Chapter Text
Contrary to what everyone thought- and by everyone she meant the school nurse, the librarian, and Google- Tallulah wasn't stupid.
She was eight.
Which everyone seemed to believe translated to stupid.
Everyone except her papa.
But she couldn't go to her papa, now could she? For once she couldn’t knock on the door of her papa's study and ask for his help like she did with her fractions worksheets and science projects.
If she could, she wouldn't be crouched in the very corner of the library with a thick, hardcover book, scanning words she couldn't pronounce and then turning to the dictionary propped up by her backpack to flip through the pages in search of the word and what it meant.
The librarian had said this book might be a little old for Tallulah, but she had insisted with a huff, causing the old woman to relent and let her read in the corner for the two hours it'd take for her Papa to pick her up.
He was working a little later tonight- something he’d been doing more and more lately- so Tallulah went to the library and Chayanne went to play video games at Leonarda's house. Usually Tallulah tagged along with him and he showed her how to make Mario hop across pipes or Link slash down slimes, but Tallulah had made up some white lie about wanting to do some reading so she could earn stickers in class.
“Are you sure?” Phil had asked over dinner the night before. “You were just pretty sick…maybe you should stay home from school all together for an extra day.”
No, I can go to school.
“Hm, alright. Just ask the librarian to call me if you need me.”
So here she was, surrounded by books, crouched down on the musty vomit green carpet that had been there longer than she had even been alive, her eyes darting back and forth between the contents of the book, and the contents of the dictionary.
Tallulah wrinkled her nose at what she was reading.
Maybe she was wrong about this whole thing.
Her eye color hadn't changed. She had checked repeatedly in any surface she could for the past three days and they were still the same chocolate brown that Phil said she got from her other dad, who had dropped her off when she was still small on the doorstep of Philza and Missa Craft and left without a word.
They didn't turn red, or blue, or pink, they were just plain brown, and Tallulah liked it that way.
And she didn’t turn pale- or translucent as the book said. She still had a tan that made her freckles look like stars. That's what her best friend Pomme always said anyway, as she connected the dots on her arms in pen like the constellations they learned about in class.
Tallulah was starting to think this lady who wrote the book had no idea what she was talking about!
The thought occurred that she'd probably find better written books in her papa's study- and maybe ones with pictures too- but she shook her head of curls with a ‘harumph!’, and continued to slog through the words on the page.
Although the more she read on, the more her wrinkled nose and pouting lips turned into widened eyes and a slack jaw.
One could write it off as it being the middle of winter, but for the past week she'd been uncharacteristically cold, even though her fever had gone down three days ago. Before leaving the house for school that morning she had layered on a cardigan, her winter coat, two pairs of socks, her beanie, and two pairs of gloves, and despite toddling down the street to the bus stop like a marshmallow, she was still shivering in her froggy rain boots.
The only time she hadn't been freezing cold all day was when she had been in gym class, where for the first time in, well, forever, she had outrun everyone in a lap around the gymnasium. Despite her falling to her knees and Pomme having to bring her inhaler from her cubby, she had still outran even Richarlyson, who was the fastest in their grade! Her teacher had been astounded, but still had Tallulah sit the rest of the period out, which was fine by her because just limping to the corner of the room made her see spots.
And finally, her hearing, her eyesight, even her sense of smell seemed to have gone from zero to a hundred overnight, causing her to have to regularly pause whatever she was doing just to do the Deep breathing Apa Missa had taught her how to do.
She could hear the teacher writing numbers onto the whiteboard in EXPO marker, erasers being ran back and forth against composition paper, a fidget cube being repeatedly clicked- and mixed with the lights that seemed three times brighter than before, she was close to spending the rest of her first school day back from a week of sickness locked in the bathroom. Pomme had wound up being asked to take her to the school nurse when she started to heave, but when Tallulah tried to explain what happened, she was told to just head back to class and ‘tough it out’.
So her appearance didn't change like the book said it would.
That didn't mean that the rest of her didn't change.
She closed the book, heaved it up into her arms, and practically ran over to the front desk. The librarian was on the phone chattering about something or other while occasionally stopping to sip her tea, so Tallulah waited patiently, standing on the tips of her toes for her to set the phone before waving her hand to get her attention.
“Hm?” The lady turned to her, head tilted. “Can I help you?”
Tallulah put the book on the counter alongside her library card.
“Are you sure, dear? I don't want to discourage you, but this book is meant for much older kids.”
Tallulah just nodded her head.
“Oh, alright. Anything else?”
She held up her hand and was about to run back to her reading spot to grab the dictionary she had left, but she paused, and instead walked at practically a snail's pace. The librarian gave her a weird look, but Tallulah could practically see her thought process- she was just a little girl playing a game.
Tallulah wished she was playing a game.
She slowly picked up the heavy dictionary and carried it back to the librarian, picking up her pace just a smidgen so she would stop being looked at with creased brows, and placed it down on the countertop with a ‘thud.’
“I’m sorry, but this is a reference book. You can’t check those out.”
Tallulah frowned, but nodded.
The librarian did check out the other book though, scanning the barcode on the back of the glossy cover and then scanning Tallulah’s library card.
She still had a book on there, but it wasn’t due back for another week, so Tallulah wasn’t worried about returning it just yet. Being sick was apparently no excuse not to finish her book report as she learned when she got back to class, but the teacher was nice enough to give her an extension.
Tallulah briefly wondered if she could do both at once- replacing the paperback copy of Annie for the glossy covered book she had plucked from a tall shelf- even though she was halfway through Annie already, but decided against it.
She liked Annie much better anyway.
