comfort as my child. Hot tears slipped down my cheeks. Wooton came over and with a hand on Buck’s back began to sing.

ELIZA’S POV
They say it was the beginning of the glory amidst our trials. The first of many spontaneous worship services. That one lasted three hours.
“Three hours is nothing,” I said when I was first reminded of the event. For where I come from, praise is unceasing.

[Jo March]

Oh wow. Wow wow wow wow wow. This is beautiful. Beautiful. You did a excellent job. I can't wait to see how the next chapter pans out!!!!!!!!

[Katie10]

Oh my gosh so good. The only thing I don't like about it is... YOU ALWAYS LEAVE US ON CLIFFHANGERS! But really this was a really sweet story and very good.

[PennyBassett]

Thanks, you guys!
Chapter 4!
(Another lil warning thing, mention of sexual abuse. Very mild)

“I’m genuinely sorry, Buck,” Mr. Whittaker apologized. I looked into his eyes. They were blue. I’d never realized before that they were blue. They were a little wet. Like he was crying. Maybe he was just old. I looked back at the floor. Mr. Whittaker’s office smelled like printer paper and vintage ink. It was a weird mixture. I knew the smell of ink from my counterfeiting days. It was definitely vintage. The kind a classical fountain pen would be dipped in. Maybe a feathered one. A coo-coo clock ticked from the wall to my left. Beneath my feet sat dark wooden boards. Simply nailed together. Firm in their career of staying put. I glanced to my shoes: black Converse that Connie had given me for my birthday. There was a bit of mud on them. Fishing trips and Jules and I’s occasional walks through the woods had left them far from new looking. Katrina sat next to me. She was wearing a high waisted jean skirt and a cream shirt with a row of cactuses on it. Let’s stick together. Was written underneath the painted plants. Sometimes the way she dressed made her look younger than she was. She put more thought into her clothing than other mothers. It was impressive. All I had on was jeans and a reasonably nice t-shirt. Whit wore a collared sweater like he always did. I looked up at Mr. Whittaker’s desk. There were papers strewn across it. For a person with such a nice shop, he didn’t keep his personal space so organized.
“It’s okay. It happens a lot.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.”
“…alright.”
Katrina sighed. This wasn’t going as she expected. I knew it was my fault, but I didn’t feel like being emotional. There wasn’t anything he could do. I was paranoid that he would hurt me for no reason and nothing anyone said would be able to change that. I hated myself for it, but that was the truth.
“Katrina said you were afraid of me.”
I flinched. I didn’t know Katrina had told him that. I forced myself to nod.
“Because Mr. Skint hurt you.”
Anger boiled beneath my throat. He had no right to mention Mr. Skint. I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to shout that it wasn’t because Mr. Skint hurt me, it was because everyone hurt me. He didn’t know what it felt like to be- that was the real problem. My panic disorder wasn’t due to beatings. That’s where my PTSD came from. The reason I panicked when a man touched me was that-
This is stupid Buck! You can’t even admit it to yourself?!
Well, it wasn’t really…
Yes, it was.
Then I shouldn’t have put myself in the situation.
It wasn’t your fault. Stop throwing yourself under the bus. SAY SOMETHING. They’re gonna think you’re freaking out over nothing. Even Katrina will. And then you’ll realize how helpless and insane she really thinks you are.
I AM NOT HELPLESS.
I don’t think you are. She does.
“Sure,” I snapped at him.
“Are you sure that’s the reason, Buck?”
What. Does she know? She can’t know! How would she know?!
She doesn’t know.
But what if she does?
SHE DOESN’T KNOW. But you should tell her.
No. Not with Mr. Whittaker here.
Why not?
He’ll feel sorry for me.
Well, he should. Everyone should feel sorry for you. You’re so pathetic.
I AM NOT PATHETIC.
Of course, you are. You were-
SHUT UP!
“No.” What am I doing?
“And what’s the real reason?”
“Skint’s friend. He… I hate him.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t deserve anything…”
“Why?”
“He took advantage of me.”
“In what way?”
“Sexually,” I whispered. Then Katrina did that tongue click-sigh thing. I twisted my fingers together. I hated myself for telling. Another secret was out.
“Buck.”
I tried to look up at her, but a tear escaped from my eye. I turned away and wiped it up with my hand. Cringing at the memories of the trauma, I sank deeper into my chair.
“We want to be here for you, but we don’t want to push you.”
Why is Mr. Whittaker so calm?! Had he known already?
Of course not.
I took a deep breath.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No.” They want to help you. “But I will anyway.”

