Wow...
Everybody was pretty silent on the way home. Deri tried to use her power a few times, but failed. It was interesting to see; the push I associated with her power was like I'd heard Grandpa Bruce describe trying to start an old fashioned car with a dead battery; each push was subsequently weaker. She ran up to her room as soon as we got home. I was going to do the same, just slower, to hit the homework, but Mom and Dad steered me into the library instead.
"We wanted to hear how you feel about what just happened," Mom said after we sat down.
"It was pretty intense," Dad said. "I found it daunting, and I was on the outside of everything. How do you feel about what that priest said about your gift from Hestia? I have to say, it makes sense in hindsight. Everybody thinks highly of your room, how comfortable it is. Damian told me that Iris wants to get an apartment next year so that she can ask for your help. And you certainly do value family harmony." I wanted to laugh. Iris was kind of a slob; she wouldn't do too well on her own unless Alfred came by to keep the mess under control.
"I'm kind of glad it's not some big flashy power," I said after a moment. "But also kind of regretful. It would be nice to have a strong power that's good for something."
"Your ability to discern the god-touched is quite strong," Mom disagreed. I made a face.
"But not especially useful. It would be nice to be able to see your face without having to take a picture first, for example. And it turns out that I perceive the use of gifts differently. It's not all like Deri's gift, where it feels like a push. The gods themselves have light flares, and I'm a little worried about how other people might affect me. This other thing..." I shrugged. I was more disappointed than I wanted to admit. Virtually any other goddess could have given me something more usable. And wasn't that just a greedy thought for somebody who liked to avoid the direct notice of the gods. "It was nice to know that a muse took an interest in me, though." Dad smiled and stroked a strand of hair back from my face. My braid was looser today; I'd been more nervous than I'd wanted to admit and was distracted when I was getting ready to go. Mom was somber.
"You underestimate the value of a home, dearest. A place where you belong and are welcomed is precious to those without," she said somberly.
"I'm just glad that you didn't end up with something that might be dangerous," Dad said. "Or some power that might make you feel like you had to join the other family business. I know it's important, but I would prefer my kids to stay out of it."
We talked a little more about the experience; I mentioned that I'd been surprised that the queen showed up so far away from Themyscira, and Mom frowned slightly. "You are her granddaughters, and she is concerned. She may not show it much, but she does love you." I let it ride; I felt that her attachment to Deri and me was kind of cursory and tenuous, and Deri agreed; we'd discussed it years ago. And what did I know, anyway. After awhile, they let me leave, I think they just wanted to make sure I was emotionally stable. One off-kilter kid was enough for any family. I went upstairs to do homework. Since I didn't have to listen to lectures or deal with artificially-imposed time slots, I could power through my assignments in chunks that made sense to me, and I was not only able to get my homework done but worked ahead a little, even taking time to have lunch outside. The weather forecast called for the start of the autumn rains that had become an annual event after the Big Winter and there wouldn't be many more nice days.
I was reading Romeo and Juliet for English (idiot emo kids) when I heard Mom and Dad come down the hall and tapped on Deri's door before going in. My door wasn't completely closed, or I'd have missed what happened. Deri predictably threw a hissy about the loss of her gift, accusing Mom of jealousy of Aphrodite's power (seriously? Mom had more power than the two of us put together, squared or whatever even, and Aphrodite had contributed to that as well) and all sorts of other off the rails accusations. I was trying to be sympathetic, but she hadn't lost her ability, it had just been closed off until she was mature enough to have it. And Dad pointed that out.
What I could hear made me exceedingly glad I am not a parent. Geeze.
Later that week, the parents got a call from Deri's school, saying she was acting up, and a couple of her friends had told Deri that they weren't allowed to be friends with her. The parents were at a loss in how to deal with it, and took Deri to Star City to talk to Black Canary, who was a therapist in real life. I was glad to miss that too. It stretched to a two-day thing, so I was alone overnight. Grandpa Damian had me over for dinner (Grandma Alex was inspecting a site that Valkyrie was working on and was gone for a bit) and offered one of their guest rooms, but I was fine with staying alone in the mansion. It actually was the first time I'd ever had it entirely to myself, after Alan left for the evening. It was kind of neat, very relaxing not to have Deri and her fits around. I knew that it had been traumatic for her, but she got herself into that predicament and she needed to gal up and face the music. I even went and practiced my dancing in the ballroom without worrying about being interrupted. The choreography was beautiful and magical, and I never felt as free or more like myself as when I danced. The ballroom was beautiful and I could imagine myself on a bigger stage than we'd be using in the recital. I couldn't wait for our performance. I was working so hard to be perfect and graceful. When they got back, Deri was calm and seemed thoughtful, (and no, there hadn't been a lobotomy, I'd asked) and things went back to normal-ish.