“Here you go.” The librarian said. “Don’t forget to return your book next week, though I don’t think I have to remind you.” She smiled fondly at Tallulah.
I promise I will! Thank you!
“Anytime, dear.”
She grabbed the dictionary from the counter along with her other book and library card, and scurried back to her cozy reading corner.
The clock on the wall read 3:56 PM, which meant that it’d be four, and Phil would be on his way to pick her up. She stuffed her gloves and beanie back into her backpack, and started to shrug on her winter coat that before she had draped across her lap as a blanket.
But Tallulah glanced back at the dictionary on the ground.
If she got caught she’d just say she forgot.
Tallulah's been to the library enough and returned her books on time that one little slip up surely wouldn’t get her in trouble, right?
She looked over her shoulder despite the fact the librarian couldn’t see Tallulah past the towering bookshelves, and slowly- very slowly- unzipped her backpack to wiggle the dictionary inside.
It’s not like she didn’t know where the dictionary was at home.
She did.
It was just in her papa’s study.
Which she couldn’t go in without asking.
And even if she did ask, she’d need his help grabbing it off the very top shelf of his old mahogany bookshelf, since it was lined with all sorts of trinkets that Tallulah might break if she tried to reach, which was usually why she needed to ask or knock first. AND if she asked him for help grabbing the dictionary, he’d want to know why she needed it.
Tallulah hated lying to her papa.
She didn’t have any other choice.
She’d bring the dictionary back tomorrow and shyly say she had forgotten it in her bag. Tallulah just needed it long enough to skim through the book and figure out what was wrong with her, even though she already had a pretty good idea.
Her backpack was bulging with both books stuffed inside, and she heaved it over her shoulder after zipping her coat up to her neck. She had been shivering this whole time, but thankfully the librarian hadn’t noticed, because how on earth would Tallulah explain it when she barely had an explanation herself? All she had was a handful of theories, but as her godfather Tubbo would say, ‘a theory is worthless without evidence to back it up.’
It was like her science projects.
But instead of ‘if I play my flute my flower will grow faster than Richas’’’, her theory was ‘if this book is right…’
Well.
Tallulah wasn’t ready to think about that just yet.
HONKHONKHONK.
Her head perked up hearing the honking from outside, and a bright smile graced her face, knowing that three honks from the horn meant her papa had pulled up with Chayanne in tow, and since he had worked late, Tallulah also knew that meant it was pizza night.
And after a whole week of Campbell’s chicken soup, crackers, flat ginger ale, and bananas mashed up onto whole wheat toast, Tallulah wanted nothing more than the gooey, cheesy, melt in your mouth pizza that came from the local parlor just two blocks down the street from their house.
Bye Ms!
“Bye Tallulah, have a good night!”
Tallulah waved to the librarian until she was out the door, the snow crunching underneath her feet. She hopped once, twice over the cobblestone path, then carefully made her way down the steps, grabbing the iron railing and slowly inching herself down into the parking lot.
The brown minivan was waiting for her with the windows rolled down and the stereo playing classic rock music, and she waved her arms at Chayanne hanging out the passenger seat window, who excitedly waved back at her. She saw Phil in the driver's seat, but he was talking into his phone, and by his creased brow and grip on the steering wheel, he didn’t like what he was hearing.
Dad got pizza!
I can smell it!
And he got the cheesy garlic bread!
Tallulah’s smile ever so slightly faltered, but not enough for Chayanne to possibly notice.
She pulled the car door with all her might- since usually it was so heavy she needed Phil’s help- but gasped when it was thrown open with ease, and she was sent flying into the snow, her backpack breaking her fall like a turtle being turned onto its shell.
“Shit!” Phil exclaimed, quickly hanging up his call. “Tallulah!”
Chayanne practically jumped out of the van and pulled Tallulah back up onto her feet, brushing snow off of her coat and scanning over her with wide and worried eyes.
Phil had followed suit- slamming the van door and circling around before kneeling to her level, the snow digging into his cargo pants. “Are you alright?” He asked worriedly, putting a hand on her cheek. “Nothing broken? Bruised? Do we need to go to the hospital?”
She shook her head, and Phil melted in relief.
“Thank fucking god.” He sighed in relief. “Come on, let’s get going. Pizza’s getting cold.”
He stood back up to circle back around to the driver’s seat, but Chayanne hesitated, giving Tallulah another once over for any scratches or bruises.
I’m okay, Chay.
Okay, if you say so.
She hated lying to her brother just as much as she hated lying to her papa.
Chayanne climbed back into the passenger's seat and picked up Phil’s phone from the floor of the van, which got him a “Thanks mate” from Phil, and he scowled when his dirty blonde hair was ruffled. He tried to bat Phil’s hand away, but he just laughed, further fluffing up his hair that had already been a windswept mess from running down the street from Leonarda’s house when he saw the van turn the corner. Then he had to run back because he had forgotten his backpack and lunchbox.
Tallulah stepped as carefully as she could into the backseat of the van, and shut the door with even more care, her little hands trembling not just from the cold, but from the lump in her throat the size of a tennis ball.
There was now a dent on the van door.
It was right next to the handle, and standing at a certain angle you couldn’t even see it.
But Tallulah could tell it was there, even from inside the van. She couldn’t stop staring at the spot where she knew it was, even as Phil started to pull out of the parking lot, humming to whatever was playing next on the radio.
The books in her bag suddenly felt much heavier than they had just moments before, weighing her down like an anchor as she slid it off her shoulders and dropped it to the ground so she could buckle up her seatbelt.
If Phil asked, she’d say that dent was always there.
It’s not like he’d believe her if she claimed she had created it.
She could hardly believe it herself.