WHIT’S POV
He told us everything. He was so strong on the outside, but I could tell- the little boy inside him was still crying. It was hard for him. Every word was slow and carefully chosen. I was so proud of him. He was braver than Jason, who’d gone through a similar experience and wouldn’t talk about it for years.
“I knew the risks. It was part of the job,” he’d said. When he finally opened up, it was revealed that what he’d endured was more severe than I think even he realized. I felt so bad for Katrina. Yet again, proud. She knew just what to do. She knew how to talk to him. Something I was never good. Talking to my kids. What I marvelled at the most was how casual he described it. Like Jason, Buck didn’t understand how much he had actually been taken advantage of. I think he saw in our eyes how serious it had been though. That made him more upset. Maybe he felt stupid for it all. He had to be ashamed. Kids so often blamed themselves, and he kept reverting back to phrases like,
“Because I went with him,” or, “Because I didn’t give in as easily the first time.”
It was disgusting to imagine, and righteous anger quickly boiled up in Katrina and me both. I have to admit, I wanted to punish this person, but I couldn’t. We were supposed to forgive. Buck was a new Christian, he and now us needed to practice forgiveness. Not to forget the past, but to move on, knowing what this person did was wrong. We talked for a while, then prayed together. You could see a burden lifted from Buck’s eyes. Then he cried again. I know he felt childish, but it was good for him. He had needed to except it for a long time, and when he did, it was freeing.
“Would you like to go on an Imagination Station adventure?” I asked as we left my office. He smiled.
“That sounds great.”

[Katie10]

This is so good! I really have no words. You are just so good at all this. Have you ever thought about writing a book and getting it published?

[PennyBassett]

I have! I've been trying to figure out what style best fits my writing, so during this process, I set aside a historical fiction book I'd been working on and I'm planning on writing what I think would be considered adventure/a little AU. I'm very excited about it. My audience will be Christian teens but I'd like it to be something everyone can enjoy.

[Katie10]

I have! I've been trying to figure out what style best fits my writing, so during this process, I set aside a historical fiction book I'd been working on and I'm planning on writing what I think would be considered adventure/a little AU. I'm very excited about it. My audience will be Christian teens but I'd like it to be something everyone can enjoy.

I would love to read it when it's finished! I would totally buy it.

[PennyBassett]

Cool! I'll let you know when it's finished!

[PennyBassett]

So I got logged out of my account and it was weird but this was supposed to be posted on Father's Day.