A few weekends later, I came back from a romp with Eira (she'd found something gross and rolled in it, so I was glad she was tired by that point) and found Deri sitting hunched on the patio, looking at nothing in particular. It wasn't raining, but it was threatening, and that seemed to match her mood. "So how are you doing?" I asked cautiously. Earlier questions like this hadn't been fruitful. But instead of going off or at least into a magnificent snit, she just shrugged. "Wanna talk about it?" I offered. After a moment she nodded, so I pulled over a chair. "So what's up?"
Her response was different than the rant about injustice that I'd been hearing. "So how do you go about being friends with somebody again?" she asked, picking at her cuticle. "Van... we had an argument. And she said we weren't friends anymore. But I miss her."
I took my time to think about it. "After my birthday and Eleanor cut me out, at first, I would have gone back to being friends with her in a snap if she'd have just asked. We were friends for a long time and it really hurt. Then there was a period where I would have needed to hear an explanation of why she did what she did. If the hurt is deep enough, just a 'hey, I'm sorry, let's be friends again' doesn't cut it. It has to be more substantial."
"And now?" she asked, darting a glance at me.
"I don't know if I could forgive her. We told each other almost everything, everything but the family secrets, and to think that she ditched all the memories we had, our whole friendship so that she could still have dates is unacceptable. She might have lost some of her other friends, but she'd have still had me. But it doesn't matter. She never reached out. I saw Molly and Jane at the concert and I was surprised at how mad I was. Before, I was just so hurt that I didn't even feel mad. That took time to surface."
"So If I didn't want to be like Eleanor, what do you think I should do?"
I thought about it. "You owe her an apology anyway, at the very least. And her parents, too, for getting her in trouble. What I would do--and it would be really hard, but I think it's needed--would be to go over there sometime when Alan's over here, it's just Van and Aslyn, and apologize to Van for not only getting her into trouble but leaving her to take the blame and the punishment. Say that I'm not asking for an immediate answer, I understand that she needs to think about it, that you're up for conversations and explanations when she thinks about them, but that you'd like to have her friendship back, it means a lot. Then to Aslyn, I'd apologize for my bad judgement, say I was sorry for what I did and that I know better now, and skedaddle, apologizing to Alan separately. For me, it would be easier that way. I'd probably buttress this by talking to Grandma Alex about everything that had happened, so that she could (hopefully) reassure Aslyn that this wouldn't happen again. But I'd only do it if I was sincere and had really learned my lesson, because you can't just expect people to keep on giving you chances." I reached over and squeezed Deri's hand. "And you have to be prepared for her to say no. It's her choice, and if she says no, I'm done, then you have to accept it and go on, having learned a really hard lesson."
"But what if she does say she's done?"
"It's going to suck, and it's going to hurt, but it's not entirely unexpected," I said gently. "But from there, you go forward, finding new friends, treating them better."
"It's such a mess," she muttered, and I nodded. "That therapist said that that's what happens when you make a mess, and the way through it is to address each part individually."
"That sounds better than trying to deal with the whole thing," I said. "It breaks it down into chunks that are more approachable. You can look at each part and think about what your preferred outcome is and how to can best try to get there. If you just look at the whole thing, it looks like too much to try to do anything about." She nodded, and we sat in peaceful silence for a bit. Then I got up to go, she caught my hand.
"I'm sorry, Lys. I've been rude to you and... not as sympathetic as I should be. I'm sorry I went through your things and ruined your sewing machine and that fabric."
"So why'd you do it?" I asked.
"I'm afraid that you're going to grow up and leave me behind," she said woefully, and I was surprised to see her eyes get shiny.
"Dummy," I said affectionately. "You're my sister. You're stuck with me, and vice versa. Even if I go to school someplace or get a job somewhere else after high school, there's always calls and texts. I'm always going to want to know how you're doing, what you're up to, tell you what I'm doing. And if you want to make something, tell me. We can work on it together."
She squeezed my hand and managed a small smile, which I returned. I saw her look over to Van's house. "Make a plan first for what you want to say, and make it heartfelt," I advised, then went back into the house.
And that conversation made me reassess how things were with my new friends. It was a different friendship than I'd had with my other friends, but I felt that they could become even better friends given time. But there was the issue with my identity, and I found that I wanted to come clean with them. Now, before I really thought they were my friends and they dumped me because I hadn't been upfront. Or, worse, because they didn't want to be friends with somebody so privileged. I really hoped that I was wrong about that. But the time never seemed to be right. The time when we were always all together was at lunch, and it was frustrating because people kept stopping by to say hi to somebody or it was too busy, or somebody was working with another student on a project. It was always something, and I was getting nervous about it. It was kind of a relief that Miles' first performance had finally arrived. It provided a much-needed distraction, and I was eager to see him dance.