Chapter 5: Father's Day

I ran my fingers through my hair, the strands of thick locks swishing around my hands. I wanted to stay like this forever, so secluded in an open galaxy of speckled sand stars. I looked up and saw the sun dance over the surface of trickle lake, its white-yellow glow making me smile. I pushed off the sandy lake floor and came up for air. Eliza’s giggles were heard from the beach. I turned to Eugene, who looked as soaked as I felt.
“That was awesome!” I laughed.
He smiled, out of breath, “I’m shaking,”
“You wanna jump again?” I asked, pushing my life jacket below my chin.
He coughed, “Absolutely not. It will be scarier the second time.”
So then, cliff jumping was dismissed for the time being and we swam back to the girls, who were sand castle building.
“So, how was it?” Katrina asked, handing us towels. I took off my life jacket and turned to Eugene with an eyebrow raised.
“Would you like to tell the tale?”
“Well,” he began, “I wasn’t particularly keen on hurling myself off a twenty-foot embankment…”
It was going to be a long retelling. Wrapping myself in my towel, I walked over and plopped down onto the sand next to Eliza, who was filling a bucket with sand.
“What’re you making?”
“The biggestest sand castle in the whole world,” she said, quite sure of herself.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup,” she sighed, “It’s gonna take a super long time- but I’m gonna stop when it’s time for dinner, because- oh wait. It’s a secret,” she stood up, walked over to me, and with cupped hands, whispered in my ear,
“Mummy brought fruit pizzas,” she stepped back and giggled uncontrollably, waiting for my reaction. I smiled.
“I know, Liz. I helped make them.”
“Did you put lots and lots of frosting on them?”
I nodded, causing more giggles to erupt from the child in front of me.
“You two ready for dinner?” Katrina asked, taking chicken salad out of the cooler. We washed our sand-covered hands in hose water, then joined our parents at the picnic table. Katrina stood up, struggling to step over the bench behind her.
“So, this being Eugene’s first Father’s Day as a permanent father, we have gathered here at trickle lake to celebrate what was once deemed impossible, and to appreciate the kind of father Eugene Meltsner has become.”
We gave a small round of applause and toasted with champagne glasses. (Liz and I’s held sparkling juice) After dinner, we ate fruit pizzas and gave cards to Eugene, who cried as he read them, and hugged us when he was through. That was a great day. We played on the beach, and I got Katrina to go cliff jumping with me. (She loved it) Then we had a sand castle building contest where Eliza “won,” but gave the first-place award to her dad, who had the best one anyway. By the time the sun began to set over the lake, we were all exhausted and happy to be on our way home. Eliza fell asleep in the car- on top of me, and I eventually dozed off as well.
Red and blue lights inhumed my vision. I sat up and consequently so did Eliza. I rubbed my eyes, slightly confused. ‘Shouldn’t we be home by now?’ More lights flashed, and once I looked out my window I understood why. People were everywhere. Countless swarms of humans- mostly adults filled any space that wasn’t occupied by cars or buildings. Signs of protest reflected the light of Odyssey’s measly police squad. They couldn’t keep the out-of-staters under control. I’d seen videos of protests from other states, but this- this was Odyssey. ‘Maybe it had something to do with Mr. Whittaker,’ I wondered, realizing he was the only Christian well-known enough to be mobbed by anyone who thought Christians were dangerous. I caught Eugene’s eye as a car several yards away from us had its window smashed. I stared at it a few seconds. It could have been us. Locking eyes with Eugene again, he mouthed the words,
“Get down.”
I nodded, my heart pounding. I turned to Eliza.
“Hey Liz,” I said, smiling. “Wanna do something fun?”
She nodded, her anticipation building.
“Okay. Unbuckle.”
With wide eyes, she did as I said.
“Now, get on the floor with me. Come on.” I held her on my lap so that we faced each other. If a window was broken, her face wouldn’t be vulnerable.
“Okay. You wanna listen to the happy song?”

ELIZA’S POV
He said I nodded, my eyes holding giddy excitement, unaware of what was happening around us. He pulled out his phone, plugged in earbuds, and sacrificing his own opportunity for comfort, put both in my ears. I remember this part. The earbuds felt awkward, but they fit. He unlocked his phone, then found the song, still nervously glancing around, ready to pull me against his chest if something were to happen. There were a few seconds of silence, then- it all happened at once. The MercyMe song came on with distracting force. It made me smile for a moment before Buck pushed me under himself. I heard several screams. I’m sure one was mine. Maybe another was Mum’s. Someone outside. I remember looking up and watching Buck as he motionlessly looked me over with his eyes. The car door opened, and I was pulled out by a police officer. Buck sat there a minute then released a breath he seemed to have been holding as he was helped out as well. Dad picked me up and held me for a long time, trying to calm us both down. I didn’t know what to do but cling to my father’s neck until I felt safe again. We were all shaken. We ended up going into Whit’s End. I later found that this was because we couldn’t get home with all the people.
Buck and I were thoroughly inspected for glass cuts. We both had a few slivers here and there, but nothing severe. Mum kept crying a little, then she’d recompose herself- then start crying again.

KATRINA’S POV
“It was just so close,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes for the fifth time.
“I know… I know,” Eugene said, running his fingers through my hair. I took a deep breath, my head on his shoulder.
“I’m so tired.”
“I was thinking… if we have to stay here all night… perhaps we could stay in the Imagination Station.”
“You mean, go on an adventure?”
“In a technical sense. It would be sort of like a vacation in a way… we could stay in, oh, King David’s palace. Or one of a Babylonian King!”
A smile made its way across my face.
“Alright.”

[Jo March]

Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow oh wowohwowohwowohwowohwow this is incredible. Your suspense is perfect, the different POVs flow beautifully, and the story is getting really intense!!!! Great job.

[Katie10]

Oh my gosh! So good i loved bucks the most i fell like you really capture his emotions really well.

[Shadow]

Good job Penny also pls play mafia

[Katie10]

When's the next chapter coming out?

[PennyBassett]

WHEN I POST IT OF COURSE! Jk I'll post it tonight. I would've posted it sooner, but I got stuck in a bit of a writer's rut. Looks like we're out of the woods now though!

[PennyBassett]

Alright, guys! Sorry, this one took a little longer than usual! It's pretty lengthy though, so that's nice.

Chapter 6

That night was- terrifying I guess? No. I don’t know. It was beautiful. But there’s something strange about pretending like everything’s okay when it’s so very not that’s just chilling. Connie and I had been working at Whit’s End late that night for Father’s Day. Not that many people were there. A couple of customers came and went during the evening. Mr. Whittaker came back at about 8:00 after a dinner with Jason.
“Hey, you two!”
“Whit!”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t be here! It’s Father’s Day!”
“Oh, Jason had to watch his shop until-”
“Dad!” Jason suddenly burst through the front door causing the bell above it to sound much louder than usual. Panting, the flustered Whittaker spoke again, “People. Tons of them. Dad, there’s a protest. I couldn’t even get to the store.”
“Wait- wait slow down son, what do you mean a protest?”
“Like the ones on TV?” Connie asked.
“No. Bigger. They’ve got signs. Some have weapons. I- this- it’s happening.”
To my surprise, a few beads of sweat- no, tears slipped down his cheeks. A sob escaped as Connie embraced him. Had I missed something? While Connie led him into the other room, I turned to Mr. Whittaker. Sympathy reflected against his ocean tinted eyes.
“Will he- be alright?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he mean- it’s happening?”
“Yeah. That. Um, I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would put your life in danger.”
“What? But Connie knows!”
He walked up to his office, leaving me to an empty counter to wipe up. I stared at it for a few seconds, remembering Jason had been a secret agent.
But he’s not anymore, I told myself. What’s going on?
“Okay. So, we’ll need to lock up the shop…” Connie came back downstairs- her eyes red. I grabbed the wet rag to my left and began clearing the counter of any stray crumbs or spots of dripped ice cream, my mind still on Jason.
Around 9:00 the protesters reached Whit’s End. We’d closed the shop and after debating about it for probably too long, we decided to turn off all the lights and wait upstairs for it to pass. Without light, I could see the intruders clearly, despite the setting sun. Signs and sounds filled the streets below me. Neon poster boards overlapped, displaying crass remarks against Christians, Conservatives, even Whit specifically.
“Jules, get away from the window,” Connie snapped, coming into the Bible room, carrying a nervous air. With a quick movement, she barred the window in front of me and turned on the light. I slumped against my chair and sighed.
“Is Jason better?” I asked, tilting my head towards Connie, who was leaning against the Noah’s Ark display and scrolling through a touchscreen laptop.
“Yeah. A little,” Jason came in wearing a fake, toothless smile. His eyes shone with the same compassion his father had and it made me wonder why they felt bad for me. It seemed Jason needed more comfort than anyone. He stared at me for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I’m gonna work on the Imagination Station for a bit,” he sniffed, making brief eye contact with Connie. As he walked off towards the Imagination Station room, I turned on my phone and saw a text. It was from Buck.
‘Wth’
‘I don’t know. I’m at Whit’s End. Everyone’s acting super weird over here. I just saw Jason cry.’
I turned off my phone and turned to Connie.
“Why-” A firm knock on the door cut me off.
Everything happened at once. Whit got to the door first and let in the Eugene who was carrying a crying Eliza, and a couple police officers who escorted Buck and Katrina in after. I ran to Buck. As he held me I could feel his heart pounding against mine.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes darting.
“I need to sit down,” his voice shook. Seeing his expression, we pulled up a chair, but he had sat down for less than a second when he gagged against his hand then ran to the bathroom.
“Go check on him,” Katrina murmured to Eugene, who had just given Eliza to a paramedic.
Eliza sat in my lap and I sang to her as she was looked over for cuts and had a few glass slivers removed. Buck returned shortly after Eugene had gone to get him and was receiving the same inspection when the adults in the room realized the permanence of our situation. We’d be staying here all night.
We camped out in the library and Bible room as the protest went on for hours. It was almost like being in a thunderstorm. Having to stay in one place, away from windows. The distant noise outside interrupting conversation when it became worryingly boisterous. Buck and I sat and talked in the library where Eliza slept on the couch.
“Did you throw up?” I asked quietly, scrolling through my phone.
“Yeah,” he answered, a straw for his sprite in his mouth.
“That sucks. What happened?” I turned my phone off.
“They broke our window. I was on the car floor with Eliza and pushed her under me as it broke.”
“Wow. That’s- scary. No wonder you were shaking.”
“Yeah,” we sat in silence for a minute or two, the roar of rioters outside filling the void of conversation.
“I wish I wasn’t like this,” Buck broke the quiet.
“Like what?”
“…panicky? I was always told to be strong. Ya know, don’t let them see that they’ve got to you. I don’t know. Ever since I’ve lived with, well, my parents, I’ve been a mess.”
“Buck you’ve been through a ton. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be panicky.”
“Maybe. I just wish I wasn’t,” he took a breath, “Sometimes I wonder… all the girls at school with a crush on me… if they knew what I’ve seen…” his voice trailed off into thought.
“…They’re all idiots,” I said finally. “On our last day of school, Valerie asked if you’d ever tried to kill yourself.”
“What?”
“She said she’d kill herself if she ended up looking like you.”
“Because I have scars on my back?”
“Yeah.”
A soft knock on the door interrupted us. Katrina opened it.
“Hey, Eugene had the idea of spending the night in the Imagination Station. Would you like to come?”
“Both of us?”
“Sure.”
Buck and I looked at each other. He shrugged with a growing smile.

I took in a breath of fresh air as we exited the stuffy palace living quarters and entered the gardens. The moon reflected over waterfalls and pools as lush, dark green trees bent down over the stone floor.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, looking over the array of plant life. Buck nodded.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“It’s just crazy. I mean, we’re not really here. We’re in Whit’s End. And there’s a riot just outside. But we’re here. Completely separated from it all.”
“Yeah,” I took a deep breath and we sat down by a small waterfall.
“It’s like music,” Buck reflected, staring into the cool pool of water.
“How so?”
“It takes you to another place. You can listen to music and drown out everything else.”
“Hm. I like that.”
“Yeah,” he smiled, then chuckled a little, as if he couldn’t contain his almost nervous energy. I laughed at his laugh. He was so cute sometimes. He sheepishly looked up at me. Those sharp blue eyes studying mine. With blushing cheeks, he smiled again, then bit his lip.
“What?”
“I really wanna kiss you right now.”
A pain of flattered nervousness echoed through my stomach and lungs. I stared at him a second.
“Sorry if that’s-”
I didn’t really have time to think about what was happening. I felt him for a second. Then it was over, and he was staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar.
“What are you two doing here?” King David came into the open area.
“Nothing!” I answered, my face growing red.
“Well, your guardians are searching for you. I have set up a place for you all to sleep.”
We both hurried to stand up, and his hand fell into mine. With unreserved smiles, we left the garden, a sweet secret on our lips.

[Katie10]

So I read your first post and laughed then I read you 2nd and went like then then